The Bitch Bites Back

Pamela was dressed in a white silk blouse under a short red leather jacket, a black leather miniskirt came to mid thigh, black seamed stockings, and matching red high heels completed the ensemble. Her hair was teased, and framed her mature but attractive face. She was heavily made up with lashings of eye shadow, mascara and eyeliner to accent her pretty blue eyes, her cheeks were heavily rouged and she wore bright red lipstick. The punters liked their girls to look 'slutty'; it added to their fantasies she thought.

"Now you're my type of girl," the man breathed whisky on her.

Pamela appraised the punter. Dark business suit, mid forties, just going to fat, heavy but handsome, a little drunk but sensible. He would do for her last quickie before she went home.

"Glad you like what see darling; it's sixty for short time ok," Pamela made her pitch.

"Fucking expensive for an old pro like you ain't it?" was his response but he stayed put and continued to gaze up and down Pamela's body.

The ones with plenty of money always argued about the price,' she thought.

"Look it's sixty; short time in the alley. Take it or leave it; I'd as rather go home anyway!" Pamela snapped back.

"Ok! Ok darlin'; I'm hot to trot and your just my type, lets have you then," another cloud of whisky enveloped Pamela.

"Follow me, what's your name?" she lead him just inside the alley.

"Mike," he replied.

"Let's have the money Mike; then you get your honey ok?" Pamela gave him her best false smile.

Mike fumbled for his wallet and handed over the sixty. Pamela saw the wad of cash he had in his wallet and thought Cheap fucker'.

Pamela took Mike's hand and as she led him into the gloom of the alley, as they walked into the gloom Mike placed his hand on Pamela's bottom and pinched; she brushed it away irritably.

"Hold your horses lover; here we are," she whispered as they entered her doorway.