Sabrina calls me. She's sobbing uncontrollably. Her life is falling apart, while she rebuilds it. She's gonna do something tragic if she don't get help, from me, today, now.
"Please help! I need a place to stay for awhile. I need you!"
Of course I drop everything and head over. Who needs sleep in the middle of the night?
I'm apprehensive, zero PDA from me from now on, for a lady gangraped by 7 preppy white boyz who nearly murdered by repeated strangulation and 20 slashes, left for dead in an ally. Even her babydaddy raped her and made her dig her own grave. I remember her last punch in public, after I swatted her ass. No more PTSD triggers from me.
She hugs me hard and tight. She gives me the best hugs of my life. Mommy hugs full of love and loss. Contrast.
She doesn't even insist on driving us back. Something must be horribly wrong....
Red flags wave, but of course I speed into drama at Wide Open Throttle. Time to slow down when I die.
Back to my place. All my furniture and TV stolen by Miss Lovely. Electronics disassembled in hiding. (Long story, extenuating circumstances, but similarities to Sabrina with her best friends, so I'm on High Alert for Doper Madness.)
Sabrina don't care. She's disturbingly comfortable with my loss of economic status. She's just happy to see me. I turn on the expedient music system. We dine and drink.
We shower, separately. She's shy, for a stripper.
We dress, barely. Together. She hugs me, again.
We go to bed, on the floor, on a camping mattress, in a sleeping bag made for one.
"I love you Whores & Hookers." She says.
"I love you too, as a friend." I XOXO.
"Thank you for being my friend. I don't know who else I can talk to. I've got nobody to talk to every day. I've lost my best and only friend!" Bigfoot, her ex, who tried to kick my ass before 98-pound Sabrina stepped between us, tough love, tough hate. She's opening her soul, again, but longer this time. Much longer. I lover her clean and sober lifestyle change.
She tells me her tales of woe, crying softly. I listen.
Fired from her new job she was so excited about. I'd driven her to work a couple times. She looked smoking hot in her waitress kit. Her experience in stripping and waiting tables is a powerful tool for extracting money from both men and women. Seems the other girls got jealous of competition. And the manager said she was too stupid to learn, her epileptic seizures causing amnesia and all.
And she's preggie, again. Yeah, she knows what birth control is. But her idiot married BF don't care to pull out. She put him in the poor house, after his $50,000 a year salary for his sugarbaby. I get to pick up his pieces, and her bills. Another abort, another child she loves, lost. Having that baby is a crime. The Death Panels get more work.
I stroke her hair. She loves that. Reminds her of her kidnapped daughter who stroked her hair until she fell asleep every night. She cries again.
We cuddle and snuggle. She holds me tight. That's new.
I massage her entire body, all night. I get maybe 3 hours sleep. She sleeps at least 6. That's new, better than her usual 1 hour a night for the past many years, thanks to seizure disorder from getting run over by a car, as a child, while visiting her hooker junkie mom.
Next day, clear blue eyes, not a hint of tears of rain. We live life.
That night, repeat.
I awaken, to a friendly handjob. A pleasant surprise. No pay to play, first time for everything. Sabrina is getting quite good at that. She loves to see my "seizure face" as she calls it. I've seen her seizure face. But her endurance is still low, ADHDDDDDDD as she calls it. She orders me to finish myself, as she watches. I comply. I've had so many situations where this cums up, with so many girls, through the decades. Might as well get used to it. She makes me feel comfortable with that. That's new. I like it. Good skillset, putting on a sexshow. Girls r horny, who knew? She giggles and cleans me up, inside and out, pumping my last drop.
"When was the last time you had sex?" I snoop.
"Three months ago, with Bigfoot."
"Are you fuckin anybody else?" I wait for a punch or curse, none received.
"No, but Bigfoot don't believe me." I wonder why?!
"When was the last time you got off?"
"It's been longer than that."
"That's too long, it's not healthy. I'd love to get you off, as a friend, you deserve it. I would help you relax, and get your life back."
She looks at me sideways, interest in her eyes, unable to hide it. I know. I wait.
We make plans for another out-of-state excursion for her to show her pussy to strange men. She wants several days this time. But I'm working to pay bills, I can't take that much time off. So she plans to take her roadtrip with her 2nd BFF, an elder sugardaddy who already bought her 3 cars and paid her bills for a year, despite only licking her once. It musta been great...she still won't let me, for now.
Eventually, it's time for her to go, her quest for cash exhausts one man, she moves to feed upon another host. I know the drill. I'm just glad it's not me paying her high maintenance. She packs her bags. I'm unusually sd to see her go. She feels the same. Her anger mounts over nothing. She blames me for everything. I allow her to vent. IDC, except when she's hugging me, or fucking me.
She picks a fight, over Fuckbook, to justify her abandonment. She wants desperately to stay, but I cannot afford it. Nobody can. Until she settles down and grows up, to quote Bigfoot.
Next stop, getting her off....