Jesse and her Ladies of the night

JERIESTES

jesse and her
ladies of the night

The TenderloiN...
The TL was a lady of the night, wrapped in Stilettos and Steel. Her dark code whispered through the misty streets.
“Our bodies are a commodity. Sex is our currency.
Every day we fight for survival.”
Beneath the glitz of her high heels lay the cold steel of a switch-blade.

Jesse
   “You sure look gorgeous tonight, baby doll,” I said offering a single red rose.
Carmen giggled like every woman who receives that special little spoonful of her favorite drug, flattery. She shot back with a playful smile, “And you’re my sweet talking Mac Daddy.”
I caught the reflection of Carmen and me in the beveled mirror. My brown slacks complemented the rich gold-toned camel hair overcoat. Topping my expensive garment was a chocolate brown Stetson with a cream-colored feather in its band. Carmen’s luscious black mink and classic hairdo barred anyone from questioning her occupation or her sexuality.
As we passed through the lobby, we looked to the unsuspecting eye like a glamorous straight couple. Carmen and I flew under the radar. Our fellow diners had no idea that we were the king and queen of the Tenderloin queers.

BUNNY

   “Who is it?” I asked groggily.
      “It’s me, Bunny!” she replied with a spring in her voice.
      “Are you alone?”
      “Of course Jesse,” she responded brightly. “Let me in!”
      Wearing a wife-beater and boxers, looking cool like Stanley Kowalski in A Streetcar Named Desire, I strutted across the orange shag carpet. Cautiously, I opened the door, still fearful of an encounter with Bunny’s ex, Tattoo-Jean, a human refrigerator.
      On the other side of the screen was a femme on a mission. Bunny’s petite feet arched in white, high-heeled “fuck me” pumps. They showed off beautifully defined calves. Pink Capri pants outlined her young, superb ass. Slung over her bare shoulder, she carried a matching white leather purse that looked soft and expensive. It reminded me of the tuck-n-roll seats in her pink ’68 Caddy.
      Her manicured hand held a Bullocks Wilshire shopping bag. Encircling her wrist was a diamond tennis bracelet, the only jewelry she had on besides a simple strand of white pearls. Bunny's low-cut, snug-fitting white blouse was the perfect showcase for her tits.
      “Come on in,” I said to the Tits ‘n Pearl Girl.

LITTLE ROSIE

I shared a drink and a word of wisdom with my new henchman, Junior. “Little Rosie is one of our best girls. She’s a Puerto Rican pistol that makes a jalapeño seem mild. Rosie’s a sweetheart, as long as she’s the star of the moment,” I said with a good-natured grin.
“I can see why she makes you a lot of money,” Junior said with genuine admiration.
The spotlight followed Little Rosie’s glistening brown flesh. Her firm, full tits spun the black sequin pasties around and around, hypnotizing her johns’ dicks like a master snake charmer. Pinning the crowd with her lust-filled stares, Rosie’s mouth formed a perfectly seductive O as her wet tongue circled her glossy lips just before she blew them a kiss. Little Rosie’s bright eyes mischievously sparkled like her brilliant costume jewelry. She bent low, snatching up money from the dollar-wielding patrons. As the vamp left the stage, she rhythmically ground her hips to the fading beat of the music, blew them a final kiss and danced off stage.