(This is an official entry into the 2008 Halloween story contest. I hope you enjoy this little tale. Don't forget to vote, and please, read all the other contest entries.)
*****
Stacy eased herself onto the bus stop bench, nervously glancing up and down the darkened street. This Halloween night was cool, wet, sticky; rains had recently fallen, making the street shine and glisten. The cars that passed by ripped through the thin film of water upon the asphalt, leaving misty spray in their wake which coasted along on a gentle breeze. The glowing neon within the windows of small dive bars advertised various domestic brews even as the dull, muted music from within advertised desperation, depression, and a dulled hope for something better. Stacy could sympathize.
She held her cell phone like a devoted believer clutched a cross, staring at the tiny dark window. After a few moments, the window came alive with light and a chime filtered through the humid air. Quickly, she called up the new text message.
"Looking forward to tonight. See you soon."
Stacy closed the phone with a heavy sigh and pushed it into the front pocket of her loose jeans. She rubbed her hands together, keeping a wary eye on the street. On the corner, a pudgy Hispanic girl in clothes two sizes too small gave her a challenging look as she pushed out her barely-constrained breasts. Stacy looked away. Across the street, a lean young black man paused as he walked with overconfidence, smoking a blunt and giving her a speculative look. Stacy tore her eyes from him as well.
She lit a cigarette, exhaled harsh smoke from her lungs. She really didn't like smoking; she hated the way it clung to her hair and soaked into her clothes. Reverting to her former habit was both a defense mechanism and a way to pass the time. At least she was doing something.
"Hey, got another one?"
Stacy glanced up from her innocuous study of the cracked sidewalk. The querying voice belonged to a slender young blonde, late teens, clad in the tiniest denim cutoffs imaginable and a tight sweater top. Her skin was pale, almost alabaster, earned from too much time spent indoors during the day and only venturing outside at night, yet still, she was pretty. Almost innocently pretty, in fact. Her face was smooth, drawn, with a narrow mouth and pink lips, dark eyes magnified by adroitly-applied mascara.
"Sure," Stacy said, taking out her pack. The blonde leaned over, providing a choice view of her barely-covered derrière to the passing motorists as she tucked the cigarette between soft lips and allowed Stacy to light her. Straightening, the blonde breathed out slowly, expelling a cloud which drifted through her as much as around her.
"New around here?"
Stacy nodded. "Yeah."
The blonde smiled cynically and sat upon the bench. "What'cha gonna do, right?" she asked philosophically. "Life beats the fuck outta ya, and you got about three seconds to figure out what to do. Ain't too hard to decide, really. Live in a shelter and get raped by the 'Good Samaritans,' or make a little money sucking dick and tell yourself you're doing all right."
Stacy stared at the girl in profile, nodding slowly. "Is that how it is for you?"
The blonde turned her head, seeming so much older than her features should allow. "I been to the shelters," she said grimly.
Stacy averted her gaze. "I'm sorry."
The blonde laughed. "Don't fucking feel sorry for me, chick. I don't know you, and you don't know me." She pulled on her cigarette and exhaled again. "'Sides, ain't like it don't happen all over the place. I ain't never known a chick that's never been raped. That's life, you know? Guess that's how we're supposed to be strong or something."
Stacy frowned empathetically. "Maybe."
The two women fell into silence, casting greyish smoke into the air which quickly disappeared. On the other side of the street, a maroon sedan slowed, the driver's face barely visible through a rolled-down window. His gaze panned across the pair seated at the bus stop bench, and he seemed to make a decision. The sedan continued along the street for a moment or two before it made a U-turn and rolled up along the curb before the bus stop.
The blonde cast a weary look to Stacy. "You want him?"
Stacy fidgeted. "Um . . . ."
The other girl smiled disarmingly. "You really are new at this, huh?" she asked rhetorically, then continued. "Don't sweat it. I'll take him." She stood, approaching the edge of the street as the car came to a stop. Stacy watched as the lithe blonde leaned upon the passenger-side door, speaking briefly with the man inside. After only a few seconds, she opened the door and slipped inside. Briefly, the blonde cast a look back to Stacy, an enigmatic smile decorating her face.
Then the car was gone, peeling away on sticky wet streets. Stacy watched after until the faint glow of the tail lights vanished around a corner.
*****
"So, uh, what's your name?" asked the pudgy man behind the wheel of the maroon sedan.
"Kylie," the blonde girl answered.
He smiled, giving her an appraising look. Kylie smiled back and casually unzipped her sweater top. Her breasts were small but firm, almost perfectly spherical and capped with light-toned pink nipples. Flicking her fingers across them, Kylie grinned as the rubbery protrusions swelled and hardened. The man behind the wheel licked his lips in arousal, dropping a hand to his crotch and rubbing.
"Need help with that?" Kylie asked demurely.
The man laughed nervously. "Uh, sure."
Kylie massaged her breasts more wantonly, giving the man a sultry look. "Tell me what you want, baby."
The man returned his attention to the road before him as he navigated dark neighborhood streets. "Well, um . . . I really just want a b-bl . . ." He sighed in frustration. "A b--"
"Blowjob?" asked Kylie.
The man's face flushed. "Yeah."
Kylie slid closer, leaning across the console between the seats. She brought her face close to the man's ear, flickering her tongue out to tickle it. "Want me to suck your cock, baby?"
He shuddered. "Yeah."