Sugar & Spice

As she bantered with the other girls, her 'white trash' roots became undeniable. That she was also a T-girl, like some of them, also helped break the ice. As Sugar turned to talk to one girl, Jade, an Asian girl from New York, spied Sugar's dragon tattoo. She recognized it – and its significance - immediately. Sugar recounted the details of her life in New Jersey for her new friends. It was just as real for her as for them. She related how she had been banging her current 'husband' at "The Rail" (she had injected that bit of remembered colloquy to good effect) when the cops had busted them both. When she detailed her experiences of the last two hours, the other girls became more sympathetic. "So, you're one of Syd's girls now," observed Brandy, a tall, striking black girl, "just like us." Sugar was perplexed.

"Syd? Who's Syd?"

The ebony enchantress explained "Syd" was a pseudonym for the shadowy owner of Elysium, Empire, Peepers, The Rail – and Fantasia/Altered Ego, the Police, plus key members of City Hall and the City Council. No one at their level had ever met Syd or even knew his real name, but everyone in the Taylor Street sex trade worked for him, either directly or indirectly. As Sugar now surmised, all of her current companions had been 'recruited' by the cops one way or another and were required to make regular payoffs – otherwise.... The story was, Syd was from the East Coast, but no one knew that much about him. Sugar related what Evelyn had told her, that Syd was 'mobbed up' and that his 'family' had staked out new territories in Small Town America, including Aurora. That explained the large amounts of cash and expertise at co-opting local officials that would have been required to make the Taylor Street sex trade, and support structure behind it, possible. The other girls were impressed with the new girl's grasp of 'the way things worked' on Taylor Street as well as the rest of Aurora.

The next couple of 'cruisers' shied away when Sugar set her price and stuck to her guns. She was beginning to doubt herself when she struck paydirt; an expensively-dressed man in a big black BMW who almost went through his own windshield when he spotted the exquisite siren and jammed on his brakes. It took Sugar all of thirty seconds to determine he was not a 'player'. Rather, he was a well-to-do married man who had become bored with his uneventful life and uninspiring wife and had decided to "take a walk on the wild side". Sugar played the awestruck neophyte like a violin. In a heartbeat, she was in his car and all over him like a cheap suit. She brought him to the point of cumming with her lips and talented tongue, then kept him on the edge while she 'suggested' he take her to the Rail. There, she promised, she would take him around the world and back.

A short time later, she was encamped in a room in the Railway Inn for the second time that night. This time, Sugar was on a mission. His name was Bernie. He was enthralled with the stunning shemale. A huge bulge tented his slacks out before him. He had rented the room for the entire night, and knew exactly what he wanted. Sugar cupped the bulge in his pants with one taloned hand, then pressed her body against his. It was as if she had rung the dinner bell for Pavlov's dogs. He was all over her in an instant.

The spike-heeled hussy was almost as tall as her aroused paramour. He lifted her firm tush with both hands, grinding his crotch into her snatch. She devoured his mouth with hers, encouraging him to explore every inch of her body with his strong hands. After a few minutes of this bump-and-grind, the man could contain himself no longer. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed down. She needed no further urging. The sizzling strumpet sank to her knees before her 'Master', gazing up at him with undisguised longing. He unzipped his fly, releasing eight inches of turgid manhood. Sugar gently grasped her prize and softly, tentatively, licked the underside of its bulbous head. Finding its flavor more than agreeable, she circled the head with her tongue again and again. Her soft, swirling licks caused his eight inches to pulse with lust.

Her first gentle kiss to the tip of his cock evoked complete silence; the calm before the storm. She parted her lips ever so slightly. On cue, he thrust his cock forward; a little first, then more and more, deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Within a minute she was inhaling all of him, right down to the root. She did not hurry things. She was enjoying herself too much. She kept up her assault for twenty minutes, bringing him to the edge, then backing off. Finally, he howled with pent-up desire, frustration, and lust. He picked her up, threw her on the bed, then jumped on behind her. She was barely able to pull herself to her hands and knees when he was on her, then in her. The force of his penetration stunned her. He slammed his spit-slick meat into her again and again. His repeated assaults stretched her out, made her more receptive to his furious assault. Receptive? In a few minutes, she was astonished to hear her own voice, imploring, pleading, begging the man to fuck her harder, harder! He spurted his cum inside her with a series of grunts. She screamed as she came, clutching the sheets tightly with her crimson claws.

She had him in a half-dozen different positions. She aroused him to the brink, held him there for several minutes of exquisite torture, then allowed him to slide back from the edge. She kept up his torment for more than an hour, until he was begging, pleading with her to allow him to cum. She did, but not before eliciting a promise that, in the future, she would be his only 'girlfriend'. He came deliriously. She smiled, waited a while for him to come down from his high, then helped him pull himself together.

Bernie had given her his vow. After the bliss he had just experienced, and in true neophyte fashion, he had no intention whatsoever of reneging on that pledge. Together, they drove up the street and parked in the garage. They walked from there to the all-night pawn/electronics shop. Even at that hour, there was a mixed group of people outside Empire and a number of single men assembled outside Elysium. Sugar was pure bravura for both, strutting haughtily on Bernie's arm just as she had on Lance's. Bernie bought his ravishing courtesan a digital cell phone and pre-paid the service contract. Together, they programmed their respective cells to speed-dial each other. That way, Bernie could be in touch with his demimonde anytime he had the urge – and she with him. That she would now be able to receive calls from other 'boyfriends' as well was a fact she did not feel the need to share with her erstwhile paramour. The couple next traveled to the ATM. Bernie had blithely paid his concubine's requested $250 up front, but subtle persuasion by the delectable doxy convinced him a tip would be in order to demonstrate his appreciation. Of course, the tip would be a generous one....

Sugar sent Bernie on his way, happier than at anytime he could remember. She still had the keycard for the room at the Rail and made the most of it. Thanks to Bernie's largesse and a couple more successful 'dates', the elated girl amassed over eleven hundred dollars before dawn. She gave each of her later 'dates' her cell phone number and instructed them to call her whenever they had the urge.

Sugar glowed. She had made the money she needed and then some. Best of all was the thrill of having sex with men she had never met, men who craved her the way a junkie craves a fix, and being paid for it. She no longer remembered the time, months before, when she had been shunned by her peers at school and elsewhere. She remembered only the streets – and her own desires. This was Heaven! Sugar knew from past experience not every night would be like this, but the realization did not diminish her inner glow.

Her 'handlers' would come looking for her soon, as promised. The other girls had already gone home. She awaited the officers alone on the corner of Sixth and Taylor, scant blocks from where they had 'turned her out'. Well, one 'gang' was about the same as another, she reasoned. She could have played it tough; flung the money at them and stormed away. A couple of her new 'girlfriends' had indicated they had that kind of adversarial relationship with their controllers. Sugar considered their situation carefully. Those two had been on the street for a long time – and looked it - and indicated not the slightest hope of an alternate future. In spite of the thrill of the night just ended, the comely concubine instinctively knew the streets were not a good long-term career path. The teen tart vowed she would not end up another strung-out, burned-out 'ho and would do whatever necessary to avoid that fate. The most obvious 'golden rule' to follow was: "Never antagonize the people who can make your life a living Hell." Cops were cops, the world over; there was a better way to play the game.

They approached from the east end of the street, past Elysium and Empire. Officer Calder was driving. 'Sugar' slinked across the street towards them, sidling up to the driver's door. She opened it, seated herself across the startled officer's lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body tightly to his and planted a searing kiss on his lips. As she did so, she raped his mouth with her eager tongue and wiggled her bottom atop his rapidly-rising manhood. Recognizing the importance of "equal time" between partners, Shauna broke her kiss and embrace, then turned and reached behind Officer Bowen's head with her right hand. Drawing him to her, she kissed him with equal fervor, granting him full access to her lissome body with his probing hands. After a discreet interval, she broke the second kiss, then opened her clutch. She extracted the pre-arranged wad of bills, counted out six one-hundred-dollar bills plus one fifty-dollar bill in full view of both officers. She added a second fifty with a flourish, intending for them to understand it to be a 'tip'. She folded the bills in half and stuffed the wad in the senior officer's shirt pocket. She flashed them her most alluring, come-hither smile and kitten's purr.

"So, Boys, how was your night?"

Reaching again into her clutch, she flashed her keycard and flicked her eyes in the direction of the motel.

"You don't have to go home right away, do you?

Apparently, they didn't.

Looking back, Shauna realized she had fucked or sucked seven different men in one night. The cops had stayed over an hour. While one had fucked her shemale pussy, the other had fucked her mouth. Then they had switched places. They came. And came. And came. So had she. It changed their attitude towards her. It changed her, as well.

They drove her to an apartment building on Seventh Street, a couple of blocks north of Taylor. The officers escorted her up to a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor. The place had a queen-sized bed, dresser and nightstand, a good-sized walk-in closet, a kitchenette with refrigerator and stove, and a bathroom with tub and shower. It was not The Ritz, but it was roomy enough. "Make yourself comfortable," Jim Calder said. "You'll be staying here for a while. We'll bring your other clothes by later. Meanwhile, get some sleep. You are going to have a busy week. Naturally, I won't have to warn you about calling someone to come and get you. We will be monitoring your cell frequency." With that advisory, they departed.

Shauna wasn't really surprised that they already knew about her new cell phone. She had guessed they were watching her closely, and would for some time. The Dragons had done the same. She could bide her time and wait them out. She made two phone calls. The first was to the office to call in sick. The second was to Evelyn's private number at home to tell her not to worry, that she was all right but would be gone a few days. Shauna requested her aunt think of some good reason – a training class or something – to explain the girl's absence. She managed to peel off her outfit, then collapsed on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Shauna slept like the dead until Four PM. She drew a hot bath in the big, four-footed tub and slipped into the steaming water for a long soak. She arose from the tub, patted herself dry with a towel from the rack, then padded back into the bedroom. She was startled to find her closet and dresser drawers full. They – someone – had brought her other clothes. Not just the outfit she had been wearing the previous evening; everything Evelyn and Sharon had recently purchased for her. Again, the young hooker was not the least bit startled by this latest invasion of privacy. Cops were cops; they went where they pleased, took what they pleased, lied as they pleased, and only apologized if they got caught – sometimes, not even then.

The permanent makeup had made it so easy to paint her face; eye shadow, blush, fill in the lips with lipstick and gloss, fluff, arrange, and spray the hair, and done! 'Sugar' was ready to hit the streets again. She elected to take a cab to her appointment at Altered Ego, arriving in plenty of time. As before, she determined to make the experience a positive one, wanting to get on Isis's good side and, by extension, Syd's. The associate awaited her with a half-dozen new fetish outfits; calfskin, PVC, latex, and more patent leather. Each was more revealing, more sinfully seductive than the one before. The footwear that accompanied each outfit was equally provocative, designed with fetishists in mind and a perfect compliment to the outfit for which it was intended. Every stitch, shoe and boot molded and hugged her curves as though made especially for her. She said so to Isis. The blonde just winked.

"One would think."

Isis explained these outfits, in addition to what Sugar already possessed, would constitute her regular wardrobe for now. The exquisite prostitute would receive an 'allowance' from the money she made – about ten percent – until the clothing and apartment rent were paid off. Then, she would pay only her rent, plus forty percent of the 'take', the same as the other girls; the more tricks she turned, the more money went into her purse. She could work as few or as many nights as she wished, as long as she made her 'quota'. Rent included her utilities, so she would not have several smaller bills to pay also. Because of her 'production' the previous night, Syd had instructed that Sugar have an 'open tab' at the two stores; she could buy or have made any outfit her heart desired. Ordering a custom job would be easy – "we already have your measurements." She had been put on the waiting list for a job at Elysium and Empire, in addition to being entered into the EEN database. She would have to work either On Call or In Call until there was a spot for her in one of the two clubs. Judging from the previous night, that shouldn't be too much of a handicap....

Sugar took a cab back to her apartment. She couldn't help shuddering just a little. Had Syd... targeted her? At what point had she shown up on his radar screen? An even creepier feeling swept over her. It was actually... kinda flattering. She struggled upstairs juggling the full-to-overflowing shopping bags of clothing and shoes. She hung up the outfits and boots with the hangers provided, then labeled the shoeboxes with black permanent marker and stacked them neatly on the floor of the closet. She slipped out of her 'daywear' (what would be considered shockingly revealing clubwear by most other girls) and into a lipstick-red latex sheath with deeply-plunging sweetheart bodice and deeply-scooped back. Stockings and garter belt, a matching latex bolero jacket, evening bag, and patent platform sandals completed her outfit. Sugar touched up her lipstick and hair, spritzed herself generously with Obsession, and called a cab.

It was Nine PM; too early for 'trade' out on Taylor Street. She had the cab drop her off at Elysium so she could have a drink, watch the dancers, psych herself up for the evening ahead – and give all the boys a long, lingering look at 'the goods'. She was getting to enjoy the abandoned conversations and dropped jaws that accompanied her anywhere she went on Taylor Street. Elsewhere, the small-town mavens might glare at her disapprovingly, cluck-clucking scornfully. Sugar knew she wasn't about 'elsewhere'; this was her world, her time, her oyster – and she was going to suck it dry.

The red velvet rope parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses. It probably never occurred to the dumbstruck bouncer to ask for her ID. That suited the auburn-haired enchantress just fine. Sugar arranged her luscious body on a strategically-chosen stool at the near corner of the bar, in full view of the entire room. A Mai Tai appeared before her like magic, a token from a gentleman admirer. This drink was full-bodied, flavorful and potent; nothing like its predecessors the previous night. She sipped the powerful cocktail and surmised she was already building up a 'following'. The bartender complimented her on her performance the night before. Sugar was about to inquire how he could possibly have known when it occurred to her he had meant her impromptu entry into the dance contest. She smiled, winked, and replied: "Oh, that performance." She thanked him coyly, leaving little doubt how she had spent the rest of her evening.

Each evening that week followed a similar pattern. Sugar would go first to either Elysium or Empire, usually the former. She would 'see and be seen', meet employees and patrons alike, have a couple of drinks, then make her way down the street to her 'office'. If she turned a 'date' in the club, so much the better. She determined early on she would not bring 'trade' home to her apartment. Each night, she would sweet-talk one trick into paying for a room for the entire evening. After finishing him, she would use the room for her subsequent dates, or to relax for a bit in-between. She worked until Dawn, collected her 'allowance' (tips were a "perk", of course), then went back to her apartment and crashed until late afternoon.

Word got around quickly about the exquisite redheaded T-girl with the "bodacious Ta-Ta's and ass". Sugar had no idea so many local men were into transsexuals and said so. The bartender to whom she directed the comment replied they were simply into her; the 'package' was merely a sidebar. 'Into her' they were. Each morning, the comely courtesan returned to her apartment feeling thoroughly, wonderfully, gloriously fucked - and she was getting paid for it.

She missed her 'husband'. She thought about Lance every day and regretted they had not had the opportunity to share the fantasy her life had become. She wondered if she loved him, or was just obsessing over something she couldn't have. She didn't see how the latter could be the case because she was getting more cock than she knew what to do with. No, there was something else with Lance. Tenderness. Caring. Real emotion. Commitment ("The 'C' word? Girl, you really do have it bad for this boy!")

She knew she had to call him, if only to leave a message. It would be tricky. If they were watching her, they would be watching him; he and Evelyn were the two she would be most likely to call for help. One evening, she called his office from a pay phone several blocks away. She left a message on the answering machine, alleging she was an expediter from an express package delivery company. The call was in reference to a package of Permaplast that he had reported missing in transit. She was happy to report the package had been found, intact, and would be routed to him at the earliest possible time.

Each day she vowed she would call Evelyn and say... something, anything to explain her mysterious absence. She was certain her aunt and cousin must be frantic by now, wondering what had happened to the girl. She did call in the morning before she went to sleep, when she knew no one would be home. She left a message on the answering machine, saying she was fine and not to worry. She didn't dare call when someone would be home. She knew she would break down and tell them something she shouldn't, and she didn't know if she was still being watched. She wasn't too worried about what might happen to her; she was a big girl and could take care of herself. She was more worried about what the mysterious "Syd" might do to them. Even though she suspected Evelyn might have some connection with "Syd" - maybe she even knew him - she couldn't take that chance with her new family's safety.