****This is the beginning pages of the first chapter of a book I’m working on. I’d Love some feedback and remember HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY…well… for me anyways! Thank You for taking the time out to read!! MUCH LOVE!****
Photo Credit: Natal Galvan *taken from a book with the Culver City Public Library, CA
I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I was horny that’s what I was thinking but why did I think that making a life altering decision in the middle of me fingering myself was a good idea? I do not know. To this day, as I sit here in this shit hole, I have no clue why I thought that my idea at that time was a good one. Could it have been my desperation? I needed money. My savings were dwindling and my job at the dispensary didn’t pay all that much. Could it have been my loneliness or the lack of excitement in my life? Yes, I know. There should have been no lack of excitement considering I had lived in Los Angeles for less than two months, but it was hard to find genuine people in this over populated city, let alone make friends. Sure I’d go out by myself once in a while but that was risky. This wasn’t my small town life from back home. Back home everyone knew everyone. There were no secrets. No one locks their doors. You never worried of crime. It was what some would call paradise.
This place here was a completely different world. No one here knows anyone. Here, your “friends” don’t know you and you never truly know them. There are motives behind the people that know you. Sincerity is as rare as a house phone. People here? They’re all actors, whether or not they’re here to look for fame and fortune occupationally. People here wear invisible masks. You never really know who you’re dealing with.
So there I was bored and playing with myself. In one hand I held my phone gazing at the pictures of old dirty men screwing the wet out of young girls. The caption read “Daddy Cums while Mommy Sleeps”. Picture after incestuous picture had my lips wet and clit swollen, lost in a world of weird perversions. The old man in this current picture wasn’t bad looking, I thought to myself, as I found myself staring at him and what he was packing. I’d fuck him if I had to, I remember thinking.
That’s when the idea struck, as well as my monumental climax. I guess that’s why I thought it was such a good idea. So as I came, through the blinding lights and the euphoria I was physically experiencing, I decided that tomorrow I would follow through with my idea. I would turn my luck around and hopefully life out here in the wild of wildest, my life would get just a teeny bit easier.
The next morning, after brewing my bold cup of coffee, I sat in front of my computer and placed my ad. Funny thing it was placing an ad selling your-self. I wasn’t trying to think of it in terms of selling myself though. Honestly the way I pictured it, I imagined a Pretty Woman type of scenario minus me being a prostitute. I envisioned a handsome older gentleman answering my ad, offering his guidance in exchange for some after dark pleasures. In time we would fall ever so madly in love with one another and we’d live happily ever after. Why not? Overnight I had come up with a sure fire plan as to how to choose my knight in shining armor. I was sure I’d get multiple responses so I would just choose one who I’d deemed the best candidate. The one who was not only the more handsome but one I felt like I could best emotionally connect with. How could I go wrong?
Within a few minutes, I had 5 responses. Two of these savages, I will call them savages because to call them men would be far too nice of me, contacted me with no introduction even. What they stated in the body of their badly written email were things of rapists and cons.
“Ravage you like the disgusting wild woman that you are,” one wrote.
“I’ll duct tape your tits together so it feels nice and tight as I titty fuck you and cum on your face,” said another.
These were my first responses but still it didn’t deter me from taking down my post. Guys will be guys, I thought to myself, there are always those bad apples in the bunch and I couldn’t expect otherwise.
The other three responses were sweet. These were what seemed genuinely nice guys, rich, but horridly unattractive. I couldn’t imagine having to pleasure them. My lady parts dried up like a cranberry left out in the Mojave desert just thinking about it. Delete. Delete. Delete.
I glanced at the time and made moves to get ready for work. I had 45 mins to get showered and dressed. There was plenty of time. I literally worked two blocks from where I lived which was one of the reasons I took the job. I could leave my car at home, avoiding the stressful LA traffic, while also saving money on gas. As I began getting ready, I thought about my job and how unhappy I was. Sure, many people would have killed to work at a medical marijuana dispensary. It hadn’t been long ago that the laws had changed and hundreds of these places had been opening up all over the state. There was something to working at a place that not too long ago would have been considered illegal and even immoral that made it a little more exciting than your typical retail or restaurant jobs I had previously been used to. Yet many of these dispensaries were operated by Armenians whom were not at all easy to work for.
I had been warned once by a nice Mexican girl I met while cashing out at Target one day. We got to casually talking as she rang me up. I had ended up mentioning that within a week of me moving here I had easily found employment.
“I’m not sure why people say it’s hard to find a job out here. Maybe I was just lucky?” I said to her while rummaging for my credit card.
“That’s because it is hard. Where do you work?” she asked, intrigued.
“A few blocks from here at one of the dispensaries. I start this weekend.” I handed her my credit card and she looked at me for a second, maybe deciding whether or not to bother, and then she did.
“Just be careful. Those places are usually ran by Armos. They’re perverted hot heads that prey on newbies like you. Plus those places aren’t federally legal and get raided all the time. Depending on the location your clientele can be a little shady and if you say it’s just a few blocks from here I can assure you it isn’t in a great location. So just be careful.” And with that she handed me my card and my receipt.
“Have a good day.” She then said to me and her eyes moved on to the next customer. With a nod that she did not see, I grabbed my bags and left.
As I set foot outside and head out to work I think about that girl. I wish I would have listened to her warning. But I dismissed it at the time and oh how I wish I hadn’t. She was right; working for Armenians was not at all easy.
He storms in. The air around him is heavy and dark. Varno may be a small guy but he carries a huge attitude. Actually let me add “shitty” to that. He’s got a huge shitty attitude and it’s about everything. Nothing makes this man happy. Nothing.
For being as tiny as he is Varno gets women like crazy. I have seen more girls come in and out of his office than the offices of a fucking planned parenthood. All kinds of girls too, small ones, tall ones, fat ones, skinny ones. He’d had blondes, brunettes, red heads, even a bald chick. He’s an equal opportunist jerk that’ll fuck anything that’s got a wet hole giving him attention. That’s why it wasn’t a shock to me when I found a lube of Hep cream in the bathroom one day.
Varno is the owner of GreenTeeHC. He’s hardly ever there but when he is, it’s all havoc and melee. He’s got two henchmen that work under him Grigor, who’s a giant but with a teddy bear heart, and Sygus, a short funny looking man with permanent smiling purple lips and a belly that makes him look like a bowling pin. When Varno came to the shop, it was usually to handle business meeting with vendors, maybe he’d pop in to smoke a little dope and check in on the shop, sometimes it was just to get away from the trails of snails that followed him. That’s what I called his “girlfriends”, snails. None of these girls were what you would call “nice girls”, honestly I wouldn’t even call them decent girls. I will even go as far as to say that one or two were not even girls but that’s a secret that only Varno and his snails would know. On this particular day that the Hep Cream incident took place, he had snuck into the back room where we wrapped joints and packaged other cannabis products while I was in the restroom. It had been an unexpectedly quiet day at the shop. It was Friday, which meant pay day for many of our “patients” and was usually our biggest day of the week. So far I had only had a handful of patients come in, making my day drag.
I come out of the restroom, which also serves as a smoking room and a utility closet, and head into the backroom. Before I reach the door I hear him saying to Grigor in his badly broken English, “I am just irritated. People in this fucken town are stupid. Fucking dumb Americans! Where is this girl!? Mae!..” As he’s calls out my name I pop in, with a huge smile painted on my face. At this point, I’ve learned how to deal with Varno. Killing him with kindness was what I found to work best. With him being a constant cranky fucker, I wasn’t going to let him taint my always sunny disposition although it was quite hard to not take offense at first. Where I was from people weren’t “cranky” just because. Everyone was friendly and open to what life seemed to bring forth no matter how good or bad. It was a wonderful community where everyone supported everyone else in times of bad as well as times of good. It was paradise, hence why I left. Who needs paradise at 22? Adapting to this city I found not everyone was even remotely close to being cheery. But adaptation is what has allowed the human race to continue on in our ever long evolutionary existence, and I had adapted to not taking things personal.
“What’s up NoNo?” he hated this nick name I had appointed him. He thought it made him sound too negative. I happened to think it fit him perfectly.