'That's the best needle you'll ever get, you fuckin' slut.'
He pulled his jeans up and looked down at her as she struggled to untie the knot her panties were getting into around her cheap and glorious fuck me stilettos.
She looked up at him and stared. She did not hate them anymore, but she did not like them either. It was pure economics. She immunised herself with heroine, but she always needed more. Drugs, like sex: you always need more. That was why she was kneeling in One Lamp Alley playing cat's cradle with her knickers while a man she had met twenty minutes before was standing over her pulling up his jeans while his cock stuck out of the fly of his boxers at half mast looking at her like a little viper that had eaten something that agreed with it. It was dry like a real snake, but for the little of her saliva that was not still inside her otherwise equally arid cunt. She had taken him to some paradisiacal hell, in a dirty alleyway between two Victorian houses in a back street in the hinterlands beyond King's Cross Station. This was her boudoir and the backstreet was where she initiated her speed dates.
His jeans now back where they are supposed to be, he remembered that he was supposed to be a human being and took a roll of notes from his pocket. Then he looked at her and forgot again.
You're a fuckin' good whore junkie,' he said 'you're so good I'm gonna give you a tip.'
'Thanks' she said and feigned a smile. It looked like a real one
He handed her another ten pound note. That made forty in total.
About twenty two minutes earlier she has been prowling her strip when he walked up. Usually they came in cars, but for the occasional pedestrian she had her boudoir. She preferred it to getting in cars. The car was his place; the boudoir hers.
It was late and she had done five already since nine when she had come out and begun her shift. He had walked past the few other girls still out and come to her. When he had seen her, his eyes had lit up like cheap little neon fairground lights. It was the meanest of pleasures; to be the chosen one.
He had walked up and come straight to the point.
'How much?'
'Twenty'
'For what?'
'I'll suck you off and then you fuck me. No kissing.'
'Where?'
'There's an alley round the corner. It's quiet. No one will disturb us.'
'Ok'
'Follow me. Give me the money when we get there.'
One minute later they were in the alley.
'Under the streetlamp' he said 'I want to be able to see you.'
She led him. She leant him against the wall and stood in front of him; foot or so between them. He was a little taller than her and maybe ten years older, but she looked older than him. She was twenty seven and she had been a heroin addict since she was sixteen and a prostitute since seventeen.
'I wanna bareback you.'
'No, you have to use a condom.'
He didn't protest.
She pulled her leather jacket off of her shoulders, undid her shirt and unclipped her bra. She always wore a front loader. It made things easier.
His cock finished hardening in his jeans at the sight of her tits. They were small and each had a home drawn tattoo on it. On the right one was a faded rose, which she had done years ago. On the left one was scrawled the word 'skank' in dark ink. It was darker and more recent. Her skin was the colour of soured milk. Her nipples pointed out and both of them were pierced with sleepers.
'Have you got Aids?' he said.
'Have you?'
No'
'Pull on a ring with your teeth.' she said.
He lent forward and put his tongue into the ring and pulled. Her tit stretched towards his mouth. Then he bit the ring and pulled harder. By the time the pulling began to hurt he had his cock in her hand and she could have pulled that hard until it hurt, but she didn't. She could bite it viciously later, but she wouldn't. With the cock nested in her hand, its underside in her palm, she pulled the foreskin back and forth and slowly the pulling on the ring subsided as he found his pleasure and lost his desire to hurt her.
