I had spent about half an hour of Tropical Fish Therapy (i.e., sitting in the waiting room) before my doctor decided he couldn't fit me in after all that morning. The nurse said he had a cancellation in about three hours, so I decided to have lunch and maybe go out for a walk. Since I hurt my leg playing squash last month I've had to use a walking stick, but my doctor said some gentle exercise would be good for me so I limped off down the street.
After lunch I wandered about at random, marveling at how different the downtown area looks when you roam through it on foot instead of driving through it. Something I hadn't expected was that only two or three blocks from the smart shopping area, the tone of the district changed drastically. The place looked downmarket, almost disreputable, though I could still hear the hum of traffic from the central business district. It was something quite new to me.
While idly sight-seeing, I nearly collided with a young woman who was standing against the shop front of a shabby second-hand store. "Sorry, Miss," I said automatically.
"What's the matter, grandpa, lost your guide dog?" she replied with a sort of bored sarcasm in her voice. I looked at her again. She was probably about 20, the age of my youngest daughter, and it wasn't hard to work out what she was doing here  the t-shirt was a little too tight, the skirt was a little too short and she wore a little too much make-up. She didn't exactly wear a sign that said "I'm a Hooker" but few people would have mistaken her profession.
"No," I smiled, "just looking around." She wasn't bad looking, meaning she probably hadn't been on the streets that long, and had a flip don't-mess-with-me manner that made me suspect she could take care of herself. She ran an appraising eye over me, obviously calculating her chances of doing any business. It struck me that with my silver hair (it runs in the family) and my walking stick, she had probably written me off as being too old for a customer, which rankled a little.
"Bad part of town for someone your age, gramps," she said, her eyes sliding away as she dismissed me mentally. I decided that if she thought I was an old codger, I'd play up to that.
"Show some respect, young lady, or I'll put you over my knee," I rumbled.
She raised one eyebrow and clicked her tongue - "Promises, promises, grandpa!" But she turned back towards me, willing to consider me as a human being rather than a non-person. I could see her wondering whether or not to proposition me, and decided to move the game along a square.
"A nice young woman like you shouldn't be hanging around this part of town either, some people would think," I said in a more ordinary tone of voice.
She smiled a little at this description and replied in a low drawl "Maybe I'm not as nice as all that." She tilted her head a little, staring up at me. "So, you looking for nice or naughty?"
I should have made an excuse and left about this stage, but something in the situation made me want to push the envelope and see how far things would go. "Which are you?" I said and she smiled "Whichever you want, honey." Automatically she arched her back, pushing her firm young breasts against the material of her t-shirt. I had to admit she looked very inviting, and she saw me hesitating. "Whichever way you want it," she said.
"Hmmmm, my leg...." I began, but she waved this excuse away. "Don't worry, honey, we can work around that problem." She gave me a professionally seductive look. "And your leg will be the last thing on your mind."
It was crazy, but I was starting to feel... interested. Most of my partners since my wife died had been women from our own section of society. I had never thought of venturing into the play-for-pay business or of chasing nubile young girls. But this girl had a certain something. I gave a discreet cough and made a quizzical motion with my head and she leaned forwards to whisper a price in my ear. It wasn't cheap but I've paid more for a meal at a good restaurant. I decided I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
"You have somewhere near here?" I asked.
She jerked her head sideways. "Nice and quiet behind that alley, mister," she said calmly. Geez, I thought, this is getting just too weird  this morning I was on my way to a doctor's appointment, now I'm humping young prostitutes in sleazy back alleys!
"Come on, honey," she said in a manipulative tone, leading the way into the shaded alleyway. I followed with mixed emotions  10% disbelief, 20% caution and 70% enjoying the roll of her hips in that short skirt. The alley was L-shaped, and I found we were in a reasonably private little cul-de-sac. She sat me down on a packing crate and relieved me of the agreed sum; the cash vanished from sight with a speed that would have done credit to a stage magician.