Research
It had been six months since Kirstie had completed her course in creative writing. She had self-published a couple of e-books she had produced during it and now had a romance novel set in the 19th century going out to agents and publishers. However, she had not yet found something to provide her break-through as an author. Her friend, Rebecca had told her that in the age of gritty crime novels and erotica on the supermarket shelves, she needed to find something more realistic; more sexual than another Jane Austen pastiche. Rebecca had emphasised the need to get ‘something of the street’ into her writing and had even talked about areas of London where Kirstie could experience it.
Tonight, the coffee shop she usually frequented to write in having closed down, a little encouraged by what her friend had suggested, Kirstie wandered the streets seeking inspiration. However, what she could see at first, mainly homeless people or office workers who had been delayed getting home, hardly seemed the kind of subject matter she needed. Then as she began to wonder where she had got herself, Kirstie caught sight of a woman standing close to a street light. For a moment she thought the woman in the short, flared skirt and the leather jacket with the faux fur collar was a night clubber. However, as she walked up and down and then stopped to chat to a woman in a red leather miniskirt and a matching jacket, Kirstie realised these were prostitutes. Perhaps this was serendipity and she had been presented with a way to get what she needed for a gritty but sexy book. A little nervously she walked up to the woman with the fur collar.
“Hello.” Kirstie said, smiling and hoping not to appear a challenge.
“You want a date?” The woman asked.
She looked Kirstie up and down as if appraising her and then along the street, Kirstie imagined, for her pimp’s approval.
“Erm … no. I just want to ask some questions.”
The woman looked at Kirstie a little scathingly. She hurried for her purse and pulled out some notes.
“I can pay.”
“And you want questions?”
“Yes … if that’s alright. Yes, I want to ask some questions.” Kirstie said trying to sound a little more confident. “I’m Kirstie.”
“I’m Tereza.” The woman responded and took the notes from Kirstie’s hand.
“I’m a writer.” She offered now concerned to make it clear that she was not from the police or some religious group.
“So you come here like a vampire?” Tereza said, challenging Kirstie.
“What do you mean? I am doing research for a book. I want to make it as authentic … as real as possible.”
“Yes, I get that. You expect to get our stories and put them into your book and make lots of money out of it. Yes, you might change the names and mix up some women or put them together into one, to make it easier, but it will be our stories and you earning the money.”
“Well, yes … you know, I don’t mean to cause offence.” Kirstie protested.
Tereza smiled. “No, you won’t do that with what we have planned. Isn’t that the situation Jada?”
Kirstie could only guess; she worried about what Tereza was suggesting.
“You want to get to find out what it’s really like to be working these streets?” Jada asked but seemingly in a friendly way.
Kirstie wondered if Jada was truly more sympathetic to what she wanted to do.
“Yes, yes, I would like that.” Kirstie replied quietly, feeling that despite Tereza’s attitude she might be about to get what she was seeking.
“You heard her.” Jada said, turning to the other women. “She wants to experience what it’s like to work these streets. I am sure we can give her that, well, certainly with your help, Zyla.”
Now a small woman with long dark hair stepped forward. She had emerged from the nearby café. The newcomer was dressed in a blush shade leather jacket and a lacy bustier in pink, a short white vinyl skirt and long boots with a high heel and platform of the same colour and material.
Zyla stepped quickly and with determination until she was right in front of Kirstie. Rather than being aggressive, however, she gave a sweet smile.
“Hello, Kayla, I am Zyla.”
Kirstie sought to correct the woman’s error about her name, but imagined it was not worth it. The woman reached out and gently took Kirstie’s hand between her own small, tanned pair. Kirstie was unresisting. As she felt her hand resting on the palms of Zyla’s their fingers reaching from white leather fingerless gloves, Kirstie found herself suddenly relaxed as if all her problems were going to go away.
“Look into my eyes.” Zyla said softly.
Kirstie found she could do nothing but obey. The mascara and the eyeshadow made Zyla’s dark brown eyes look impossibly large; Kirstie felt that she could not escape their gaze. She was aware of words coming to her, almost as if they were going direct into her consciousness rather than being heard.
“You are Kayla.” Zyla said and this time it became the truth. “Remember English is not your first language, your accent is strong; the way you think a Russian woman would speak. You are a prostitute, nothing else. Your pimp is Carl Robertson. You love him; you will do everything that he wants. You sell your body for him. You suck cocks, you give handjobs; you let men fuck you for money. This is your job, your only job; you love it and you cannot think of doing any other job. You know you have to wear the sexiest clothes—short skirts, bustiers, shiny leggings, long high-heeled boots or shoes, leather jackets. You love it all tight and shiny so you can show off your body and get those men in to pay to fuck you. You know you have to have sexy make up—long lashes; cock-sucking glossy lips. You know you have to have the right jewellery—a nose stud, large hoop earrings, a navel ring. This is you Kayla, this is what you know you have to have; you know nothing else except this life as a prostitute.”
In Kirstie’s mind, so much was gently rubbed away. Any idea of her being an author, of all but the most basic education went from her quickly. Then in its place was the truth of her as Kayla, a prostitute strutting on this street selling her body; handing over her money to Carl. By the time Zyla had released her hand that was her existence. Slightly confused Kirstie looked around her at the women she knew were her sisters on the street. Something felt peculiar as she looked down at the checked shirt, skinny jeans and canvas shoes she wore.
“Why am I dressed like this?” Kayla asked.
“You went on a visit, remember.” Zyla said softly.
“But now you’re back, you need to get changed, you’re missing tricks out there.” Tereza nodded to the street.
Kayla realised that that was in fact the case.
“Yes, love, you need to get changed.”
Jada was walking in with a man. It took some moments before she realised he was Carl, her pimp.
“Come with me, I’ll take you to your place. I am sure Zyla’s done a good job, but I need to check it out.”
“Where are you putting her boss?” Tereza asked.
“Since they deported Nadia, her room’s empty. You’ll be happy sharing with the new girl, won’t you Jada?”
Jada smiled and nodded.
“Show her the ropes during the day. I want to make sure she’s giving the best.”
“Sure.”
“I bet you’ll love it you dirty little lezzie, having her practicing on your dildo.” Carl joked.
Recognising what her pimp was talking about, Kayla found herself getting aroused.
“Come on; you too, Jada and Tereza.” Carl said.
Kayla obeyed. As she stood up, Carl wrapped his arm around her and groped her bum. She liked that and snuggled tight into him. Jada and Tereza followed on behind. Kayla glanced over Carl’s shoulder to see them gossiping. Kayla had expected to be taken in Carl’s car, but in fact she was soon walked to a rather dingy block of flats. The lift, however, did work and she was soon being taken to the ninth floor. Jada led the way into the flat which was surprisingly clean.
“You two, get her sorted.” Carl instructed.
Jada and Tereza grunted agreement. Kayla was released by him and he grasped her bum.
“I’ll see you,” he grinned at Kayla, “when they’ve got you looking right.”
Kayla smiled back, happy that she was clearly pleasing the man who was at the centre of her life. She was taken into a bedroom which was a little dusty but fitted out with generic furniture in reasonable condition. Jada went to the wardrobe and slid it back to reveal a range of clothes of the kind that Kayla knew she liked.
“I bet she’s just hungry to get into some hot gear.” Jada said.
“I bet if you were there dressed in, what should we say …?” Tereza added, seeming to enjoy it.
“A nice tight, rubber skirt. Black and shiny clinging to that bum of yours.” Jada chipped in as she lifted down a skirt just like that.
“A good pair of long, shiny boots, touching the top of your thighs. Wicked heels you could really strut on.” Tereza said, clearly getting into the game; she pulled out a pair of long boots.
“For a top—it has to be a bustier, make it glossy too; sliding her tits around under a cute cropped leather jacket.” Jada added enthusiastically.
Kayla was aroused by what they were saying. She glanced down at her clothes, wondering if somehow the two women had not changed her clothes into what they were describing; disappointed when she found that was not the case. She realised that her pussy was hungry for it to be true. Into her mind came the image of her strutting on high heels, her bum swaying in the shiny rubber as she moved. Quickly she slipped off her biker-style leather jacket and was taking the shorter one in smooth leather that Jada passed her. Distantly she struggled to remember buying these clothes, but assumed they had to be hers. It seemed likely Carl had got her the bulk of this stuff, he was good to her, she knew.
“Right, come on then. Let’s get you out of that stuff and into something a bit more exciting.” Jada said encouraging.
At first Kayla was unresisting as Jada removed her long-sleeved teeshirt and plain bra beneath it. Soon she was being clipped into a wonderbra and Kayla did not move as Tereza stepped forward with the shiny black bustier. She wrapped it around Kayla. Her breasts rose in anticipation. Then Tereza eased up the thin zip, sealing Kayla’s breasts and midriff in the tight leather. Kayla simpered. The feeling of her nipples straining in the shiny vinyl was delightful. Jada was soon tugging at Kayla’s jeans and the panties beneath them. Kayla giggled, finding she was enjoying this, but now took the initiative. She went to the drawer in the dressing table and opened it to find packets of open crotch fishnet tights. She pulled on a pair and found herself stroking at her pussy, wondering why she had not shaved it but liking the way her legs were ensnared by the fishnet.
“Give me that.” Kayla said but not harshly; for a moment her accent seemed strange, but she dismissed that thought quickly.
Kayla took the skirt from Jada and stepped into it. She quickly pulled it into place, cupping her bum and barely stretching down her thighs. Kayla smoothed it down across the top of her thighs her fingers savouring the smooth feel. She watched how the light caught it as the rubber stretched taut between her legs and across her naked cunt. Tits and cunt, these seemed to be the right words for those parts of her body; those parts which were getting excited she knew. These were her kind of clothes and so it was no wonder she felt most comfortable in them.
Jada held up the thigh-length boots, but tonight Kayla knew she wanted something different. However, that seemed to please her friend for some reason as she went to the cupboard and pulled out a pair of high-heeled ankle boots. Quickly she was pulling up the gold-coloured zips and rising on their heels and the platforms. She looked down at her legs from the shine of the tight skirt to the tips of her boots. For some reason she ached to be spreading these legs and having a cock between them. Kayla guessed it was a good thing she enjoyed her job.
“Come.” Jada said and led Kayla to the dressing table and make-up mirror.
Kayla did not have to be told to sit down. Jada smiled and pulled out some make-up from the drawers which she put down on the table. Kayla did not say anything but let Jada do what she wanted with her. Within minutes Kayla’s lips were glossy, her cheeks blushered, her eyelids painted, her hair back combed, long silver chains had replaced the studs in her ears. Then she painted Kayla’s nails shiny black.
“Good, you’re ready.” Zyla said as she walked in.
Kayla twisted round to see what she as carrying. She scooped up clothes left on the bed and placed them in a bin bag which she handed over to Tereza.
“There’ll be no way back for this one.” Zyla said softly.
The small woman came to stand by Kayla.
“Good, that’s excellent, Kayla. Here’s your phone.”
The woman handed it over and Kayla wondered where she had left it.
“Thanks.”
“Well, now you’re back, there’s no hanging around. You need to get out there, earning.”
“Sure, Zyla, you’re right.”
It made perfect sense to Kayla. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, admiring what was reflected. She licked her glossy lips and rocked her hips from side-to-side watching how the rubber stressed and released and rippled across her hips. She like how she could see her nipples straining in the shiny top. She felt excited, aroused and yet protected behind the gloss which clung to her body, giving her body a shiny, slippery, squealing second skin. As she felt the clothes becoming suited to her as they fitted to her body with every move, she felt herself becoming suited to them. She knew she was the type of woman they showed her as. She felt no qualms at being so blatantly sexy. This was her.
Carl appeared at the bedroom door. Zyla turned to him and clicked her fingers. Kayla found herself looking but unable to do anything.
“Carl—can you hear me?”
“Yes.” Carl responded in a monotone.
“Good. This is Kayla, she is one of your women; she has been for over a year. She came here from somewhere abroad and is happy to work for you because she worries she’ll be deported. You will treat her the same as the other women, you employ. This is her flat. She will soon have all the right papers; she’ll go and get piercings and a tattoo tomorrow and you’ll love them. Do you understand?”
Carl nodded but also spoke. “This is Kayla, she’s worked for me for more than a year. She’s from somewhere foreign, Poland, Russia, Lithuania, somewhere like that. I look out for her as she’s worried she’ll get deported. I treat her well; I treat all my women well. This is her place. She’s not got all her stuff yet, but she’ll soon have it. Tomorrow, she’s going to get some serious tattoos and piercings, you know on the nose, the belly, that kind of thing.”
To Kayla this sounded just the way Carl spoke and his words made those thoughts harden into beliefs and assumptions in her own mind. She was looking forward to what she would be doing tomorrow.
“Good.” Zyla said. “Now, I’ll leave her with you, so that you can see how good she is.”
The small woman turned to Kayla. “Remember everything you’ve ever seen or heard about sucking cock and do it like it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for so long; something you really love.”
Kayla nodded, feeling the emotions that Zyla had outlined, rising up to fill her mind. Zyla smiled and in the next few moments she, Tereza and Jada had gone.
“Fuck me, you’re one sexy bitch, Kayla.”
Kayla simpered at the compliment and sauntered over to Carl. “Thank you. Now there’s something I want to do … need to do, to say thank you properly.”
She pressed her hand against Carl’s trousers feeling how hard his cock was becoming. She liked that reaction because after all, she lived, she earned, by turning men on. Kayla felt that that had always been the way with her and was glad she could put it to use. With gentle nudges she guided Carl on to the sofa and then went down on her knees. He sat back and she unzipped his trousers. His hard cock rose out of them quickly. Dipping her head, Kayla licked the tip, loving the taste of his skin. A thrill ran through her as she took in herself dressed so sexily, abased in front of her boss, pleasing him the way she knew he loved. She slipped two fingers beneath her rubber skirt and played with her wet pussy, aware it needed shaving.
Kayla took as much of Carl’s cock into her mouth as she could, her free hand toying with his balls as she now slid up and down the shaft and licked around the top, closing and opening her glossy lips. Carl said nothing just whined and grunted which Kayla took to be signs that she was going it right. As he began to shudder and then his cock throbbed, Kayla felt the warm jism squirting into her mouth and drank it down. That sense that she was a living receptacle for what her boss sprayed, pushed her further into the delight of being something to be used. This way she had no responsibilities, she simply had to be sexy; to live for sex. The thoughts triggered her own climax and Kayla knelt back quivering with pleasure, the tight shiny clothes that enclosed her seemed to trap it and amplify it. That meant she knew she had to keep dressing this way.
“Fucking ‘a’, Kayla. Wow, you’re the business. You are.” Carl said rather incoherently.
He stood up and zipped up his trousers. Kayla clambered to her feet and tugged down her latex skirt. She went into the bathroom to wipe her thighs and check her make-up.
“Right. A freebie’s good, but we need to get you earning. Come on.” Carl ordered.
Kayla complied without thought and in the next few minutes she was back on the street, walking up and down looking speculatively at passing cars. One slowed and wound down the window. Kayla sauntered over to it, feeling excited that this might be her first john of the night. He asked the price for a blow job and in moments Kayla was sliding her latex-coated bum into the passenger seat and they were powering away to some street that led to currently closed warehouses. Kayla was pleased that she had snared a man so quickly and was back into earning without hesitation.
Kayla did not know how long she had been with the man, but she was satisfied that she had pleased him and he had paid without complaint. She was pleased when he asked her name and said that he would see her again soon. As she resumed her place on the pavement, Kayla saw Zyla talking to a woman dressed in a parka and jeans. The small woman glanced around and now seeing Kayla, waved for her to come over. Kayla walked in her sassy way, wondering what kind of deal was being discussed here. Carl stood nearby smoking, but, as yet, not intervening.
“This is Kayla.” Zyla said as she walked up. “You might recognise her.”
The woman in the parka looked at Kayla intently then looked away and back as if uncertain at what she was seeing. Kayla smiled and tried to look alluring. She was not averse to going with a woman if it paid well.
“This is Rebecca.” Zyla introduced but the woman said nothing.
Zyla then turned from Kayla to speak to the woman herself.
“So you came back? If you’d had sense you would have never returned.”
“But we had a deal.” Rebecca said. “I kept my side of the bargain. I gave you a woman in place of me.”
“Yes, yes you did. Yet you felt you had to check it had all worked out rather than doing the sensible thing and staying clear.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Well, here she is—Kayla; showing what you so easily could have been.” Zyla looked at Rebecca’s reaction then spoke again. “You knew her, she wasn’t some woman you just persuaded to come down here, was she?”
“She was a friend of mine.” Rebecca confessed.
“And you sold her out to me to save your own skin? Hardly a good friend. Well one good turn … bad turn, deserves another.” Zyla said as she stepped closer to Rebecca. “You have lovely black hair and a nice tan. Are you sure you’re not Spanish? Reia—habla Espanol—eh?”
To Kayla, this Rebecca looked frozen as if she had fallen deep into Zyla’s eyes.
“Yes, you will be Reia, newly arrived from Bilbao, but you’ve already met the woman of your dreams. You work the streets each night for your pimp, Carl Robertson, pleasuring men as they demand. Then, however, you go back to the bed of your lover, Kayla. It will save on me having to find another flat. You educated women, you’re too well fed and too clean to let go to waste. You were curious what being a prostitute was like, now you will know, for the rest of your lives.” Zyla said eagerly. “Now, Kayla come and help me with Reia, get her into your flat; get her ready to work.”
Zyla gave Kayla, Rebecca’s hand. The woman looked dazed but steadily adoring and they proved unresisting as Kayla led her towards the flat.
“Come on Carl, more work for you. A busy night heh?” Zyla grinned broadly, clearly delighted with all that she had achieved.