Pretty Woman

Shiella walks up to the blue sedan. The vibration making the rust spots flake and fall off periodically, hell, the damn thing sounds like it’s barely running. Her 6 inch stiletto heels click and clack with each exaggerated step she takes. The leather goes up to her knees, blocking out the fishnet stockings she’s wearing underneath. She pulls her tight, short black dress down with each step, her right hand holding a cigarette to her red lipstick.


“Hey baby, looking for a date?” She says, bending at the waist to look into the disheveled car. The man inside is eyeing her like a barbecue, looking her up and down, not taking his eyes off her slender waist. He doesn’t see her green teeth or spots flaking off her body. He doesn’t seem to care.


His horn rimmed glasses are thick and threaten to slide off the end of his nose. “I sure am, sugar. Wanna hop in?” He unlocks the door and, leaning over, pushes it slightly open for her. “Oh please put out the cigarette, don’t want to make a mess in here.” She glares at him angrily, flicking the cigarette into the gutter. “Thanks. What’s your name, sugar?”


“Shiella,” she says, closing the door and buckling herself in. The man puts his car into gear and slowly pulls away from the corner.


“Where you heading to?” He asks her with a smile.


“Go up two streets and take the right. There’s a spot two blocks in, you can’t miss it.”


“Okay,” he says, passing the first street. “So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asks, again with a little smile. The green dashboard lights bounce off his lenses, slightly lighting them up.


“A girl’s gotta eat.”


“Ain’t that the truth of it.” He turns right into the alley, passing by several large dumpsters. There’s a cook throwing a big black bag into one of them, his white apron stained red and green with blood and some other undiscernible liquid.


“Just up there to the right, baby.” She points with her left hand and starts unbuckling her seatbelt.


He pulls up to the left side of the alley, between two blue dumpsters, putting the car into park and turning it off. His right arm goes up behind Shiella’s seat, his left unbuckling his own seatbelt.


“What do you wanna do, baby?” Shiella says, caressing his thigh with her right hand. Her left goes up to his arm, slowly moving her hand back and forth across his skin. She leans in close to him, lightly kissing his neck next to the pink fabric of his shirt.


“Everything. I want it all,” he says, greedily grabbing her, pulling her close into his embrace.


She pulls back and sits up straight, and with a bored look on her face, “A hundred.”


“Done,” he fishes into his pocket, counting out 5 twenty dollar bills, handing them to her. Shiella watches him count out the money, then grabs it and counts it twice before sticking it down into her bra.


“No rough stuff, okay?” She says forcefully, reaching over and unzipping his pants. “What’s your name anyway, baby?” She grabs his cock into both hands, beginning to slowly stroke it up and down.


“Joey. The name’s Joey,” he says between clenched teeth. Joey brings his right hand between the two of them, brandishing a huge, serrated knife, “And this is Carmac. He’s the one that wants to fuck.” He begins giggling, slow and bubbly and much too exuberant.


Shiella instantly pulls back, “What the fuck! What the fuck! Goddamnit Joey!”


He pushes up the black horn rimmed glasses up onto his nose, and with a grin, surges forward to get his money’s worth.


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