They pushed through the swinging door and stood at the back of the theater waiting for their eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. The only light came from that reflected by the screen. It showed a long-haired, full-breasted girl on her knees between two guys. All three were naked, the men fully erect as the girl alternated sucking first one cock then the other while using her free hand to stroke the other.
Typical porno scene, thought Sheila, glancing at the screen then turning her attention to her surroundings. She felt her date's hand slide across her bottom and rest on the curve of her hip and then, yielding to his pressure, she allowed herself to be drawn closer, snuggling her body against his.
He seemed to be a nice enough guy. What did he say his name was? Matt or Mac. Something like that. Sheila seldom bothered with the names of her tricks, although it was sometimes useful in keeping guys focused when things got really hot and heavy. She would lean in close and whisper urgent and nasty things in his ear.
"Oh yes, Matt! Just like that! Fuck me hard, Matt. Oh, Matt honey, I love the feel of your cock in my cunt! Come for me, Matt baby! Fuck me Matt!"
Guys ate that shit up.
Sheila had met Matt only minutes before. On the street a block and a half from the theater. It wasn't her usual spot for cruising. But the latest convention had closed and she and the other girls were left to sell their charms to the locals or to stray visitors, mostly lonely guys looking for a little action to break up the monotony of another unenthusiastic fuck from a barely cooperative wife. She was always happy to oblige.
But tonight, things had been really slow. She had one customer who had her give him a blow job in the back seat of a cab while it cruised around, sometimes stopping in traffic, giving pedestrians and people in passing cars a quick thrill to see a girl with her skirt up around her waist and her mouth bobbing up and down on the john's crank.
Then there was that young kid, maybe just out of high school, came up to her and asked nervously how much she would charge to suck his cock.
"You a cop?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. She hadn't heard of any campaign to roust the working girls, but you had to be careful.
She decided he looked harmless enough. Trouble was, he had no car and said he didn't have enough to pay for a room in one of the trick pads. She finally relented, asked for fifty but accepted thirty-five. He said it was all he had.
"Why can't we do it right here?" He indicated one of the recessed doorways along the street.
Ordinarily, Sheila would have turned him down right then. However, business being what it was, she merely shrugged and led him over to one of the doorways. But when she knelt down before him and took hold of his very hard dick, he came immediately, almost hitting her as he dropped a full load of jizz.
That really upset him, and he said he should get his money back because he had paid for a blowjob and got a hand job instead. Sheila settled the argument by taking his spent, but still hard, prick in her mouth and sucking away for a full five minutes. She appreciated his disappointment. Besides, she loved the taste of cum.
Soon afterward, a car pulled up to the curb—a shiny black Lexus with tinted windows. It seemed to spell serious money, and Sheila moved toward it, rolling her hips provocatively, a sensuous strut she had perfected through years of practice.
The effect was accentuated by her strappy black platform heels—spikes a full six inches long and two-inch platforms that forced each foot into a graceful arch and toned her calf muscles. Her long legs, already shapely, seemed even more so covered by black net hose under a short, tight-fitting black skirt.
Sheila had always emphasized what she had to offer below her waist to distract from the deficiencies of her chest. Ever since adolescence, she had complained about it to her mother. "I've got no boobs!" she would cry.
Her mother tried to reassure her, saying that they were small but would probably grow. "Besides," she said, "You've already got enough for the boys to play with. Remember what your father says: anything over a handful is wasted."
That was easy for her mother to say, she with her 38C's. She could wear those low cut tops and her cleavage made it look like she was going to spill right out of her bra, while Sheila tried to get by padding her little A-cup titties out to a B-cup. Life wasn't fair.
Tonight, she was wearing a black A-cup shell clearly visible beneath a lavender see-through blouse. Provocative, but modest by her standards.
There was a slight whirr and the passenger's side window slid smoothly down revealing—what the hell?—a girl. A pretty one, too. But young, maybe just out of high school. She had straight blonde hair and blue eyes, and she showed a nice pair of titties under a tight pink tee shirt. For a moment, Sheila wondered if they had stopped to ask for directions.
"Do...um...do you do girls?" the blonde asked nervously.
Sheila was immediately interested. "Depends. What do you have in mind?"
The blonde girl looked over at the driver, hesitated, and said, "You know...girl stuff."
What an innocent, thought Sheila. She leaned down and looked across at the driver, saw another girl, about the same age as the blonde but with darker hair. She was turned sideways, her right leg lifted up on the bench seat offering a clear view up her skirt. It didn't look like she was wearing panties. It wasn't hard to guess what the two girls had been up to behind that tinted glass,
Sheila made a quick assessment—a couple of young lesbians out for a trip on the wild side. Speaking to them both, she said, "By 'girl stuff' you mean eating pussy, dildo fucking, maybe a strap-on?" She saw the blonde's eyes light up, her mouth a broad grin.
"That's it. How much do you charge?"
This could be good, thought Sheila. "A hundred," she said, then added, "Each."
