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.