Deacon was one of those girls who didn't give a damn about her past or her future, so long as her looks and skills kept her far from starvation. She was no average newsie and anyone who'd ever mot her knew this. She was into the less respectable dealings of the city, pushing her naturally appealing looks to their limit. She leisurely sold newspapers during the day, and at night her true essence came out as she sold her body to all those willing to pay a bit of money and possibly their good reputation, if caught with her.
She really was quite different from other girls her age in the same business, for she had the tricks of a skilled prostitute at the early age of seventeen. Deacon did not see her work as disrespectable or dirty as did many other newsboys and girls that she lived with in a lodging house in Harlem. She spent most of her time on the streets though, or in a nearby brothel that was apparently supposed to have been secret. Though that secret did not stay that way for long, as tens of men scurried into its doors trying hard to not be seen at such a place every night.
The girl twirled in front of the bathroom mirror of the Harlem lodging house for newsies, checking that her costume was perfect for another night at work. Her blood red lips split in an alluring smile as she saw what she wanted – a busty girl who looked at least three years older than her real age due to her heavily made-up face. The rouge almost crumpled off her olive skin when she smiled, that was how thick its layer was. She batted her bright green eyes, practicing her old routine and kissed the air before her flirtatiously. She adjusted her long black skirt and a red shawl covering her bare shoulders and a part of her stiff red corset that looked like a tank top. She twirled around one last time, but almost fell over from a start as she saw Hands leaning on the wall by the bathroom door, his arms folded across his broad chest.
"Are ya shoah ya gotta do dis every night?" he asked almost spitting with disgust.
"Now Hands deah, ya know I hate sellin papes, they make me hands dirty, and theah's so many dangers out on de streets…" she pouted playfully, knowing it was jus another one of his mood swings.
"Yeah, but I'se shoah deah's betta jobs dan bein a whore!" he hissed at her brimming with jealousy towards all those men that could have her every night.
"If that's what you call it…
song "It's so unjust
That we must
Feel inadequacy
Where is your empathy?
I feel a misfit
Wearing this kit
Stereotype me
That is my fee"
"But why whoring yourself, I don't understand!" he lowered his hands, almost starting to walk towards her and maybe hoping that touching her would explain something.
"Well, because in dis, I'm me own boss, I call de shots, and I get ta decide how I work…what my style is, ya know?" she continued
song "Free
To manipulate
When I stipulate
That's my prerogative
I tell you
Free
To manipulate
When I stipulate
It's going round round
Tell you what I've found"
"And deah Hands, de easiest explanation to yer question is dis,
song "Sex sells
Every night and day
It will be this way
Sex sells
So what you gotta prove
When it's all your life to choose"
"Eventually you get to like it, it becomes like a hobby, and you start trying to improve what you've already accomplished" she pulled out a cigarette from inside her bra followed by a small matchbox. She lit the small stub and took a long drag before continuing.
song "You play the game
Make me tame
I have a personality
Don't care if it's a fallacy
Oh what's the harm
Use that charm
You gotta show some skin
Make sure your be thin
"It's really all quite easy to understand dear Hands, it becomes addictive, until you can't get enough of it, and I'll tell ya, in dis business, one NEVAH gets enough of it, cos deah's jus so many customahs…all willin ta be ordered around by me, jus for a bit of pleasure"
"Free
To manipulate
When i stipulate
That's my prerogative
I tell you
Free
To manipulate
When i stipulate
It's going round round
Tell you what I've found."