"Enough of this! You'll get us both in trouble!" The pimp told Diane. "Here, I'll take off my shirt, put it on!" "If you want Diane back you'd better ...et me go!" Diane's response was the same one I been thinking. It wasn't her response but the necessity to use both hands to take off his wet shirt that made the pimp release her. Evidently he still expected obedience. Quickly she pulled away and again hurried toward the parking lot. I approached the pimp. He couldn't understand, but I had to. Tall bed, short girl. I took a deep breath. In between feeling terrible about myself - what actually started this whole thing - and feeling fulfilled, I went for the second. My entrances, touching the mattress, felt so sensitive, sore… The slightest stimulation and I felt myself getting wet. Barely eighteen, I've been used more in the last two months than the rest of my short life altogether. I looked at the cute, expensive clothes I used the night before scattered around my bed, as I didn't. More

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