Charlene walked down the street in her revealing brown knit dress, trying to get her bearings. Her breasts swayed under the loose material with her every movement. Her tanned legs were impossibly long under the short dress. All she wore under it were those dirty white crusty panties. How was she ever going to get back home without being attacked or arrested as a prostitute, practically exposing herself in the bright sunlight?
The hotel where her lover took her before disappearing without paying the bill was a couple of blocks from the main avenue. Charlene knew generally where she was and what direction she should go in, but she wasn't sure about the side streets. At least from the hotel to the avenue there weren't many people around. That was good because she just knew that she'd attract attention as soon as she reached a main drag.
In the club, she was protected by Billy and the other people who worked there. If she had had any idea when she went to work last night that she was going to be leaving the club for another part of town and would have to walk for miles, she would never have worn that dress. She would have covered up and even worn a bra.
This was so weird. She made good money as an exotic dancer -- mostly from the tips -- exhibiting her naked body to whoever cared to look. Now she was didn't even have a quarter to phone Deidre, her roommate and the new club manager. She was walking home from -- she guessed -- five miles away with no way to hide, dressed like a slut. If only she had cab fare! And she had to work tonight!
Charlene reached the avenue and turned right. Although she tried to stay in the shadows, she was soon drawing all kinds of attention she didn't want. This was a nice neighborhood and people weren't used to seeing someone dressed this way. Tight knit dress with a low neckline and a high hem. High heels that said "fuck me" and bare legs. Tits bobbing up and down as she walked. Nipples sticking out firm.
At home, she sometimes went days without wearing decent clothes. She didn't have to because the apartment building where she and Deidre lived was right behind the club, with just an alley separating them. Most people in their apartment building were singles, into the city scene, and were cool about nudity. Lots of them went to adult clubs themselves and sometimes she saw her neighbors in the audience. Some of her neighbors were club dancers like herself. She had got careless, leaving for work wearing only that skimpy brown knit dress.
She didn't mind showing off her body -- not at all, it made her horny - but she did not like being exposed like this out on the street. She felt very vulnerable. There were people out there who could really take advantage of her in her current situation. It had already dawned on her that sooner or later someone was going to start harassing her. There wasn't much she could do about it. It might get ugly. She could get hurt.
There were also police to worry about, since they could arrest her on any pretext for public lewdness, indecent exposure or as a prostitute. The way she was dressed it would be hard to convince anyone otherwise.
Fortunately, there were not that many people on the street yet. It was only about ten o'clock and the shops had only just opened. The unwanted attention was coming from passing cars on the busy avenue. Men leering and women scowling. The driver of a passing call yelled "whore" at her. Funny. This morning, in daylight, the traffic was hostile and judgmental to a young woman walking half-naked on a public street. Tonight, however, cars would be cruising this same street with men searching for hookers.
She wondered if she could find a couple of dimes and a nickel on the street to call Deidre or Billy. No luck. She wondered if she could hitchhike. Bad idea -- anyone who would pick her up in broad daylight, the way she looked, would mean trouble. Maybe she could find a taxi that would take her home on a promise to pay the fare when they got there. Not likely. Besides, taxis in Los Angeles were few and far between.
She walked by a shop that was being rebuilt -- the construction crew stopped and stared. She walked across the street from a parking lot -- the attendant walked outside his booth to get a better look. A gardener trimming a hedge took a piece out of a rose bush. She could have liked the attention under different circumstances.
What would Deidre do in a case like this, she thought. Her roommate was pretty smart, if a little haughty at times. They called her Deidre the Duchess. She had persuaded the owner of the club to let her manage the place on a temporary basis after the regular manager died. She did such a good job, even though she kept on dancing at night, that he made her the permanent dancer. Now she was scheming to buy the club and wanted Charlene to go in on it with her. That would sure be nice, a chance to call the shots and share the profits....
Charlene suddenly snapped out of her daydream. She noticed something that got frightened her. A couple of young men in black jackets were walking in the same direction, away from her, up ahead and across the street. Big guys, walking with a swagger. Hoodlum types. Mean-looking. The jackets looked like they might have gang tags. She had to avoid them. She walked close to the storefront and watched the tough guys down the next block. She would have to run the other way if they turned and saw her, she supposed, but her high heels would slow her down. She'd have to take them off, fast, if they came at her. At least she would have distance in her favor.
She had another problem. She was really hungry now. Last night she hadn't had much to eat and this morning she had left the hotel with no breakfast. She also needed to get off the street for a few minutes to avoid the hoodlums while she tried to think up a plan. She'd go into a restaurant and deal with the tab later. The first restaurant she came to looked too nice and too popular. She'd stick out like a sore thumb among the clientele. The next one was just a small coffee shop. Its front window was not so big and there was hardly anybody inside. The guy at the cash register was arranging menus. The waiter wasn't around.
Charlene went inside and took a seat facing the wall in a corner. She sat bent over, trying to be inconspicuous. The coffee shop was air conditioned and too cold. Her nips stood out even more under the stretchy fabric. The waiter came back from the kitchen into the coffee shop, holding a fistful of sugar packets, and noticed her.
"Can I help ... (choke) you?" he said, stumbling in mid-sentence because he had never seen breasts like hers in the restaurant before -- he was standing over her, looking down the gaping front of her knit dress, right into her cleavage.
"May I have a menu?" Charlene said, sweetly. The waiter mumbled something and walked backward, bumping into the next table. He brought her a menu, hardly taking his eyes off her. She ordered the ham and eggs and a coffee, figuring that it would be fast.
She thought about making a run for it as she ate breakfast. Speed was what it would take, she decided. She would wait until they were distracted, then bolt out and lose them running. It wasn't a great plan but it was all she could think of. They weren't likely to follow her too far for the measly price a ham and eggs. She'd eat, wait until their backs were turned, and run out, grabbing some tip money if she could. Just enough for a bus -- a taxi if she was lucky.
