I felt the fingers of the man beneath me tightening on me, as he moved in me, and I let my mind drift back to the past once again. To days and nights that had looked nothing like this one.
I remember those days of hunger and near homelessness. I might’ve been young then, but I wasn’t too young to know and to remember.
I could almost imagine the gnawing pain in my gut from hunger, the shame and degradation of being poor, always the poorest little girl on the playground.
I also remember mom meeting the new man after she’d gone out on one of her job interviews, while the old woman next door that smelled like moth balls had watched me.
Mom was always going on interviews, sometimes late at night, sometimes not coming home until early the next morning.
That particular might, she’d been happy though, and not the kind of happy that usually didn’t last for too long.
This time, the smile was wider and when she picked me up and twirled me around the room, I felt like a regular little girl.
Like one of the many little girls in the pre-school where I went that always seemed to be looking down on me, and whose mothers always seemed to be sneering at mine.
She’d disappeared for weeks after that, only to return one day with new clothes and perfume. I remember the perfume.
The sweet scent was unlike anything I’d smelt before, and somehow it made me happy.
She’d looked so pretty and glamorous that day, like a fairytale princess, or one of those women on the TV that I always dreamed of growing up to be.
Then she’d been gone again, leaving me with the wretched old woman, until she returned. I don’t recall how many weeks, days or months later, and took me away.
That’s when my life had changed. I didn’t understand all of what had transpired, or how our circumstances came to be so different, but I understood pretty things when I saw them.
And suddenly, I was surrounded by beauty. My clothes were no longer the cast off rags mom had bought at some second hand shop, and trust me, I knew all about what that meant even then.
I learned all about it when Mary-Jane Gillespie told the whole kindergarten class that I was wearing one of her old dresses.
My mortification was farther enhanced when she and her friends held me down and revealed her name marked in the tag at the neck of the now hated dress. To think that it had been my very favorite dress ever.
After that day, I learned that it was true, that I was nothing-a nobody. I hated that stigma more than all the others that had come before it.
It wasn’t that mom was a horrible mom, she tried, but it was never enough. Nothing she did or gave ever filled the void.
Then life changed almost overnight. Suddenly, I was the most popular little girl. People wanted to take my picture, well mostly it was mom they were after but so what, I was there too.
It didn’t matter that my new daddy was old and had wrinkles on his hands and looked like the crypt keeper. It wasn’t long before I learned how to twist him around my little finger as well.
Nothing was ever too much and believe me, I had years of want to make up for.
I learned how to go through magazines just picking out whatever caught my eye. I ate whatever I wanted, when I wanted, with a nanny slash maid at my beck and call to fulfill my every need.
But then the brat had been born. You see my stepfather had everything in the world, except for the one thing he wanted most, a son.
He’d been married at the time he met and impregnated my mother. By then, he’d had three daughters with his wife, each older than dear old mom, but he wanted a son and now his wife was much too old to give him one.
His dynasty was second only to one, the Saunders, but even then at the ripe old age of five going on six, I knew how to remedy that.
I’d heard the whispers about my mom, about the trap. The servants talked freely when they didn’t know I was around, hiding out in the little pantry off the kitchen that had a great view and was the ideal spot if one wanted to know what the household staff was up to.
I’d learned a lot hiding out in there and had averted quite a few nasty mishaps. It was there that I learned the art of blackmail, which had come in very handy these days.
I rode the cock now stuffed inside me to completion, waiting until he sighed and relaxed his hold on me before pulling off.
I cleaned myself up as best I could with my underwear and left it in the glove compartment. I liked taking the risk that his stupid wife might find out. She wouldn’t be the first.
I usually didn’t like them to find out though, unless it served my purpose; no, this secret was best left hidden, after all, it’s how I planned to make my money, and indeed had already started making a whole lot of it.
When mom’s last little affair had come to light, the old man had really seemed serious about kicking her out this time.
It was only because of the heir that he had let her stay. At least the brat was good for something. My little brother was a sickly little twerp that I’d tried more than once to be rid of.
He was treated like royalty from birth, something I detested about him, remembering my more humble beginnings; why should he have it better than I did?
I’d tried to hide my true feelings from the others, but I’d slipped up that one time and old man Howard had caught me, or so I think, but I could never be sure.
Maybe he’d thought it was a figment of his imagination. Maybe my explanation that we were simply playing a game had sufficed, but I could never be sure.