The First Time

Becky stirred in horror at her credit card statement. Surely she haden’t spent all that money? Becky scanned the list of transactions for the sixth time. There was no mistake, the statement was accurate, the outstanding balance was £5321 . “s..t” Becky swore outloud. How could she have been so stupid. When she took out the card Becky had intended it to be used for emergencies only but expensive shoes, a state of the art laptop, a designer label handbag and enumerable trips to expensive eateries could hardly be classified as emergency purchases.
Becky’s credit limit was £5000    and she had breached that by £321. She looked again. “c….st” she owed them £30 for having breached her credit limit. Becky’s beautiful oval face suffused with tears, her blue eyes usually full of laughter resembled lagoons so full where they of water.
When Becky had graduated from university some 6 months previously with a first class degree in english literature she had never realised just how difficult it would be to obtain a job. Sure she had a job at her local pub, the Fox which paid £6.08 an hour but even if the landlord, John agreed to allow Becky to work at weekends (she was already working every week day evening) the additional money would hardly make a dent in that horrendous bill!
“F..k” her rent was due tomorrow. She owed £500 to the council. How was she going to keep body and soul together?
Becky thought of Julie her friend from university. They where very close and confided in one another about everything. Becky knew that Julie worked as an escort. They had been out clubbing when Julie’s phone had rung and she had left to “see a client”. Could she sell her body like that? Becky had had her fair share of one night stands. Her long blonde hair, blue eyes and slim figure made her a magnet for testosterone fueled clubbers. However Becky had been physically attracted to every man she had slept with. Sure there haden’t been intellectual compatibility in most cases, however the men had been good looking and Becky had, on the whole enjoyed herself.

Becky was no fool. She understood that being an escort entailed sleeping with men from whom one would, in the normal course of events steer well clear. Could she sleep with someone who she found physically repulsive? Feeling sick in the pit of her stomach Becky opened her handbag and took out her mobile. She sat for several minutes the little pink phone nestling in the palm of her hand. Eventualy, fighting back her increasing feeling of nausea Becky sellected Julie’s number and dialled.
“Hi Becky, how are you?” “Ok. listen Julie I need money desperately, can you …”. “Becks are you sure that this is what you want to do? You know that you will have to have sex with the clients, you understand that don’t you?” Through her constricted throat Becky’s answer emerged, hardly audible “yes”. “Ok Becks there is this guy, Mike a regular of mine who has been asking if I know any new girls. He is OK, a bit fat but he has always been polite and he tips well. Would you like me to ask him whether he would be interested in seeing you?” Becky realised that she had been chewing her lip. She could taste the tang of blood in her mouth, “Yes please Julie”, again her voice was barely a whisper. “OK Becks I’ll do that but please sweetie think very carefully whether this is something which you really want to do. Once you are in that flat it is very difficult to back out”. “I understand but I’m desparate Jules, please help me”. “OK Becks, I’ll call you back once I’ve spoken to Mike”. Becky ended the call. —–
That evening Julie picked up Becky in her car. They drove in silence through the streets the lamps shining on Becky’s pale face. Julie put a gentle hand on her friend’s arm “Becks are you sure that you want to go through with this? You look ghastly, like something from a Stephen King movie”. Despite herself Becky smiled weakly “Thanks, I need the money Jules, I’ll be on the street if I don’t pay the rent”.
The car turned into a car park belonging to a nondescript block of flats. “Here we are” Julie said. “do you have condoms becks?” “S..t I didn’t think”! “Don’t worry take these” Julie said pressing several packets into her friend’s hand.
As they exited the car Becky pulled her long coat close around her slender body. It hid the short mini skirt, the strapless dress and the silk stockings she had on. As she walked she tetered on the six inch high heels. Becky was a flat shoe sort of girl, she couldn’t get used to these darned things.
On reaching the flat Julie gave Becky’s arm a final squeeze and said “I’ll wait for you in the car park. You’ll be fine but any problems just call”. With that she turned and walked away. Becky pressed the doorbell. It was opened almost immediately by a balding podgy man in his mid fifties. Becky’s stomach lurched. This man was almost the same age as her dad. She didn’t find him remotely attractive. Could she go through with this.
“Hi, I’m mike, nice to meet you Becky. Julie has told me a lot about you. Please come in. Would you like a drink? I have wine or beer”. “A glass of wine would be nice please”. As mike busied himself in the kitchen Becky tried to make herself comfortable on the big leather sofa. The room was full of books. Shelves full of the classics of world literature stirred back at Becky. “I see that you are admiring my books. Do you like reading Becky”. “Yes my degree is in english literature”. “Really so was mine although I was at university while you where still in dypers” Mike smiled. “I can tell that you are new to this game because you haven’t asked me for the money yet. Here it is, £200 for 2 hours”. Becky held out her trembling hand and took the money. She made a show of counting it but in truth her brain was so full of conflicting thoughts and emotions that she had no idea whether the money was, in fact the correct amount. Becky wanted to run, to throw the money back at this guy and get the hell out of there but she needed the money. She couldn’t throw away £200.
Becky made a supreme efort. She turned to Mike and asked “what is your favourite Dickens novel”. Once the conversation warmed up Becky began to feel at ease her relaxation being helped along by the wine which she was consuming in copious amounts. Mike’s hand touched her knee and began to explore further. “lets go into the bedroom” he said. Becky picked up her handbag and followed him into a clean and well appointed room. There where silk sheets on the king sized bed and the scent of Bold filled the air. Becky undressed mechanically and lay on the bed. While Mike took his pleasure Becky tried to think of country walks with her grandfather. She thought of the bluebells in the woods where they used to stroll together. Mechanically she moaned in what she hoped was a convincing manner and when it was all over she excused herself, rushed into the toilet and was vilently ill. It wasn’t just the wine, it was a feeling of worthlessness which made her wretch.
“I’m sorry the first time is often the worst” mike said. To Becky he appeared to be genuinely concerned for her welfare but she still wanted to get the hell out of this guy’s flat. “I’m fine Mike. Thank you for a lovely evening” she said kissing him on the cheek. Once the door had closed Becky ran despite the high heels. She couldn’t do that again, could she? She was not a mere recepticle for guys to pour themselves into but she needed the cash …


About kevinmorris101

I live and work in London and blog as a hobby. If you would like to contact me please send an email to animalia at (the address is rendered in this manner in order to try and defeat spammers)!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The First Time

  1. E A M Harris says:

    A good story. Leaves one wanting to know what comes next. Is this a stand-alone or part of a novel?

    • Many thanks for your kind words. I am very new to writing and had intended this story as a stand-alone, however I will consider whether it could, perhaps be turned into a novel. Kind regards, Kevin

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s