On the Streets
It was raining again. Hermione eyed the weather with trepidation as she swept her shoulder length curls into a tight braid. The short leather skirt laid out on her bed for that evening would provide little protection against the stormy November night and she felt cold already in anticipation. A glance at the worn out watch on her wrist told her the time for procrastination was over and she turned from the window to dress. Fishnet stockings, knee high leather boots, a leather micro-skirt and a tight low cut tank-top finished the outfit. She smiled seductively at her mirror for a moment admiring the poised façade she had perfected before strutting from the room. Tonight was her night, she could feel it. Tonight she would make enough money to get away from this place. No one would miss her. She'd been smart enough to avoid the notice of the other prostitutes and their pimps.
An hour later the confidence was fading quickly. The rain had her maroon top clinging like a second skin exposing the intricate lace pattern of her black bra to the silent night but yet not a single car had even slowed to glace her way. Cars were few and far between this night and despair warred with the common sense that told her it was thanksgiving holiday and that, combined with the stormy night, would keep all but the most perverse of her clients at home with their families. For, indeed, most of her clients had families waiting for them when they picked her up for a quick, easy fuck.
The rumble of an engine brought her head up and she smiled seductively at the ancient green Ford as it approached her. She recognized the vehicle instantly, a regular. She raised her hand in a sultry wave then ran her fingers teasingly down her front pausing at her shirt line slightly to raise it and expose her belly button, tracing it with a cold and trembling finger. The truck slowed to a stop with a slight squeal from the brakes. Hermione took a deep shuddering breath for courage and strolled casually over to the driver's side window.
"Hey there hot stuff," she forced a sensual, husky quality into her voice, "looking for some company?" She smirked inwardly at the nervously racing pulse she could see beating at his throat as he tried to appear casual. He was an interesting character, a regular who never seemed to lose the first time nerves. He wore no wedding ring, but that didn't mean there wasn't a wife and kids at home waiting for him.
"Hop in," he commanded gruffly.
Hermione smiled coquettishly. "Money first, you know that." She said dancing just out of reach.
His eyes narrowed for a moment before he reached for his wallet and removed a slim stack of bills. "For the night," he said holding them close to his chest.
Gliding strides brought Hermione once again to the window of the truck and a spidery thin arm snaked through the window snatching the crisp bills. Four hundred dollars, a little low, but it would be a relief to be out of the rain. She stuffed the bills into the top of her boot and sauntered around to the passenger's door. "Where to lover?" she asked, filling her tone and eyes with false desire. She slid a hand over his leg, inching towards the excited bulge already filling his trousers. The urge to vomit was great but she stoically fought it off. It wasn't that this John was worse than any of the others she had serviced over the years; just the accumulation of disgust had built inside her until it could barely be contained.
"Not here," the man pushed her back from him, running his hands over more of her than was necessary as he did up her seatbelt, locking her into her personal hell. "I've got someplace in mind." He gave her body another lecherous once-over before peeling away from the curb and speeding down the highway.
The green Ford squealed its tires as the driver slid it into the empty spot in front of room 218. Hermione suppressed a snort, the Hinton Motel, while not exactly a nice motel was a huge leap upwards from the usual rooms she found herself in. For one thing this one required it's customers to pay for the entire night instead of the hour or so they used it for. The man slipped out of his door and skulked towards the room door, producing a key from his pocket and opening the door in a single deft motion. Hermione followed him closely and was impressed with what she saw in the room's interior. There was a single queen sized bed with a faded floral coverlet and a pile of lush looking pillows. In the corner stood a mahogany armoire and beside that were two chairs whose faded fabric matched that of the bedding. "Nice place," she purred seductively, sprawling wantonly across the foot of the bed.
He slammed the door shut with a resounding thud and flipped the dead bolt shut; there would be no interruptions that night. His eyes held a hungry wolfish light as they raked over her figure. Licking his lips he approached her. Hermione's stomach rolled, she should be used to this by now, the apprehension and disgust, but she wasn't. Nothing in the years of life as an orphan had prepared her for this, and even after two years on the streets of Seattle she still fought the nausea with every passing night. She smiled seductively at the looming figure, she knew his type well, their need to dominate making them her least favorite type of client. She forced her mind and body to relax. She knew he would hurt her less if she bent to his every whim.
Focusing on anything but the dimly lit room and the activities going on inside of it Hermione allowed him to roughly fondle her body, his hands roaming all over her before pulling her to her feet. She staggered into him in a practiced clumsy movement, rubbing her hand lightly over his hardened cock. A wave of nausea once again overcame her but she fought it off. Focusing instead on the buttons in front of her, she freed them achingly slowly from their confines with one hand, all the while caressing the john's penis through his trousers with the other. The shuddering ragged breaths ripping from the man's chest told her she was doing a good job. Her own body shuddered with disgust as she finished the final button and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. The pants were next to go, joining the shirt on the floor so the man stood in front of her in only his boxers. With a gentle push she had him sitting on the bed, watching, mesmerized and she slowly discarded her boots, followed closely by her stockings a shirt. Standing before him in just her skirt and bra she smiled wickedly and dropped to her knees.
Her mouth enveloped all six inches of him. Her tongue circling over the hot flesh bringing primal moans from the man above her. She rolled her eyes inwardly; one bite would be all she would need to render this particular pervert incapable of normal movement for weeks. Unfortunately, as tempting as the idea was, she was forced to refrain. Instead she continued to work her tongue and lips around him unlit he release with a shuddering groan into her mouth. She let it spill out of her mouth, discreetly wiping her mouth on the comforter and she slid up over him on the bed.
He sent a lust-filled gaze at her still covered breasts. She complied with the longing in his grey eyes and teasingly stripped away the bits of black lace still covering them. She tapped away a reaching hand and started on removing her leather skirt. In seconds she stood before him, her body naked except for the tiny excuse for a thong that barely covered the softly curling hairs on her crotch. She climbed up onto his lap and let him play with her breasts, closing her eyes in false pleasure and wishing she could be anywhere else. He quickly tired of his new toys and reached for the string of lace covering her vagina. She helped him remove it, hoping he would climax quickly and maybe even fall asleep.
He entered her with no preamble and she screamed false ecstasies as he thrust into her with rough strokes. His completion came quickly with a few screams of his own and she rolled off of him. A rough hand on her wrist stopped her from moving far, pulling her back to him. She sighed inwardly and found herself once again forcing her mind to abandon the scene she was daily a participant in. He entered her from behind this time again pounding hard into her until she screamed in mock pleasure and he spilled out his seed within her.
The calculator in the back of Hermione's mind racked up the fee. Tonight was definitely her night. The 400$ he had given her to secure the night could easily be doubled, tripled even if her luck and his stamina held. He reached for her again with greedy fingers. She rolled just out of reach and smiled coyly. "Ah, ah," she reprimanded playfully, "I believe you've had the fun you paid for."
The man growled in frustration. Hermione knew she had him, his arousal was very visible as was the stack of bills still remaining in his wallet. She ran a playful finger across her breasts, sighing loudly. He fumbled with the wallet. A stack of bills hit the bed beside her and were quickly stuffed into the boot. She would eat well tomorrow at the very least, and at best she would be able to escape. She was very bright, unfortunately fate did not smile on her and her mind had gone into the lonely, thankless and despicable job of manipulation and prostitution.
The night continued in much the same fashion a it had begun. Hermione rolled about, occasionally emitting noises of pleasure while imagining herself far, far away. When things got particularly bad she brought to mind the formula she had been working on that morning. On paper it seemed to work, she needed now to try the practical experiment. If only there was someone out there who could fund the trials things would progress much more smoothly.
Finally after a few more rounds the over sexed man seemed to lose steam and dismissed her for the night with another handful of bills accompanying an order to leave quietly and tell no one of their encounter. Once outside the door she flipped through the bills, nine hundred dollars. She took a close look at the truck, no one paid that well unless they had something to hide. On the back seat she found what she was looking for: a photo of the john with his arm around a beautiful woman in her forties. The couple was dressed to the nines and in the background of the picture Hermione caught a glimpse of a smiling Vice President Morgan. A politician, she raised her eyebrow, interesting but not too unheard of. It definitely explained the fee though. She smiled cockily and disappeared into the night.
Hermione entered the diner at 8am the next morning as she did every morning. Her bruises from the night before skillfully concealed behind an Armani sweater and artfully applied makeup. She didn't own many clothes but the few she did were expensive, designed to make the 'normal people' forget to ask about her nightly exploits. She sat in her usual corner booth and watched the door. Doris poured her a cup of tea and they exchanged the usual morning pleasantries. A quick glance at the clock told Hermione Brick was late.
Brick was the closest thing Hermione had to a friend in Seattle. The tall red-head's real name was unknown to all but him and possibly the Seattle PD where Hermione was certain a rather thick file was stored detailing the man's many indiscretions. Regardless of his rebellious behavior and criminal life style Brick was the one person she trusted. At ten past 9 he finally arrived. Hermione nodded discretely to him from over her sixth cup of coffee and, leaving a sizeable tip for Doris, followed him out into the misty morning.
"Got them?" He asked the question out of the side of his mouth while fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.
"Of course," Hermione pulled out a lighter and handed it to him with one hand while slipping a loaded envelope into his open right pocket. He handed the lighter back to her and she smiled as she felt the bills wrapped around it.
"Tomorrow?" he asked beginning to turn away.
"Hopefully," she smiled at him as if in a friendly goodbye and walked off down the street.
Brick watched her leave before entering the diner and taking the seat she had so recently vacated. His buyer would be there soon. This weeks photos would pay for his extracurricular activities for a few days then he would have to put her to work again. He thought briefly of bigger clients, bigger pay-offs but quickly pulled him self back to the present. His girl was smart enough, but still too raw for the big leagues. His buyer had been impressed with her skill though, almost too impressed. Brick lived in constant fear that his job as middle man would be eliminated and he might once again have to resort to messier options to earn his livelihood.
A/N: I loathe original characters for the most part, but I felt Brick was a necessity to the story development. In my mind he is a cannon character, but no one will discover that, possibly ever. Anyways, I'm hoping this chapter isn't too rough. I've had a few friends read through it and they like it, but well… they're my friends so that's kind of a necessity. Anyways… any and all feedback is welcomed with open arms. Thanks.