encounters with women with problems 2

A strange thing happened. A few weeks after encountering the almost comatose woman near where I live, I encountered another almost comatose woman. I went to have a look at the New River park near Islington. I saw a young woman looking at one of the information boards. She was leaning over it and slumping on top of it. At one point it looked as if she had gone to sleep.

I went over to her and asked if she was OK. I said she could come and sit next to me on a park bench and we could talk. She said that her name was Zoe. I learned that she took drugs and lived nearby with other people but was not happy where she lived. She offered me a cigarette.

She does have sex with men for money but there was nowhere that we could go to. There was no point in me taking her phone number because she lives in a different part of London to where I live. She said that she was there to meet a friend in a different part of the park and asked me if I wanted to walk with her. I thought this might not be such a good idea so I said no. I didn't know if she was going to meet a man or a woman.

As I was walking away I noticed a woman who looked as if she might be waiting for a punter. I didn't go and talk to her. It makes me wonder is New River park is a place where street girls go to pick up men.

Last week I was walking along Charing Cross Road in central London and I saw a woman I wrote about in a previous post. She had told me her name was Langdon but I don't know if that is her real name. I went up to her and said hello. I was expecting her to not to want to talk to me, as happened the last time I spoke to her.

Instead she was quiet friendly. She asked me where I was going and I said I was going over the road to the Subway fast food place. I asked her if she wanted to come with me. She said yes. I asked her if she wanted anything to eat but she just had a soft drink and I had a coffee.

She seemed to be better dressed than before and looked OK. She didn't want to speak much. She spent a lot of time staring out of the open door, presumably looking at the passing people. I watched her face and sometimes it seemed as if she had remembered something or was thinking deeply about something. I asked her if she needed anything from the shop but she said she did not.

She wanted to know where I was going that afternoon. I asked her if she knew that there was a lovely park near here called Phoenix Gardens. She did not know it and was willing to go with me. When we got there I showed her the sculpture of the horse's head in the foliage and the banana tree. She wouldn't sit down and she put up her umbrella even though it was neither rainy or very sunny.

I asked her if she had been here before and she said no she had not. I asked her if she would like to see the pond. She said she had already seen it but I said there is a much bigger pond over there. We went to see it and I pointed out the shoal of tiny fish. I sat on a bench and she stood there a long time just looking at things.

She wanted to know my address and phone number and she copied them down carefully. Then she went back to looking at the pond, just standing there. After a while I said to her "Would you like to give me your address?" This was a mistake as she looked a bit embarrassed and then said that she was going. Perhaps she did not want me to know that she lived in a hostel. There is a hostel at the northern end of Greek Street, where I have seen her twice.

I am glad that I introduced her to Phoenix Gardens. I hope that she goes there often from now on. Much better than walking the streets. I felt that I had done my good deed for the day. I thought about telling the people working in the gardens about her so that they can look out for her. Perhaps I will see her the next time I go to Phoenix Gardens.

It may surprise you to learn that I like the countryside. I often walk ten miles across open countryside. Sometimes I encounter horses. I like to try and get them to come up to me. Sometimes I think that they will come to me but then something happens and they go away. I get the same feeling from some of the women that I meet in different circumstances.

Pat's story

Pat is a middle-aged woman who I have seen on the Common for many years. She often offered herself to me but I always declined. I remember once she sat next to me on a park bench and explained how she would take men back to her flat in Stockwell. She asked me if I had a pen and some paper and she wrote down her phone number and the rough position of her flat.

She asked me why I didn't want to go with her. Pat seems a nice person and I wanted to be honest with her. I said that I prefer the younger ones like K. and N. She said "I'm not old!" indignantly. I told her that she is not old, but that I just prefer the younger ones.

I don't know how long ago this was, but I saw her again early this year, and she remembered me. I have walked through Tooting Bec Common several times this year on my way to the centre of London. I had not expected to see any women there. I saw an African woman once and a few weeks later I saw Pat. I went and sat next to her and we talked. She said that when I had said to her that I liked younger women like K. and N. she had worried that I might have got robbed. Such women are not safe.

She offered to take me to her flat. I think my curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see what she had to offer. I asked her if she did oral sex without a condom. She said she did. We had to get two buses to get to her flat, and on one of them a young woman said to her "Hello, you". It was someone she knew from the Common, a young woman who I did not recognize. She was younger and more attractive than Pat. They talked a bit and the woman said that she had not been going to the Common because it just seemed to be the police there now.

We got off the bus and went to her block of flats. Her flat was quite tidy and pleasant enough. I gave her the money, which was twenty pounds. I took off my clothes and lay on her bed. I asked her to give me oral sex without a condom. She didn't want to do it. When I pressed her she said she would try if I gave her more money. I gave her the change in my pocket but she still would not do it. Neither would she let me finger her. So it was a disappointment for me.

I think she had told me that she did oral sex without a condom because she was a bit desperate to get a punter. She guessed that I would not have gone with her if she had been honest with me. I don't think she is a drug addict. It wouldn't surprise me if she was a drinker or if she was on tranquillizers.

I continued my journey to the centre of London. I decided to go and see a woman in Soho who does oral sex without a condom. Most prostitutes in Soho do not give this service, but one place in Greek Street has a couple of women who do. This is not the place in Greek Street that has been called 'the slaughter house'.

I have been to Soho many times recently. There are many places nearer to where I live, but for some reason they seem to be much less value for money. There are some beautiful healthy-looking women in Soho.

I went to the Common a couple of days ago. I was there for an hour or so but did not see any prostitutes. It was a sunny warm day and in the old days I could have expected to see a few. I cannot say that I will never go to Tooting Bec Common again because it is a nice place to be. If I go to Streatham and it is a sunny warm day I will go to the Common too. Or if I am walking through on my way to central London.

However, Soho is more important to me now. I could tell you things about Soho.

Corrinne's story

When I first started going to Tooting Bec Common about nine years ago there were many more women there and many women who were not drug addicts.

One of the women was French and she always had her bike with her. The first time I remember doing anything with Corrinne I told her that I would give her a tenner if she let me finger her. She wasn't happy with this small amount of money. Many of the women would say that they did not do anything for less than twenty, although some would relent. We found somewhere in the bushes and I got two fingers inside her.

I didn't see her for a long time, but she remembered me. I was walking along the main road in Streatham and she was coming out of a side street. I looked at her and would have said hello but she just glared at me.

The next time I saw her on the Common she was coming towards me pushing her bicycle but when she saw me she turned away and went away from me. I walked in the same direction as her and saw her talking to two old men sitting on a park bench. She seemed to know them. There was room on the bench and I sat there and listened in on their conversation. She was saying that she didn't like men who were only willing to offer ten pounds. I thought if she doesn't want their business, all she has to do was to say no.

One of the men told her that Katy was back on the Common. He said something about drugs and said he was glad Corrinne did not do them. Corrinne said that she did take crack but that she didn't let it get out of control.

It was years before I saw Corrinne again, but I saw her on the Common last year. She was quite happy to go with me into the bushes for ten pounds. She said that the police were a big problem now but we found somewhere secluded. I remembered her, but I did not expect her to remember me. She had vague memories of me, she remembered that she had been with me before, but she did not remember that she had disliked me.

A few weeks after I saw Corrinne, I read in my local newspaper about a drug addict called Corrinne who was caught shoplifting. The headline was “Judge orders shoplifter to get drugs help as a priority”. I thought that there can't be many drug addicts in south London called Corrinne. The age given in the paper was 34. This sounds about right. The surname given was 'Fummell'. It's not a French name, but she could have married an English man.

I have been spelling her name 'Corrinne' because that is how it was spelled in the newspaper article, but I think it is more likely that it would be 'Corrine' or 'Corinne'.

Trina's story

I have been part of an internet group for a few months. The members of this group are all men who are interested in street girls. It was here that I found the photographs that I put on this blog a while back, photographs of street girls from the Kings Cross area. It was also here that I got the phone number of Trina.

Trina has been described as giving the best blow job in south London and she lives in the same area of south London as me. So I was tempted to get her number from one of the other members of the group. The person I chose wanted a phone number in return, and I gave him the number of one of the women I had met on TB Common.

I phoned Trina straight away and she agreed to meet me, although she seemed a bit reluctant because she did not know me. The people that she lived with did not know what she did, she said, and so it was difficult for her to speak openly on the phone. She told me to go to her road and then phone again. Then she came out to meet me. She was very tall and quite pretty, much nicer than most of the women I had met on the Common on recent years. Trina looked about 20.

She took me back to her flat, which looked like a squat. It wasn't squalid, just very bare. She said that there were other people in the flat but that they would be leaving soon. I gave her some money and she went out of the room. She didn't come back for a time and I could hear her talking to somebody. She came back into the room but then went off again. I felt quite uneasy.

Then she came and sat next to me on the bed. She started to kiss me on the mouth. I told her I was surprised that she did 'French' kissing. We kissed for a time, using tongues, and then she undid my belt. She started sucking my cock, without putting on a condom. This went on for a few minutes, but then she jumped up and went to the door because somebody was there.

A big black man came into the room with a broom in his hand. He introduced himself as Ian and said he looks after the girls here. He wanted to know what I wanted with her. I told him we were just talking but he didn't seem satisfied with that. Trina told him that all I wanted was a blow job. This seemed to satisfy him and he went off. When I was alone with Trina I said “What the hell was all that about?”

She seemed to want to continue but I said no. I said I would give her a phone call some time and I went off. I posted what had happened in the group and a couple of people said that something similar had happened to them with Trina. It didn't seem to make any sense to me. All she had to do was to finish me off and then I would have been a happy customer. I should have realized that this kind of logic does not work with drug addicts.

With most people, even people without morals, I usually rely on their sense of self-interest. I would have thought that Trina would have tried to make me happy so that I would have wanted to see her again and she would have had more money that way. However, with drug addicts their sense of self-interest often works only in the short term. Their actions often counteract their long-term interests. This makes them seem to me to be unpredictable and even dangerous. But I hadn't quite learned this lesson yet.

I asked the man who gave me her number if he thought it would be a good idea for me to invite her to come to my flat. He told me that he had never had a problem with her. I also asked the other men in the group and they said to do so would be asking for trouble. They said take her to a hotel instead.

One afternoon I sent Trina a text, asking her if she wanted to come to my flat. There was no reply, so after an hour or two I went out. I had been out for a couple of hours when I got a text from her, saying she would like to meet me. I was far away from home by this time and wanted to continue my walk so I texted her back to say it would have to be another time. Also I was beginning to get cold feet. She sent me many texts that afternoon and I had to explain to her why I could not see her that day.

I did see her another day. I met her at the end of her road. She asked me to give her the money and I explained to her that I could not do that because I had had women walk off with my money before. While we were walking along the road I tried to make conversation and I asked her if she knew D., the local girl who I wrote about at the beginning of this blog. She said that she did. She said that D. was 'a bit mad'.

I also asked her if she knew N., another woman that I wrote about in this blog. She said that she did know a N., but I don't think it was the same one. The last two times I met N. it was not on the Common but in a different area of south London not far from the area where I live.
When I got Trina to my flat it worked out quite well. She would not take her jeans off, but pulled them down. She told me it was because her boyfriend had beaten her up and she had bruises. I took a couple of photographs of her. She was reluctant to let me take a photograph that included her face, but then said that as a special treat I could take one of her face and breasts. However, the batteries went on my camera so that did not work.

It was a while before I invited her back to my flat. I was looking out of my window when I saw her come up to the block of flats on a bike. I was disturbed by her appearance. When I saw her face the first thing I thought of was Nosferatu (a vampire figure in an old horror film). I remembered that a few years ago on the Common I saw N. look like that.

I went to the door of the block of flats. She said she had her friend with her and that he would take the money and then go off on the bike while we went into my flat. I should have said to her that her bringing a man with her was unacceptable. I should have used this as an excuse to get her to go away because I did not fancy her in her condition.

What happened was history repeating itself. Just as with K. a few years ago, I was so surprised and disturbed by her appearance that I could not think straight. I gave her some money, she went to give it to her 'friend' and did not come back. I did not want her to come back.

It was a great pity that it worked out like this. I am sad that she has entered this hell. I am not angry with her. It would have been nice if she had stayed pretty and come to my flat sometimes. I could have snogged and gently fingered her, things that most prostitutes do not allow but I like best of all. But then again when you think what goes into her mouth perhaps it's not such a good thing. She did not charge much money. I never did get my wonderful blow job; the one time she was in my flat I was not relaxed enough to achieve an orgasm. If I had become a regular client of hers it could have worked out well.

Many months after this she started texting me again. She said that she was sorry for what she had done and wanted to come to my flat again. I did not reply to her. I turned off my mobile. When I turned it back on again there were many texts from her. She seemed desperate to make some money. One of the texts said that she was making her way over to my flat. I have never seen her again.