

 



STREET SMART

I leaned my hips against the door of the white Mercedes.  Looking 
across the car to the other side of the street, I could see a beautiful 
black woman and a skinny blonde conversing with two men in a large, 
blue car. My hands rested on the on the cool white metal; the 
impressions where I'd removed my wedding rings were quite visible.  
Feeling somehow detached, I moved my hand across the car top. I 
caressed a breast and lightly teased a nipple as my hand slipped down 
to my pearl-gray cashmere skirt.  Slowly I pulled the hem until the 
skirt was bunched at my middle.  I knew the man inside the Mercedes 
could see me naked from the waist down.  From somewhere I could hear 
his voice calling, "Thanks. Ok get in."

Instead I held my pose and sought the eyes of the black woman across 
the street....

It's not like I hadn't talked myself into this.  Earlier that evening, 
I remembered racing my BMW down the ridge on the steep curves of 
Hickory Trace and turning on to Highland Boulevard. As the road leveled 
in the valley, the glow of the city lights filtered through the 
treetops.  Stopping at a traffic light, I'd pulled down the lighted 
mirror to check my makeup; blue eyes stared out at me. Contemptuously 
I'd flipped the mirror back up. Later trees had given way to small 
businesses then further on strip malls and gradually the ghostly 
buildings of the city.  The BMW rolled to the center of town with 
windows closed, stereo on, I was insulated from reality.

The streets turned into a maze, and I had been momentarily confused, 
but found a direction arrow and turned onto Main, then River street.  
The sign from the all-night parking garage was garish neon, advertising 
the lowest rates in town. An ancient woman had accepted  $5.00 for 
unlimited use while never taking her eyes from a TV tuned to a noisy 
wrestling match.  Snapping on the interior light, I'd paused again to 
touch up my makeup and noticed blue eyes observing me from the courtesy 
mirror. Carefully I ran a comb through my long black hair and set the 
car alarm. Stepping outside I had adjusted the pearl-gray cashmere suit 
purchased in Paris and pulled on a black coat, grateful for the warmth. 

I quickly walked the two blocks to River Street.  Nervously, I'd 
stepped into the glare of the streetlights. I was not alone.  Various 
sizes, shapes and colors of women walked the dingy sidewalks.  The wind 
whistled and blew newsprint, paper cups and other detritus, first to 
the left then right ending in small whirls.   Scowls greeted me, the 
newcomer, as I'd staked an area near an auto parts wholesaler.  Black 
faces, white faces, and one Asian checked me and whispered comments.  I 
felt my knees shake and knew it wasn't the cold.  The volume rose, "New 
bitch on the walk-That's my damn spot-Kick her ass later"---Then 
customers appeared, and I was temporarily ignored.

At eleven o'clock, it had seemed as if a starter's flag had dropped as 
cars, trucks and one camper van appeared.  The ladies began to strut 
their stuff.  Tube tops, mini skirts, tight pants--some flattering, 
others not.  Most were designed to emphasize breast, buttocks or legs. 
I'd run a professional eye over each competitor.  As an advertising 
executive (day job, I thought), I understood product packaging.  
Impulse buying is king in the retail word. I had wondered vaguely if 
the rule applied to the street.  The temperature dropped a few degrees, 
and I snuggled further into the black coat.

Second thoughts had raced through my mind. I was scared.  I didn't need 
this.  My life was full.  Since childhood, sports were always my 
particular passion.  Golf was easy, so was tennis.  I had trophies all 
over the house. I was the terror of the country club set, often asked 
for as a tennis mixed doubles or golf partner.    As a young woman, I'd 
graduated from an exclusive women's college where I tried acting.  Much 
later, after marriage, I was in the local little theater group. 
However, my stage career had always been a mess. It was the only 
failure in my life. I could never get into the parts.  But then 
skydiving came
along...later riding lessons.  I craved excitement and adventure.  
After graduation, I'd started in advertising.  I learned the craft 
quickly and founded my own company. I was a success.  If there was a 
glass ceiling in the business world, I'd never noticed it.  Contracts 
came easily. I'd enjoyed working with men.  Of course, it had never 
hurt that I was good looking, and what the hell, I knew it.  At five 
foot six and 130 pounds, I always dressed professionally, but never 
bothered to hide my body. I often watched men sizing me up, and more 
than a few made proposals.  Most, I'd found, were easy to handle with a 
firm rejection, usually done in a humorous way.  Only once had a 
potential customer been too persistent.  I had kneed him in the balls 
(gently, but he knew I could have applied more force) and he backed 
off.  To my surprise, he called the next day, offered no apology, but 
agreed to the contract.

My husband was the love of my life.  I'd met him at a charity event and 
knew immediately I wanted him.  He'd driven me crazy for weeks by not 
responding to my open invitations.  But eventually, we'd gotten 
together and married after a year's romance.  He'd risen rapidly in his 
bank and now managed a large division.

On River Street, an ancient black Oldsmobile had moved towards me.  The 
cracked and taped window lowered. Three black faces grinned at me.

"Yo, pretty mama.  You be wanten to party?  No need to freeze your 
pretty little white ass.  Jump in ho."

I'd backed away--fifteen-year-old car--bald tires, dents, smoke rising 
from the tail pipe.  No money.

"Fuck you white bitch."  The Olds had moved down the street to the knot 
of ladies on the corner.

A large shiny, red truck with a silver bar over the cab with lots of 
lights then eased to the curb.  A man, middle-aged, white, fat had 
struggled to roll down the window.

"Looking for fun?"

Bending at the waist, I'd peered into the truck.  The black coat fell 
open and the cashmere top pulled away from my body.  Naked beneath the 
suit except for a garter belt and stockings, I'd wondered how much he 
could see.

"Maybe.  You appear in a festive mood."

"Festive?  Shit, I'm ready for a feast all right.  Wanna climb in the 
truck?  We can talk about it "

I'd caught a strong whiff of hash.

"No thank you. I'm waiting for my date for the evening."

"Date hell, I'm ready now, screw you."  But he'd put the truck in gear 
and moved down the street.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw three women climb into the Olds.  The 
red truck moved to a bevy of spandex further down the street.

A small, green sports car then approached. He was young, about 32, some 
five years younger than I.

"Hi.  I'm not sure what I am supposed to say."  He'd looked so shy. The 
words sort of stumbled out of his mouth. "

I'd bent low to put my head at his level.  Damn, he was good looking. 
Slim body, jet black hair and deep brown eyes.  His jeans were tight, a 
nice bulge showed under the zipper.  I'd moved my coat hoping he could 
see my nipples straining against the cashmere. "Guess you're on the 
town, looking for fun?"

"Yea, I am.  And uh, well you sort of looked lonely, so I uh thought I 
would just see if you were uh in the mood to uh, talk or something."  
His eyes had moved to the V of my top.  I hunched my shoulders, the top 
opened even further. I'd felt his eyes caress my breasts. I wondered if 
if he could see my nipples?  I remembered hoping so.

The newspapers had done an expose on local prostitution.  I remembered 
it was important he mention money first.  He could be a cop.  We 
chatted
for a few minutes.  Shifting my hips, I'd made my small breasts swing. 
His eyes flared. Now I knew he could see my small, brown, hard nipples 
plainly exposed. The bulge in his pants had seemed to grow larger.  I 
felt a wetness between my legs. It felt so... what was it...naturally 
wonderful. He was so cute, just the thought of he and I—no stop--
business first.

"Look, I just got my paycheck and have a little extra.  Maybe I could
blow some of it on you."

I'd looked him in the eye and moved one hand slowly up my body. His 
eyes dipped, then followed my hand as I cupped one breast and began to 
tease the nipple.  From years in business, I knew I'd made a perfect 
presentation.  He was concentrating on my red tipped fingers caressing 
my breast, not on negotiations.  I'd used similar techniques  (not 
quite so blatant) to distract advertising customers. I saw him touch 
himself as he'd shifted the hard hunk in his jeans. Catching his eyes, 
I'd licked the corner of my lips with the tip of my tongue. "Three 
hundred."  No idea if that was high or low on this street, but I knew 
he couldn't afford it.

"Uh, guess we'll have to pass.  I haven't even cashed the check yet 
and, well maybe later or...

Blowing him a kiss, I'd covered myself.  "Bye honey.  You got a 
girlfriend, a nice looking guy like you must."

"Yea"

"Then go home and call her."  I felt like the big-hearted Irish hooker 
in the old movies. I felt a rush.  Maybe I should reconsider, lower my 
price?  God he was so beautiful, perhaps I should have...no back to 
business.  I remembered a cardinal business rule--keep business and 
pleasure separate.

The green car moved on. Across the street the blond had said, "Smatter 
honey, no one want your skinny ass?"

As a police car entered the street, the ladies began catcalls and 
waiving to the two cops.  I'd frozen, unable to move, as the large 
white and blue machine eased to a stop just across the street from me. 
The wetness between my legs was replaced with a strange taste in my 
mouth-fear.  I loved it.

The beautiful black woman had walked to the cop car and leaned on the 
windowsill. "'Sup' police.  Hassling us ladies?" Her long, elegant 
fingers pulled down the tube top. She had the most beautiful breasts 
I'd had ever seen.  Medium sized, chocolate-colored, her brown nipples 
stuck straight out. A hand moved out of the car's window. The cop's 
finger had touched her nipple and made a circle around the entire 
breast.  "'You got to pay to play--boys."  She stepped back and pulled 
up the top. The cops laughed. She laughed and the car had moved on.  
The white girl extended her middle finger at the departing machine.

As if a new scent was in the air, all heads had turned to the far end 
of the street. A large white Mercedes slid down River street.  Money.  
On both sides of the street, women had hollered, waved, shook their 
asses, or stuck out their chests.  I surmised a new marketing approach 
was called for--something different, something that made one's product 
stick out from the norm.   I struck a most elegant 'businesswoman 
waiting for lunch engagement" pose. I glanced at my watch and just 
happened to look up in time to meet his eyes.

The Mercedes had continued down the street out of sight.  I took the 
time to pull out a mirror and touch up my makeup.  The blue eyes were 
in the small mirror; they looked at me mockingly. Moments later the
Mercedes reappeared and stopped in front of me.  A smoked window 
slipped into the doorframe. Again I had bent to peer inside.  He was 
handsome, early forties, trim, expensive slacks and leather jacket.  A 
large filigreed wedding band had sparkled with small diamond chips.  
Yes, money.

His gray expressionless eyes had locked mine. I opened my coat and 
pulled my shoulders together making the top open as far as possible. 
Secretly I pleaded with him to admire my breasts--worship my nipples.  
But the gray eyes held mine.  "Just passing by, thought you might be 
having car trouble.  Can I offer you a lift?"

I'd answered cautiously, cops come in all disguises,  "No, the car is 
fine, I just haven't been downtown for a long time.  Had an open 
schedule for a Friday night. So thought I would do a little bar 
hopping--maybe run into some friends."

"Interesting, I'm doing the same.  None of the clubs on this street 
appear to be open.  Why don't we go together? Easier to find parking 
for
just one car-------I'll buy."

"I can be expensive."

"I'll bet. How expensive?"

Damn I thought.  I should have done a through market survey prior to 
offering the product. I made a wild stab. "Two hundred."

"Seventy-five."

"One fifty." Even my toes were tingling.

"One, lets go."

"Sounds like a fun evening."

I had put a hand on the cold door handle.  "Just one little detail we 
need to clear up," he said.

"And?"

His eyes had still not lowered to my waiting nipples, "You a cop?"  "Do 
I look like one?"

"No, but uh, you'll need to prove it."

I'd known what he meant.  It was nearing election time, and the police 
had been rounding up the johns and working women.  The trade had 
devised ways to frustrate the cops.  Newspaper editorials had outlined 
the latest trick.  The women would expose themselves to the Johns, 
something no policewoman could do.  I'd glanced down at my breasts.  
"Will these do?"  The wetness between my legs returned.

"No, I also need to know that you're not a man.  Those could be faked."

Suddenly, I seemed top pop out of a dream and return to reality.  I 
found myself still leaning against the Mercedes holding up my skirt, 
exposing myself.  His voice continued to call me to get into the car.  
I caught the eye of the black woman, and she said softly, "Classy, 
white bitch showing her snatch on the street." I smiled at her and she 
at me.

I dropped my skirt then climbed into the passenger seat.  Inside the 
car, the warmth was incredible.  Leaning back against the leather, I'd 
moved my legs to the center, causing my skirt to rise.  Soft jazz 
spilled from the stereo.

"Love jazz," I said.

"Me too, It's a station that plays old ones."

Two blocks later we arrived at a cheap looking motel.

He checked in and returned to the car with a key on a plastic tag, 
"Look for room 207. I turned my head to hide my nervousness and 
pretended to look for 207.   I ran my fingers over my left hand; the 
impressions from my rings were still there.  Gripping the door handle, 
I realized the enormity of what I was doing.  I could step out now, go 
into the motel office, call a cab--this could all be over.  He found 
the room, parked the car and came around to my side.  One last chance 
to escape.  Relived to have made a decision, I moved my legs out of the 
car one at a time to make my skirt rise. I watched his eyes slide 
lightly over my thighs.  I turned to the stairway, and he touched my 
back to guide me. As we ascended the stairs, I knew he was admiring my 
legs. I made each step slowly and deliberately, savoring the heat of 
his eyes on my ass and thoughts of things to come.  I'd never been so 
blatantly wicked.

Inside, the room looked clean.  A double bed, dresser with mirror, 
table, one chair and a TV with the changer welded to the steel night 
table, all came together in an eclectic fashion.

He sat on the bed, "Undress for me."

I hung the black coat in the closet and turned to face him. "Nice 
place, hope it wasn't too expensive.  It's always money isn't it?"

"Oh yea," He removed his wallet, counted bills and placed them on the 
table.  I folded them without counting and stuffed the wad in my purse.

I unzipped my cashmere skirt and let it fall.  I thrilled as his eyes 
finally left mine and went to my long legs and black stocking,.  I knew 
he was admiring the neatly trimmed black hair of my pubic mound.  With 
my toe, I kicked up the skirt, turned slowly and deliberately put it on 
a hanger.  I put my hands on my hips and turned my head to look at him 
over my shoulder. He was staring at my ass cheeks.  Facing him again, I 
unbuttoned the top.  His eyes widened as he saw my breasts and realized 
how naked I'd been on the street.  Teasing him, I made an exaggerated 
show of hanging the top on a hanger and smoothing the wrinkles. Almost 
naked, I crossed the room, stood close enough to feel the heat of his 
body and looked up into his eyes.

"Blow job?"

"Uh yes", he stood and began to undress.

"Here, let me." I took off his jacket. It was expensive leather.  I 
traced my fingers over the soft material of his shirt-nice cut, 
obviously tailor-made.   Yes, I thought, I'm lucky to get such a nice 
one my first time.  I tried to unbutton his cuffs. They were unusual 
three button affairs. I had to push hard to get them unfastened.  I 
noticed a jagged three-inch rip just above the left cuff.  Probably got 
frustrated with these buttons, and yanked the damn thing off.  Strange 
he hadn't noticed.  Pulling down his zipper I put my hand inside his 
pants.  I touched his cock trough his underwear.

"My, it's nice and big", I gave him half a stroke.   I knew my job 
well. One must always play the customer's ego, as it leads to future 
sales. Quickly I banished that thought. 

He seemed to lose some of his "cool" as he stared at my hand inside his 
fly.  His gray eyes watched when I unbuckled his belt and removed his 
shoes and pants.  Easing back, he again sat on the bed. 

Still wearing garter belt, stocking and heels, I knelt in front of him
and reached into his underwear.

"Let's take it out."

It was a beautiful cock.  Since my marriage, I had only seen my 
husbands. (Although, I had often been curious about others I'd seen 
pulsing behind zippers while the owners talked to me. And of course, 
whatever way behind the zipper of the young man in the green car had 
also been quite intriguing.)  Fat and long, it rose to point at my 
face.

I stood, walked into the bathroom. The blue eyes were there in the 
mirror, waiting for me.  I ignored them and returned to him with a warm 
washcloth with which I soaped his balls and cock then dried him with a 
towel. Reaching into my purse, I extracted a small foil package and 
ripped it open.  The mini condom unrolled easily just over the head of 
his hard shaft.  I had found them in a "specialty store" in another 
part of town.

"Do we need that?"

"Yes, we both need to be careful."  I held his balls in one hand. The 
other hand held the beautiful cock and felt the blood coursing through 
it.

My hands began to shake as I moved my head forward...damn girl, if you 
thought exposing yourself on the street was a big step...for the first 
time in my life I felt hysteria...my breathing became ragged...I feared 
I would hyperventilate...

My red lips closed over his penis, and I sucked it all the way into my 
warm mouth.

"Oh shit," I heard him gasp.

I felt rising excitement. So, I thought, it wasn't hysteria I felt. It 
was worse--guilt...yes guilt.  I was naked in a hotel room with this 
man' s penis in my mouth, and I felt guilty.  It was the excitement, 
the sin, the adventure I craved. I loved it.

Sliding him out of my mouth, I looked him in the eyes and held his gaze 
for at least five seconds. Slowly and deliberately I licked my lips and 
whispered, "Do you like it this way."

"More."

"Does your wife suck you as well as I do?"

He didn't answer, but continued to look me in the eyes.

"Is she going to suck you tonight when you get home?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Will you be thinking of me?"

"Yes. Put me back in your mouth."

Swirling my tongue around the head of his cock, I could taste my 
lipstick as it transferred to him.  He began to pant.

For ten minutes, I used every trick I could think of.  My husband loves 
it when I make noise, so I smacked my lips and lost suction to make 
squeaking air sounds. He began to drive his hips forward, then fell 
back on the bed.  His balls seemed to grow larger, as I rolled them in 
my hands. I slipped one finger up to tickle his anus. Then reluctantly, 
I
pulled him out of my mouth.

"Want to fuck me now?"

He seemed incapable of an answer, so I propped his back against pillows 
and the backboard. With no ceremony, I rolled on a full size condom, 
then squatted over his hard member. As I held it up, I hesitated for a 
moment, thinking of another milestone reached... then relaxed as the 
his cock slipped into me inch by delicious inch.

It was an incredible feeling.  I knew we pros were not supposed to 
enjoy sex, but an immediate orgasm was on the way.  His hips shifted, 
and I moaned loudly through a wide-open mouth as shocks of pleasure
electrified me.

"Damn fine acting, you're good.  Working on your tip?"

I held my breasts in both hands, "You paid for these, want to play?"

"No, you do it, I'll watch."  I touched my nipples, massaged my breasts 
and held my breasts out to him.  He watched, and when I could no longer 
stand it, I pushed one into his mouth.

He had good stamina, and we moved slowly our bodies grinding as one. I 
loved the indulgent feeling of having sex with this man just for my 
pleasure.  Looking down I could see him sliding almost out then slowly 
back in.  I looked him in the eye and noticed beads of sweat on his 
forehead. Interpreting his needs I slowed then accelerated while 
rubbing my breasts against his chest. The soft hair of his chest 
stimulated my sensitive nipples.  He was paying for service, so I made 
sure he received quality fuck. 
Hating that it had to end, I looked at the radio's clock. "Time's 
almost up.  You need to finish now." 

"Hell, already?"  He rolled me onto hand and knees and reinserted 
himself from behind.  The cleverly positioned hotel mirror provided a 
full view of myself. The blue eyes reappeared.  They watched me, naked 
on hands and knees, with a man holding my hips and sliding his fat cock 
in and out.  To spite the eyes, I smiled salaciously and reached 
between my legs to play with myself and stroke his furry balls. I 
watched the eyes widen, as I arched my back to further spread my 
cheeks, hoping to drive him deeper. A second orgasm crept up on me. I 
heard him grunt, then felt him jerk as he sent streams into me.   As he 
slowed, satisfying waves of pleasure shook my entire body.  I winked at 
the blue eyes.

We both relaxed for a minute; he rolled to the side and collapsed on 
the bed.  I took my clothes and went into the bathroom.  My reflection 
in the mirror showed tousled black hair and nipples still hard, but red 
from his tongue and lips.  The blue eyes were there too.   They missed 
nothing.  They saw me run my tongue over swollen lips now missing any 
sign of my red bright red lipstick. I remembered where I'd left it.  I 
hoped his wife wouldn't notice.  Or did I?

Returning to the bedroom, I found him fully dressed, "I need a ride 
back to River Street."

In silence we rode the two blocks to my spot.   I smiled at him and 
said cheerfully, "Thanks, you seemed to enjoy the service.  Hope to see 
you again." He grinned and the Mercedes moved off.

Nearing home the BMW's seat warmer was comforting. The temperature 
continued to drop. Snow began to fall.  Entering Highland Boulevard, I 
began the steep ascent to the hills overlooking the city.  I paused at 
the community gate and nodded to the guard.  Hickory Run was ghostly as 
the light powdering of new snow shone magically in the moonlight. 
Ahead, I could see our house. The kids windows upstairs were dark, but 
a
warm light flickered in the den.  My husband was still up.

In the garage, I pulled down the vanity mirror. The blue eyes were 
there, staring at me.  They knew what I'd done.  I smiled at them, 
relaxed, and felt calmer than at any time that evening... and yes, 
fully, most fully satisfied.

I picked my rings from a small cup on the corner of the workbench.  
They easily slipped on fingers shrinking from the cold of the garage.

My husband was sitting at the bar, a brandy snifter in one hand.  A 
warm fire crackled, and he stared into it.

"Have a good time with the girls?"

"Women, you sexist pig," I grinned as I threw off my coat.  "We women 
talked all evening, drank too much wine and had a marvelous time.  It's 
nice to get away and just do-- ok, girl talk.  By the way, Helen wants 
me to rejoin the little theater group."

"Really, I thought you hated it. You got so frustrated. I hated to see 
you like that.  You've been so happy since you quit last year."  His 
eyes turned to me.  He was genuinely concerned.  I loved him more than 
ever.

"I found out something about myself tonight.  Now I know I can do it. I 
can get into the parts like never before--no forgotten lines. You'll 
support me?"

"Of course, honey."

I unbuttoned the cashmere blouse.  His eyes widened as he looked at my 
naked breasts.

"No bra?"

For what seemed like the hundredth time this evening, my nipples went 
erect.  Leaning forward, I kissed him with lips that had recently been 
pleasurably wrapped around a thick penis in a cheap hotel.  "You taste 
so good, the brandy's delicious."

His tongue probed my lips, and I opened my mouth for a full kiss.  I 
sucked his tongue in as far as possible, then made wet sounds. Breaking 
suction, I let little air escape, making noises.

I felt his left hand under my skirt, and he inserted two fingers into 
me.

"No panties either. And you're wet. Extremely wet already. Maybe I need 
to attend these women parties--just to watch."

"Sorry, you're not invited. They're private affairs."  I thought I 
might explode on his hand.  He stood, and we began to drift to the 
bedroom.

 Almost unable to keep my knees from buckling, I pulled his hand from 
under my skirt.

"Do you know you know you have a rip on your sleeve?   Here, just above 
those three stupid buttons."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed. By the way, you played your part exquisitely 
this evening.  I'm glad  I got there first before other "customers" 
turned you on."


