Living on the streets of New York City for 18 years now had taught me where one could get a good time, and it was not in some parent-planned occasion....It was on the streets. I had a plan to get the supplies for the real party and had some fun at the same time. The plan started with a hooker. I left the apartment and went down into the city. There, I looked for one. After a few minutes, I found what I was looking for. She was very hot. The whore was wearing a red miniskirt and matching. “Gemma!” “Hush, hush,” she said, and trailed kisses along my jaw and down my collarbone, and neck. My bra, in all its pink frilly glory, dropped onto the floor with a dull thud. As if sensing my fear, she finally pulled away and closed the door behind her. The instant she left I felt the cold where her skin had been. Every part of my brain screamed at me to walk away. This isn't right. But something about it did feel perfectly right. I was hungry for more. “Well, well, what have we got here?”. More

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