Chapter 9. Street Life
On the Tuesday night, Stacey had finally arranged her little 'street whore' fantasy. She had seized on the opportunity presented when Dolores had to go away for a few days on business, and explained she would stay at my place overnight so we could go to another gig and get to school the following day. I'd separately told Dolores that I had some urgent work to finish on Tuesday, for which I needed my home office, which was partly true, so I was at my place when Stacey arrived with her overnight bag, and went straight to her room to change.
I soon discovered that she'd reserved a room in my name at the same motel we'd visited with Barbie. She'd even used my credit card number, the little minx. She'd planned it all out. "I'll get my outfit on, only I'm gonna put my coat on over it all, 'cuz I so don't want you to see me until I'm, like ready. You drop me by this streetlight and you drive around the block and pick me up, like you're my client. Then we go to the motel, and you pay me a couple of hundred bucks and you fuck the shit out of me. Is that cool?"
Stacey had spent over an hour in her room, getting herself ready. When she came out, she was wearing a longish coat and a baseball cap, pulled down low, a pair of big sunglasses, and carrying a large shoulder bag. She'd wanted me to wear a suit and tie. I looked very much the lonely businessman, cruising for a fuck.
We stopped briefly at the motel for me to collect the key and set up a few things in the room. Then we drove a few blocks to the street she'd chosen. It was a nondescript area, mostly office buildings and warehouses that were deserted around 8pm on a Tuesday. Hardly any passing traffic and only a few streetlights. Not attractive, but not threatening. We drove around the block twice to make sure there were no cop cars in the vicinity. In fact, the whole area seemed empty, which suited our purposes well.
We stopped outside a small office building, the entrance in darkness right by the curb, its parking lot off to the side. "Now Uncle Bob, you've gotta, like, give me a couple of minutes. Just drive around the block a few times, and when I'm ready, I'll watch for your car and I'll be waiting under that streetlight. Cool?"
Cool? Shit, I was so hot and horny -- and frankly, fucking terrified we'd be caught -- that I was anything but cool. "Make sure your mobile is on, Stacey. Here, call my number now. That way, if anything happens, you just have to hit redial and I can be there in seconds."
I drove around the block twice, but she hadn't appeared. Just as I was driving the opposite side of the square for the third time, a cop car pulled out of a side street and flashed me. SHIT! I pulled over, desperately trying to think of a good story.
The cop came and stood by my open window. Perhaps in my suit I didn't look like someone about to break into anywhere. "Hey sir, can you get out of the car?" I did, feeling very nervous. He looked me up and down. "You've been driving around here for a while. What are you looking for?" He looked suspicious, but I guess all cops are paid to look suspicious.
"Sorry, officer. I don't get around to this part of town much. My date gave me directions to a restaurant to meet her. I guess I've taken a wrong turn somewhere. Looks like I screwed up, big time. Can you direct me to the Golden Dragon? Only I don't wanna keep her waiting. I only met her on Tuesday, and she's got the tightest little tush -- oh sorry, I was..."
The cop laughed. "Hey man, keep your mind on the directions on not on her ass. Make a right up ahead, then another right and head back to the main road. Cross over and go straight ahead for around four blocks. The restaurant is on the left..."
At that moment the phone rang. "Where are you?" Stacey asked in exasperated and rather worried tones.
"Oh, hi, sweetie," I said quite loudly. "Sorry, I must have taken a wrong turn. Anyway, this nice police officer was just giving me directions. I'll be with you soon, honey."
The cop laughed. "It had better be a good meal and lots of booze for her, or you'll have no chance with the ass!"
"Thanks officer." I smiled, and got back into the driver's seat, watching in the mirror as he returned to the patrol car, laughing to himself. I drove off slowly, watching as he remained standing, talking to his partner; probably telling him about this sad geek who was trying to impress some tight-assed honey. As I turned into the street where Stacey was waiting, she stepped into the streetlight.
Fuck, she was outrageous. I mean, her hair was in teeny bunches, with really heavy eye makeup, bright pink lipstick, the big hoop earrings and a sort of choker around her neck. She had on this tiny white halter top, made out of thin material, and her long nipples stuck out like bullets. Her skinny belly was bare, and the skirt she had on was -- well, it nearly wasn't. It was so low on her hips that if she hadn't waxed, you would have seen her pubic hair, and if it had been much shorter, you'd have seen her pussy lips. There was a tattoo over her left hip -- I knew it wasn't real, so it must've been painted or stuck on. She wore white, over-the-knee socks that were out of some Max Hardcore movie, and the six-inch heels and platform soles with ankle straps were not designed for walking; they were only fit for sitting on a bar-stool, picking up sad fucks like me.
She sashayed up as I stopped by the curb and wound the window down. "Hey mister, are you looking for some fun." She produced a lollipop, and sucked it in a seriously filthy way.
My heart was still pounding after my encounter with the cop. I nervously checked my mirror, afraid that the cop car would appear any moment, and we would be seriously fucked -- and not in a good way.
"Er -- maybe. You're really pretty. How much, baby?" I couldn't take my eyes off her. If she'd had 'teen whore' tattooed on her forehead, it wouldn't have been more blatant.
"Well, mister, I can give you a hand job for fifty and a nice wet blowjob for ninety. If you want everything, that's a hundred and fifty for an hour, and you can, like, come as many times as you want."
"What -- what would five hundred buy?"
"Oooh, mister, sounds like you're a greedy boy. Maybe I could, like, stay all night. Do you have anything in mind, mister?"
"I -- want your ass." I blurted it out as if it was going to be my first time.
"Oh, mister! I don't, like, usually let anyone in my little ass. See, it's sooo tight. How big are you, mister?"
"How -- how big do you want?"
She giggled. "Not too big. Only, if you're like, way big, then it'll hurt."
I ignored her question. "Do you -- do you deep throat?"
"Hey mister, seems like you want to shove your dick down my throat and up my ass. Is that -- is that what you want, mister?"
"I want it all, baby. And I'm prepared to give you five hundred for it, but you gotta do as I say. Now, do you want it or not? Make your mind up - we don't want the cops to come by while we're talking."
My heart was pounding, partly from the fear that the cops might indeed come back and discover us, and partly from the excitement of the role-play. This was seriously pervy stuff, and I could tell from Stacey's expression that she was getting off on it.
She glanced up and down the road. The lollipop stick still protruded from the corner of her mouth. 'For fuck's sake, Stacey', I thought, 'get in the fucking car before we're caught!'
"OK, mister, I guess so. I can let you try to put your cock in my throat and my ass. For five hundred, right? Only promise me you'll be gentle? My little ass is so tight, and I'm, like, nearly a virgin there. And promise you're not too big?"
"I promise baby, anything. Now get in the car."
She smiled sweetly, which made her look even hornier. Fuck, she looked about fifteen! This was sick! Then she picked up her large bag, threw it onto the back seat, and climbed in. Her skirt, such as it was, rode up. Under it, she wore a tiny pair of thong panties, with no crotch -- just what seemed to be a minute piece of lace over her mound, and a silky cord going on either side of her pussy, forcing her pink lips outward. Under the lamplight, I could see that they were wet.
