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On the street

I was just propositioned by a hooker outside my own home.

Really. It was about eight and I had just pulled in the driveway after a very, very long day at work. I was tired, but I had groceries and was looking forward to a nice microwave dinner and some time with my cats. I saw a woman walking by the fence line on Huy. She started singing "Play that funky music white boy" and she had a decent voice, like maybe she'd sung in a gospel choir. I decided she had to be a happy spirit, and decided I might try singing something back to her, maybe a bit of Kodaly or Durufle.

So she said, "Recognize that song?" Well of course I did and as I walked over the motion detector on my garage lit me up. "She said, ooooh, a white man. I just love a white man. I could just suck their dicks."

Uh oh.

On the other hand, I was curious and someone this strange seemed like perfect material for a story. I decided to walk on over and talk to her. She was black, tall as I am with a long face and aquiline nose. She was wearing a low cut jean top with a bunch of buttons and jeans, and she was amply curved but overweight in the way of a high-starch diet. She was also a bit drunk. "I just had a run in with the cops."

"Why is that?"

"Because they know I'm a whore."

She tried to pull me close and reached down to feel my groin, but I wasn't having any of that. Even took out a tit and put it in my hands in a vain effort to get a rise. She was hustling me for money, and I was trying to hustle her for her story. And maybe try to see what got her into this state.

Frankly, I think it was alcoholism. Except that could be the cart pushing the horse. A dancer friend of mine tells about how many girls need liquor to cope with their work. Hooking is probably worse. She told me how she needed one good man to help her get cleaned up. I tried to get a story from her, she tried to get $20 for me. In the end I gave her enough for a meal. Whether or not that was a mistake remains to be seen. Personally, I think she takes her grain in a liquid form.

She doesn't want to be what she is. She said she'd do housekeeping work, that she was good at it, and gave me a different name once she realized I wasn't interested in sex. I think that much is true, that she'd like to change, and has found herself at the bottom without knowing how to get out.