by Matsuri Yuri (祭百合) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/208867.html) Sheila was staring at the ceiling, counting tiles and waiting for him–and the boredom–to just finish. One would think a sex worker would have a thrilling sex life, but apparently they left that out of the pamphlet. Dylan always made a big fucking deal of going down on her, […]
Heat rose off the grates by Gradys’. The air was viscous with smog, smoke, and all the other beautiful substances the city offered. Smith’s eyeliner was smudged, his hair a mess, and his lipstick needed to be replaced after the last job. The fucker had yanked his hair as he sucked. He wondered if the guy might forget to wash off his cock before he went home to his wife. The bastard deserved it.
Gradys’ was a mom and pop store, strictly munchies and crack. Supposedly, some people shopped there just for Cheezits and such and not the sweets in the back of another kind. Smith leaned against the alley wall. He looked like a fucking bum, and that wasn’t good for business. Nobody wanted to fuck a stinking wino – or in his case, a stinking crack addict. All he had to do was turn a few tricks and he’d be sleeping in a warm place tonight, but Smith barely felt like moving. Coming down was a bitch and a half.