At 16, Part 4

1988


We’re heading to Camden to buy drugs of the snortable kind. Myself, Vito, Manny, and Derrick, another Pizza Tent cook craving a few lines of blow. Each of us is finishing up our junior year at Cherry Hill High School West. All that’s really left of this school year is Junior Prom and final exams. Tonight, though, school is the furthest thing from our minds. We’re not concerned about the future. We simply want to snort a few lines of coke and then maybe score a hooker. I’m not sure where the prostitute idea came from. Just a thought floating in the air as we drove to Camden. I’m sure we were all thinking We’re going to Camden and there are hookers in Camden. Then Vito, Manny and Derrick began to discuss all the different ways they were going to fuck said hooker. But what kind of hooker to get? White? Black? Thin? Thick? Young and fresh? Older and experienced? Maybe more than one hooker? We are four, after all.

It’s decided that we’ll only need one hooker, since I’ve stated vehemently that I won’t be "doing no naked sex stuff with no hooker," since I am, apparently, a grammatically-challenged big fucking pussy. It’s then decided it’ll only be blow jobs for the gang and not full-on penetration, because Derrick has a girlfriend and he doesn’t want to cheat on her. We’re all certain that a blow job isn’t really cheating. It’s then decided that the hooker should be as young as possible. The less time she’s had on the streets, the less hardened she’ll be, and the greater the chance that she won’t yet have acquired too potent an STD. An agreement cannot be reached on whether or not our hooker should be black or white, so the decision is made to split the difference and purchase a Spanish girl’s time. None of the boys are too concerned about the hooker’s weight, but she must have nice breasts and a pretty smile. Since I’m not participating, my input was not required. But they still need my twenty bucks. "Least you could do," says Vito. "You wanna be a chicken, you gotta pay up."

My reasons for not enjoying a nice bit of head from the hooker aren't especially noble. I don’t feel bad for any of the streetwalkers, and I certainly don’t begrudge them making a living. I am not on some moral high horse. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I’m just scared. Plain and simple. I’m almost as afraid of hookers as I am Demonic Possession, heights, spiders, and Global Thermal Nuclear War.

I blame The Last American Virgin. No, not me. The movie. Virgin is a teen sex comedy that haunts me. Most of your typical teen sex comedies, Porky’s and the like, are fun, irreverent, nudie romps about high school kids trying to get laid. Virgin is a little different. Sure, there’s the prerequisite nudity, drugs, sex, and comical STD scenes, but the movie has one of the saddest endings ever put on film. There’s a scene where our Hollywood-typical group of teens (you’ve got the fat one, the horny one, and the sensitive one) visit a prostitute. A mean, jaded, awful hooker who berates the main character, the sensitive one. Who calls him names and says awful things about his manhood. Who turns his first sexual experience into a nightmare. Since seeing that movie, I’ve had nightmares about random hookers laughing at the size and ferocity of my penis. So, at all costs, I’ve made it a mission of mine to never allow a prostitute to see my manhood. Also, I’ve decided to never again dance in public, but that’s not an issue tonight. Just the hooker thing.

Our hooker happens to be named Precious. We picked her up and worked out a reasonable deal for her services. She’s on my lap. Grinding on my not-completely limp dick. About to, I’m sure, make fun of me. But, in a shocking turn of events, I’m suddenly fully hard. Respectably hard. Bulging beneath my jeans, my cock looks almost...impressive. Vito is driving, with Manny sitting next to him. I’m with Derrick and Precious in the back. Precious on my lap, grinding. She’s a tall, thick young girl, with a nice face and long dark hair. Her left hand is resting on Derrick’s crotch. Messaging his pecker over his jeans. Precious smells like she’s had a long night already. She has the lingering odor of recent tricks.

Vito looks into the rearview mirror and sees the sexy scene going on in the back and says, "Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Give it to her!"

I’m a little drunk. Had a couple of beers. Don’t know what’s going on. Don’t know how to stop it. Don’t know if I want to stop it. Vito parks the car in a dark alley, and I am taken with a great and all-consuming panic.

Vito takes the key from the ignition and says, "All right, Erv goes first. Everybody else get out."

Manny turns his head and offers a large smile. "Good luck," he says. "Don’t catch anything I wouldn’t catch."

"Why can’t I go first?" Derrick wonders, climbing out of the car.

I stare ahead, focusing on the large fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror. Wondering What’s going on here? Also, silently panicking. I, of the clean penis and strong anti-sex-with-hookers mantra, am about to engage in unseemly acts with a professional-type lady of the night whose fingers smell like the cock and balls of fifty questionable men.

Vito, Manny, and Derrick fire up a joint and smoke up while leaning back against the car. They allow me my privacy. My friends seem to have forgotten that I didn’t want any part of this madness. I was the one who protested. Yet here I am. Alone with Precious. Precious is still a teenager. She’s possibly the same age as me, possibly younger. Too young to be in this line of work. Old enough to know how to grind.

"My nuh-nuh-name is Ervin," I say, with no small amount of difficulty.

"That’s great," she says. "But not really important, Erwin, unless you wanna be my boyfriend or something."

"That’s okay," I say.

She’s straddling me. Facing me. Her pleated skirt pulled up. Her sheer panties on the floor. I’m still fully dressed. She lifts off her tight shirt and presses her tits against my face. Precious wears too much makeup, I'm guessing to cover her obvious acne problem. Her breasts are large and soft. I should know because I’m practically eating them. I’m also about to pass out from lack of oxygen. Mercifully, she pulls her tits away from my face. She pushes me down on the backseat and unzips my pants. I like that she’s not as ostentatious as the other streetwalkers I saw tonight. Her outfit is somewhat demure in that it covers all of her dirty parts. At least it did until about a minute ago. She’s now mostly naked, just wearing the short skirt and black high heels, and trying to pry me from my clothes.

"I’m not sure about this," I say. "I mean, I don’t know anything about you."

"I fuck for money," she says succinctly.

As she slides my pants and underwear down, fear gets the better of me. Outright panic. My erection fades fast. Like a tire losing air. Precious places the deflating member in her mouth, performing sexual CPR. Sucking, stroking, squeezing. Nothing. I am limp and I am going to stay limp. This is not working for me. I don’t want my first time to be with this girl, that much I know. Still, an erection might make this moment less embarrassing. Even a partial erection might lesson the ego-crusher I’m about to experience. I think Please don’t let this hooker laugh at me.

"I’m sorry. This isn’t going to happen," I say, looking down at her and the sad little shiny thing in her hand. I’m ashamed, and relieved.

"Whatever, I’m still charging you," she says, wiping her mouth. "Send in the next faggot."

I pull up my pants, while repeatedly telling her that I’m sorry.

"You know what your problem is, hon?" Precious asks.

"What?" I ask. She has my full attention. Maybe this young prostitute has all the answers. Maybe she will help me. Guide me. Show me the way. Turn me into the great stud I'm destined to become.

"You’re the kind of dude who needs to be in love. You can’t just go out and fuck some girl you don’t got no feelings for. Find yourself a sweet little high school girl and get some high school nookie. Hookers ain’t for you. Sorry, kid, hate to break this to you but you ain’t no stud. Now send in the Italian kid. I’ll bet he’s got the best shot at getting it up."

I smile and tell her thanks. My days dreaming of being a stud are over. I am what I am. I’m a relationship guy, not a fuck-and-run guy. At least she didn’t make fun of me. Well, not directly, anyway. She didn’t call me names. I won’t be scarred for life from this. Just for a day or two.

As I climb about of the car, Vito climbs in. "Hope you got her warmed up for me. I’m gonna fuck this bitch silly."

The door closes and Manny squeezes my shoulder. "How was it?"

"It was okay," I say.

"You didn’t do it, did you?"

"No, not really. I was going to. Honest. You should’ve seen the boner I had. But I’m saving myself for someone special. Or, you know, Prom."

Manny laughs. "You lying shit."

Precious begins to scream. Manny looks at me and mouths Holy shit.

Derrick says, "What’s he killing her or something?"

The three of us take a quick glance. Precious is on all-fours on the backseat. Her face pressed against the side window. Vito fucking her from behind. Pulling her hair. He’s pounding her like he’s holding a grudge.

Precious moans, "Oh shit, baby, that fucking hurts! Fuck yeah!"

Vito says, "You better believe it does!"

We turn away from the car and let Vito have his privacy. None of us wander too far from the car, in case we have to make a speedy getaway. We are in Camden, after all. People are murdered in Camden frequently. And four non-black kids from the suburbs cavorting with a hooker in a dark alley are prime candidates for some of that nasty murdering business. I do not want to be murdered. I don't want to die, not yet, not until after Batman comes out next summer, at the earliest.

Vito and Precious climb out of the car after ten minutes of hard screwing. Vito is grinning. Precious does not look well. She’s wobbly. Her makeup is smeared. Her eyes are damp and bloodshot. Her hair is a mess. Strangely, she doesn’t appear unhappy about what just took place. She’s showing a hint of a smile.

"That’s it," she says. "I’m done fucking. The Italian guy wore out my pussy and I need a rest."

Vito smiles proudly. "You hear that? I wore that pussy out."

Derrick says, "Shit, what about my turn?"

"You still need to learn a thing or two about how to fuck a girl," Precious says to Vito. "You may have a big dick, but ramming it in me like a fucking city worker trying to put a hole in the street ain’t proper form."

"Do you need a ride?" Vito asks Precious.

She applies a layer of blood red lipstick and says, "Nah, I’ll walk. You boys have a good night."

I wave and say, "You too, Precious."

A minute later, we’re back in the car, looking for an honest drug dealer. The drug dealers inhabit nearly every corner, so we can be choosey. We’re looking for a trustworthy rock-slinger. A decent businessman.

"Fuck!" Vito shouts. "That fucking slut took my wallet!"

Derrick says, "Shit! Mine, too!"

I don’t carry a wallet, but the three twenties I had in my pocket are gone.

"My wallet is safe," Manny says. "But I only have six dollars left. That’s not going to be enough to get us any coke."

Vito wipes sweat from his forehead, then says, "I can’t believe that hooker ripped us off."

"Really?" I ask. "You have trouble believing a hooker would steal our money, Vito? I find it quite believable."

"Shut up, Erv," Derrick says. "At least you got laid. I didn’t get any pussy, and now I don’t have no money, either."

"I didn’t do anything with her," I say. "I couldn’t."

Nearly a minute of silence passes before Manny smiles, looks at me, and says, "Maybe we should’ve gotten you a male prostitute, you limp-dicked faggot."

Vito and Derrick laugh, and quickly all three of my friends are laughing boisterously at my expense. I smile, take it like a man.

We drive home. We didn’t get the drugs we had planned on getting, but still, we’re laughing and having fun in the car. Manny suggests we go back to his place and play video games. We all agree that that’s a great idea. I want to play video games and forget that I’m growing up. I want to forget about hookers and drugs. I want to play Pitfall and Spy Hunter and pretend that I’m ten again. Recently, I've felt like I've been living someone else's life.

What happened to my life?

Where have I gone?