Just Raven

Sooner or later those with evil intentions show their true colors. Billy was evil and he showed his colors in the most nasty way anyone could. The next two years of our lives were lived like this.

None of the heroin came for free anymore. Billy had decided we needed to help pay for our stuff. What’s a young girl supposed to do to earn money? Not to worry. Billy had it all arranged. (Just dress pretty, act cute and lay there). And thats what we did. Only now it was every night, a couple times a night sometimes. And we weren’t driven in some limo. Things weren’t so classy anymore. Billy made the “appointments” as he liked to call them, for us. He drove us to wherever we were supposed to be. We didn’t do things together anymore either. Everyone had their own thing for each night. It wasn’t every night, but 5 out of seven.

I have been with so many men I cannot even begin to count. I’ve been with every varity too. Tall, short, fat, skinny. Those in wheelchairs, those with half a leg. Deaf and blind men. Young guys and one as old as 86. Black, white, foreign, domestic. Priests and pastors. I’ve been with married men, single men, and out in Utah those who had a couple wives…Been with groups too. Fathers and their sons, brothers and their cousins…Politicians…Those who spoke English and those who didn’t. Sex has it’s own language. And every man understands it.

It was weird that most of the men I was with were either married or they were soldiers. Kind of funny, I remember thinking. The soldiers I could understand. But not the married men. What the hell do they need me for? I asked and was told married men don’t get sex enough. OK I thought. Whatever. I think it is because the particular men who saw me had a thing for younger girls (13??? 14??). Course they all thought we were a lot older than we really were. With all the freekin make up we looked 18 or 19.

Some of the married men felt guilty. They would tell me things I didn’t want to know. Like all about their wives, what they ate for dinner, or about some business meeting or work problem. A lot of them talked about their kids too. I remember thinking how strange it was, to be hearing about how some Tom, Dick or Harry was worried about his daughter’s upcoming date. Concerned about what the teenage boy might try to do to his little girl while he himself was doing those very things to me. It was even more strange to find out that his daughter was older than me. These types of men were usually the ones who would walk away crying…and unable to do anything because they felt so guilty.

Then there were the men who thought very highly of themselves. These guys were usually younger, unmarried and yuppie like. They dressed for success and had huge egos. They would always ask after, “Wasn’t that the best you ever got?”(Duh punk! My job is to make you happy, not the other way ’round)… You played the game and went along for the ride. You told them what they wanted to hear. Occaisonally, even back then some of my smartass-ness would shine through. One self proclaimed stud muffin asked me that question and I asked him back-”Oh, you mean you’re already done? I didn’t notice.” I always paid a price for being like that. It was always best to just go along with these types and stroke their ego. They were the worst and they made night girls laugh the most. The Don Juans of that world were the lowest of the low and they had no idea of it. They were experts at fondling their own ego.

Everytime I was with a man, I would shoot up right after. I wanted to forget them and become numb.

Doing those things meant you had better be good at faking it. Janine sat me down one night and told me that in order to keep making money, I would need to not only be good at what I do, but that I had to pretend to enjoy the men. Oh God, I remember thinking. What’s there to enjoy? It never felt good and I had been told it would (by Billy the dreamer). And how do you pretend to like it? Janine explained to me and Kim and Patty that all we had to do was move around a lot and moan. OK. Move and moan. Got it. If we didn’t do the M & M as we called it, we paid a price by getting knocked around by Billy. I guess he had his own little satisfaction survey he would take…If we failed, we either got hit or our fix was witheld. So M & M it was.

Most 13 or 14 year girls don’t talk about these things, at least they didn’t back then. (Most women of any age don’t talk about these things…) The whole faking-it business usually comes later and most women do indeed FAKE IT. And often. They learn to do whatever, M & M and all sorts of other things to make it look good. It’s just one of those secrets women hold deep down. Most women will deny this to the bone. Most women like to have sex, but only because they know it’s what keeps men happy, not because it feels good for them. It takes a very long time for women to chill out and enjoy sex. Years and only then when the right buttons are touched. Just because a woman is turned on doesn’t mean she’s going to like the actual sex either. It takes a lot of work and it is the up to the woman if she wants to enjoy it…once she figures out what she likes, then she can enjoy it. Until that happens, don’t be fooled by all the sights and sounds of it. It’s most likely an act. And don’t take it personally. When you’ve seen the things I have seen, and listened to the conversations I’ve heard, you would know this to be true. (I know I will be getting lots of nasty emails for this). (Was this a lecture or something? I don’t know where it all came from or what my point is here). (And Kim just read this and says-”Now all the men are going to go ask their girlfriends and wives if this is true, and those who admit to it being true at times will be the one’s who enjoy their sex and those who deny it are the fakers…” Kim rules. LOL).

Poor Janine took on the role of teacher, for Kim, Patty and me. She had to explain all things to us, as we didn’t have a clue. She is the one who got us birth control. She is the one who insisted to Billy that he get us checked out by *doctors* every so often. She made sure we took a bath every so often. And she made sure we drank water. She would mend our clothes when they got too tattered; and she somehow got us new boots every so often. And she would take Patty to the abortion clinics a couple times because of some unwanted (by Billy) pregancies. Patty had trouble with birth control pills. She forgot to take them all the time.

When the time came that we had been in SLC for a year, so much about us had changed. We were older and more mature, yet hollow and lifeless. No one ever saw us laugh anymore. That was unheard of. No more girl talk and crushes on rock stars and cute boys. No more all night long phone calls to friends. No homework and no school dances. When I look back at it all now, I see how much I chose to miss. It’s hard to think about. And even harder to write about.

I remember calling home one afternoon and telling my Mom I wanted to come home. She told me to stay where I was because everyone in my town had heard rumors about us and she didn’t need the attention. She didn’t want me to come home because of the uptight and snobby people of the small town. I guess she told them all that she sent me off to a private school. Nice. Even my brother and sister didn’t know the truth.

It was just heroin, zone out, sleep, and the low class motels and back seats at night. What a life.