xX... enjoy my first one shot! ...xX
"I'm sick and tired of working in this hell hole of a place with broken glass and used up rubbers on the ground."
Vixen finished lacing up her fake leather huge tops. She tied them tight and leaned up, the cold air whipped bitterly through the alley, I mean her home. Vixen didn't have a coat on; in fact, she didn't have much of anything on. Only a tiny glittery tube top covering a body without bra and covering only an old black fishnet. Her skirt was more than a foot above the knee and her raven hair was tied back into a messy bun. She picked her way through the needles and condoms that lined the floor, squished and dirty. Fish nets also graced her long, thin legs. She always made a point of showing off her legs, a wonderful selling option. 6th street was teaming with life that busted at the seams. Millions of worlds that revolved just fine without her, millions of worlds that didn't need her, only one did. What it would be if she had a different life, if things didn't turn out the way they mother fucking had, she thought.
Sick of all the punks and all the slobs and all the drunks and all those horny freaks who follow me around.
Vixens' hair whipped around her as she approached a graffiti covered, barbed wire filled metal door. Outside, two grimy old men shot heroine. She unlocked the door and threw it open; it clanged loudly on the building beside it. She entered into s pink, sickly smelling narrow hallway; women like Vixen crammed inside the hallway, going this way and that, the honest smell of sweat filled the room. Vixen approached a small desk and applied some rosy makeup. She hurried down another hall, equally crowded and finally came out in a bare white room; names were written in marker on the wall with tic marks next to them. Vixen's had 13. But she was new.
I'm sick of never knowing if some john is gonna turn into another Jack the ripper on the make. But when you're a hooker, gettin' cut up into pieces, well that's just the kind of chance you gotta take.
"Here's what ya got today, so far," a fat man behind the counter handed her a manila file folder. Vixen looked it over; she slammed it down on the counter, her eyes swimming with hate,
"For Christ's sake you son-of-a-bitch, Norm!" she wheeled around, looking upwards. Norm began laughing,
"Simmer down, simma downa, you don't have the stamina for more than four prob'ly," Norm chuckled.
"Come on, one more..."
"No."
"Pweeeeze!"
"NO!"
"PWETTY PWEEZEEE!"
"Fine!" Norm lay down his coffee cup, "here, one more, go! Go my little vixen!" he shooed her away and away she went, out of the back area and ready to start the day.
I'm sick of waiting while some bastard looks me over, standing there deciding yes or no.
Sick of every dick, of every hot and sweaty trick who says "how much?" before he even says hello.
She slammed the door to room 13 and walked briskly down the hallway, out of the nice room area and back into the lounge area. She slouched down on her feet, two in and she was hurting. She took out a cig and puffed luxuriously. The room was freezing and empty. Her beautiful face remained with no need of touch up make up. She shoulda stayed in bed. She sighed, dropped her smoke on the carpet, popped a beer can, chugged thirstily and went off for numero three.
I'm sick of always feeling like my back is broken, sick of getting splinters in my knees. Sick of being worried if I'm gonna catch a beating, not to mention catchin' who knows what disease.
"Vix, the tests are in," Norm said, he looked very sad, "I'm sorry," he whispered. She looked at the test, she stared in silent horror, the world was silent.
"You know, my name isn't really Vixen," she said to Norm, barely audible.
"Oh?" Norm answered.
"Yeah, it's Summer, but does that matter now?" she was crying, "FUCK NO!" she threw the test results to the ground and stormed out, four better me a quickie. She was sobbing.
Some day I'll be workin' in a million dollar penthouse where my tricks will all be coming to me. Takin' care of business in my air conditioned bedroom, with my vcr and color tv.
Some day I'll be working for an escort service, with a very fancy clientele. Someday I'll be known by every doorman in the city from the Hilton to the Plaza Hotel.
Room 17 is not the nicest out of all the rooms.
Its cracked white paint is fading and the bed is creaky and falling apart. It has no window or a bathroom.
Relentless Vixen entered the room and stripped down to her panties, she wore no bra. The room was freezing, where the hell was her last customer. Than she could go home. The door opened, in walked an Asian man, muscles rippling under his loose whit shirt. It was obvious he was a business man on his day off. He looked a little taken, her face was cold and flustered. She smiled as best as she could,
"Hey, I'm Vixen, let's go," she said, in her best sexy/freezing voice.
"That's a little fast isn't it?" he said, slightly chuckling. She mumbled to herself,
"I wanna get home prick,"
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing..."
He proceeded to get his moneys worth...
Someday is a promise that is always broken, someday is a day you'll never see. Someday and a buck will buy a subway token, someday is for suckers like me.
The man was putting his pants on, she lay in the bed.
"You know, you look really familiar," he said.
Vixen was silent for a while,
"Is that what you say to all your whores?"
"No... this is my first time," he blushed.
"Yeah? You didn't show it," she complimented.
"You look like, this friend I had, she managed this dumb band I was in ele..."
She cut him off,
"It was NOT dumb!"
"Summer?"
Summer looked down,
"You don't want to know me... I'm a whore, look-it!" she collapsed onto the bed.
"It's ok..." he began.
Annoyed at herself she began talking,
"Look, this is just a temporary thing, to raise some money, for school. But days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. I got caught up. Once you're in, you can't get out," she closed her eyes. Suddenly she felt soft lips press up against hers, they were soft and moist. Still on the bed, she pulled him closer and into a passionate embrace.
"I think you're very beautiful," he began, "come, away with me, we'll go some place... Peru? You like Peru?" he asked, getting his things, throwing her clothes at her. Summer looked at him with a deep sadness,
"I'm going to St. Mary's tomorrow... I've got..."
Lawrence's expression of disbelief turned to anger,
"You've got an STD? AIDS? Fuck! You just ruined my life! You dirty, filthy, no good..."
She got, in tears and ran to him,
"Larry, please!!"
"Get off me! You are infected you sick freak!" Lawrence went out the door and out of the building, she didn't even get a tip.
Suddenly the room was freezing, she slouched down and began softly sobbing,
"Mother fucker," she whispered...
Someday is a hustler in a satin jacket, promisin' what's never gonna be, someday is a hustler with a perfect racket, someday is for suckers.
Someday is for suckers like me.
A tiny paragraph in the East Village Tribunal:
Last night, one,
Vixen Hathaway (Summer) passed away
At St. Mary's Hospital for the terminally ill.
She was 27
Summer Jane Hathaway was dead, and not a person in the world seemed to care. Oddly enough, life went on. As it always does.
I'm sick and tired of working in this hell hole of a place with broken glass and used up rubbers on the ground.
Sick of all the punks and all the slobs and all the drunks and all those horny freaks who follow me around.
I'm sick of waiting while some bastard looks me over, standing there deciding yes or no.
Sick of every dick, of every hot and sweaty trick who says "how much?" before he even says hello.
I'm sick of never knowing if some john is gonna turn into another Jack the ripper on the make. But when you're a hooker, gettin' cut up into pieces, well that's just the kind of chance you gotta take.
I'm sick of always feeling like my back is broken, sick of getting splinters in my knees. Sick of being worried if I'm gonna catch a beating, not to mention catchin' who knows what disease.
(spoken) It ain't always gonna be like this. Not for me. I got plans.
(spoken) Oh yeah?
(spoken) Oh yeah.
Some day I'll be workin' in a million dollar penthouse where my tricks will all be coming to me. Takin' care of business in my air conditioned bedroom, with my vcr and color tv.
Some day I'll be working for an escort service, with a very fancy clientele.
Someday I'll be known by every doorman in the city from the Hilton to the Plaza Hotel.
Someday is a promise that is always broken, someday is a day you'll never see. Someday and a buck will buy a subway token, someday is for suckers like me.
We're gonna get there, who says we're not. Don't tell us we're dreaming, dreams is all we got.
(spoken) Hey you sick freak. What did you think you were getting?
Someday I'll be owning me the cutest little dress shop that the town of Tallahassee's ever seen. Living like a lady in a cottage in the country with my husband and my sewing machine.
Someday is a hustler in a satin jacket, promisin' what's never gonna be, someday is a hustler with a perfect racket, someday is for suckers.
Someday is for suckers like me.
-'Someday' Is For Suckers... THE LIFE
xX... horrible? Good? Review! ... xX