textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/tears.txt

	He wandered down the street slowly, walking leisurely, despite the late
hour and the section of town.  He was looking for her, and nothing was going 
to stop him from finding her. Not tonight.  Tonight he needed her.

	Each time they walked by, he'd look them over, from top to bottom.  
Mostly, though, he'd look at their eyes.  And each time he found himself 
shaking his head. No...no...too jaded...too old...too rich.  Each time, he was
met with jeers and offers.  Each one had something to offer him.

	"Hey handsome...wanna date? I'm a great date, and I'm sure you got
a good HEAD on your shoulders..."

	"Hey stud, I got something you need...right here."

	Each time, he smiled. Each time he shook his head. Perhaps another 
night they -would- have what he needed.  (And God help them if they did) But
tonight he was looking for Her.

	He turned back towards the parking lot.  It was pretty obvious that 
he wasn't going to find her. Not here.  Maybe it was the part of town.  
Maybe she was on the Northside, or the Westside.  He would check. He had all
night.

	As he drove along Stetson Blvd., he saw her.  She was walking much too
fast, and a bit clumsily, as if she didn't quite have the hang of the high
heels she was wearing.  As if perhaps the tight red latex mini were making
her feel just a bit too uncomfortable.  He pulled up along side of her.  He
wanted to make sure.  He stopped the car.  

	She turned to look at him.  The look of relief on her face was
evident.  He wasn't a sleaze.  He was dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a 
sweater.  He was smiling.  He was probably just lonely.  Hell, he was probably
just as uncomfortable as she was.  

	"Hi there," he said, "need a ride?"

	"Well, yeah...if you're headed where I'm headed."

	"I am."

	She smiled and walked to the door, "in that case, sure..."

	She had a room in what appeared to be a run-down boarding house about
a mile from where he picked her up.  The closet door was closed, but he could
imagine the tawdry outfits he would find if he opened the door.  The only
pieces of furniture were the bed and the dresser.  The bed was made, but 
somewhat untidy.  He sat down on the edge of it.

	"What's your name?" he asked her.

	"What do you want it to be?" she smiled, jokingly.

	"I don't want to fuck you," he said softly.

	She nodded. She'd been right. Just a lonely guy wanting to talk. She'd
heard that a lot of the girls had guys like this.  So you smile, you act 
a little innocent, and then they give you a big tip. Just like that. Easy 
money.

	"My name's Anna," she said.

	He smiled. "No it's not," he said, "but that's okay.  I can call you
Anna tonight.  Would you please get undressed, Anna?"

	She blinked.  He wasn't going to fuck her, but he wanted her to get
undressed. Well, okay, why not? He was paying, after all.  

	"I need to..uh...I need to see the money."

	He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.  He opened his 
wallet and showed her what was easily be fifteen one hundred dollar bills.

	She nodded, trying not to show her interest in the money, and began 
to remove her clothes.

	He watched, silently, as she removed her heels, and then her black
stockings.  She started to say something to him, but he held a finger to his
lips, and she finished removing her clothes in silence.

	When she was standing, naked before him, he leaned back against the
headboard, pulled his legs onto the bed, and motioned for him to come and lay
next to him.  She hesitated for just a moment, but then complied, and moved 
next to him on the bed, laying on her back, and looking at him.

	"Close your eyes..." he said softly.  It wasn't a command, but the 
force behind his voice made her look twice at him. 

	"Close them, Anna," he repeated.

	She nodded, and, although she was beginning to tense up, she obeyed 
him.

	She felt his fingers touch her stomach, and she began to shiver.  She
was beginning to wonder what this man wanted.  He was a little different than
any of the others she had been with.  It appeared that all he wanted to do was
touch her.  That was a little spooky.  Then again, she'd only been doing this
for a few weeks, and everything was still a little spooky to her.

	He was moving his fingers in little circles on her stomach, not moving
towards her breasts nor moving downwards, but just staying in the same 
general area, stroking her.  

	 Then he did the strangest thing... He began singing to her.  Softly,
and only slightly out of tune.  She tried to stop herself from laughing, but
the smile wouldn't stay away.  He was singing an old song that she remembered
from being a child.  

	"The ants go marching ten by ten...hurrah, hurrah...the ants go 
marching ten by ten...hurrah, hurrah...the ants go marching ten by ten, the
last one stops to..." he stopped and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

	"Do you remember what the last one stopped to do, Anna?"

	She nodded, "Yeah, the last one stopped to buy some din..."

	He looked, cockeyed at her, "To buy some DIN?  What's that supposed to
mean?"

	She shrugged and found herself giggling. "I dunno.  But that's the way
I remember it."

	He chuckled, and put one finger under her chin, "tsk, tsk...you opened
your eyes, little one."

	She smiled and immediately shut them again. "I'm sorry," she said
softly.  Perhaps he was one of -those-.  Into giving orders.  Maybe he was
even one of those who liked it when she called them daddy.  Maybe she would
surprise him by calling him daddy before he ever asked.

	But he didn't ask.  And she didn't call him that.  Because suddenly she
felt his fingers on her clit.  She let out a small, involunaty moan.  That was
the first time in two weeks where she'd actually felt something when a man 
touched her there.  Her eyes clenched more tightly closed.  He was stroking 
her, and singing to her.  It was the strangest combination of things she'd 
felt in ages.  She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to moan and arch her back
all at the same time.  She was relaxing under the ministrations of this strange
man who was paying -her- for sex.  

	But then he stopped singing and began talking to her.

	"Anna, why do you do this?"

	She opened her eyes, and immediately felt his free hand come up to
cover her face again.  He wanted her eyes closed.

	"I...uh...*oooh* I need the money."

	"Yes, you do need the money, don't you?  And that's why you're here...
That's why you're willing to give your body to any man who wants it.  Why
you're willing to give your body to any stranger...like me for instance..."

	She nodded her head, just a bit, suddenly confused.  The feelings in
her body were incredible, but his voice had become like ice.  Oh, he was 
still speaking softly, and he still sounded friendly...but there was something
under that voice. Like broken glass wrapped in bunny fur.

	"Have you ever thought of it, Anna... you're a whore.  There isn't
a single part of your body that I couldn't have if I had the right amount of
money.  If I took out one of those bills you saw, I could have your cunt...
couldn't I, slut?"

	She resisted the urge to open her eyes. Suddenly she didn't want to
see him anymore.  She was sure he had suddenly turned into a monster.  One of
those sleaze bags she had every other night.  The ones who liked to call her 
"slut", and "whore" and "cunt".  She nodded softly.  Yes, he could have her 
cunt for a hundred dollars. For much less, even.  And she knew it.  

	"Yes...and for another of those bills, I could take your mouth. Isn't
that right, my pretty little toy?  I could fuck your mouth with my cock.  You'd
even let me do it without a condom.  Because you're a good little girl.  And
you're only doing this because you have no choice, isn't that right? You need
the money that badly."

	He was still stroking her clit, softly, and now she felt him slip a
finger inside of her.  She gasped and arched her back, but felt his hand push
her back down. 

	"Am I right, slut?  You need this money so badly that you'd let me 
fuck your mouth without a condom, wouldn't you?"

	She tried to think about this, but couldn't grasp an answer.  What he
was doing to her body was too intense for her to think.  So he stopped.  

	"Well?" he demanded.

	"Yes...," she answered, frustrated, "Yes, I would.  I would let you
fuck my mouth without a condom, and come down my throat if you wanted to. Yes."

	He smiled. "I thought so.  And for yet another bill, you'd probably
let me fuck your ass as well, wouldn't you?"

	He had begun to stroke her again, his finger moving softly inside of
her, but suddenly all she could sense was his voice.  She was still an anal
virgin.  She had been lucky in that noone had wanted that from her yet.  This
man was going to take her ass... she could sense that.  Her body started to
shake.

	"Shhh, calm down," he said softly, "and just answer the question...I'm
not going to hurt you just now.  But I could if I wanted to, couldn't I?  
Because that's your job little slut.  It's your job to make me happy. And if
it made me happy to hurt you, I could, couldn't I?  I bet other men will want
to hurt you...other men will want to use your body, and tear you apart..."

	She felt his fingers moving over her clit, a little faster now.  
Despite her sudden shakes and the way his voice was affecting her, she was 
close to coming.

	And then, suddenly, his fingers were gone.  She cried out.

	"Yes, little slut. You want this, don't you?  For the first time in
your pathetic, useless life, you want to be fucked, don't you?"

	She nodded her head, frantically, her body still shaking, and her 
nerves all jumbled up.  She was confused.

	"Tell me your name," he ordered, his voice still soft.

	"A...Ann.." She felt him slap her lightly across the face.

	"Your real name."

	"S...Staci," she answered, in shock.  The slap hadn't hurt, but she
felt the hand still there, as if it had burned her.

	"Yes.  Staci.  Probably from some little town in nowhere, America.  
Here in the big city.  Same story as half a billion other girls.  What makes
you so special Staci?  You're just like every other one of them.  The only 
thing you're good for is fucking.  Isn't that right?  You'll never be an 
actress or a model or a star. You'll always be on your back though...where you
belong."
	
	She shook her head, angry, that wasn't true. 

	"Yes, Staci. Yes. You can deny it all you want.  But what you want is
someone like me.  You want someone with money. Someone who will make you feel
secure.  You want me to take you out of this room tonight, and put you up in 
a fancy room and come make love to you once a week and pay all your bills. 
Isn't that right, Staci?"

	She was shaking hard now, on the verge of crying.  Had he just said
he would take her away?  Make her his mistress? Pay her bills?  She nodded, 
yes, she wanted that.

	"And if I took you away from here, Staci, would you let me hurt you? 
Would you let me call you a whore and a bitch?"

	She nodded again, the tears beginning to flow down her cheeks.

	"Yes, you would let me hurt you.  I know you would.  Because you need
the money, and like all little tramps, you will do anything for that money.
Say it, Staci.  Say, 'I'm a whore.  I'm a slut, and if you take me away from
here, I'll do anything for you.'  Say it."

	She was crying, and nodding.  And her mouth was playing traitor to her
mind.

	"Yes," she cried, "yes, I am a whore. I am a slut, and I'll do anything
if you take me away...please...please take me away. I don't want to do this."

	He smiled.

	"Open your eyes," he said softly.

	She opened her eyes, and looked up at him.  He looked so handsome.  
Like an angel almost.  He reached down and stroked her cheek softly.

	"Oh my precious little Staci.  My beautiful little whore.  So eager
and willing to please me.  You would please me even if I wasn't going to take
you away from here, wouldn't you?"

	She was nodding, and reaching for him, trying to pull him down to her.
But he was holding her arms away from him and shaking his head. 

	"No.  Staci, you're not fit to hold me.  You know that.  Now you be
a good girl and lay there like I tell you to."

	She put her arms down and closed her eyes again.  

	"I said open your eyes, little harlot."
	
	She opened them again and shook her head, "Please..." she begged.

	"Please what?"

	"Please take me away?  Please let me make you happy..."

	"No. No, Staci, I think you're too filthy to leave the streets. You're
a whore, and you belong on the streets.  You want my money, and you'll have 
my money, but I don't want you.  I spit on people better than you every day.
You're worthless. A piece of litter on the streets.  A little cunt who isn't
good for anything but being fucked.  You can stay here in your dingy little
room. I'm going back to the people who would laugh at you.  Who wouldn't give
you the time of day..."

	"No..." she cried, "please...don't...don't go...not yet. Just stay a
little while longer."

	"No." he replied. "You couldn't make it worth my while..."

	And he stood up.  

	"NO!" she cried, louder, almost screaming, "please don't..."

	He reached into his wallet and pulled out four hundreds.  He laid 
them on the dresser.  He opened the door.

	"no...please..." she was whispering and crying.

	"You grow repetitive, dear.  You'll find your money on the dresser."

	And he left.