Streetwalker

Kylie lay down on the broad back seat of the truck, invitingly spreading her thighs and smiling up at Stacy as she urged the brunette to get atop her in a sixty-nine. Stacy trembled, anticipating this new sensation, not even minding the lecherous presence of the man who was paying them for the privilege of enjoying their bodies. Shucking her shorts and getting into position, Stacy sighed at the contact of a tongue against her clit, eagerly pressing her mouth against the blonde's nearly-smooth pussy.

"That's fucking hot," Darren muttered, lining up his cock with Stacy's pussy. With a steady push, he invaded the busty woman, gripping her hips. Stacy grunted at the invasion, but Kylie's flickering tongue kept her aroused and wet, making Darren's progress easier. She sucked and licked all around Kylie's sex, panting against the hot, wet folds. The blonde squirmed under her, licking as avidly as Stacy at the brunette's distended clit, and cupping the heavy breasts which brushed her abdomen.

Abruptly, however, Darren jerked his cock free with a grunt, hastily tearing off the condom with an audible snap. As the young women writhed beneath him, he masturbated furiously, staring at the full round ass before him and the flushed face of the blonde beneath. Watching the two girls so avidly pleasuring each other heightened the intensity of his orgasm. He shook and groaned loudly, showering Stacy's upturned ass with thick streaks and drops of cum. Some of it splashed against the brunette's pussy, dripping down toward Kylie's thrashing tongue.

He sagged back against the door of the cab, watching as the women finished each off amid gasps and moans and satisfied sighs. He told himself he would have to pick them up again.

*****

A quick trip into the bathroom of a convenience store to freshen up, and Stacy and Kylie were back at the bus stop with three new twenty-dollar bills in their pockets each. Stacy felt a strange sort of detached amusement about what had transpired just half an hour before.

I'm a prostitute now, she thought wonderingly.

They sat together on the bench, watching a few cars roll by. A police sedan passed, the officer within narrowing his eyes as he beheld the provocatively-dressed girls. Kylie gave him an exaggerated wave and smile.

"They can't do nothing unless they actually catch us," she told Stacy. "To be honest, most of them don't really care. They're mainly looking for dealers, not walkers."

Stacy nodded, saying nothing. Her mind was still on the scene in the truck, fucking a stranger while enjoying her first girl-on-girl experience. Now that the orgasmic high had faded, she felt . . . cheap.

"What's wrong?" Kylie asked.

Stacy glanced to the blonde – it was hard to think of her as a friend – with a sheepish smile. "Don't you ever wonder about . . ." She paused, formulating the words in her head but failing. "I don't know. Maybe it's that Catholic upbringing."

Kylie scoffed. "You too, huh?" She eased forward, elbows on her knees, subconsciously, she scratched at her left wrist beneath the sleeve that covered it. "Hell, that's probably half the reason I ended up like this."

"What do you mean?"

The blonde inhaled deeply, staring out across the street. "My folks were pretty religious," she revealed. "We all had to read the Bible during breakfast, and prayers every night before bed. My dad beat the values of pure fucking morality into us with a belt if we ever did the slightest fucking thing wrong. And if that didn't work . . . ." She trailed off, working her hands together, then forced out a smile.

"Did you run away?" Stacy asked gingerly.

"Fuck yeah, I did. Soon as I could. I had to get outta there. Mom knew what the fuck he did to us, but she never did or said nothing." She scratched again along the inside of her wrist, this time pushing up the sleeve. Stacy caught a brief view of a long, red scar running the inside of the blonde's forearm.

"You said 'us,'" Stacy prompted.

Kylie nodded, staring at nothing. "I got a kid sister. Been trying to find her, actually."

Stacy looked around. "You think she's here?"

The blonde's shoulders sagged and she huffed in exasperation. "Why not? She's as fucked up as I am. I just feel so bad about leaving her. But I knew if I stayed, Dad was gonna kill me sooner or later."

So how is this better? Stacy wondered, but she didn't voice her question.

"Hey, enough of this shit," Kylie said abruptly, pushing to her feet. "I know a place we can score some booze. I feel like getting drunk."

*****

A vintage convertible rolled past, half a dozen costumed partiers inside yelling and laughing on their way to the downtown clubs. Stacy watched them with a sad, nostalgic smile, thinking she should be the one heading to a party, she should be gaudily dressed in some sexy costume, she should be thinking of nothing but having fun. It was Halloween, after all.

Instead, I'm sitting on a bus bench, encouraging guys to offer me money to fuck them, she lamented. How the hell did I get into this?

She took out her cell phone, sourly staring at the blank screen. A press of a button, and the screen lit up. She wrinkled her nose as she read the time, taking a tentative sip from the half-pint bottle of cheap whisky. 11:43. Seventeen minutes till midnight, she thought heavily.

The green sports car pulled up at the corner, and before it came to a full stop the passenger door was already opening. Kylie stepped out quickly, an annoyed look on her pretty face. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, giving Stacy a wan look as she approached.

"What happened?" Stacy asked worriedly.

Kylie shrugged, remaining standing. She took out her cigarettes and lit up. "You know, I don't fucking care why guys wanna get their dick sucked," she said rudely. "The last thing I wanna hear is some long, pathetic explanation about how some dude's wife doesn't give it up anymore. So go divorce the bitch, if you ain't happy." She puffed smoke, pacing back and forth.

Stacy relaxed somewhat. "I guess some guys want to make themselves feel better about picking up a girl like this."

"Sure. Fine!" Kylie exclaimed. "But don't fucking waste my time telling me about it! Fuck, I was with that guy for almost a whole fucking hour, and the goddamn blowjob only lasted like, ten fucking minutes!" She scratched at the scar again, this time pushing up the sleeve.

Stacy watched the agitated girl. "What happened?"

Kylie looked annoyed. "Didn't I just fucking tell you--" she began, then stopped, seeing where the brunette's attention was focused. She looked to the scar, and her anger faded visibly. Tiredly, the blonde sagged back onto the bench, digging her own bottle of whisky from the pocket of the sweater. "Look, it ain't no big deal."

"Why'd you do it?"

"'Cause life sucks, that's why," the blonde shot back acidly. Her features softened in an instant, however, as if she wanted to take the words back. She studied Stacy's face. "Why you wanna be my friend, anyway? None of the other girls even try to talk to me anymore. It's like I don't exist to them."

Stacy shrugged. "They probably don't see you like I can. 'Sides, shouldn't we girls stick together?"

Kylie laughed softly and sipped again from the bottle. Although half the contents had already been drained, she looked unaffected by it. "Yeah, well, I ain't gonna stick around too long. Soon as I find Jenny, we're taking off."

"You ever think about looking somewhere else for her?" Stacy suggested.

Kylie snorted derisively. "Like where?" She gestured around her. "This is the world, hon! If I ain't gonna find her here, I ain't gonna find her anywhere!"

"There's a lot more than just this street, Kylie," Stacy said firmly.

"Yeah. Whatever." She tilted the bottle back, guzzling the remainder of its contents. Casually, she tossed the bottle to the curb, watching it shatter. "Fuck. I ain't even buzzed. Must'a watered that shit down."

Stacy was about to speak when her cell phone chimed. She glanced down, noting the time. Midnight. Right on the dot. She sighed. Her eyes drifted down the street, spying an oncoming black SUV. "Look, all I'm saying is that Jenny might be somewhere else. Maybe even someplace nice."

Kylie cast a sidelong look to the brunette. "This world ain't never been nice to me or Jenny," she declared. "No, she's gotta be here."

The black SUV approached, coming to a stop at the curb before the two women. Kylie regarded it for a moment, but made no effort to rise. She glanced to Stacy with a thin smile. "Your turn?"

Stacy nodded, her expression inscrutable. "Yeah, actually," she said, sounding almost sad. She stood hesitantly, only peripherally recognizing the figure through the SUV's tinted windows.

"Cool," muttered the blonde, getting to her feet as well. "I'm gonna take off. Maybe I'll find Jenny tomorrow."

Stacy swallowed dryly. "Maybe."

"See you around," Kylie called, effecting an exaggerated smile as she walked backward along the street. "I'm here every night." She turned about and thrust her hands into her pockets, hips swaying as she walked. With every step, she faded away until eventually, she vanished into the cool, misty air.

I know, Stacy thought heavily, then reached for the door of the SUV.

The man behind the wheel was older, distinguished, with salt and pepper hair and a short, grey beard. He said nothing as Stacy climbed in the passenger side, although his nose wrinkled slightly at the aroma of sweat and sex which wafted from her.

The driver pulled away from the curb, aiming the broad front end of the vehicle down the street and away from the seedier side of town. Stacy watched the rear-view mirror, hoping for a glimpse of the young woman about whom she worried.

"Some spirits aren't ready to leave just yet," the older man finally said, his voice deep and fatherly.

"I know, Walter," Stacy admitted. "It's just so sad. She thinks she can actually find her sister. How long is she going to keep wandering, before she realizes Jennifer has already passed on to the other side?"

"As long as it takes," Walter responded. "Although I suspect, when Kylie realizes she's dead, that will facilitate things."

Stacy stared at the ceiling of the SUV as amber swathes of streetlight passed across her. "Is it always like this?"

"You mean, depressing, worrisome, frustrating?"

"Yeah."

Walter smirked as he navigated the city streets. "I told you when you started, Stacy, that the world of the paranormal is not about finding answers."

Stacy pursed her lips, thinking. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this."

"I would disagree," Walter said. "You already have the gift of seeing the dead. You just have to remember, the spirits of the deceased are not complete people. They are like scratchy old records, spinning round and round, saying the same thing over and over. Kylie may have seemed like a real person tonight, but she wasn't."

Silently, Stacy nodded, watching the world go by and wondering, over and over:

I wonder if I'll know when I'm dead . . . .

-finis-

(Thank you for reading, and Happy Halloween. I encourage you to read all the other contest submissions, and feel free to vote and leave a comment below.)