One Trick Penny Ch. 07

Where the Streets Have Names

The sunlight lovingly caressed my breasts as I removed the top of my bikini. Quinn was already completely naked and laying on top of a towel, having quickly shed her tee-shirt and shorts. This wasn't my first-time topless on a beach. Dave and I honeymooned in the south of France, and I'd gone native for a week. Quinn had a complete tan without a single disruptive line on her nearly flawless olive toned skin. My own breast betrayed their lack of exposure by being two shades paler than my face.

Looking around, there were other people soaking up the sunshine, almost all completely naked. I felt overdressed even in the tiny bikini bottom I still had on. I slipped it down my legs and past my feet. I laid on my back and spread my legs a few inches apart. This was my pubic mound's first acquaintance with the soothing rays of the sun. It felt sensual and inviting.

Quinn, also lying spread eagle on her back pointed to my toe nails. We had by pure coincidence exactly the same shade of red nail polish. We giggled at the odd chance that we shared certain things like that in common.

"How did your date with Dave go in the parking garage?"

"Oh, you mean my turn with my meal ticket?"

She laughed at my clumsy attempt to use the lingo of the trade.

"Dave talked about the BJ all the way back to the motel. He said it was the best he'd ever experienced. And it was so easy for me."

She grinned. "You took control. Way to go. Did he get into the watchers?"

"I didn't tell him about those. I sure did. I've been fantasizing about it every time I get fucked now. When we left the attendant was totally leering at me."

"I've been there a couple of dozen times. Some of my tricks get off on other people watching. One guy called it - performance art."

A few men walked by as we chatted away. Some ogled us, but none tried to hit on either of us. "That's what I like about nude beaches, Quinn said. "Everybody's naked and the weirdoes stay away. I can lay here nude all day, and no guys bother me. I put on a swimsuit and go three miles south and I get hit on at least once an hour. I imagine it must be even more for you."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You know you look like that chick. That pretty blonde on the show about the three nerds. Guys have got to be all over you just for that alone. You even use the character's name for your professional alias."

Quinn wasn't the first to say I looked like a celebrity. I didn't really see it, but I've always been overly critical about my looks. "You might be surprised. I get my share of attention, but I must give off a married woman vibe."

"When has that ever stopped some dude from hitting on a woman?"

My curiosity got the better of me. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I realized immediately; we may not know each other well enough for me to ask.

Quinn seemed unfazed. "Not at the moment. I have periodically, but it's difficult." She waited to see if I'd ask the next obvious question. I was afraid to verbalize it.

She answered anyway. "Some men know what I do. It's a problem when they suddenly decide they can't handle it. It's worse when they like me doing it. Oddly, more men like me fucking other guys for money, than not. As I say, most men are freaks. It's a whole Freudian thing that usually gets complicated."

"What if they don't know?"

"That has its pitfalls, too. There's the obvious deception and explaining the odd hours is difficult. It's hard to find the right balance. When I retire from the business, I'll get a steady guy. Maybe one that isn't all that much into sex."

"There are guys like that?" We both laughed and enjoyed the warmth on our naked bodies.

~ ~ ~

It turned out Dave managed to come up with an idea for our next date. It grew out of the parking garage scenario. I wasn't all that wild about it when he described his plan, but he insisted we try it.

Quinn would have hated the concept. She despised streetwalkers and everything that goes with them. She could go on and on about pimps, white slavery, lack of free will and a variety of other social ills. I never mentioned Dave's plan to her. Even though I was just going to be pretending at street hustling, she'd have tried to talk me out of it. Maybe I should have brought it up.

In theory the plan was simple. There was a section of the city, mostly centered around Broadway, that was known for the late-night activities of street walkers. Dave would drop me off, dressed like one. I'd walk a block west while he circled back. He'd solicite me, and I'd lean up to the car to negotiate my price. After that, I'd hop into the passenger side, we'd find a secluded spot, and I'd provide him with a blowjob that he'd been so taken by. The entire thing should have taken less than a half hour. I'm sure many others have run this pretend sequence successfully with satisfactory results.

Did I mention, I hated the idea? At night, this section of Broadway was seedy and filled with undesirables. When we arrived, the streets were bustling with activity. Dozens of strip clubs, adult book stores, all-night tattoo studios and dive bars lined the wide sidewalks; all with garish neon or ugly backlit signage, advertised their assorted nighttime attractions. Skivvy looking men and a few women milled around aimlessly outside.

A night club at the corner, had a queue of couples behind crimson red velvet ropes waiting to qualify for admittance, as its loud urban music radiated from the open door and drowned out the silence of our vehicle as I looked for a secure location to disembark. In my short black moleskin skirt and backless blouse, I was actually overdressed compared to some of the women standing in the line. Dave suggested this might be a good spot. "Safety in numbers."

"No, I don't want a crowd watching as I proposition a John." I was ready to pack it in for the evening.

My client turned a corner and headed down a side street. The area was quiet, and a small neighborhood bar stood out with a well illuminated front window. A few patrons sat on bar stools, ignoring the rest of the world.

"Alright, this might work." I was eager to have this setup over with.

He let me off at the corner, and I slowly sauntered back toward the bar. It should take three-minutes tops, for him to drive around the block. I looked repeatedly at my watch as the seconds seemed to tick unhurriedly by.

I'd almost reached the doorway of the bar, when a woman in hot pink stretch tights pants, and a shimmering top stepped out from a dark corner. "Hey, bitch, what the fucking hell do ya think you're doing?" She was beyond angry. "This is my block. Go peddle you goods elsewhere."

I was stunned and frightened. My mind raced to adjust to the circumstance. "I... I'm going into the bar."

"No, you ain't, you lying cunt." Her frizzy blonde hair and numerous forearm tattoos made her seem all the more unbalanced and threatening. "That's a gay bar and you're no tranny. Get your ass on out of here."

I moved as fast as possible down the side street toward the bright lights of Broadway. I looked over my shoulder half way down the block to see that she was standing on the corner, hands on hips, watching my departure.

By the time I found my way back to the main drag, my phone rang.

"Where the hell are you?" Dave asked as soon as I answered.

I explained the reason for my sudden retreat from our planned meeting spot and then looked down the street, "I have a bigger problem now," I reported.

On the block ahead I saw a line of parked police cars, all with their red roof lights flashing. Blue uniformed men, had a number of scantily-clad women leaning against their cruisers, locked in handcuffs. Even to me, this was an obvious prostitution sweep. I turned in the opposite direction and walked as fast as I could manage in my stiletto heels. The clicking of my shoes increased as I hastened my pace.

"Where are you going? I can try to pick you up."

"I have no idea. Just away from the cops. I don't want to finish off the night in jail." I was scared and pissed. I knew this was a bad idea.

A beam of light flashed behind me, but didn't directly betray my presence as I moved along; my heart thumping uncontrollably. I remained in the shadows as two more police cars ran in the opposite direct from my bearing with their lights glaring.

I turned another corner and saw the doorway to an apartment building directly ahead. The glass door was held open by a tall man and a number of fellow tartishly dressed women casually waited to enter. I took my chances and joined the small crowd, hoping they wouldn't notice I wasn't part of the group.

I was the last to enter before the door was closed. "You were almost late," an older woman said to me. She wasn't dressed like the others. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt. She ushered me into an apartment on the next level reached by a flight of stairs. She looked to me to be in her forties, wore minimal makeup and had her dark hair pulled back. "You're new here, so I'll explain our operation." She dead bolted the door behind us.

My mind began to envision the situation I'd just walked into. Having no idea what one would look like, I guessed the worse - bordello. I looked for a method of escape.

As we walked down a hallway, I noticed a number of rooms, all having been divided into small cubical. Computers, laptops and monitors seemed to be everywhere and other than the man that lets me into the building, everyone else here were women. If this was a brothel, it didn't add up.

The woman introduced herself as Gina and pointed to one of the cubicles and bade me to enter. A webcam sat on a stand, but its indicator light was off. By a sofa covered with sheets, was a small table with a laptop, with its lip opened.

"Is your typing good? You shouldn't have to do a lot of it. Mainly, you read what your mark wants you to do. You try to keep them as happy and online for as long as possible. Questions?"

A had a lot of questions. This had to be one of those online sex chat places. When I was hunting around the internet for ideas, nearly every porn site I accessed would pop up with an annoying browser companion for me to converse with. Typically, some hot young chick telling me how sexual she could get. The exit button got rid of them quickly. I never thought of them as real people. Now I was on the other side of the web.

"Did you see the cops a few blocks down? They were arresting a lot of girls."

She looked at me harshly, as if to say she didn't give a shit about how some other segment of society's business was going. "Not to worry. Tom, the man who let you in is our security. He has a van and can drop you off where you live at the end of your shift. The cops have been clearing out the area for a while. As long as you don't leave before he's ready, you'll be fine."

She purposely eyed the way I was dressed. The message was clear. Leave and get pinched or work the night here.

"How long's my shift?"

"Four hours and your pay is based on how long you keep your marks paying."

I wanted to ask if nudity was required. I had no idea how this worked, but I didn't want her to know I'd just come in here to beat the heat. I asked, "Anything, I shouldn't be doing?"

She laughed sarcastically. "Anything goes as long as you don't set up a meeting with one of the marks. We aren't running an escort service, honey. Do that on your own time, if that's your thing. Other than that get as freaky as you need to keep the meter running."

I learned the meter ran at $2.95 a minute. This looked to be an expensive evening for Dave.

~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 7 of 12 ~ ~ ~