“The first few times always hurt. It’s terrible, I know, but you have to endure. It will get easier.”
That’s what Mama said once it was over. I’d turned eighteen in August. There was no big celebration, no party, no friends, and no presents. Instead, Mama told me it was time for me to learn how to provide for myself. I was terribly afraid.
“Please, Mama, don’t make me do it! I can’t!” I pleaded with her as the tears streamed down my cheeks.
“It’s wrong,” I told her over and over again.
Mama ignored it all.
“There’s no other way, dear,” she said in her soft, caring voice.
With that, she led me to the bedroom in which a young man was waiting for me. He looked nice enough, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath. The moment he saw me, his glassy eyes turned hungry. A smile showed on his face, but it wasn’t friendly. Instead, it was ripe with anticipation. It looked almost like the grin of a predator before he devoured his prey. Mama told me it was time. I cried again, told her there was no way I could do it, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing, dear. Everything’s going to be fine. It will all be over quickly. It only hurts the first few times…”
Oh, how right she was. It hurt. Even now, I think back to all the screaming, the pain, the way he beat and hit me. Worst of all was the blood. There was so much of it. I didn’t know that so much blood could come from such a small spot. Once it was all over, I was a shivering, shaking mess. I lay on the bloodied, soiled bed, curled into a ball. I was so ashamed of myself. I felt dirty and worthless. I didn’t want to think about what had happened, didn’t want to feel any of it, and just wanted to forget. I lay there for hours, maybe even days.
Finally, Mama came into the room and sat down on the bed next to me. She hugged me and whispered into my ear to calm me down. After a few more minutes, when the tears had stopped, she helped me up and led me to the bathroom so I could clean myself. She said nothing about the blood or the state the room was in. There was nothing to worry about, she said. Mama waited for me to get out of the bath. I was still wearing my bathrobe when she motioned for me to sit down.
“You know, I’ve gotten a bit too old for this,” she started explaining. “With an old body such as mine, it’s hard to find anyone willing to come with me.”
“But Mama, you’re still pretty and—”
“Not as pretty as you, dear,” she cut me off, smiling.
“It’s time for you to learn our trade. You’re in your prime. A young, pretty thing like you. You’re even more beautiful than I was in my days.”
That all happened about a month ago.
By now, Mama had brought three young men for me. I hated it every single time. It still hurt. I was still ashamed of myself and disgusted by what I’d become. How could anyone get used to…to this?!
Today, things were different. I’d expected Mama to bring someone over again, but that didn’t happen. Instead, she told me it was time for me to go out into the streets myself. We picked out an outfit together. I guess that’s what prom felt like to other young girls, at least if prom was taking place out in the streets and every girl dressed like a slut. Oh, but it wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of fun to dress up and put on all that makeup together. Once we were done, I felt pretty, no, beautiful. Mama said I was all “sex and temptation.”
Out in the streets, I realized how right she was. I noticed the glances people gave me. The eyes of the men lit up the moment they saw me. Lust showed on their faces as their eyes wandered over my body and undressed me. I could almost feel their blood stirring. It wasn’t only the men who eyed me, though. Some women seemed to lust after me as much as the men. Others didn’t bother to mask their disdain and jealousy. Multiple times, I heard the words “slut” and “whore.” The worst ones were those out in the streets with me. I could see their rage and hatred. I was young and pretty while most of them looked as old as Mama. They were old, shriveled-up things, with sagging skin and empty eyes, packed tightly into fancy, second-rate clothing. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long before a man approached me. He was older than me. I saw the first signs of a receding hairline, the growing gut, and the first wrinkles on his face. He was shy and awkward but friendly enough. Before he could so much as say a word, I whispered those sweet dreams Mama had taught me into his ears.
As I led him back along the street, I was strong and confident on the outside, but inside I was as afraid and awkward as he was. It took only five minutes before we reached the alleyway that led to the small apartment Mama and I lived in. I could hear him inhale and noticed his smile when I opened the door. The moment we entered, Mama looked up from the living room and smiled at us.
“You are back so soon, dear.”
I smiled back at her and nodded.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about her,” I whispered into his ear.
For a few moments, he stared at Mama, most likely wondering what was going on. Once his eyes wandered back to my body, he seemed to have already forgotten about her. I took his hand and led him to my room. Mama had filled it with flower petals and candles. It was beautiful. The two of us stepped inside, and he sat down on the bed, looking at me.
“So, how are you—?” he started, but I put a finger against his lips.
“I’m going to freshen up a bit. You wait right here,” I said in my most sensual voice.
I noticed how red his face was as he looked at me. I saw the sweat on his hands, the quivering of his lip, and the bulge in his pants. Then he nodded. In the bathroom, I took off my clothes and carefully put them aside. Then I washed off the smell and dirt of the city outside. He truly seemed to be a nice guy, I thought to myself. I knew they were all beasts, though. They all changed. They all got wild and angry. All of them screamed at me, hit me, and beat me.
Once I was done, I stepped back into the room. The moment he saw my naked body, his jaw dropped.
“You’re absolutely perfect,” he pressed out.
“Take your clothes off,” I commanded.
Without his clothes, I could see how flabby and hairy he was. I saw his huge gut, his pudgy skin and, of course, his erection. For a moment, I shuddered before I looked back into his eyes. I stepped forward, pressing my body against his and putting my arms around him.
“Relax,” I whispered.
Then I drove my fangs into his neck. I was right. He was the same as all the rest. Like all the others, he screamed at me, beat me, and hit me, trying to get free, but it was futile. With each passing second, I sucked more of the lifeblood from his body. After only a minute, all that remained was a withered husk. He was my fourth victim, my fourth meal.
Mama was right. It only hurt the first few times. By now, I’d gotten used to it. I felt nothing for them anymore, nor did I pity them. Now I saw them as what they truly were: nothing but prey.
