“Faith! Faith! How many times do I have to tell you, this is a cash and dash business?”
Faith looked over at the busty Hispanic lady dressed in shorts so skimpy that most women’s panties covered more. The lady walked over and looked inside the car at the occupants Faith had been conversing with for the last five minutes.
“See Faith, these are what we call, window shoppers. They call you
“I was getting ready to cut a deal with those guys,” Faith pleaded as the car sped off. “C’mon, Gina.”
The two women stepped away from the street and back next to the payphone near the liquor store entrance. Faith had only known Gina for a couple of weeks, but she seemed genuine, enough. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that they were better off together than solo in this type of high risk entrepreneurial endeavor. With women of the same intentions littering every corner for blocks, and pimps staking claim without a democratic process, a friend was a necessity. Plus, Gina’s resume in this line of work spanned more than two years, and a newcomer like Faith could use all the insight available.
“Please, them tricks couldn’t afford a wallet to keep money in if they had any. You have to remember, no matter what the game, know the rules if you want to win.”
“I’m not exactly trying to win a trophy for best woman of the night. I just need enough money to get a ticket to Atlanta. My real dad is from there. I’m sure there is family who would take me in.”
“Oh, to be young and naïve again.” Gina smiled. “That’s how I ended up in this hell hole now. Chasing after a guy.”
“Yeah, but you can’t compare some guy to a father?” Faith challenged.
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s so much worse when it comes from your own flesh and blood! When was the last time you spoke to your father?”
Faith blew a kiss to a group of guys that slowed down to gawk as they drove by. “I don’t remember.”
“Ok, this plan sounds like it’s going bad already. How don’t you remember the last time you spoke to your dad?”
“I was little, okay? Most people don’t remember back that far.”
“What, were you like a−”
“Baby! Hey, baby! I just got paid. How much for a Friday night special?” The young, white man with the buzz cut waved a handful of bills out the window.
“Go ahead,” Gina gave Faith a little push. “He’s probably from the military base.”
She walked over and within seconds was planting herself down in the passenger seat of the white Chevy Corsica. There was a bumper sticker affixed to the dash board that read, ‘The Few. The Proud. The Marines.’ Faith winked at Gina before the car accelerated.
“Make a right at the second stop light and then a quick left into the parking lot. There’s a private place on the side of the building.” Faith rubbed the back of his neck and then relocated her hand to his inner thigh. Gina always emphasized to get them as worked up as possible on the ride over, then they finished faster and it was easier to get back to business.
R.E.M’s, Losing my Religion, was playing on the radio, and the man was singing and banging his fist on the steering wheel as if he were their long lost drummer. “That’s me in the corner. That’s me in the spot…light, losing my religion!”
Faith leaned over and filled his ear with naughty thoughts until he pulled up to the designated spot. He put the car in park, turned the music down and immediately turned to her. He grabbed the strap on her top, and before Faith could react, he used his other hand to tear it open.
“Oorah!” He grunted.
“Hey! Slow down, tiger. I didn’t include new wardrobe in that price.” Faith looked down at her ripped shirt and exposed breasts. “That’s gonna be another twen−”
Before she could finish her apparel appraisal, the man was landing a short but powerful jab to her mouth. “You use the pretty black mouth for one thing and one thing only, and it ain’t talking!” He held the back of Faith’s neck with his right hand and used his left to undo his pants and pull out his erection.
“Now you get to earn your cut of this country boy’s Uncle Sam money.”
Faith tried to open her eyes, but it was as if unconsciousness was winning the tug-of-war. She felt the tight pressure on her neck and a stinging in her jaw. The pain became so intense it jolted her back to her senses. She tried to swing at him, but his grasp was overpowering and she couldn’t get a good angle to make solid contact. “Let me go, you Redneck hick!”
She felt his stiff shaft jabbing against her cheeks as he tried to angle her mouth near it. “Let me go you bastard!” Faith screamed and swung, but her frail arms had minimal impact on his broad shoulders.
“Just be a good girl. I’m going to put a little cream in that coffee!”
Faith felt helpless and desperate. She thought about Brian’s promise to keep her safe and wondered where he was at now. She heard stories about savage men like this, some even worse, but much like getting burned with popping grease, it was a necessary evil to bring home and fry up the bacon. A chilling tingle ran down her neck and arms, but what if he didn’t stop? What if this was just the beginning and he got even more violent? How much money was worth putting her young life on the line?
She instinctively turned to face his erection, and then with the same pressure a lioness uses to clamp down on the back of a fleeting gazelle, Faith sank what seemed to be all thirty-two of her teeth into his manhood.
“AHHHHHH!” His reaction was instant. After bellowing loudly he began pounding his fist and forearm into Faith’s back.
Faith was determined that she would not let go until the salty taste of blood filled her mouth or she passed out from his brutal treatment, but she would not be a passive victim like her mother had been to Joseph’s fists for so many years.
“Ok. Ok.” The soldier finally yelled out in agony. “Let me go!”
Faith bit down harder and even reached down and grabbed his testicles and squeezed with whatever strength she had left.
“I MEAN IT! I MEAN IT! I’m done!” He wailed.
There was a tap on the window, and Faith hesitated, but released her grip to look up. Uniformed police officers were standing on both sides of the car, and one was shining his flashlight into the car.
“Officer, thank God!” The Marine quickly spouted and rolled down his window. “I thought this was a girl who just wanted to have a good time after the club. But we get here and she starts telling me how I owe her money because she’s a professional and she’s gonna bite my prick off if I don’t pay her.”
“You a Marine?” The policeman on the passenger side asked, directing his flashlight to the bumper sticker.
“Oorah, sir!” The driver responded. “Thundering Third Battalion. Just trying to have a little fun before we deploy to Desert Storm next weekend.”
The officers looked at each other.
“Ma’am, we need you to get out the car.” The policeman on the passenger side opened the door for Faith and assisted her exit. She was shaking uncontrollably, had a small cut on her lip, and half of her pink shirt was torn. “Sir, we don’t want to see you back over here, understood?”
“Roger that, sir.” He had already zipped his pants back up and put his seat belt on. “Roger that.”
“Go on, get out of here.” The other officer tapped his flashlight on the roof of the car, and it didn’t take long for the taillights on the Corsica to grow smaller as the driver put as much distance between himself and the police as quickly as possible.
“We’re going to need you to answer a few questions,” the younger of the two policeman stated directly as they walked back over to the patrol car. “What’s your name and do you have ID?”
Faith looked at them both. She was dizzy with adrenalin and still scared for her life. Tiny specs of light began flashing in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to muster strength into her legs, but to no avail. She held out her arm and tried to grab onto the hood of the police cruiser, but ended up collapsing to the ground.
“Looks like we got a drunk in public and possible pandering. A night or two in the holding cell should sober her up,” is the last thing she remembered hearing before passing out completely.
Rickey Teems II is an acclaimed author, but that probably wasn’t too difficult to figure out since this is, well, a publishing website for books. What you may not have known is that his creativity spans all age groups and he has won awards and received recognition for both his children’s books and fiction novels. Teems obtained both his Bachelor’s in Psychology and Master’s in Marriage and Family Therapy with honors, and actively works with adolescents in mentoring and counseling programs in South Central Los Angeles. Teems is an Air Force veteran, active church member, and father to two beautiful daughters.
His award winning and faith filled works for adults include: Regression, The Healing of Love and Laughter, Fighting for Glory, Unshakeable Faith and Can I be Frank. His young adult and children’s books are: Keep it 100: Real Talk on being a Real Man, You Can’t Eat Toes for Breakfast and Why Can’t We See God (book 1 in the Harry and Sherry Discovery Series). To contact Rickey, be sure to visit: www.noguilebooks.com or find him on FaceBook and Twitter and say 'what's up.'