For most girls turning sixteen is a rite of passage. You get the big party with all your friends and family. You get dressed up like a princess for the night and the world feels like it's alright after all. Or at least that's what I've heard. For me sixteen meant stepping into the family business. It meant learning the family trade. It meant learning how to keep my life a secret from anyone and everyone. How I wish I was like everyone else.
On Turning Sixteen
Why they chose such an illegal age to do all this I'll never know. But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I could see why they had chosen me over my sister. Or maybe they thought she was too green still. I ran my fingers through my hair, which rested at my mid back, and was so black I could have sworn it was actually blue. My eyes were jade green, my skin olive from my Italian background. Cassie was my twin, so we looked alike, but she lacked my confidence, which was crucial in my parent's line of work. I teased my hair out with my hand so it fell in soft curls around my face. My makeup was perfectly applied. I topped off the look with a tight blue dress, but not so tight that it was inappropriate for school. I sighed and took a step back from the mirror. There was no use in trying to delay the inevitable, right?
"Do you remember what I told you?" My mother's voice was cold.
"Yes, mom." I kept my voice light.
"Cassie's too weak for this," she walked around behind me, surveying her handiwork. She laid a hand on my stomach. Years of specialized training had pretty much guaranteed me a perfect body. I had a faint outline of a six pack going on, but not so much as to make me look overly harsh or too trained. It was times like this that I truly envied my classmates, hell, even my sister, for being normal. "Suck in your gut, Lily."
All I had on was a simple black pushup bra and a thong. The pushup part of the bra made my already ample C cup look a lot bigger than it was. I swear they were pushed up to my face. The thong cut right below my hips leaving little to the imagination. My reflection didn't show a gut. In fact it showed flat perfection, but I did as my mother said. A smile crossed her face. I knew she was happy. She walked away from me over to her closet.
"Lil, you know how proud I am at this moment?" It was kind of creepy how she was looking at me right now. My mother had never been very affectionate. Actually, she had been blissfully absent most of my life. Emotionally absent, that is. From her closet she pulled out a pair of kitten heels and a black silk cover-up. She put them on me, and turned me to face her. "All you need now is a little lipstick and I think you'll be ready."
She carefully applied the ruby red lipstick and then stepped back to view her handiwork. I had to admit that the color was a nice choice. It complemented my eyes and drew almost immediate attention to the fullness of my lips. I clenched my hands uncomfortably. Tonight was the night. Tonight was the inauguration into the family trade. I was officially an employee of Russo Escort Services.
The sister before me warned me of this. I didn't take her warnings seriously. Even after she disappeared, I didn't take her seriously. She had been groomed as I had. Don't let mama take you, too, Lils. I remembered her voice clear as day. It had been almost six years since I had seen her. Cassie listened to Meg. She had outright refused to go to the gym, she ate whatever she wanted, and she never let mama have the satisfaction of seeing her dressed up. I envied her strength. Although we looked alike, we were actually nothing alike. She had nerve and I didn't.
None of this hit me until I was standing outside of a client's door, poised to knock but too afraid to do so, but I did it anyway. The first one was always easy. Or so I was told. I had no information on the guy other than he was supposed to be ready at eight o'clock sharp. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for him to answer the door. What sickened me the most about all of this was I was never going to lead a normal life after tonight. I would forever hold the memory of my first time being with a sleazebag who got off on deflowering high school girls. A shiver went down my spine and I knocked on the door again. I heard erratic movement inside the apartment and soon enough the door was opened.
The man who greeted me had to be in his mid-twenties or early thirties. He had an ample amount of dark brown hair on his head. He was actually pretty athletic, which surprised me. I had been picturing a balding, portly man in his fifties to answer the door. The reality was a lot better looking. He was almost hot. He smiled at me and motioned me into his apartment. I took a quick look around. It was nothing special. It was pretty standard as far as low rent Manhattan apartments go. There wasn't much in the way of furniture or décor, but he had managed to make it homey. I was snapped out of my head when I felt his arm go around my waist. I took in a deep breath, turned toward him, and put on my best 'sexy' smile. I let him pull me against his body.
"I have to say, I knew I was in for a treat, but I didn't know how much of one until now," He pushed me away from him and gave me a once over. Chills went through my body. The fragile image I had painted of him in my head as a 'good guy' had come tumbling down. This man was definitely not 'good'.
"Glad I was a pleasant surprise," I replied. Mr. Man pulled me closer to him and lifted my head towards his.
It was almost obscene how gentle he kissed me. It felt too intimate. His lips barely touched mine but it felt as though he was somehow inside me. The next kiss was a little more searching. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, and like the well trained robot I am, I opened my mouth willingly to his. Was this really what it was supposed to be like? Weren't sleazy teen fuckers supposed to be rough and rowdy? I cleared all the thoughts from my head as he moved his hand down to the silk cover-up. With deft fingers, he untied it and pushed it off my shoulders leaving me almost naked. He stepped back from me and took in my near naked form. He whistled at me, and brought his hand to my breast. I did the best I could not to flinch away from him, but I guess my best efforts weren't enough.
"You're not scared, are you?" The thick New York accent poured out of his mouth. I have always loved the way our accents sound up here. It was so much better than a Southern drawl or those awful Midwestern twangs, but in this moment, I found the whole thing repulsive. In that moment, I would have been happy if I never heard it again.
"Not at all."
To prove my willingness, I reached behind me and unsnapped my bra and let it tumble to the floor. My boobs were pretty great, and they stood there perky and exposed as the man in front of me ogled them. I reached for his hand and brought it up to my left tit. He squeezed as I let go. It was all I could do not to run as he brought his mouth to my nipple and once again pulled me against him. I couldn't move in his grip but I'm pretty sure that's what he wanted. He sucked and flicked his tongue across it and as much as I hated it, I let out a small sound. The sensation went straight to my pussy. He laughed softly against me.
"I knew you'd come around." In a quick movement, he picked me up and carried me across his living room and sat me down on his couch. All the pretenses were lost as he sat me down. He hovered above me and brought his mouth back down to my boob and took my nipple in between his teeth. I yelped in pain. He got more aggressive, bit a little harder. The pain was so overwhelming that I didn't notice that he had ripped the thong off. I gasped as he slid his fingers inside me. I was too tight-no too dry- for the intrusion. I shuddered uncomfortably as his thumb made contact with my clit. I hadn't even masturbated before. Mama looked down on it. All of this was completely new to me.
I moaned as he started to work me up, his mouth leaving my boobs and trailing down to lower places on my body. I watched with morbid curiosity as he took his pants off and slid his cock out of his pants. I know something akin to sheer terror was painted across my face. Nothing about this was right. Nothing about this was supposed to be this way. Happy fucking birthday, right?