Tight Dress in Heels

PROSTITUTION


Sometimes it takes a little while to snag that first fare of the day. But on this particular evening, I managed to snare one before even leaving home and the pick-up spot was close by too. Double score.

I had never been inside that complex, but the gate was open, so I whipped in and stopped at the mark. The customer called and said they’d be right down. A young black male carrying a TV wrapped in a blanket appeared with a young black woman trailing behind in high heels, a tight dress, carrying two pillows, a large tote style purse, and sporting a beanie over her long straight hair.

It appeared to me that she was being put out by her dude.

“You want to put that in the back?” I asked him.

“Yeah. You’re taking her,” he said as he put the TV in the back seat. He turned and disappeared.

I turned back to the young woman getting a good look at her, and I was under the impression that she might have actually been a he, or maybe used to be. Then she spoke. She sounded just like a stereotyped flamboyant gay man. I am still unsure whether she was a he or somewhere in between. I never got a name.

The tight dress in the back was a very friendly talkative customer. They were very intelligent and knew their stuff when it came to underground hip-hop. We shared a brief conversation about music before it veered off into another direction, as it typically does when one has an extended conversation with a complete stranger.

They were hungry, so they asked me if it would be okay to stop for a bite to eat on the way.

“No problem,” I said.

They wanted In & Out. I cursed this person up and down inside my head. You don’t get paid much when you’re not moving, and In & Out, well that place can be slow as fuck sometimes, and of course this time, even though the line wasn’t deep into the parking lot, it took us forever and a half—so I had an extended-extended conversation with a complete stranger.

I smiled and laughed.

The discussion jumped around from topic to topic and the passenger in the back had me cracking up with joke after joke, squeezing in decent voice impressions into the stories with a witty pace.

After being in the Bay area for sometime, they had ended up here, “stuck” as they put it. I never asked, but I was under the impression that they were a sex worker of some sort. It didn’t bother me in the least. We had a pretty decent conversation, but I still couldn’t wait to dump the tight dress off. I wasn’t making any money sitting there in the drive-thru.

They offered to buy me something after trying to order a “monkey style” double-double. I politely declined. We continued to talk as they had become very fidgety in the back seat messing with the TV cables and their purse.

Once out of the drive-thru, the drive was fairly brief. I pulled into a sleazy looking single story motel.

“Room 119, wherever that is.”

I zeroed in on the space and parked in front of door one-nineteen. The nice guy that I am, and the fact that this trip was coming up on forty-five minutes at that point, I offered to help with the TV.

The car went silent and I tucked my key deep in my pocket. I yanked the TV out of the back seat as the tight dress clicked down the sidewalk. When the door opened, some skinny white guy with slicked back blonde hair stood there wearing a blank look.

I stopped to be greeted by a funky smell like someone just took an Austin Powers piss all over the fucking place. It poured out the door and slapped me across the face. I had no intention of stepping inside the room, so I handed the TV off to the tight dress. They ran back to their forgotten half chocolate half vanilla shake.

“It was very nice to meet you,” they said as they firmly shook my hand.

I smiled and said the same before plopping back in my car and bouncing up out that bitch.

I pulled over down the street to refill the water I knew they had drank. But I was surprised to see they had cleaned out both back doors for all the snacks and both waters. Then I caught sight of a cut zip tie on the floor.

That bitch ass mother fucker stole my iPhone charging cord. I have a fixed charging station with extra cords and I could tell that they tried to gank all of it, but it was zip tied in place.

Now I know why they we’re so entertaining.

I was pissed. I wanted to go back to that motel and throw poop at the door, but then I realized that would require me to poop in a bag.

I was over it.

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