Soft Cow Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

Soft Cow Ch. 02

Long before I ever met Celia (Soft Cow - 1) I was working as an intern on the regional paper for which I now work freelance. I was covering the trial of an Albanian drug dealer who'd been using kids, some as young as 10, to carry and sell his goods. One of them was a 14 year old called Tommy. We'd been tipped off by Tommy's lawyer that he was prepared to talk to us and that his doing so might help other kids in similar situations. The sub editor told me to get a photographer and go and see Tommy, get his story and pictures. "Nothing that shows his face and call him something else in your piece. Now fuck off." Well, it was like that back then.

I went in search of a snapper and found a girl I learned was called Erin Grain. She wore brown trousers with pockets on the side, back and front, a sort of tool belt, a brown soldier's t shirt. Her hair was short and brown, her eyes green. Her feet, in work boots, were on her desk which was piled high with equipment and other paraphernalia.

"Hello, gorgeous. Looking to take me out on a date?"

'I was hoping you might come with me and take some photos."

"Photos? Me? That sounds like work. I was hoping a femme like you would find me irresistible."

"Work was," I said, "the idea."

Erin grinned, stood up to reveal she was about four inches taller than me and pulled on a leather jacket. "Oh well, once you get to know me you'll want to date me. Come on, slow coach, can't hang about here."

She had a car in the underground car park. She chucked fast food bags and other detritus onto the back seat and told me to get 'your pretty arse in.' The car was a tip and stank.

"You ever clean this thing?"

She smiled. "I live in this 'thing' far too much, I know. Next time I know I'm driving you, I'll tidy it up."

"You're assuming I'm gay."

She did a mock eye roll. "I know you're gay. You go to a club I use." She named it, 'Lena's.' It was a dyke bar I particularly liked.

"I've never seen you."

"Well, I've seen you."

We arrived at the children's home where Tommy was in care, spoke to the social worker who wasn't entirely happy but finally allowed us to meet him when his lawyer turned up and gave permission.

"Tommy," I said when the aparently confident young boy swaggered in, "I'm Eleanor, I'm a reporter."

I wont be able to give you the exact words that formed the following conversation but here's the gist. Erin sat down, and said something like 'Hey Dude. Want your pic in the paper? I'm the girl to make you look way better than you really do.'

Tommy grinned. 'Sure, you make me look taller too?'

'You gonna look like a goddam film star.'

'Works for me, bitch.'

The social worker, lawyer and I were gobsmacked. Erin was just so natural with him. As she set up I tried to get his story, but he was far more interested in her equipment. My digital recorder (state of the art back then) was nothing in comparison with her multitude of lights, lenses, tripods and things like ...