The Irrelevant Woman

She kept walking. It was only about a mile and half after that to Piedmont Park. Much bigger, and very pretty.

She sat right down next to a young couple canoodling on a blanket and just watched them. God, it was wonderful not to have to worry about being rude anymore! She could sit three feet away and stare.

They weren't doing anything crazy. Nobody put hands under clothes or anything. Just kissing, touching, whispering little nothings. But Mary could tell - if they weren't going to go home and, and fuck each other silly, she was a monkey's uncle.

She had to have covered fifteen miles today, not an inch less. Her feet hurt a touch as she came back to put a little more change in the meter. Soon, she'd have to start thinking about where she was going to spend the night. The sun was getting low.

Wait. This was too far. The shoe store had been up the street, she was certain. She turned back, walked a few paces, and froze.

Her car was gone. Some powder-blue station wagon sat in her space.

"Oh... oh fuck," she muttered. The stupid rusty Nova had been towed. Or maybe stolen. Either way, she probably wasn't going to get it back. She was stuck in the big city with no spare clothes, or car, or...

She looked around. There was a nice hotel up the street.

It had all been so easy. She just walked behind the front desk, grabbed one of the hanging keys for an unused room, and went up. It'd probably be a day or two before they noticed the discrepancy. And if they walked in on her, so what? How would they catch her?

She was laying on the bed as she nibbled at a room-service steak, proud of herself for figuring out how to get it. A man and woman had been moving into their room down the hall, and she'd brushed past them through the door. Using their phone while they unpacked, all unknowing, Mary had ordered dinner. She'd specifically asked that they not knock when it got delivered. When the waiter set it down and turned away, she snatched it up and took it back to her room.

Maybe she'd leave the remains in this room. No need to make the poor couple end up paying.

After the meal, she laid on the bed and watched the TV for a while. She'd taken special pleasure in skipping past the World Series. She wouldn't have to watch sports ever again. The thing was, though, not much else on the tube was interesting either. Not even that 'HBO' channel.

"There's got to be interesting stuff going on in a big hotel like this," she said to herself. She looked around for her sneakers.

Turned out, getting a master key wasn't all that hard if nobody could see you, once you figured out where they kept them. She wandered the halls, looking for lit peepholes. She walked in on four businessmen, one businesswoman, and a family before she found something to hold her interest.

A colored couple, in their early thirties. They were kissing on the bed. Checking a hunch, Mary found the man's pants - on the floor - and pulled out his wallet. Sure enough, there was a picture of the woman, and a baby girl. They didn't have a lot of luggage. Wedding rings on the nightstands.

A couple getting a night away from their kid. Maybe it was their anniversary.

The woman had curly hair, an 'afro', and wasn't in bad shape. The man had a little goatee, a few pounds around the waist, and hairy legs.

Slurpy kisses. They pawed at each other, both gentle and clumsy. It wasn't all romantic and artistic like in those books. Even still, Mary found it heartwarming - and sexy, too.

The woman rolled him onto his back, and rolled herself over on top of him.

Mary knew that people did 'woman on top'. She'd read hazy descriptions of it in her romance novels. She'd never really grasped the idea, though, been able to imagine what it'd be like.

It took the woman almost half a minute to get herself situated and get him in her. She actually laughed and rolled her eyes as her hand slipped a little. He laughed too... but with her, not at her. She began to move up and down.

It would work, Mary realized. You could make sure how it went in, how your button got rubbed.

The man was smiling. God, he wasn't just enjoying what she was doing to him - he actually liked watching her have fun! She hadn't been sure that really happened outside of romance novels, either. Yet there he was, grinning like a loon.

The woman came, not too loudly. A tick later, so did he. They got apart, he passed her some tissues to clean herself up down there - so practical, but Hobart had never thought to do it. And then they snuggled up together. Yet another thing Hobart never did.

Mary let herself out. Quietly, even though she didn't need to. She thoughtfully wandered among the rooms for over an hour, but didn't get lucky that way again. Indeed, she finally got a bit unlucky. As she walked into a suite, a man wrapped in a towel ran right into her as he came out of the bathroom.

She was knocked over into the wall, and fell with a cry. She realized on the way down that there was a difference between ignoring her and just plain not seeing her. A yell escaped when she landed painfully on her arm.

A moment later she looked up at the man, who was thoroughly confused and searching for what he could have run into. His towel had fallen in the tussle, and Mary found herself staring. He was in his twenties, and fit, and hung. He turned and bent to pick up the towel, and she switched to staring at his tight butt. He straightened and, now that he was looking where he was going, stepped over her.

He sat on the bed, still acting a little puzzled, and rubbed the towel at his hair. He must've just taken a shower.

She got back on her feet, images of that woman dancing in her head. Riding her husband. Moaning. Smiling. Coming.

Well, it had worked with Pastor Bob, hadn't it?

She walked determinedly up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't react, exactly, but he seemed tenser all of a sudden. She bent forward and took his prick in hand, began to play with it.

The poor man was acting confused again. He seemed to know something was up, but he made no motion to push her away. His eyes seemed to lose focus, aimed at the wall but not seeing anything.

Her touch was making his cock stand up. "What must you be thinking?" she asked rhetorically. "That you're having some weird dream?" No one else was going to talk to her, why shouldn't she talk to herself?

Mary climbed up onto the bed, holding him down by straddling his waist. He didn't try to move, cowed and uncomprehending. She lifted off her shirt, and threw it to the ground. If it had made some noise landing on the floor, maybe he would have noticed, but it didn't. She took her time. It was rough going, getting her panties off without letting him up, but she got it done. She tossed everything out of his line of sight.

He'd gone a little limp in that time. She turned around, laid down, and put her lips around him. Her breasts pressed on his stomach; it felt good, the muscles there. She examined him with her tongue; clean, even a trace of soap. And getting hard again.

Not half a minute later, he was hard again. Even breathing faster. She got back up and turned back around. She fumbled it about like that woman, having to guide things with her hands. Although things got lined up eventually.

She sat down, and sighed as he filled her up. Then she began to move a little, up and down, side to side. When had she ever had a chance to... to explore, to figure out what she liked?

After a piece, she found an angle she liked very much. She pushed down hard on the downstrokes, pressing her button onto him.

She realized she was stifling her moans and cries. Fuck that! she thought, and let out a lusty scream. Who was gonna hear?

Faster, up and down. "Oh, God... Wait, screw that, let's be dirty! Oh, fuck, oh fuck fuck fuuuuuck!"

She might have seen stars. If it wasn't the best of her life she couldn't remember the best. It might have been five minutes before her lungs stopped hurting. Finally Mary got up, and felt the slippery drips down below.

He'd come. She'd made him come, even!

A lot of tissues made it into the bathroom trash before she got out the door. The hunk looked confused and kind of scared. "It's okay, sweetie. I'll leave you alone now."

On the way back to her room, she had a few second thoughts. Her monthly was due pretty soon, so she wouldn't catch, but you heard about all these diseases nowadays. AIDS, that 'gay plague'.

"Fuck it," she said as she got on the elevator to go back to 'her' room. "It was worth it." The people on the lift shuffled uncomfortably.

She played with herself for quite a while in bed before she went to sleep that night.

Next day, she wandered around the city again. She scooted through a drugstore and took some pads. Her monthly would be coming soon. She also got some soft inserts for her shoes. They felt wonderful; she relished a luxury she would never have been allowed before. She'd probably be doing a lot more walking from now on.

And she grabbed a box of condoms, laughing. Never knew when that might come in handy. There'd be more good-looking guys out there.

She stole a scrumptious hot dog for lunch, and made herself a giant ice cream cone from a little parlor near a park. The people-watching was good; more variety than Cornelia, all right!

She checked out some department stores and changed into a pretty floral-print dress. Then she took it off and wandered through the intimates department, trying on some lacy stuff. Maybe nobody else would see it, but she'd know.

She made to leave, but no sooner had she got out the door but she turned back for a warm jacket. It was getting colder outside.

"I'm gonna have to head south 'til spring," she muttered. "I get stuck outside, I'd just as soon it be warm." Come to that, she could probably skip the lines at Disney World...

It was getting dark. This wasn't a part of town she'd ever have gone to before, especially at night. It was a new feeling, this fearlessness. It changed everything. The run-down buildings, spray-painted markings, dark corners... they just looked shabby, sad. They weren't scary anymore.

Up ahead, a pair of women wearing... not enough for the evening chill. Just standing at the corner, looking bored and a little shivery. Mary came up and stared in fascination. Maybe she was wrong. It's not like she knew what hookers dressed like, really.

They were colored, and thin. It was hard to tell how old they were. Anywhere between twenty and thirty.

"Shit," one of them muttered. "Willy gonna be pissed."

"We can't make 'em stop," the other said.

"Tell him that. See how far that gets ya."

A car passed by, slowly. The women instantly put on lewd poses and fake smiles. One blew a kiss.

The car slowed, just for a moment, then sped up again.

"Shit," one girl hissed. The other flipped a bird toward the retreating Chevy.

Lucky for them a green pickup, a Ford, was slowing down and pulled up to the curb.

"Hey, sugar," the one said, leaning in the window. "You lookin' for a party?"

"Reckon I am," the man said. He was around forty, and thick. Muscle gone to fat. Hair a little thin on top, "What's it gonna run?"

"Whatcha lookin' for, sweety-pie?"

"How much for a dip?"

"Sixty," she said. Mary couldn't believe how casually she said it. Bored, almost.

"Maybe we just get lick in, then."

"Thirty," she said, in that same take-it-or-leave-it tone.

He considered it for only a moment. "All right. Hop in."

A quick head-shake. "'Round the corner here." She was already walking.

The man looked a little annoyed, but parked his truck just past the alley, locked up, and followed her. Mary was already there.

The money seemed to disappear the instant he handed it over. Mary couldn't figure out where it got to. The girl got down on one knee, just like that, and worked his pants and zipper. She didn't need to give him more than a handful of tugs, he was already getting stiff. She put him in her mouth without any hesitation, or enthusiasm.

Mary was struck by how quiet it all was. A few slurping noises, that was it. The john was obviously hard but he was hardly even breathing faster. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. The sheer sleaziness of it all was a little spicy, but...

A surprise came when he suddenly pulled out. "Fuck this. Get that skirt up, let's finish this right."

The girl wasn't fazed. She got up off her knees, wiping her mouth with her forearm. Her smile looked a little forced. "Gotta pay first."

"Fuck that. Drop 'em." He made no move for his wallet.

Mary knew what resentment and fear looked like. No way the hooker could hide them from her. What she wasn't used to was courage. "Cash first, baby," the girl said. Flirty, but firm.

He didn't seem to be listening. He just pushed up to her and reached down for her crotch.

She pushed him back. "Gotsta pay if you wanna play, honey." She was trying, but the fear was obvious now.

Out of the blue, he punched her. Hard, right in the belly. The hooker fell helplessly to the ground. Her face got cut when she landed, started bleeding. Mary was startled. Hobart had always yelled or threatened first. It was creepy to think there might be all different kinds of beaters in the world.

The man bent toward his victim. Her hand flashed, quick as the dickens, and nails scratched his face. She tried to roll over but slipped.

Holding one hand to his cheek, he pulled back his foot and gave her a kick in the stomach. "Bitch! Teach you to lay a hand on me!" Then he got down on his knees and grabbed her neck.

He was choking her. He wasn't stopping. The girl's struggles were getting feeble...

Mary found a board on the ground. Hands shaking, she picked it up, approached them. Feeling lightheaded with terror, she drew back and swung at the man's head.

It landed with a meaty thunk. He wasn't knocked over, but he let go of the girl and put a hand to the ground; the other came up to cup his ear. He let out a wordless cry, halfway between a scream and a moan. After a moment he lifted his head to look around. The hooker below him coughed and gasped in a struggle for air.

The second time Mary swung from the hips, as hard as she could. It took him right in the face, and he fell to one side of the girl, stunned and groaning. His hands moved slowly to cover his face; his nose was crushed and one cheek was slashed open. The hooker was panting now, but she clearly couldn't move yet. Mary stepped forward and stomped hard on the man's crotch. That half-limp dick was just too tempting a target.

It was his turn to fight for breath; he was trying to scream and simply couldn't. Before his hands covered it, she thought she saw blood coming off his prick. Mary looked at the board in her hand, and considered. In the end she cast it aside and grabbed the girl under her shoulders, dragging her away. She didn't even look back at the john. The fight was all let out of him.

It was rough going for a stretch, but then the girl started helping some. Weak, terribly weak, but enough to get to the street. The other hooker saw her injured friend and ran over. Mary stepped back and let her take over. She just worked to catch her wind, calm down, stop being terrified.

For a second she stopped breathing altogether, she was so flustered. She'd suddenly realized she wasn't terrified. Breathing hard, sweating, all tingly - for years, that had meant she was scared. For so long she'd forgot it could mean anything else. But now it meant she was mad.

No, angry.

No. Fucking pissed off.

She didn't have to be scared anymore. Ever.

Maybe the Lord could see her. If there was a Lord. She wasn't sure anymore.

But nobody else could.

She tried on the thought, spoke it out loud. "I can do what I like. Go where I like. Spy on whoever I like." It was true, she realized. For the first time, she really felt it in her bones.

The other hooker was helping the struggling girl get to her feet and stumble away. Neither of them responded, naturally. Mary kept thinking aloud. "Take what I like. Protect who I like." She glanced down the alley at the man, who lay clutching himself, coughing blood. "Punish who I like."

She practically strutted back, head high. Eyes on the board laying next to him. Feeling free, alive. "Why, this is going to be fun..."