A Woman’s Confession

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

She, Sheila Pratt she, thought thinking back on it after having been through the mill that she had always been any man’s whore. It was not though, at least she didn’t think so, like with some women that she was born to it, maybe had a mother who was a pro as well, or had a father, long gone or who beat her up, or took what he wanted from her early on, took her sex from her, and got her started as trade in revenge on men or something, none of that. Nor was it that she had started sex young, although growing up in Texas where everything was done earlier she had kind of by accident started  with a boy down the street in Brownsville where she grew up when they were didn’t know anything exploring and  he gave her money to keep quiet about it. She took it and bought dress, a nice dress. Beside she liked sex after she got use to it and it didn’t hurt, liked it a lot, and once she caught on to what was possible when she gave men sex liked the idea of making dough to get stuff her poor boy father couldn’t provide for the family.

But she didn’t feel like a whore then, or at least the question never entered her mind , although she did do a few off the wall street tricks in high school when once in a while some guy in town, usually a married guy, would proposition her, give her a line, and she being sassy would ask for money to do what he wanted done, usually something his wife was not giving him and he craved like head, you know oral sex, that she found guys liked a lot and she preferred doing then to avoid any accidents when things got hot and she got worked up, got all moist down there and might not think about taking precautions in time.  Or one time when she did it with a couple of high school classmates, a couple of football players who had somehow heard of her after- school activities with married guys and who dared her, and were willing to pay, to go down a deserted back hall in school and do them both which she shouldn’t have done since they spread it all over school and every guy with money in his pocket hit on her for a “date.” Jesus, she thought she would die every time she went into the girls’ “lav” and the other girls kind of backed off from her probably worrying that she would do for their boyfriends what they wouldn’t do for them. Or, more likely, who was kidding who because she had heard more than enough Monday morning “lav” talk, in addition to what they did for them. And did it better once she thought about it. Those two football players sure didn’t complain since they had called her still looking for a little something. And they had girlfriends too. Still damn them for being indiscrete like that, although she was more worried that her mother and father might find out than some silly girls might say she was easy to her girlfriends, or worried that she might have to give her boyfriend head once Sheila got through with him, gave him the taste for it.  

And moreover it wasn’t like she had some habit, drink, coke, H, although nobody had to twist her arm when they wanted to do a couple of lines of coke to get in the mood. That would get her going, get her moist.  She too was good-looking enough to have guys smacking their lips although probably not good enough to model, not real model rather than just some porn stuff like taking her in some sex position, or to catch a real dough guy. Dirty blonde hair (natural), nice legs, blue eyes, okay breasts, and a womanly shape, a very womanly shape. Then she started to believe she was any man’s whore, anybody who would give her a line of patter, looked okay, and would spent some dough on her. Until Billy.

Oh sure after high school she had worked, worked nights shifts at the auto plant in Houston for a couple of years, had a steady boyfriend who talked of marriage  but when the operation left town for foreign ports and he left to pursue his career she was sunk. She hadn’t been a particularly good student so her prospects were limited. She had been more interested in partying and had wound walking on the wild side like with those two classmates whom when she needed money she would call up and they would head out on some side road together. No more in school stuff though. That was strictly for amateurs. She figured what the hell her reputation was shot anyway, she avoided the girls’ lav as much as possible and, well, she had needed money for a prom dress and stuff. What she didn’t like was that first time when they spread the news about their adventure with her down that back hall and all the boys, and a few older guys, fathers even, kept pestering her. She wanted to set her own rules, although she did weaken a few times when the guy was cute, or flashed some serious dough, and even did one of the fathers.  She made them pay though, those classmates, pay extra for their indiscretion. And they paid without a murmur. That told her a lot about boys, men, and about what a resourceful woman could do with them. Unfortunately she didn’t always act on that wisdom.      

She, after the auto plant job folded, had tried working as a cocktail waitress at Jimmy’s in Waco and that had been okay, okay until Jimmy started pressuring her to “be nice, be very nice” to the customers, the customers with a little dough, a nagging wife, and an itch. Whore’s work pure and simple with Jimmy taking a slice for offering his protection with his connections, for keeping her out of jail and for taking care of any rough stuff. She did it for a while but some of the guys got too weird, wanted to do some rough stuff, or kinky, and she was spending more time on her back than serving drinks. Jimmy, well, Jimmy wanted a little something too, a regular piece of her for his efforts, an extended warranty he called it. So she left that scene and headed out of town to shake the dust off of Waco.         

Then she landed in El Paso, El Paso on the border, El Paso with a million Mex guys hanging around, hanging around eyeing her. Hoping the gringa would throw some action their way. Then she got a job at a diner, one of those old time places where the grease has been on the stove since Hector was a pup. That wasn’t bad except the dough was lousy and so the first guy, hell she forget his name, who asked her to party with him she went, went with him until his money ran out, and then went with his friend until his money ran out and that was that. That is how she would up at Miss Rosa’s whorehouse outside of Abilene. No that is wrong. Left high and dry by that last guy, oh yah, Rod, she tried to pick a few street tricks in prickly Abilene, got pinched by a wayward local cop, who told her the streets of Abilene were not for dreaming, and not for cheap whore tricks. He made a deal with her, a deal that was strictly to his advantage but what was a girl to do in some strange town, no man, no dough, and no hunger to do thirty days on the women’s farm getting her complexion all messed up out in the hot cotton sun. So he turned her over to Miss Rosa after getting a few samples of her wares in the bargain. (She found out later that the cop had a long time arrangement with Miss Rosa and so the town of Abilene had very few wayward women walking their streets.)

Of course if it hadn’t have been for Miss Rosa’s she would not have met Billy, Billy the rodeo cowboy who came into Abilene one night to do a rodeo as part of the circuit. And after a hard night riding broncos and bulls he wanted to ride something else and she was the ride. But that was after, after they had talked about this and that for a while. That this and that started out with Billy, like a lot of johns she had known, talking up a storm about his  tough live, his scramble, ramble to make ends meet, about lonesomeness and about breaking out. Then he asked her about her story and while that was not usually part of the act she found that she was spilling out stuff she hadn’t told anybody about before. About how she got to feel that she was any man’s whore, that she was just trade when it came right down to it.        

Say what you will about cowboys but Billy that night proved to be her savior. Sure they made love, had sex, hell that is what he paid for, and she always gave what she bargained for, made hard love, him really riding her like some unbroken bronco (she kind of liked it, kind of liked his wildfire energy and rode with him all the way to depletion although she was sore, sore as hell, the next day). But after their exertions he kind of held her close, held her like she was his woman, his real woman, and not some whore for the night. And so it started. Every time Billy was in town he would come see her and they would ride, ride like wild horses. She was beginning to come to see him as her man. And he likewise. Then one night he came into Miss Rosa’s drunk, drunker than she had seen him before because he had lost a tough one. He told her to put on her dress, coat and whatever, because they were going to get married. And they did that very night down toward Jessup by a justice of the peace.     

And things went well for a while, Billy seeming to gain more energy from being married and having a woman to call his own. Then he broke his collar bone riding some wild stallion that bucked him to perdition. And so Billy was finished for a while, a long while. Now rodeo riding like a lot of other jobs is strictly an independent contractor situation and so no work, no dough. They quickly went through his savings, and hers and were living in a cheap rooming house in Waco (where she at least had some connections). Billy was sore a lot, not at her but at his situation. He would get angry at her and then they would make love to make up. But she knew, knew deep down that she would have to work, work the streets, or work in some whorehouse.

One day she was walking down the street and a guy kind of leered at her, smacking his lips, from in front of a cigar store. She turned to him almost automatically and asked him if he was looking for something, looking for a good time, and how about her. He smacked his lips again and gave his answer. Three days later he left her off directly in front of that cigar store with a few hundred dollars in her purse. Billy said it was okay they needed dough and so that was that. But she could tell he was steaming inside, his manly steaming inside thinking what man would let his wife become simple trade.  They couldn’t go on like that.  All she could think though as she packed her bags to head back to Miss Rosa’s was the die was cast, had been cast maybe before she was born. Yes, she was any man’s whore and she would have to play out her hand out that way.