The Irony of Forbidden Fruits

I couldn't find Unique, and I was very worried that if I didnt get birth control I was going to get pregnant. She and Q had left the motel, as far as I could tell, and I felt like my world was spinning. My virginity lost in the blink of an eye, my life was desecrated and seemed hollow and meaningless.
I was walking back to the Camelot Inn, unsuccessful and broken down, when while passing a gas station, a car pulled in, and a man signaled me over. In that moment I suddenly didn't think or care about anything that could happen to me from this point forward. I had been reckless until now, but in this moment, in the warm Miami sun, I didn't care anymore. In my reckoning, I had been raped, my had already had sex now. Now nothing mattered, and I was basically a whore, and worthless.
I strode up to the car, and conversed with the man about how I was struggling with paying for my motel room. He asked a lot of questions, and I felt more assertive than I had in a long time.
My motel room cost me $35 dollars I told him. He said he wouldn't do me like that, and asked if $80 was alright. I smiled and said, yeah! That sounded great!
He had me sit in the car while he filled up the gas tank. And he got in. And started driving. And I suddenly realized what I'd agreed to. I don't know why it took so long, but it did. I don't know how I was still so naive, but even into the future I would prove to be very naive.
We drove farther and farther until we reached a by the hour motel, where the room we were in had a mirror above the bed, a working flat screen television, and a jacuzzi bathtub.
I remember a lot of things from the time in that room that aren't exactly good memories; he wasn't able to penetrate me, I think mainly because I was still so traumatized from my rape from earlier that day. Also the fact that he was my first experience having oral sex, and that we did in the jacuzzi tub. This wasn't exactly genius on his part. My knees kept slipping everywhere, and I was not only concerned with not throwing up, but with not slipping and biting his dick off, or hitting my head on the side of the tub.
On a lighter note, he seemed to be a lay and cuddle type. We lay in bed and watched Terminator 2 for a long time. I had never seen it before, because my parents thought that those movies were inappropriate for children. Ironic, I now think to myself, that those movies I still wouldn't be allowed to see until I was seventeen or eighteen, but here I was, sixteen years old, lying in bed watching Terminator 2, that forbidden fruit, after selling my body for $80 so I would have a bed for a few nights.
We had not used protection. I didn't even think about it...but I would. Oddly enough, not using protection probably saved my life in ways that I could never have thought possible.
In the meantime, though, the manic frenzy I was filled with seemed to settle into a deep depression, riddled with psychosis. Thinking only of putting a roof over my head, I barely thought to feed myself.
The first man I sold my body to wanted to do it again, and planned to pick me up at Starbucks the next day; he never showed. I felt disgusted, and ugly. I perceived this as rejection, as a summation of everything I'd always been told. That I was fat and unnatractive. That no one wanted me. I felt like I hadn't given him his $80 worth. I thought that I was inexperienced, and therefore worthless.

Strangely enough, watching Terminator 2 felt like more of a forbidden fruit than anything else I was doing...more so than selling myself for sex.