Her cellphone woke her the next morning. She sat up, and grabbed it off the nightstand before it woke David, "Hello!"
"You have a call from the Women's Correctional Facility, press one to accept this call, press two to deny this call, press three to prohibit this inmate from contacting you."
Sam groaned, and pressed one, "Hello, mom."
"You fucking bitch."
"Good morning to you too."
"What is the matter with you? I told you I need his protection."
Sam sighed, "I'm not going to become a prostitute for anything, Mom."
"They don't give a shit. Half of them are on his payroll."
"Who is he?"
"Mort, he goes by Mort."
Sam knew what she had to do to stop her mother, "Mom, what exactly are you telling me to do?"
"You know what to do, Samantha."
"No, Mom, I don't. I'm not part of your world, remember?"
"Just go find him, spread your legs, and give him a good time. He'll give you something that will make it easier. Then he'll show you how to entertain his friends."
Flinching at her mothers crude words, Sam forced her tone to level, "He'll give me something? What, drugs?"
"Just a little meth, it will take the edge off. You'll love it."
"The edge off what? What is he going to do to me that is going to require that?"
Her mother groaned, "You are such an idiot. You're going to have to go down on him, and probably ten or eleven of his men before he's happy with your talents. Then they will fuck you until you can't walk. He doing it in the ass, so you'll have to get used to that."
"Geez, Mom, is that really the life you want for me? To have to be drugged up so I can let a bunch of guys use my body?"
"Like mother like daughter." Deanne laughed, "Come on, honey, next week when I get out, we'll be a team. You and me working together. We'll have them eating out of our hands...or our pussy."
"God, Mom, it wasn't enough for you to practically kill me before I was even born, or to tell your boyfriends they could have sex with me when I was thirteen so you could go out and have sex for money, you want me to sell myself."
"It won't hurt, Sam. You've done it before."
"Most mothers want to protect their children."
"I am protecting you. We're protecting each other."
"Mom, I'm leaving town."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I'm leaving. I'm going away, far away, where you can't try this anymore."
"No, Mort won't like that."
"I don't care what Mort likes, Mom. I'm not going to become one of his girls. I'm not going to give you any more money, and I'm not going to answer your calls anymore." Disconnecting the call, Sam found another number in her phone, and pressed the call button.
"District Attorney's Office, this is Monica."
Sam sat up, and took a breath, "I need to talk to ADA Housey."
"Who may I say is calling?"
"Samantha Andrews."
"May I tell her what this is regarding?"
YOU ARE READING
Wyoming Winter
RomanceEighteen-year-old Samantha Andrews is used to fighting for everything in life. Growing up in foster care, she knows what it feels like to be unwanted. When she looses two close friends, she learns that their six children are going to be split up. Kn...
