Four in the morning and the streets were empty and cold. It was a narrow street in Montrose lined with heavy shadows from the overgrown trees and too few streetlamps. Threnody sat for a moment in the gloom, the harsh light of the visor mirror illuminating her exhausted eyes and stress lines around her eyes. Her makeup was in disrepair, smudged around the lips and the concealer did nothing to hide her weariness. It was the eyes that bothered her the most. She looked desperate and she was just not for attention or validation or even a man. She was desperate for a better way. She needed a path out of this life. She needed a life that did not revolve around the dead. The other things people wanted at four in the morning, a bed warmed by a partner and some sleep - that was easy. That was what brought her here now in the darkest part of night.
She had not called. Mario never turned her down and no extra cars were in the driveway. It’s not that Mario did not have a love life outside of Threnody, but he rarely brought anyone home. With his bike and older model BMW in the drive she knew he was alone. She had a key for a reason. To call him a fuck buddy would be unfair. They’d known each other since high school but their on-off attraction did not come to a head until she was out of college and they’d run into each other at a street festival. Ironically, a gay pride parade led to her longest lasting straight relationship. It wasn’t complicated most days. He was busy with his career and often out of town and Threnody was emotionally preoccupied. Neither could commit to a traditional relationship and neither minded the other’s particularities. Christmas was usually the toughest time. Often they would spend a couple of weeks away from their other commitments and inertia was a bitch. The inevitable calls of duty left a strain in the supposedly casual relationship.
Threnody smoothed out her lipstick before climbing out of the car. Tonight he work clothes were pretty uncomfortable, leather and latex that she was starting to feel too old for. The thigh high boots were to die for and right now they were doing their best to make her feel as if she was. The outfit might have given the neighbors the idea that she was a working girl if any of them had been out to appreciate the outfit. The heels were bad enough to drive in, but exhausted as she was they made the walk up the barely code driveway hell. Each step was a controlled punch and slide in the wet gravel and mud, and she was already regretting not changing into her Nike’s when she left the club, and congratulated herself on not having a drop to drink, despite it being on the house.
The cool gloom of the house was a comfort. The side door opened onto a little kitchen that was more bar than cooking area, and illuminated by pale amber light from the over-the-sink window looking out on to his postage stamp backyard and the ancient mulberry he had affixed a security light to. Threnody had set off the carport sensor. The décor was part Donna Reed vintage chic and bachelor pad which suited Mario perfectly. Taking a seat at the little Chantilly covered dinette; Threnody worked the top laces of the corset loose enough to shrug it down past the curve of her breasts, allowing her the first full breath since the afternoon. That would come off soon enough, but the boots absolutely had to go. Luxuriating in the feeling of being done for the evening, Threnody allowed herself a moment to admire the shine on the boots in the amber light and how it said “bad ass bitch” and “sex-kitten” simultaneously. She wasn’t into bondage particularly, but in her line of work it was sometimes useful to have a dominatrix’s control of a situation, and in more than a few instances pretending to be a vapid club girl had got her more information than an actual interrogation. After a moment she slipped her fingers into the laces of the boots and began working the knot.
“You can leave your boots on.”
Mario’s voice was as soft as a kitten soaked in honey in the darkness. He stood in the shadows of the hall, looking in, and one hand hovering against his briefs. He took two languid steps into the kitchen, his sleepy eyes all the invitation Threnody needed.
Mario’s hands were insistent as he pulled her through the hall, walking backwards and unfastening the crisscrossed leather holding the corset in place and snapping open the fasteners at the back of the skirt. By the time they reached the bedroom the leather was barely resisting gravity. He turned her around and pressed her against the wall, his mouth immediately seeking the warm smoothness of her neck. His hands never stopped working, first shoving down the corset and then the skirt. She kicked them away in a frenzied rush and arched her ass against him, feeling his hardness through the cotton briefs, the thong she wore did nothing to stand in his way. He ground against her as his hands worked their way up her latex sheathed torso, squeezing her breasts with an urgency that made her excitement rush out of her in a thick wet gush of pleasure. She felt the briefs fall down against her ankles and for a long, painful moment he just hovered there behind her, his hands groping her, massaging her breasts casually, lovingly. When the tip of his shaft entered her it was like a floodgate opened inside her, and when he did not thrust hard into her, she took control, shoving her hips back against him and squeezing his cock inside her. Her orgasm came swift and powerful, and she forgot all about taking off the boots.
Mario obliged her hip thrust by locking his hands around her hips and pounding into her. Threnody was petite and her pump boots placed her at a perfect height. She leaned down, bracing her arms against the wall as she pushed back, meeting him mid thrust, each impact of hips and ass shoving him balls deep into her throbbing pussy. Sweat pooled under the latex, moisture dripped down her thighs, and his own heat filled her magnificently. Gasping for breath she came again and Mario leaned over her, his mouth pressed against the slick latex at the middle of her back. He pulled out and she groaned out a mixture of satisfaction, desire and pained weariness.
“Why don’t we take this to the bed? You look like you are about to fall over.”
It was true. She could feel her knees buckling, sure some of it was the rush of sex, but a lot of it was the day catching up. Horniness and weariness warred within her and horniness was winning. Still leaning against the wall she slid her hand down to her crotch and rubbed her clit hard before pushing the thong down to the floor and turning to face him, still idly rubbing her wet slit. He pulled her to him again, more gently this time and eased her to the side of the bed. With practiced ease he undid the fasteners at the top of her neck and carefully slid the zipper down the back of her latex tube top. It was violet and translucent and in the half light of the room he admired the sweat slicked swell of her breasts beneath the material. He eased it off her like a sigh, releasing her breasts into the cool room. Her nipples, already hard, now ached with the sudden change in temperature. Missing nothing, Mario immediately clamped his mouth over her left breast, pulling the Kiss like nipple between his teeth and cupping her ass with the other. Naked, save for the boots, Threnody admired her form in the mirror, and ran her hands through her lovers hair. Threnody knew her lifestyle was catching up to her but in this light, and in these damned boots, everything looked as tight and smooth as it ought. Her dirty blonde locks were up in a severe bun, and even her neck looked delectable.
Somewhat less gently, Mario stood and lifted her into the air, turning and pushing her onto the center of the unmade bed, somehow managing to push the comforter out of the way simultaneously. It was a trick she never quite figured out, though to be fair, her mind was usually preoccupied. He gripped her by the calves and lifted her legs high, pushing them together and back, and then positioned his cock over her lips, pressing the length of it over her exposed folds and teasing her clit. Gripping her ankles tight he shoved full length into her, and it was glorious. He let out a long deep sigh as she embraced his manhood and she quivered when she felt his balls tighten against the sensitive skin between her pussy and ass. Each thrust was slow, steady and powerful, slamming home and pausing before pulling nearly out and repeating. His hands now gripped the stiletto heels, and he spread and closed her legs in and out as he thrust, allowing her to see him and his cock as he entered her. She gripped her own breasts, squeezing them as he plunged into her, kneading them for his enjoyment and hers. His pace quickened and she spread her arms, gripping the sheets as he ground hard against her, his pelvis smashing her clit as he filled her completely. His cum filled her in a long series of thick spurts and his back arching, lunging between her legs and sucking at her tits hungrily. She kept grinding, squeezing her thighs around his hips as she came again, powerfully. The gasped and lay together like that, sweat and cum mixing together.
He rolled over and lay there for a moment before starting to unlace the boots. That was the mark of a considerate fuck, Threnody thought.
“How long have you been in these things,” he asked idly as he pulled the first one off. “Your legs look like they’ve been lashed.”
It was weird, realizing that she had not spoken yet. “Since around 3 this afternoon,” she replied simply, her voice a throaty purr that he probably thought was sexy, but to her sounded like her voice was going out. “I have this gig with Domingo, the club owner, you know? He thinks one of his competitors has cursed him or something.”
“You call him a club owner. I think drug dealer and pimp is probably more accurate.” His tone was matter of fact, but even with the sex it was not what she needed right now.
When he pulled the other boot off Threnody tucked her legs up and rolled off the bed, leaving the wet spot for him to deal with. He watched her as she ambled to the bathroom, pissed but still sexy. She caught a glimpse of herself again in the mirror and could not help but put a little sway in her step. The bathroom light was already on and she did not bother to close the door. The previous owner had been retirement age and Mario had left the ADA styled shower in place. She’d never been more grateful for a bench shower before in her life. As she turned on the water to hot and experimented with the heat level Mario came around the corner and leaned against the wall, still naked and looking a little sheepish.
“Look,” she began, “I know you are just looking out for me, you don’t have to say it. I don’t trust or like the guy, but he pays upfront and has always dealt straight with me. Yeah, he’s a pimp, but I don’t think any of his girls are held against their will, and I don’t give a damn about drugs.”
“I don’t want to argue about this, Thren. You don’t look like you need that shit, OK? Sorry I said anything.” He was being sincere and it showed. Mario had been a player in his younger life and he was pretty good about avoiding uncomfortable situations, but the boy could not lie to anyone’s face. He just wasn’t made for it.
“No, go ahead and say what you need. It’s OK, I am a big girl.” She used the wand to wash away the fluids soaking her crotch and took a moment to enjoy the fresh heat cascading against her before starting to wash away the makeup and sweat of the day.
“Even if he isn’t keeping the girls in pens most prostitutes are still held against their will in some manner. Doesn’t matter if it is debt, or a no escape situation, or a coke habit, they are still fucking strangers to pay someone else’s bills.” This was a subject Mario was pretty passionate about. He’s done an expose a couple of years prior when he was still working for the Post, and when he could get evidence he tipped off the police, or INS. His passion for protecting the lost was one of his more endearing qualities.
When Threnody pulled the pins out of her hair it was nearly as much of a release as the first orgasm. The rush of water over her scalp and down her back distracted her momentarily.
“OK, Santo Mario, I get what you are saying. I’ll not work for Domingo again.” It wasn’t an argument she wanted to continue, because the only responses she had would make her feel like a traitor to her gender. She knew what he was saying was true, but she wanted to believe there was always a way out. She liked to believe that somehow, if a girl really didn’t want to turn tricks there had to be a better way to make ends meet. “Tell you what. I’ll poke around, and if I find out that Domingo is playing dirty I’ll finish this gig and not return his calls.”
“I just don’t want you getting caught under his thumb, somehow.”
“Honey, you’re sweet, but that man is not smart enough by half to get the drop on me. Why don’t you join me in here, you could use a shower too.”
It was an end to the discussion. They would not make it to bed for another half hour, just as the sun was starting to rise, but in the blacked out windowed room, that was a distant concern.