Entrapment - Federal Detective Caitlyn Alvarez
Caitlyn flushed the condom and left the bathrooms. Ruben was fast asleep on the bed, a satisfied grin on his face. She smiled at the sight of him. Quickly, she wiggled into the tube top and miniskirt. The black lace thong had been accidentally left behind in the last client's room. That scrap of lingerie had cost her fifty bucks, but she had earned over a thousand for this night. So far.
Moving as fast as she could on stilettos, Cait hurried out of the motel and across the street. Time to advertise. From the fire hydrant in front of the drugstore to the homeless guy sleeping in front of the liquor store. That was her prowl tonight, with the strip club night between.
Lacie's was a topless club, and the dancers were less than friendly. The management was very strict. No touching allowed. So the girls who danced there were the girls who didn't like to be touched. Friendly girls danced at the Cherry Patch, where the management was lax, or The Rabbit Hole, where the managers were pimps.
Guys who came out of Lacie's were horny and frustrated. Easy pickings for a clever streetwalker.
Caitlyn liked to start on her left foot. A hooker strut was like a dance, moving one's body in a rhythm, attracting, teasing, enticing. In classical dances, the female starts on her right foot, with a backward step, as the man moves forward on his left. But in this dance, Cait was definitely leading.
A man came out of the club and started toward her. "Hey, can I talk to you?"
"Of course, Sweetie," Caitlyn said. "What's your name?"
"Arnold."
"What would you like to talk about?"
"Are you what I think you are," Arnold asked.
"A brunette? Yes, I am. Very perceptive of you to notice."
"No," Arnold said. "I mean...a...you know. A prostitute?"
"A whore? You're asking me if I'm a whore?" Caitlyn feigned outrage.
"I'm sorry."
She laughed. "No. I'm sorry. I was just teasing. I am dressed like a whore. It's understandable that you might think that. Why, are you in the market for a whore?"
He nodded silently. Caitlyn winked at him. "I've got to be careful, you know. Tell me what you want and we'll see if we can come to an agreement."
"I want sex," he said.
"Just sex?"
A blowjob would be nice," Arnold added.
"I love giving blowjobs," she said. "Love it. But you can get sex and blowjobs from a lot of girls, and even a few guys."
"I want it now," he said.
"But why a whore?"
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"What makes you think a whore will give you what you want?" Caitlyn asked.
"I'll pay her."
"Those are the magic words," she said. "$150 for a blowjob, $250 for sex and a blowjob, $350 for sex and a no-condom blowjob."
A nearby police siren gave one "Woo!" and the hidden flashing lights of an undercover unit went on. Two cops got out of the car. Caitlyn knew better than to run. Stiletto heels do not offer speed and running in bare feet through the minefield of broken glass, used needles, and body fluids littering the street was not healthy.
"I'm afraid '$150 for a blowjob' were the magic words," one of the cops said. "You're under arrest for prostitution.
"You were wired?" Caitlyn accused Arnold. He shook his head in panic.
The cop held up a little device, like a miniature satellite dish. "Parabolic microphone. It can pick up whispers from 200 feet away."
Caitlyn slipped a card into Arnold's hands as the police approached. "Call that number," she whispered. "You'll get what you want. It's all paid for. My business is with these clowns. Run. They won't chase you."
Arnold dashed away. One cop yelled but didn't bother pursuing. Caitlyn was handcuffed and put in the back of the car. Showtime, she thought. It had taken these guys long enough. Cait had been prowling for hours, waiting for them to show. She'd made plenty of money, but that wasn't really the point.
The shorter, blonde cop got behind the wheel. Officer John Preston, Caitlyn remember from her notes. The taller man had dark red hair. Officer Walter Hahn. Neither was wearing their required name tags. They seldom did on hooker busts.
Officer Preston drove away from the club. "What's your name?" He asked her.
"Anna," she lied.
"Well, Anna. There's quite a bit of cash in your little purse here. Over five hundred dollars."
"$1250," she corrected.
"Six hundred," Officer Preston said firmly.
"Fine. Six hundred. Would you let me go now?"
"What's your hurry?" Officer Hahn asked. "Don't you like our company?"
"Your company just cost me half my money. Expensive friends."
"We'd like to be your friends," Officer Hahn told her. "Friends do things for each other."
"If we were friends, we'd let you go," Officer Preston added.
"But what would you do for us?" Officer Hahn asked.
Caitlyn made her voice a sexy whisper. "What would you like?"
"Any suggestions?" Officer Hahn asked.
"Do you boys like blowjobs? I love giving blowjobs."