Sacrificing to the Gods
Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
There was a handsome boy, hair cropped close to his head, with a genuine smile who lived in the apartment building at the end of her street. He was 22.
He was a drug-dealer.
She waited one day at dusk. She knew she would not have to wait long.
He came out the doors.
"Hey," she pointed at him.
"What are you doing?" he looked at her, confused.
She dropped her hand and barely smiled. "Waiting for you. You are going to help me out."
She would knock on his door after that only in the morning, before his girlfriend got up. Before the other buyers would see her.
It was the only reason he continued to sell to her.
"What is your name?" he asked one day.
"I do not know yours," she replied. "I like it that way."
Minnie had to get home, she barely had enough time to grab some chips and pop for her night from the variety store.
He was walking up to the store.
"Hi," he said.
"Can you help me right now?" she asked.
She was pretty sure he never carried.
"I can't right now," he said.
"I have to baby-sit my kid brother and sister tonight. They are in bed by eight." She ran her hand down her arm.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll drop by around 8:30."
She closed her eyes and smiled big. Opening them up, she sighed, "Thanks."
She walked by him, down the blacktop of the sloped parking lot.
She smiled when she opened the door to him and he smiled back.
"You got enough time to come in and smoke a joint with a kid?" she asked.
"You're no kid," he said.
"Then come on in," she replied.
"Downstairs," she said. "My parents never go down there."
He followed her down the stairs. It was a large cleverly disguised room. But it was definitely the room in the house she slept in.
One lamp lit the room, dimly.
She sat on the brown couch and so did he.
She looked up at him, with clear eyes, innocent. She blinked once.
He rolled a joint on the coffee table.
Bob Segar played in the background. He knew all the words.
He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, feeling never kissed.
And then she bit his lip. His hand went into her hair.
Her breast were small. So white. So young.
Her eyes were so trusting. This kind of sex had only happened once in his life.
He slid his hand down her pants.
"You are so wet," he whispered in her ear, he had to tell her.
She said nothing, just looked in his eyes.
"Has a boy ever tasted you before."
"No," she whispered.
"I want to taste you," he said.
"Take off my pants then," she stretched her arms over her head.
He dropped a gram of pot on her table, after he did up his pants. She sat with her t-shirt over her knees.
He wanted to look at every part of her.
"What is your name?"
She rolled her eyes. "I do not know yours," she sighed. "I like it that way."
He thought he was in love with her.
"That is on the house," he said, pointing to the table.
"Thank you," she said.
And she smiled.
She had spent the last of her allowance at the variety store.
Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
There was a handsome boy, hair cropped close to his head, with a genuine smile who lived in the apartment building at the end of her street. He was 22.
He was a drug-dealer.
She waited one day at dusk. She knew she would not have to wait long.
He came out the doors.
"Hey," she pointed at him.
"What are you doing?" he looked at her, confused.
She dropped her hand and barely smiled. "Waiting for you. You are going to help me out."
She would knock on his door after that only in the morning, before his girlfriend got up. Before the other buyers would see her.
It was the only reason he continued to sell to her.
"What is your name?" he asked one day.
"I do not know yours," she replied. "I like it that way."
Minnie had to get home, she barely had enough time to grab some chips and pop for her night from the variety store.
He was walking up to the store.
"Hi," he said.
"Can you help me right now?" she asked.
She was pretty sure he never carried.
"I can't right now," he said.
"I have to baby-sit my kid brother and sister tonight. They are in bed by eight." She ran her hand down her arm.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll drop by around 8:30."
She closed her eyes and smiled big. Opening them up, she sighed, "Thanks."
She walked by him, down the blacktop of the sloped parking lot.
She smiled when she opened the door to him and he smiled back.
"You got enough time to come in and smoke a joint with a kid?" she asked.
"You're no kid," he said.
"Then come on in," she replied.
"Downstairs," she said. "My parents never go down there."
He followed her down the stairs. It was a large cleverly disguised room. But it was definitely the room in the house she slept in.
One lamp lit the room, dimly.
She sat on the brown couch and so did he.
She looked up at him, with clear eyes, innocent. She blinked once.
He rolled a joint on the coffee table.
Bob Segar played in the background. He knew all the words.
He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, feeling never kissed.
And then she bit his lip. His hand went into her hair.
Her breast were small. So white. So young.
Her eyes were so trusting. This kind of sex had only happened once in his life.
He slid his hand down her pants.
"You are so wet," he whispered in her ear, he had to tell her.
She said nothing, just looked in his eyes.
"Has a boy ever tasted you before."
"No," she whispered.
"I want to taste you," he said.
"Take off my pants then," she stretched her arms over her head.
He dropped a gram of pot on her table, after he did up his pants. She sat with her t-shirt over her knees.
He wanted to look at every part of her.
"What is your name?"
She rolled her eyes. "I do not know yours," she sighed. "I like it that way."
He thought he was in love with her.
"That is on the house," he said, pointing to the table.
"Thank you," she said.
And she smiled.
She had spent the last of her allowance at the variety store.
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