Breaking Even (750 words)

This is the first of my submissions for the 750-word challenge. Thank you to my beta readers Mal_Bey and 29wordsforsnow for all their help.

She waited on the street corner for her husband.

That street, Malvern Street, the one in the papers. The one the pensioners at the doctor's surgery said shouldn't be allowed.

She had worn the outfit. The red heels and the short black leather skirt. The top that showed her cleavage even though it was November.

She'd ducked into the alley when the blue and red lights had cruised past fifteen minutes ago. And she'd wandered over to a Vauxhall and an Audi and negotiated badly enough that they'd gone elsewhere for their trade.

The other girls knew she was choosy. Not desperate enough was the consensus.

That wasn't it. She was slumming it. They wouldn't like that if they found out. As it was, Helen who was Cyndi bummed a cigarette off her.

She'd taken up smoking with the game. It made making friends easier and it help her adopt the persona -- a persona but not a pseudonym. Why did Helen bother? It was a coin's toss whether a client would bother to ask and it wouldn't be remembered after the deed regardless. Helped the mother of three with disassociation she guessed.

Where was he? They never agreed a time. They didn't usually even agree a day. He'd come home from his golf, find her missing and jump in the car to go looking. She could have serviced that Audi just now and still been back with time to spare. Oh well.

Her phone beeped and she checked it. Kendra backing out of doubles at the weekend, claiming a bad knee. Damn it. Should have gotten a separate phone just for these outings to prevent reality creeping back in. The phone was thrust angrily back in the handbag.

Rubbing her arms together, she took a walk -- one end of Malvern to the other and back, checking out the competition as she went. There were a lot of old faces and a couple of new ones -- a lanky blonde with red highlights and no tits and a dumpy northern lass with enough tits for them both. Little and Large were chatting happily to a couple of the regulars. Not novices then, just pros she hadn't met.

Back where she started, she leant against the park wall and sighed -- could have stayed in and watched Strictly on the tele. There were times she wondered why they were still doing this. They'd lived the fantasy the first few times, then it became simply a thing they did. Now five years later, they were still at it. If there was a time to stop, it would have been when they moved down from Manchester. Suddenly there'd been a whole new scene though and it had been exciting again.

The wall was illuminated by headlights. As her eyes adjusted to the glare, she realized it was their Toyota. Finally, he was here. He stopped by a skinny twenty-something with a pixie cut. Of course, he wouldn't come straight to his wife. He'd tease her first. The negotiations broke down and Pixie flipped him the bird on the way back to her spot.

She tensed. The car was on the move again. It crawled past her kerb and kept going. It stopped about a hundred yards down the road. Little and Large sauntered over. A moment later, Large got in and the car drove off.

She wandered over to her fellow reject. "What she get?" She feigned a bored interest.

"Twenty-five for French without and kissing," said the blonde.

"Slow night," she said offering up a fag. The blonde took it and shrugged.

Turned down then. It was cruel, but it was at her own insistence. Being chosen meant nothing if it were mandatory. Still, he'd never dared twice in a row before. It was only about one time in six that he drove past. Did he roll a dice or was it a genuine shine to the alternatives? He was always silent about this. It kept her on tenterhooks.

A Peugeot came from the other direction. Definitely interested, but not stopping this pass -- just reconnaissance. Sure enough, two minutes later it was back approaching her side. She and the blonde wandered over together. The driver was a nervous fellow with a beard and belly. He addressed her and pointedly not the blonde.

"How much?" he asked.

"Full service. Covered. No kissing or extras. Twenty-five," she said.

He nodded and she got in the passengers side.