Young Times Part IV
I was still a little drunk from last night's party, still a little high for the joint I consumed, hot from thinking about last night's action, and more than a little horny from the thirty plus year old memories of my start as a tranny streetwalker. All those little' things led to a big' decision about going to work. I had done this before, I knew it worked. The three adult bookstores on Williamson road were in a straight line between where I was and where I worked, but even if I didn't stop by my apartment time was extremely tight. No, I would have to employ my old standby stalling tactic, and I had my cellphone open and dialing before I completely made up my mind.
`Holiday Inn, housekeeping, Carla speaking, how may I help you?'
`Carla'
`Lesli, what's up?'
`Carla, I'm having car trouble, I may be a little late this morning' I lied.
`Car trouble, OK, how long do you......wait a minute...........Jimmy says if you have battery trouble he can come over and jump you.' Jimmy's infantile joke.
`I think I need about an hour or so.'
`OK Lesli, no problem. Jimmy's here and I can put him on the early checkouts but you'll have to work the late rooms to make up for this morning.'
`No problem. Thanks Carla. Oh, tell Jimmy I'm not sure he could handle a girl like me!'
`You got it babe, no problem.'
There, I had at least an hour and a half to dedicate to finding relief at the bookstores. If I was lucky it would only take one, but with an hour and a half, I could afford to be choosey. I rifled through the sheets on the floor until I came up with my black bra and thong, slipping my tee and mini on over them, ran a hand through my hair and a quick touch up to my lip gloss. No time for more makeup or an enema, but, at this hour the morning crowd wasn't too picky. I slipped on my sandals, threw my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door.
The sunlight I had expected to greet me wasn't there. Thank God. Because the dim overcast of the day was enough to cause my head to hurt. I dug in my bag for my sunglasses and the sweet relief they afforded. My car was in the parking lot, 3 doors down and I fished my keys out and opened it. Slipping behind the wheel, I checked the rest of the lot. At this time of morning there were still quite a few cars there, and I imagined the maids weren't going to have much to do except drink coffee til some of the sleepy heads decided to get up and going. No cars that I recognized. The drive from the truck stop to the northernmost ABS on Williamson takes about fifteen minutes, but at this time of morning the commuters are headed in the same direction, so I wasted twenty five minutes getting there. There were only two cars in the side parking lot but that really doesn't mean much, the store backs up to a repair shop with a residential neighborhood behind it. Some store patrons park in the neighborhood and walk to store so their cars aren't visible to the traffic on Williamson. Not me, I pulled into the streetside parking lot fronting Williamson. My old red Datsun is known in the city and I want anyone looking to know where I am. It's my identification.
I get out of the car and strut, that's right, strut to the front door. I'm still high, and I enjoy putting on a show for the commuters. I make a mental note that I'm going to have to re tuck because this show I put on tickled my exhibitionist streak and I feel a stiffy down there!
Hey Stav' I call out to the kid behind the counter how's it going?' Stav is third generation ABS, his grandfather opened the place back in the heyday of smut dealers, and the family has run it since. It's my favorite store because of their lack of attitude. They run a halfway clean place, reasonably priced for the working stiffs, and ask only that the sex stay confined to the booths. Stav, unlike his father, let's me come and go as I please without charging me admission. Everyone else has to purchase a minimum of $5 in tokens to watch the movies. Stav considers me an `attraction' that keeps some of the guys coming back.
Hi Lesli' he responds going good, so far. Couple guys back there' as he motions with his head to the entrance. `And James' referring to the gay black kid that's here at least three times a day.
Cool' I say as I walk past the counter and into the dark entrance. I'm famished'
`Must be gonna eat back there, huh/â€
Nuts, weenies, and cream Stav' I joke breakfast of champions!'
As I walk past the preview board toward my' corner of the arcade I notice a big, country looking dude looking over the board. He focuses on me as I give an extra little wiggle to my step. I'm thinking this could have potential. I round the corner and see James leaning against the wall at the 13' booth.
Hey James' I greet him who's Mr Big there?'
"Ummm' James sighs, batting his eyes like a love sick puppy `he is a hunk, isn't he. Looking for a piece of ass he says,. Raw.â€
`Damn, why don't people wise up to that. Don't they know people die from that. Shit, dumb mother fucker' I spat.
`Alright, alright mother, we've all heard your rant against unprotected anal. The smart ones aren't doing it.'
`Well, the smart ones did it years ago, and I've lost more friends than I want to think about to it.'
`Yes mother' he deadpanned.
Fuck you James, I say as I walk on past him toward my' corner, `when you've lost friends to that disease, you'll know what I mean.'.
I call it my corner because it's in a darker part of the arcade and provides a clear view down two aisles at once, so I can see someone first coming in the arcade and someone coming out. I seem to attract attention first as they come in and then, if they want what they see, they circle around and hit on me in the corner. I can also keep an eye on eight booth doors from this vantage point.
I spy Mr Big at one corner looking at me, and decide to stay put, remembering what James has told me. And as I stand there, anxiously awaiting the next willing dick, the memories flood back......................
Young Times (the between years) part IV
As surprised as Bill was to see me standing on the corner, chatting with Mandy, he was even more surprised to hear about my beating. Mandy supplied him an adequate description of my assailant to the point he was sure he knew who it was. He assured us that he would deal with him.
And Mandy assured him that she would make sure I was protected by the other hookers here on the street. I think she was just thankful that Bill wasn't blaming her for my misfortune. Cookie, had she been there, would probably blamed a good portion of it on the fact that Mandy and her friend had shunned me and left me alone to fend for myself away from the relative safety of the street light.
Bill was perceptive enough to know that I had been hurt by the beating, both physically and emotionally and called an end to my first successful outing as a hooker. He drove me back to the house and told me to clean up and get some rest while he went back to the street look after Cookie. I suspected that he was also going to be on the lookout for the nigger who beat me up. He could kill him for all I cared.
As tired and sore as I was, the sex had excited me and the sight that greeted me in the mirror caused my dick to harden. Lipstick was smeared across my face from my mouth to my ear. The entire right side of my face was flushed red. My top lip was starting to swell, and blood was caked inside one nostril. I looked like a mess. And it turned me on!
As I stripped and ran a bath, I reflected on the beating. I had been beaten up in high school, mostly slaps and such, but never with the force and hatred I'd experienced tonight. It scarred me to think that I was that defenseless, given that I was going to be on the streets among people who took advantage of other, weaker, people. It was then that I realized the seriousness of what I was doing. This wasn't high school, this was real life, the reality that went along with anonymous sex on the street. And it turned me on! What the fuck was happening to me? Why did I feel so turned on by what happened, by the way I looked in the mirror? By the way I looked, completely naked except for these fucking high heels?
I slipped the heels off and stepped into the bath, reclining until only my head and shoulders remained out of the water. The warm water felt good on my naked skin, and soon I found myself coming down from the emotional roller coaster of sex and violence. It also helped sooth the slight ache I still felt in my ass, and before I knew it my left hand involuntarily sought out, and found, the tenderness of my hole. It was still slightly stretched from fucking and the water provided just the lubrication I needed to slip one finger slightly inside, just to the first knuckle. It felt so good that I couldn't resist the temptation to slide a second, then a third, finger inside, ending up with all three inserted as far as they would go. I let my right hand find my dick and jack it slowly as I simultaneously finger fucked my asshole.
God, that felt good, and I remember thinking that I if I only had a cock in my mouth I would be a very very happy camper. I thought back to Danny's backseat as I furiously thrust my fingers in and out of my hole, while wildly beating my meat. I felt the pressure building in my balls and increased the tempo, determined to experience the dual pleasure of an orgasm and a stuffed ass.
It was soon in coming, and I shot my cum in the water, while my three fingers were completely buried in my rectum. Now it was my turn to come down slowly, and I savored every minute of it as my mind replayed the events of the night.
First there was Danny, a cute guy with a nice car. The sex was good, albeit it brief, and I had let myself go wild. And I was sure I would do it again if I had the chance. But I was confused by my role. I was convinced that I was queer, and having sex with Danny shouldn't have been any different that having sex with all those boys and men in high school. But somehow it was. Somehow I looked at myself differently. It didn't seem queer, it seemed more like `boy-girl' sex, more like what the girls and boys in my high school did. Not like sex between me and Donnie, or me and Stephen, or not even like the sex I had with the black basketball players at the park, or the sex I had with the men at the gloryhole at the bus station. Danny treated me differently. He treated me, almost, like a girl, asking me if it was good for me, calling me gorgeous, french kissing me in my mouth, saying he wanted to see me again. Very few, if any, of the men or boys I'd had sex with acted like that. Was it the clothes, the way I looked, or had the clothes somehow caused me to act differently. I know I felt different. I mean, all the times I had been with other men, or had been queering off with Donnie or Stephen, or any of the many boys I had been with at conservatory, it had been obvious male to male sex. Queer sex. And I had, usually, been the passive participant, the bottom so to speak. But now, with Danny, and with the older man, I had felt different, still the bottom, but it didn't seem like normal queer, male to male, sex. Had they looked at me differently because I was wearing makeup, lipstick, and high heels? Had my appearance fooled them? I really doubted so, but they sure hadn't acted like they were picking up a faggot, that they were having sex with a boy. Maybe the illusion of my being a girl, just a little bit, had resonated somehow with what they considered male to female sex.
There was one thing I was sure of though, I had been very, very aroused by the what had happened tonight. From the clothes, the makeup, the danger of the street, and the sex, all the elements added up to something I thought I wanted a lot more of.
The whole thing was just too complicated for me to think about now. I was tired, I was sore, and sexually satisfied. Even if I had to satisfy myself. No, for tonight I was just going to let the whole thing go. I could figure it out later.
No sooner had I slipped beneath the sheets and I was asleep, unaware, no oblivious, to the events that were transpiring 100 miles west of me that would have a major impact on me and my future.
While Clarence wasn't cooperating any more than absolutely necessary, the Bluefield police were putting what little evidence that had together with surprisingly effective results. He traveled all over south west Virginia and southern West Virginia, that was true, but from the records they could find, he only stayed overnight in one or two places while on the road. Bluefield, Bristol, and my home town. It didn't take them long to connect the dots between those three towns and Roanoke, his home of record. So they started sharing information with, and asking questions of, the police in these locales with respect to cases involving contributing to the delinquency of a minor, sex with minors (especially homosexual, consenting or not), or missing or runaway persons. When my hometown police got into it, they connected the dots pretty quickly, and that drew a straight line to Roanoke.
The next day Bill gave in to Cookies nagging and sent her out to get me some new clothes. Well, new' was not exactly what Bill had in mind, but Cookie had ideas of her own. As for me, well I had only the pair of dissected shorts and tee shirt that Cookie had tailored' for my debut as a TV streetwalker, and those were the only clothes I had brought from Clarence's house over three weeks ago. So, if beggars can't be choosers, I was in no position to make quibble over the meaning of `new'. Besides, my opinion, if it counted at all, meant little. True, I had made $120 last night, and while that impressed Bill, it didn't make up for the nearly 4 weeks I had eaten his food and lived in his house. That he agreed to any new clothes at all was more to appease Cookie than a testament anything I said or felt.
Cooke was amazing! With her knack for shoplifting she could turn Bill's $20 into a pair of hip hugging short shorts, a pink tee with a heart on the front, a black bra and panty set, a black thong, a pair of flip flops with pink straps, and a black sleeveless mini dress with a wide red patent leather belt.
My heart sank! Not one pair of jeans, or a shirt, or tennis shoes, only GIRL clothes. I wasn't at the point yet where all these clothes excited me just yet, and the thought crossed my mind that these clothes were designed to keep me inside during the day and working at night. The truth was that there was to be no normal' life for me and the clothes episode made it sink in immediately. I was to be Bill's house guest and working girl' from now until.....?
Cookie saw the disappointment in my face. `Look honey, I know dis ain maybe watcha had in mind, but member, Bill want's ya to make money, and sugah dis da fastist way ta make money.' She was right of course, I hadn't made any money as a gay prostitute, and I had made over one hundred dollars in less than one complete night as a TV.
An look' she continues long as ya makin da money, Bill ain talkin bout putting ya on no damned bus.' That, more than anything else, made this OK in my mind. I liked the sex, I couldn't deny that, and the thought of being sent back home made me ill. No, the clothes weren't what I expected, but I came to see that they were what I needed.
`Yoant Cookie to hep ya wid ya make up? I mean, ya doan need much but I kin hep ya wid whatcha do need, ya know?'
And with that, I got my first initiation into the transformative process that would change the way I looked at myself for the rest of my life. She started with the eyes, showing me how to pluck my eyebrows to transform them from bushy to defined, then how to highlight them with the eyebrow pencil. Then she moved on to dark eye liner which had the effect of making my eyelids pop out and dominate my face.
No mascara' she remarked too tricky and doan stay on nohow.'
Then she showed me how to apply lipstick, outlining my lips first, then filling them in with a lighter shade of lip gloss.
"Ya wan sumpin aingonna rub off, or if it do, sumpin easy put back on, cuz ya goan be doin mostda work wif yo lips.'
Makeup wasn't rocket science, and I easily got the hang of it..
An we goan keep ya hair in a pony tail, til ya gits mo, den we gits ya a do.' I couldn't imagine my hair in a do' but this time last week I couldn't imagine myself putting on makeup. Or the fact that I had dressed like a girl and had sex with three men the night before. It was certainly a week of momentous firsts in my short life!
I completed the look with my new short shorts and pink tee. Somehow she had sized the clothes perfectly, and the way the shorts lifed and separated my ass cheeks made me look hot. The tee was tight across my shoulders, chest, and stomach and didn't quite cover my stomach, stopping about two inches above the top of the shorts. I looked like what I expected a streetwalker to look like. And the look kind of turned me on. And, more telling, wearing women's clothes really kind of turned me on to the point that my dick got hard again. Cookie noticed it.
`Dem trannis goan hafta sho ya how dey tuck, ya know, how dey hide dey dick so da john doan see it. Axt one dem how dey do it.' As I looked down and caught sight of my stiffey, I understood what she meant. I mean, I looked the part of a girl, but the bulge just didn't belong.
`Aite, dat's da best ole Cookie kin do, ya reddy ta go ta work girl. Ya lukkin good.'
Bill had heard Cookie talking and came into the room just as she was slipping the sandals on my feet. `Dam girl, I didn't kno no betta I thank ya a girl fa sho. Um, umm, ya goan hah dem boys linin up fa ya, fa sho. Ya reddy ta strut ya stuff?'
`Uh, yeah, I guess I am' I replied, and I meant it. As much as I was unsure before, the clothes and the make up had transformed me and I was amazed at how much. I really felt good looking like this, and I was ready for people to see me looking good. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had just unconsciously crossed another dividing line, to a place and state of mind that I would never return from.
To be continued leslitv@gmail.com