Tobias' Secret

Despite what the average person might think, it is not only unattractive, hurtin', greasy, slimy, dirty, perverted degenerates who are undeserving of sex from a "real" woman (that last bit was for you, Anonymous) that pay for the service of a prostitute. Hot guys pick them up too. Well, they picked me up anyways. From my perspective they may not even go into it looking for a prostitute and the first time it happens they may just drive by and see something they like and bang - their prostitution virginity is surrendered. And once it happens once...well.....most likely there will not be a first and only time. A first time, yes. An only time, not so much. Not that this is an absolute rule, nothing is absolute.

So, it was into my trap that a young, very attractive male flew unsuspectingly into my evil web one sunny summer day...mwah-ha-ha-ha!!! Actually, I was just on my usual corner when Toby had driven by in his work truck like he probably did all the time, making deliveries or whatever it was that he did with his vehicle. But this particular day was his lucky day.

He was a first timer, I could just tell. He drove by me and immediately pulled over to the side of the road just a bit past where I was. It was very obvious that it was a spontaneous decision. Guys that cruise for girls usually make the rounds....and then are all paranoid and go into the alley and wait for the girl there or something like that. But Toby just pulled right over and I ran to the truck and jumped right in.

His truck was one of those company vehicles with the big cube box on the back. Like I said, a delivery truck of some sort. Anyways, he drove to the end of the block pulled over and we just climbed right into the box from the front seat. Easy, peasy. He was very excited, he told me. I was attractive, I managed to maintain myself most of the time and had more of a regular girl vibe and less of a strung out on heroin/crack one. Of course, everyone has their good and bad days - and this was one of my good days. A tan always helps - it takes the sting out of the track marks perhaps.

We jumped into the back, I gave him a hummer AFTER he paid me and that was that. I got out, we said our farewells and went our separate ways. I was almost positive that I would see him again. I mentioned that he was attractive, hip, hot body and all that. He was the type of guy that I may have actually been intimate with in "real life" had I not been heroin/cocaine dependent, homeless, a prostitute and all other charming attributes that accompany life as I was living it. Toby would have had no problems getting girls but he would be back to see me, they usually do, accidentally or on purpose.

Weeks, maybe months passed. Toby had slipped into the recesses of my drug addled mind and the whole experience had been forgotten. I did end up seeing him again but it wasn't until after I had had my abscessed tooth.

Now, if you have ever had an infected tooth/severe tooth ache, you know how painful it is. Times that by one hundred due to the inconvenience that is added on top by severe drug addiction and malnutrition.

I can't even remember when the whole issue of tooth pain had reared it's ugly head, all I can recall right now is that suddenly it was there with a vengeance. One thing about drug addicts, anything can cause a hiccup in our daily routine but usually never is it worth actual attention, including any physical pain (other than the usual dope sickness pain). I would have to have been pretty near death in order to be forced to seek medical attention.

So, here I am a busy little working prostitute and I get a toothache. Big deal. But then it went beyond that once the swelling started...and grew and grew and make it literally impossible for me to even open my mouth. So how, may I ask, is a girl whose "bread and butter" depends on being able to perform magic whilst a penis is in her mouth supposed to make any money when she can hardly even open it enough accept even the ever necessary crack pipe? It was bad but at first I just adapted. Initially the swelling was just on the inside and I just had to explain to my dates that I wasn't able to give any hummers due to my toothache and most were understanding and accommodating. But eventually, as the days wore on, the swelling became so intense that half of my jaw was twice or three times the size of the other half. Horrible and ugly and made bl*w jobs impossible. (You would think that it would have been a turn off to pick up a girl that is so obviously in the midst of some sort of infection has obvious signs of physical "distress", but in situations like this there are always one's die hard regular dates that can be depended on. They are so in "love" with you or obsessed that even when I had been punched in the face and had my eye swelled shut it was no deterrent. It was business as usual for them). When it got to the point where I could not even stand it (the pain from my tooth) anymore and I HAD to get it taken care of, I called an ambulance for myself. I called 911 right from Carnegie. (I wrote a bit about this experience in my post entitled "Scammin' Round Two" - see it for a description on the way I was treated as a a patient who was also an addict.)

Turns out it was an abscessed tooth but it was not worth lancing (gross) so I was given a round of intravenous antibiotics and then eventually some pills to take orally. I got the pills only after the doctors there realized that the chance I was going to be able to show up daily for my IV antibiotics was slim to none...I mean, what junkie can be depended on to be anywhere at a certain time daily? Unless it relates to dope, getting dope, making money to get dope, etc.

As a result of my dental issues the swelling in my face took a while to go down. My pain was relieved after a few days on the meds but I still wasn't able to open my mouth properly for weeks. I just suffered through the discomfort. I was able to force my mouth open when necessary without telling my dates - very painful but doable.

When I again saw Mr. Toby it was a short time after the swelling had reduced but in the midst of my having to pry my mouth open for any required oral pleasure that my heroin addiction demanded that I perform.

Again, it was split second decision on his part, he happened to be driving by on Main street when he saw me and pulled over, right across the street from the Police station. He was in his car this time and he just drove to some random alley and we did our date there. Again, I was having to swallow (har har) my pain and make like everything was fine. We were not using a condom just like we hadn't the first time. I wish I could tell you we did, but we didn't.

I did what he paid me to do and when I removed him from my mouth there was blood all over him. I guess I had pushed my healing gums to the max that time or it had just ruptured after repeated abuse by my incessant ignorance of it needing to heal. He panicked. I didn't. I understand why he did though. Here was him, average guy that happens to decide to spontaneously pick up this good looking semi strung out appearing girl for a bl*w job and with this decision, and about 4 minutes, had changed his whole "life" or so he thought. Maybe. That was the question, wasn't it?

I tried to assure him that I was fine ( I mean, I could honestly tell him that I was not HIV positive or that I had anything - well, at the time I had no clue as to my being positive OR negative (I had never been clinically diagnosed with anything - not that I had even been to a doctor..), it is only after the fact that I can say it with conviction that I was HIV neg, but the hep c may well have been there then, there no way to know for sure). It must have been very scary for him.

But I bet you he didn't pick up any more prostitutes after that (I never saw him again) and I probably saved him lots of money too. He really should have thanked me because of it, which sort of cancels out any mistake he may or may not have made by picking me up in the first place or any wrong doing on my part by intentionally going ahead with "it" despite my healing medical condition. For the record, I had no idea that I was going to bleed on him and had I known I would have at least used a condom. Probably.

I am making light of a bad situation, I know that and I get no pleasure out of recanting this for you. I bet he never told anyone about this, it is the sort of thing one keeps to themselves and now the world knows his secret (or has access to it anyways).

He said he was a professional gambler....

Does it get redundant when you tune in to the new post and it starts out "it was late on a Friday night..."? Because honestly, unless otherwise specified, my memory makes me FEEL like most of the stories I tell have taken place on Friday (or weekend nights). But not this one....this one tells of a night..and it was late..but I am almost positive it was a Wednesday. Or maybe a Thursday.

For some weird reason I can even remember what I was wearing that night. No, not your usual street sex attire....(I used to see girls in bikini tops in the winter...when I asked one girl about it, she said she just got used to the cold. In the winter I was dressed complete in: winter coat, scarf, toque, mitts - NOT GLOVES - I am not a glove person, never have been. I remember this girl, Tamara used to wear this bunny outfit that looked like a costume from"The Shining". I may have mentioned her before. I am almost positive she must be dead now. Poor Tamara, she was so awesome in her dedicated creepiness. Who knows though - maybe she got out, like me...but I doubt it.)

ANYWAYS, I remember that I was wearing a long sleeved t-shirt under a short sleeved t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. I remember this because earlier that night I had been "hired" (I need to check my thesaurus for a different word) by this Chinese guy Mike. Mike was very tiny and nice, but super perverse and wouldn't even look at me during the act. I remember him asking me shyly one day if it bothered me if he looked at Internet porn of ethnic women w/ huge boobs taking it in the "second vagina" (that is the anus, in case you hadn't figured it out). Like as if I cared what the hell he looked at as long as it got him finished sooner. It was still funny that he asked my permission. I had been at Mike's house that afternoon and I guess I had fallen asleep after our rendezvous and he had washed and dried my clothes for me before I woke up. It is this memory that had provided me with all these unnecessary details like what I was wearing this particular evening. These unnecessary details I am now sharing with you.

Like I said it was late, like maybe 3 am at least. I had just gotten ripped off by this guy Spider. I had like $100 and gave him $40 for dope, $30 for me - $10 for him. He gave me something but it wasn't heroin. Wasn't a big deal though - he was shifty, I should have known better and I had lots more money. He ended up getting me back though, one welfare day - and again our "friendship" was harmoniously balanced.

I was walking back up Hastings with some REAL dope in my pocket and this snazzy, black car pulled over. Bold a sh*t right on Hastings, right by the Police station...the passenger window came down and there was a very handsome Black man asking me to join him in his car. I got in and immediately his main concern was that I was underage. HA, as if - I must have been 26, but I was super skinny and since pig tails was my usual hairstyle..I guess I can understand it??. I found I made more money with pigtails. Men are so easy...sigh. Beyond that, he just wanted me to go with me to his house - as his wife and children were out of town (bit of a scum bag) - and do...what we do. Fine- verbal agreement made- and travelling to his pad ensues. On the way to his house is when he told me he was a professional gambler. Whatever that is..I mean, I KNOW what that is but I had never met a professional gambler before. Like a successful, professional gambler. Gambling addicts sure, but not anyone that was providing a life for themselves and their families through playing poker (which was his game). He had a wickedly nice car, a super nice condo...expensive furniture...and all that.

When we got to his place, the first order of business was that I had to have a shower. He was very concerned about my cleanliness....and being safe. Which seems totally ridiculous for someone that just brought me to his HOUSE..(one of the top five things to never do with a prostitute)..but whatever. The transaction was completed in the physical sense..but at the end, catastrophe. The condom had broken. He spazzed, obviously. Me? Not so much.

He was very upset, asking me over and over if I was clean, if I had AIDS or any other STD's. I told him the truth, I told him no, I didn't have anything. As far as I knew I didn't have anything. Of course I hadn't been tested in at least 2 years...so as far as the most recent information that I had been made aware of..I was clean. My telling him this was no comfort to him.

Right before he placed me in a cab headed back towards downtown he asked me if I would go and get an HIV test done. I said sure but told him that it was going to take at least 2 weeks for the results to come back and he was fine with that. He said if I went and did the test and called him after, he would give me a hundred bucks. Like I said he was very, very worried. He told me that until he heard from me and I told/showed him proof (photocopy of lab results, I guess) that I was HIV negative, he would be stressing big time. He also said that if he didn't hear from me that he would assume the worst.

So, he wrote his info on a piece of paper : Ray Allen, 604-WHT-EVER (obviously the number escapes me. I am sharing his name because that name isn't a particularly memorable one and even if he DID somehow get connected by the details I have included here, then so be it. I have come clean on my side and now it is your turn to be a man, Ray). But I never called him...nope, didn't.

The reason I still remember this and feel bad about it is because I DO know how stressful and all consuming it can be when you realize that you have put yourself at risk for contracting the HIV virus (I mean how concerning it is for the average citizen. Obviously, I put myself at risk continuously while on the street - but just didn't think about it). It isn't cool...it is ALL you can think about and it sucks. No sleeping, no eating, lots of bitterness, you already have plans about how you would tell your family, etc.

I never called him even knowing that he would most likely be vomiting with worry because of it. My complete lack of caring, plus my tendency to be totally unreliable and trustworthy, oh and don't forget my laziness and overwhelming urge to get high, led me to not call him. I knew I wasn't going to call him right when I was telling him I would call him. He wasn't going to get to get his answer in a "quick" ten or so days...he would have to wait the entire "gestation" period (or whatever it is called)...6 months (plus?) was the usual.....enough time to give him an ulcer.

But now you know, Ray Allen, the professional gambler. I am HIV negative....sorry it took so long....we good now?

Say hi to our wife and tell her she has a lovely home.

My Life Now (Part One)

Well, my life now is not at all like my "previous existence". I actually went straight from being a drug addict to being a full time single mother. I had not choice in the matter, having my son removed from me at birth is what prompted me to finally get it together. I wasn't about to do it other wise.

Now it is a daily struggle to figure out how I can possibly find some purpose on the earth..and gain some useful skills that will allow me to integrate back into normal society. Not that you would know about my past by looking at me, but it's there, just under the surface.

I also have hep c..which is now affecting my liver. Never before, while I was using, and so close to death did I question my own mortality. I really didn't care. But now I have to. All my old friends have lived their lives "properly" and I am left to catch up. And sure, I am not HIV positive, which is something to be thankful for, but still my carelessness has left me affected emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually.

I am sharing this because it needs to be understood that all my problems did not go away because I stopped using, and stopped living on the street. In fact I may have MORE problems now. Before it was just making sure I had my dope, making sure I didn't get my ass kicked, or making sure I had a place to sleep - whenever I actually wanted to sleep. But now, I have a lot more problems, different problems, but I am able to deal with them, have the necessary coping skills to do so. Well, I don't want to say I have all the skills to cope, I never actually went to treatment unfortunately, since I had to just get clean, to get my son back, the everything happened so quickly..and here I am. if I knew then what I know now, I would have gone to treatment.

It has been almost 3 years...and still feel parts of my soul missing. Slowly they are coming back, but I am not the same person I used to be. I find it difficult to connect to people now, whereas before I made friends very easily. My self confidence and esteem has taken a beating. I used to be a very creative person, and I feel that is missing now too. This is why treatment is very beneficial I think. You get to focus on healing and getting to love and know yourself again. I didn't have the option for treatment, so I am doing this the hard way.

This just a taste of where my life is now. What I haven't mentioned is all my personal victories, and there are many.