A Certain Perception

"Don't worry about it, Sugar. Everything you need for tonight is already waiting for you at the salon. All you have to do is show up."

Kyra had encouraged me to take a hit of X before she hustled me out to the car. I was rolling by the time she let me out at the salon.

"Have a good time, Sweetie. The girls already know what to do. I'll see you later. I can't wait!"

She kissed me warmly, then shooed me out of the car and pulled out into the evening traffic.

Gayle was hustling the last of her regular patrons out the door as I entered. She locked the door behind me, then lowered and closed the mini-blinds on the door and windows. Gayle, Dita, Rachel, and Consuela all sang "Happy Birthday" to me, offered a champagne toast to their "favorite slut", then hustled me onto a stylist's couch. I lay back in detached amusement as they went to work on me.

Consuela and Rachel re-did my fingernails and toenails, respectively. Dita spent almost three hours making up my face. She began by completely re-doing my eyelash implants. As she worked, I could tell my lashes were going to be even furrier than before. In the months since I began my lash treatments, I had been plagued by shedding lashes, requiring me to come back for fills one or two times a week - not that I minded the pampering one bit. The attractive cosmetologist assured me I would continue to be 'high-maintenance' – now more than ever – but the shedding problem was a thing of the past.

"I'm using a brand-new polymer bond, Gigi. These lashes are guaranteed to last for six months! They will look so good with the makeup job I am giving you tonight. Your eyeliner seems to have faded a bit. Let's touch that up first."

The "touch-up" with her tattooing equipment lasted over an hour. She followed that with a session with brushes, powders and paints that lasted nearly as long. I was not allowed to see it, nor the work the other girls were doing. They wanted me to wait until they were done, so I could see the entire effect at once. "It's just like Extreme Makeover on television, Honey," Dita cooed. "In fact, it doesn't get any moreextreme than this."

Gayle applied some kind of gel to areas of my bare scalp. Then, a new wig was fitted in place. From what I could see at the corners of my eyes, it was a shimmering Platinum Blonde. I could tell by the heft it was long, but I couldn't tell how long. It was permed, too; I could tellthat by the way it swished and rustled when I moved my head. After a while, she gave it a firm tug; my head jerked, but the hair didn't budge. Gayle beamed her approval.

"Wait until you see it. It's gorgeous, just like you. I had it custom-made for you. I've attached it with the same bonding agent Dita uses. It won't come off until I take it off. Do you see how completely natural the hairline looks? No, of course you can't; not yet, anyway. But you will, soon enough. Baby, this is your own hair now, just as if it had been growing from your head all your life. Aren't you thrilled?"

My hairdresser hovered over my glittering tresses for a long time with a brush and styling comb, lifting, fluffing, shaping. Then, she set the whole of it in place with lots of sweet-smelling spray.

By that time, the anticipation was killing me. My mouth was dry, too; Ecstasy always makes me thirsty. Dita stepped into the back room while Gayle was working the final touches on my hair. She reappeared with a wine glass in her hand, winked, and offered it to me.

"I'll bet you're really parched about now. This will help."

I was so grateful! It was fruit juice, not champagne, but it was just right.

"Baby, you got no idea how much I needs this right now."

Dita just smirked a little.

"Yes I do. I've been there."

The four estheticians helped me up from the chair and stripped me naked. They confided that part of my surprise was a new outfit Kyra had selected especially for my birthday. My four attendants had been waiting for this moment all week. They couldn't wait to dress me for my 'big night'. The first article of clothing was a black patent leather corset. Dita slipped it around my torso, fastened the front busk and buckled the five buckling straps. Next, she had me brace myself against the wall and told me to suck in as she cinched me up tightly. She stepped back and admired her handiwork

"Wow, this is your best shape yet. Kyra had it custom-made for you. She told me they promised it would give you a twenty-inch waist. They weren't exaggerating. I love how it flares out your hips and ass, too."

The corset had heavy steel boning and heavily-underwired shelf cups that lifted my big boobs high and put them on prominent display. The ornate, interwoven design of the cups created a kind of peek-a-boo effect with my nipples and areola, rather than concealing them entirely.

Next came sheer, jet-black stockings with back seams and French heels. I lowered myself gingerly to the edge of the chair, bunched up one stocking into a nylon doughnut, slipped my right toe into it, then slowly, carefully, rolled the stocking up my right leg. I had to be careful with my new, longer talons. They would take some getting used to, but the girls helped me that first time and instructed me how to handle myself with my new crimson claws. The process was repeated for my left leg. I stood, checked and adjusted the stockings so the seams were arrow-straight, then fastened the stocking tops to the corset's garters. A tiny black patent buckling thong completed my lingerie. My tiny clit tucked snugly away without a trace of a bulge.

Gayle held a skirt open for me to step into. It was real patent leather, identical to the corset; heavy, and as black and shiny as polished obsidian. The back... well, there was no back. Instead, there were three pairs of black patent leather straps which began just below my tush and buckled horizontally, holding the skirt in place. The thong had been cleverly designed to appear part of the intricate series of buckling straps. The skirt wastight. Even with the scanty expanse of material, it hobbled me to short, mincing steps. That caused me to sway my hips and tush even more.

When laced, buckled and snapped in place, the corset and skirt looked like a single, continuous fetish garment. My breasts were mostly exposed. My tush was fully exposed. I might as well have been wearing nothing at all! As tight as it was, the heavy patent leather creaked seductively as I moved.

Raising each of my feet in turn, Rachel slipped a black patent sandal on the foot, then buckled the ankle strap. My sculptured toenails and golden toe rings were plainly visible through the reinforced toes of my stockings. The sandals had the thinnest, spikiest seven-inch stiletto heels I had ever seen, mated with two-inch platform soles. These were classic "fuck me" shoes, the kind I now lived for. I was breathless in anticipation that when Kyra saw me, she would immediately take me home, lay me back on the bed and ravish me.

The girls were not to be rushed. Jewelry came next. There were several pair of gold earrings for my multiple-pierce ears; small loops down the edge of my ears, ending in huge golden hoops in my ear lobes. There was a cascade of golden neck chains, a ton of bangle bracelets, rings on each of my fingers, and a single slender golden chain double-wrapped around my left ankle. As a finishing touch, Dita sprayed me liberally with Obsession.

Then, my four companions helped me to my feet and escorted me to the salon's full-length, three-way mirror to see myself in all my newly-minted glory. I was stunned speechless. My hair was, indeed, Platinum Blonde; a thick, full, fluffy, blowsy layered mane of very-80's big, loose curls, draping over my shoulder and down my back, almost to my waist.

My fingernails were transformed into exquisite blood-red talons. They were two inches long from cuticle to tip, square-cut with gently-rounded corners. These crimson claws curved downward ever-so-slightly and displayed lots of flashy gold nail art. They were, beyond a doubt,slut nails. My toenails and gold toe rings perfectly complimented my new talons.

My eyes glittered from deep within overdone dark shadow, furry lashes, and dramatically broad swaths of permanent eyeliner above and below that tapered into narrow points extending well beyond the outer corners. The hollows of my cheekbones glowered in a deep rose blush. My plush, beestung lips glistened in the same wet-looking deep crimson of my talons. The layers of gold costume jewelry added the right tawdry touch to a girl who was begging to be seen, lusted for, fucked. No self-respecting woman of any color or culture would be caught dead affecting the kind of extreme, over-the-top look I now presented; it was the exclusive province of sluts like me.

It all just seemed so much sexier on my Ecstasy high. I was getting REALLY horny! Dita was the first to speak.

"Wow, you are soooo sexy. Gigi, you look really HOT! I think I'm jealous of Kyra. I wonder what she has in store for you?"

So did I. I expected her to be here by now, but there was no sign of her. Gayle might as well have been reading my mind.

"Kyra told me to tell you to go to the corner of Sixth and Main and wait. You will receive the next part of your birthday surprise there."

"But thas' six blocks from heah! I has no money fo' a cab. How's I git theah?"

Dita smiled coyly as she fondled my generous tush.

"We wouldlove to drop you, Sweetie, but we're all going out to Temptations tonight, and that's in the opposite direction. I guess you'll just have towalk the streets, Sugar. But that shouldn't be a problem for a slut like you, should it?"

This was getting more exciting by the minute. Dita helped me into a snug-fitting, waist-length black patent motorcycle-style jacket to ward off the evening chill. It perfectly complimented my black patent outfit. There wasn't a prayer of getting it zipped up over my titties, but the effect looked even more spectacular unzipped. Consuela had already packed my new purse with lipstick, lip brush, blusher, and perfume spritzer.

Since Kyra had hustled me out the door so quickly, I had nothing else to put in it; cash, credit cards, or even my I.D. Of course, I never showed my I.D. anymore. Who would believe I was 'Michael'? I only carried it out of habit - and in case I absolutely, positively had to showsome kind of identification. Well, Kyra was certain to have noticed my purse lying on the table by the door and would bring it with her when she picked me up. I gathered up my new purse, blew everyone an air kiss, then was out the door.

It was already eleven o'clock. I couldn't believe my 'evening of beauty' had takenfive hours! Baby, did Iever stop traffic on my way to Sixth and Main. I was completely caught up in myself and the moment as I click-click-clicked down the sidewalk towards my rendezvous with - who knew what? My big titties jiggled sweetly with each step. My full, rounded hips and tush smoothly undulated to and fro as though they were mounted on rails. I felt so good, so right. I wasn't a Bad Girl; I wasTHE Bad Girl, the baddest, sexiest, sleaziest slut to ever 'work it' on the streets of this town.

The streets were far from empty. Cars whizzed by in dizzying succession as their occupants hurried on their way to enjoy their Friday evening revelries. Horns honked at me and men whistled out their windows as they drove by. More than a few slowed and pulled over, motioning me to step over to the curb and talked to them. I smiled at them coyly, but responded I already had a 'date'.

I arrived at the corner, expecting to see our silver Mercedes waiting there. It wasn't. I looked up and down the street in vain. The flashy little Benz was nowhere in sight. I waited, pacing up and down the sidewalk, watching for her.

A huge black Lincoln Navigator pulled up to the curb right in front of me. The passenger window rolled down noiselessly.

"Yo, Gigi, how ya doin'?"

I was startled at the sound of my own name coming from this unknown vehicle. I just had to strut over to the big SUV and check it out. The driver was a tall, impressively-muscled Black man with a shaven head and single gold stud in one ear. He was a hunk! I flashed my sexiest, come-hither smile and my big titties.

"Yo Baby, 'sup? How you know my name?"

He grinned, flashing an impressive expanse of perfect white teeth.

"Ain't nuthin'. I'm Darius. Kyra aksed me to come git you. She said you wuz real fly, but I never 'spected this. Now, git in. We gotta git uptown fo' yo' s'prise."

Lost in the moment, I agreed without protest. That devious little hussy! She had set this up, knowing how much I would adore the perverse thrill of being picked up on the street, dressed as I was, as if I was 'workin' it'. My heart was pounding as I climbed up into the plush, cushioned leather seat. I closed the door with a resounding thunk. Darius pulled out into the night traffic. He reached over, put his right arm around me, and pulled me closer to him. I was thrilled. I could almost hear Kyra whispering in my ear.

"Give him whatever he wants, Baby. You know you want to."

I yielded to him willingly, sliding over and snuggling up against this big Black hunk. I was enjoying being his slut. Curiosity got the better of me.

"Hey, Baby, how you know my girlfren'?"

Darius smiled broadly.

"Oh, she 'n I go way back. We keep in touch from time t' time. She been tellin' me all 'bout you, sayin' you wuz one hot little bitch 'n just my type. She wuz right."

Way back? She's only been here a year. What's up with that? The bright lights and wide boulevards were soon left behind.

Before long, we were driving uptown through a seedier neighborhood. There was still traffic on the street, but it was traveling much slower than downtown. The drivers were taking their time, checking out the sights, as a tourist would. There were people on the street, too, though they were definitely not tourists. Most of them were attractive, provocatively-dressed women - like me. They stood alone or in small groups, sauntered up and down the sidewalk, or leaned over the sill of a pulled-over car and chatted with the driver. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were about. For all my fantasizing, this was the first time in my life I had really, truly seen women like that with my own two eyes.

Most of them appeared to recognize the big black Navigator and waived. A few spied me, smiled, and winked. My heart pounded. I turned to speak to my escort.

"Wher' we goin' Baby?"

Darius just smiled.

"Just sit back and enjoy the scenery, Baby Girl. We'll be there real quick."

I nodded. I didn't mind being patient a while longer. In truth, the 'scenery' could have been ripped from the pages of my fondest dream.

We arrived at a questionable looking hotel. He parked the truck in the lot next door and announced: "We's here, Sweet Thang. Let's go." We got out of the big Lincoln. Darius strode purposefully through the lobby, past the front desk, and directly to the elevator with me on his arm. We exited at the top floor and made our way down the corridor. He stopped before a door, produced a key and let us in.

It was comfortable, I guess, but it wasn't exactly Disneyland. There was a kitchen, dining area with table, separate living area with couch, coffee table, lamp and television. The carpet and draperies were nice enough and were at least freshly cleaned. There was a separate bedroom with large, functional-looking bed, dresser, closet and attached bath. On one side of the room, there was even a vanity table and jewelry armoire that closely resembled the ones in my bedroom at home. So much for exclusivity.... Even in my dreamy, drug-enhanced state, it looked like what it was; a slightly seedy residential hotel room – the kind a whore might live in, and work from.

My heart was pounding, actually causing my big titties to jiggle rhythmically. Scenes flashed through my head. The neighborhood. The girls on the street. Me, the way I was dressed and made up. Darius, that big, beautiful hunk of a man standing before me. Now, this cheap, sleazy hotel room. I happened to notice the only decoration on the coffee table was a large tube of K-Y jelly. This was just perfect, the fantasy that had inhabited the inner reaches of my mind for as long as I could remember.

Kyrahad to be here, somewhere. She couldn't possibly have gone to all the trouble of setting up this ultimate birthday surprise and not be there to share it with me. I imagined her hiding somewhere out of sight, perhaps in a closet or the other room. She would want to remove herself from the scene, of course, believing her presence would detract from the erotic tableau. Still, I could feel her presence, watching me, willing me to do what came naturally - at least, 'natural' for me now.

Dressed as I was, feeling as randy as I did, I felt ready for anything. I let go completely, allowing all remaining thoughts of who I had been, where I had come from, to slip away. It was time to let the fantasy take over. This is going to be fun! Darius broke the ice - as if there was any 'ice' that needed breaking.

"You likes t' party, Sweetness? Girls like you always likes t' party."

"Yo, Baby, I luvs t' party. You all got any party favors?"

I had meant that huge bulge snaking its way down the inside of his pant leg. He took it to mean something else - at least, for now.

"You waits right here, Sugar. Makes yourself comf'table. I'll be right back."

Darius went into the kitchen for a moment. I removed my jacket and laid it over the living room chair. He glanced at me. I smiled, spread my feet slightly, placed one hand delicately on my hip, and flashed him a much better view of 'the goods'. I winked, flashing my best come-hither smile. He grinned back. He returned, carrying a smallish tray in both hands. As he approached, I settled delicately on the sofa, slowly crossing one leg over the other with the delicious, prolonged audible rasp of stocking-on-stocking.

Darius sat next to me and placed the tray on the table between us. It was a mirrored tray with a pile of white powder slightly to one side. He took a single-edged razor blade and began drawing out some of the powder into a series of parallel lines, four in all. I was amazed. I had seen this in the movies and on television. 'Michael' had never been tempted to try it. Now, in this place, under these circumstances.... After almost six hours, I was beginning to come down from the X. My stash was in my purse - my old purse, along with everything else. I wanted to keep the feeling going - and the temptation was right in front of me. I knew what Kyra would want her 'bad girl' to do. This one time wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

My companion rolled up a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to me. Mimicking the scenes I had viewed on the big and small screens, I accepted the improvised 'straw', leaned over, held it to one nostril, inhaled two lines, then switched and did the other two in my other nostril. For effect, I daintily tapped the edges of my nostrils with an elegantly manicured pinkie nail. My nose felt tingly, then a little numb. My head - oh, wow....

My 'caterer' gently pushed my legs apart. At the same time, his other hand began fondling my massive mammaries. I spread my legs wide and thrust out my chest, allowing his probing hands free access. At the same time, I began massaging the monstrous meat imprisoned inside his slacks. I could tell we were on the same wavelength and transmitted that fact to him with a low moan and knowing glance.

"Ya know, Baby Girl, bitches like you makes a lot of money just being nice to men the way I know you like to do. A guy like me has friends, contacts, men who's always lookin' for a good time."