Between Shadows and Sin
A misadventure on the wrong side of town
Millie Dynamite
Copyright © 2023 by Millie Dynamite
NOTE:
This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This book is pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously--any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Between Shadows and Sin
1986, a Large Metropolitan Area
Southeastern USA
The city's ghetto sprawled beneath a canvas of perpetual gloom. A place where shadows clung to walls like persistent illnesses. In this desolate landscape lived Lily, a young woman caught in the unforgiving grip of survival. Her world was flickering streetlights, damp alleyways, and whispered exchanges in the dark.
Lily noticed the curb, crawling car. A new BMW always gets attention from prostitutes at three AM. When the driver stopped, two women rushed to the passenger door. One girl, a cute, shapely blonde, stuck her head in the window, pushing the small black girl out of her way to be first.
She stepped back, hunched her shoulders, and pointed at Lily on the next block.
Lily was ready to call it a night, having made almost 300 hundred bucks. Earning enough Saturday night and the wee hours of Sunday morning, the girl wouldn't even need to work that night. But Lily, a young, stunning black woman, never turned down the chance to make more bread.
So, when Mr. BMW stopped at the curb right before her, she flashed her Big Bucks John smile and stepped to the door.
"Hi, sugar, look-n for a date?"
"Are you Lily?" the potential client asked.
"Sure-nuff am," she said.
"A friend said you're the best. And you have a secluded place where we can do things."
"If the price is right, I'm your girl. But gots to be a good price, cause sugar, I made 'nuff for the weekend already."
"How does 300 sound to you?"
"Prackly nuff, how about 350 instead?" Lily always worked to up-size their order.
"Okay, if I get a blow to completion and more to get me hard again. Followed by you top looking me in the eye."
"Done, done, and done, Mister Man."
"That's not my name."
"Everybody, Mister Man, unless they are a regular."
"Oh, yeah, I see what you mean."
Once they made their way to an abandoned auto repair shop, Lily got out and opened an overhead door, and the man pulled his car inside. She pulled the door down and sealed the two of them inside.
"There's a bed through that door, but we'd jus as comfortable in the backseat. Plus, you car clean, in there ain't."
"Okay, that sounds good."
"Well, lover man, gets you-self naked and get back there."
Mister Man positioned himself, naked, back against the door, waiting for her with an expression of anticipation on his face. She stood outside the other door and purposely, sensually stripped off her pleated skirt and silk blouse. Removing her lacey bra and matching French cut frillies, Lily entered the car and closed the door behind her.
"Oh, Mister Man, dat such a cute pecker," she said to him. She didn't intend it as a jab of any kind.
"Please don't make fun of me."
"I'm not, baby. In fact, I like small better than big." She didn't like dick at all. Having grown up on the streets after running away from her abusive father, Lily, like all street workers, dreamed of enough money to get out and away. To start over without the shame of prostitution hanging over her head.
"I'll give you another fifty if you don't make me wear a condom."
Lily bobbed her head in agreement.
He fished all the money from the billfold and laid on the ledge behind the seat. Returning the wallet to his coat pocket, he stretched out a bit more. Relaxing, anticipating, and watching the beautiful hooker with lustful eyes.
The extra money was worth the risk to her. It worked into her plans and furthered her agenda. If she could lift money out of the pockets of his well-pressed jacket hanging over the back of the front seat, all the better.
But whores with plans still have pimps with other ideas. If he found her stash, she'd earn a beating and lose her funds. It had already happened twice. She was more careful this go-round. And hidden in her hidey-hole, a secret place under the floorboards of her apartment, she had almost five thousand dollars.
Halfway to freedom, or so she believed.
His prick stood there, proud and hard. Sliding up his legs. Kissing here, licking between the trail kisses, sending shivers through his body, mind, and touching him in ways he'd never been touched. She felt pleasure at his audible reactions. She kissed his ball sack and ran her tongue over the shaft, all the way to the tip of the head.
"Oh, my dear Lord, you're so good."
Wrapping her full, firm lips around the head of his cock, she slid down one inch at a time. She worked down the three and a half inches to his ball sack like small bites of a tiny sausage. Each slide of her succulent lips, accompanied by her twisting tongue, drove him to the edge.
He sighed in pleasure, oblivious to everything but her hot mouth on his ridged penis.
Her tongue snaked from her mouth, teasing his little testicles. Soon, her lips engulfed those as well. Her whirling dervish tongue danced over his manhood, thick spital covered and coated him. His flesh became alive with the crawling of tiny unseen critters, and the goosebumps rose.
He attempted to thrust his hips. Lily's hands pushed down his legs with surprising strength, holding him motionless as she took him on a sensual journey. His wife had never been as sexy as this stranger. Their lovemaking was stale and boring.
While this, this stranger, this dark, sweet woman, used him, pleasured him as none had.
Lily controlled him and kept him on the edge. But as soon as she sensed his impending pass over that edge, she pulled back and slowed down. She wanted his brain addled the whole time.
Richard Crumby contemplated giving her more money. But he remembered Joshua's warning. "If you want this to be a regular thing, don't tip her or pay more than she asks. If you do," he said, "You'll be her cash cow."
He stroked her hair gently, not pushing her head down or restricting her movement. Clearly, she was the boss.
His climax came and went, spurting small chunks, which she swallowed. A dangerous gamble that he had no infections or that her saliva would kill those he might have. But wealthy men aren't often carriers of STDs.
She'd never let the average John not wear protection. Even her pimp wore a rubber because she made him. He didn't risk pissing off his best earner. However, her best client always paid extra to avoid wearing a rubber.
