Chances by Jackie Collins

What had she done to deserve the life she was being forced to live? Since the fateful night when Leroy had raped her she had been kept locked up. Not a moment’s daylight or freedom had come her way, just a perpetual stream of men, and Leroy to collect the money, and grandma Ella to bring her food, sheets, and towels when she remembered—which wasn’t as often as it should be.
    Leroy had rented the room next door, and that’s where she had been imprisoned. A human machine, just there to service the men who passed in and out.
    At first she had tried to say no. But Leroy had beat her until giving in seemed to be the easy way out.
    The man had now removed his trousers and long woolen underpants, and he stood before her, shirt flapping foolishly down, not covering his large organ.
    “You… you hurt me with your thing,” she managed. “Isn’t there some other way?”
    The man thought for a moment; then a smile spread over his asinine features. “I could spread it over your little titties and then put it in your mouth,” he suggested.
    Anything was better than having to take him between her legs. She nodded numbly and peeled off her slip. She was painfully thin, faded marks of Leroy’s beatings remained, and her legs and arms were like sticks. Her large breasts remained, and the man grabbed them roughly, rubbing his penis across them.
    She shut her eyes and wished she could cover her ears. The man’s groans were not something she wanted to listen to. She tried to think about the past, the good things that had happened in her life: Mama Sonny. Philadelphia. Her job at Mr. Dimes’s fine house on Park Avenue.
    The man was forcing his thing into her mouth now. It tasted of urine and sweat. She wanted to object, but it was too late; she was unable to speak. He was pushing back and forth, rubbing against her teeth, which longed, spitefully, to bite him.
    She had never done this before. Would he push all the way down her throat and choke her?
    She gagged, and he withdrew slightly. Then he was clutching onto her breasts as though they were two melons to be squeezed for ripeness, and he was moaning loudly and chanting some sort of prayer.
    Then he was climaxing, and great spurts of salty thick liquid were flowing down her throat.
    She thought she would be sick. But instead she swallowed, he withdrew, and it was over.
    She had prevented him from splitting her in two. That was something, wasn’t it? She should celebrate, really. After all, it was her fourteenth birthday.
    Grandma Ella died eight months later. Only Leroy didn’t bother to tell Carrie for three days. She was virtually starving when he came to see her.
    “Get dressed,” he said, shoving a dirty old dress in her direction.
    “I need some food,” she pleaded. “How can you just leave me locked up here with no food? I could die and—”
    “Shut up, girl,” Leroy said roughly. “My mama took a trip to heaven and all you can do is whine ’bout yourself.”
    Her eyes widened. “Grandma Ella died?”
    “Grandma Ella died?” Leroy mimicked. “She sure ’nuff did—an’ I ain’t hangin’ round here any longer. I’m gonna take me a trip out to California.” He rolled his eyes. “Sunshine an’ good times—here comes Le-roy!”
    She stared at him. “You mean I’m free?”
    Leroy chuckled. “Girl, you are my ticket to California. I’m sellin’ you.”
    Carrie backed away from him. “You can’t do that.”
    “Oh, no? Jest you watch me, girl. An’ you better behave yourself or I might jest slit your pretty little throat afore I go.”
    Leroy meant what he said. He dressed her, fed her a greasy plate of fried chicken, and holding her firmly by the arm took her to a nearby house, where a big fat woman prodded and poked her as if she were a piece of prime roast beef.
    “Lissy, you-all will not regret this bargain buy,” Leroy announced. He took hold of Carrie’s dress and ripped it from her body. “See these titties, these legs, that juicy little