Chapter One || BlowJobs & Feathers

(Paul's POV)

The sun bore upon my back, extending the bright summer days into something that was inclusively dry and brittle. With each sigh, my lips shriveled like the skin of a desert snake, as a pool of sweat-drenched my aching body.

The heat sweltered in waves, as white tepid clouds turned peaceful blue, drifting under my aspirations.

Yet, the high temperatures were bearable compared to the work that I had done today.

Damn it!" I cursed as I opened the door of my truck.

I watched my client walk away, his shoulders rigid with anger and tension.

I wiped the blood off my swollen cheeks. This was the cost I paid for giving my body to the flames and letting my heart smolder in the panting breath of summer; breathing in the ashes.

My client, an overlarge man disappeared behind the local gas station but not before giving me a piece of his mind, "fuck you, you lazy slut!" he muttered unhappily.

I rolled my eyes. He was just another client who enjoyed the pleasure but didn't want to pay, "I'm a prostitute you ass!" I shot back.

Regrettably, this type of exchange was bad for business, but it was even more dangerous to demand honesty in my line of work.

I closed my eyes, as my fingers trembled and the rage built. It was hard for me to see the good in the world when everything was centered in the rotting slums.

My fingers cracked as I checked my pockets for some change. I really needed some water.

"Fucking blowhole!" I cursed as I headed in the direction of the air-conditioned gas station.

The owner of the station was a pain in my rear. I would be lucky enough if he let me in to use the bathroom. He had a personal vendetta against what he called, "wayward souls."

I didn't care if he condemned me, because if doing what I had to do to survive destroyed my soul, then I would never ask for atonement.

I was homeless and spent most of my days and nights wandering the streets, luring morally questionable men into corners to perform sexual favors just to eat.

Oh no, you don't Paul!" the owner yelled as he put the breaks on my plan to discreetly walk in and buy some water.

"Come on, Ed I just need water!" I reasoned. I was holding up the line and if he refused to service me then I would have to steal.

Ed shook his head sternly, "last time I let you come in here, you stole over twenty dollars worth of food, not to mention the type of business you bring by..." he glanced at me, as he pointed his nose up. He glared at me as if he smelled something awful.

I smiled, trying to use my boyish charms to persuade him. There were a few curious looks as people continued to browse between the aisles.

"Water under the bridge?"I asked slipping a pack of cigarettes behind my back.

He rolled his eyes. "You're too young for this son," he said sadly.

Ed was correct, I was young. Just a week ago I turned twenty-two but why did my youth matter when I had adult responsibilities?

"There's a hose out back," he said pointing toward the door.

I shrugged, it was my way of saying thank you.

I was just about to leave, satisfied with the number of things I had managed to slip under my shirt while still talking to Ed. He was old and couldn't see well, that's why I kind of liked him.

"I'll pay for whatever he needs" a soft voice interrupted.

I froze.

"He's nothing but trouble miss, he's a street boy" Ed explained.

"I will not repeat myself," the voice firmly said.

I turned around to face the person who was insane enough or stupid enough to pretend like they cared. Every once in a while, a goody-two-shoes would wander around and treat me like a charity project.

I sucked my teeth annoyed. People were full of shit. They only did things to make themselves feel better. Kindness is never for the person receiving it, it's always about the gratification of the other's feelings.

"Uh, no thanks!" I interjected rudely. My eyes scanned the face of an angel. She was young, couldn't be older than twenty. Her short curls bounced playfully every time she moved her head.

Her brown eyes were peaceful like waterfalls, and tunnels, yet deep like a bowl. They were something to get lost in.

She smiled at me, "I meant what I said, get whatever you need" she assured me.

Ed shrugged, "don't be an idiot Paul, we all need help, it's not every day it's offered."

I sighed, sensing a battle that I couldn't win. If I wanted to eat today then I couldn't waste my time here. I walked quickly to the fridge and grabbed the largest bottle of water I could find.

"Thank you miss," I mumbled slamming the bottle on the counter for Ed to scan.

"That's all?" she asked, her cinnamon brown eyes caught the distilled rays of light through the window reflecting softly back onto her face.

I took the water bottle without a word and headed outside. The girl was already a forgotten thought in the scoring winds of summer.

"Wait!" she shouted pursuing me.

I nodded to myself. I knew there was a catch, as I said before people only do things that benefit them.

"My name's Feather," she said sipping her cherry soda.

"Listen, I'm sorry your parents hate you, but I am losing money and can't afford to just talk" I explained hoping she would get the hint.

Feather blinked in surprise, "what job do you do?" she asked curiously.

I stopped abruptly, meeting her gaze head-on, "I'm a prostitute, so leave now!"

I watched satisfied as anger seethed through her red cheeks. I took a step back, ready for another beating today, as her fist curled.

"Okay, I have twenty what will that get me?" she asked opening her hands and showing me her money.

"Huh? What?!" I stammered in confusion.

I could tell from the way she dressed that she had a good home and a family. Her mother was probably a lawyer, and her dad a doctor. Everything about her was pristine and well taken care of. She had no business on this side of town.

"Listen, I get it" I reasoned, "you're the spoiled rich girl, whose parents have high expectations and now you're trying to make them mad. Listen up Feather, I don't do friendly, and I don't owe you!" I said defensively.

She shook her head stubbornly, "I just want some pleasure, and you need money, that seems like a fair exchange."

Feather looked around, and spotted the truck I was using, "is that where we go?" she asked already walking in that direction.

I followed her, truly not giving a fuck anymore. She was right I needed money.

On the outside, it looked like an abandoned truck that was dumped on the side of the road but I took pride in the interior. I had spent time sifting through trash, junkyards, and alleyways to find things that were both decent and useful.

"Wow," Feather said looking around.

I had a few couches, a modern white wool rug, twinkling light fixtures, and even a clean mattress. It looked like the inside of a nice hotel.

I lead her to the center and shut the door. I took off my shirt, ready to earn money.

Feather looked at me strangely, her body was stiff and tense. I laughed as I realized she had never done this before.

"Did you think I was bluffing?" I asked her.

"Can we just talk please?" she shoved the money in my hand, "I'll pay extra to just talk," her voice squeaked as she looked ready to run at any moment.

Her hands shook slightly, she was extremely nervous.

I felt weird, a strange sensation traveled up my spine and fluctuated into my body. Perhaps I was feeling her nervous energy as well.

I sat down next to Feather cautiously, "twenty dollars usually gets you a blow job" I told her, "or sometimes customers just enjoy giving me one" I said lighting a cigarette.

Dark smoke clouds billowed into the humid air, leaving Feather coughing and sputtering, "would you like a blow job?" she asked politely.

I looked into her misty eyes, she was so damn strange! She looked at me as if she couldn't see the holes in my fading pants. Or the dirt on my unclean body. Feather admired me as if I was someone else...

I shook my head disturbed, "I don't have a say. I'm a slave to the money" I explained closing my eyes and enjoying the silence between the puffs of my cigarette.

Feather got up abruptly, reaching out her hand gently, to touch mine, "well now you're the master" she said slipping another clean crisp bill into my hand.

I looked at her confused.

"That's free," she explained.

Feather took a step forward, causing me to move in my own space as her bare shoulder brushed against mine. It was the first gesture of human kindness I had received in a long time.

My pulse raced. This was what losing control felt like. Feather was a stranger who had violated me with sincerity.

I watched her hands gently reach out to touch something that wasn't hers to take and I felt myself twitch. It was a jerk reaction but I grabbed her arm, pushing her away.

"I'm not someone to play with!" I warned dangerously, "I do this to survive. Don't waste your time with pity, or whatever sick fairytale you have in your head right now. I don't accept free" I growled letting her go.

Feather gasped, rubbing her sore wrist as she glared at me, finally understanding that I was dangerous.

Life had chiseled me into a jagged stone, but when needed stones could be welded into weapons.

Her curly lashes fluttered against her high cheekbones.

Feather's amber eyes glowed with intense determination, "fine, let's kill two birds with one stone" she whispered.

She slowly got on her knees, reaching for my zipper.

This is Feather.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Comment, share, like <3

Also, listen to the music, please. The song is by Doja Cat- "Trauma."