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Rated: GC · Poetry · Personal · #1387922
How personal life experiences can help define and shape your character...
WOMAN ON THE VERGE

I walked up several flights of stairs
Startled by curious stares
I continued on down through a narrow hallway
Turned the corner
And came forehead to chin
With a slender, near frail figures
Hair wavy, red
Laced up in a pair of leather thigh-highs
Cutoffs
And a white tee
Skin exposing colorful
Graphic depictions
Of medieval fiction
She spoke words drenched in the thickest
Australian accent
As she pointed me in the direction
Of a small waiting section

I went in that direction
And sat in that section
Where I remained
Detained
Only mildly entertained
By a young looking fellow
With a long, dark mane
Face magnetic
Just not enough to attract me
If only I took a moment to listen to him speak
How literate
Cultured
And intelligent
But honestly, if I saw him on the street
The first word I’d speak would be FREAK
Cause I couldn’t get passed the black nail polish
Or steel-toed boots he wore on his feet
The things people like me think

And what would people like me think of ME?
I was being risqué
Gambling with my life some would say
I continued to wait there impatiently
Impatiently awaiting
Nervously
Anxiously
Contemplating
Whether or not I was making a sensible decision
It was just my first time
I was untouched
Untainted
Unpenetrated
A lump of conscience
Now forming in my throat
Had swollen so big
I almost choked
By then the butterflies dwindled lifelessly to the pit of my stomach

Two girls caught my attention
Emerging from the back room
Best friends I assumed
Ménage a trois I presumed
Covered in more than a dab of make-up
Both clad
In tight
Seductive
Getup
5 inch platforms
Halter tops
And cowboy, blue jeans
They were no older than 14
Maybe 16
Passing themselves off as 18
Walking right by me
Adorned with identical navelry
Chained like brothers were in “Roots”
During slavery
All bubbly and giggly
They apparently had a good time

Now it was my time
I entered the room unknowingly
Only heard his service was superb
He was certified
Highly qualified
Smoother than your average gigolo
Presented me his tool
And asked if the size was do-able
Using plenty of protection
No question
Sterilized
And extra-durable
His demeanor
Uncocky
For a man of his expertise
He was nice
Never impolite
Only interested in me
Our time spent was quite intimate

Intimate
With no time wasted
He inserted
Glided
I got a bit excited
The lump of conscience
That took shelter in my throat
Now dissipated
The butterflies reincarnated
With the newfound focus that flooded my veins
I held my breath
And nearly lost all consciousness
My body temperature rose to a boiling
One hundred and three
Sweat begin to drip
From the extreme humidity
Rushed with adrenaline
It came full blown
Paralyzing my every function to sense
I was like a heroin addict
Relapsing from an accidental overdose
Here I was in an unfamiliar place
Lying in a strange man’s bed
Practically comatose

My heartbeat accelerated
Blood flow circulated
Impure thoughts percolated
Up
And
Down
He proceeded to clamp
Poke
Prick
And prod me
He made one long
Final stroke
Puncturing the skin
It was like solid metal becoming liquefied
The union seemed unethical
Demonic some would later testify
But to me
It became a proclamation of my independence
And good riddance
To the little girl that I once knew
Walking out
No longer on the verge
Just a woman

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