Divina - The Divine Whore
Black glossy high heels with red soles, the top lift worn inn and faded. The dried glue streaks that ran down her heels to prove their repair more than once by an amateur, can’t afford not to work in her best shoes.
Her skin bulging out, proving they don’t belong to her but definitely to someone 2 sizes smaller. The ripped fish net stockings clinging to her cellulite thighs, imbedding their print in her flesh as though last hope of appeal to the client, hoping he will be drunk enough to find her attractive or atleast not to care what she looks like.
Her skirt not long enough to hide her stained colour thong, the same one from 2 nights ago although if she bent low enough, it would show itself off to the world as a fashion accessory for all prostitutes or atleast gain her some attention.
No man that gets a free look will be disgusted, but rather the opposite effect, a prospective client. She can only hope he will have enough to pay the full price and not a special arrangement, there’s only so many watches and rings she can sell, some don’t even cover the full price of her service.
Her muffin top seeping out over her skirt, exposing her white fatty flesh, the stretch marks along showed her age revealing her child bearing hips, the same hips men loved to grab and slap around leaving red hand prints.
Her brightly coloured belly ring scratched against the glass counter as she leaned over to order the cheapest liquor available, the only meal she will have tonight. The ring disappearing and blending with her flesh, too old to remove now, leaving a black trail of her youth and crazy idea’s.
Her stringing size 4 top barely covering her 36DD breasts, even though her top came from the children’s section of the hospice store, a borrowed top from her youngest daughter or granddaughter.
Her sagging nipples piercing through her top, not from arousal but rather the cold, the fresh night air blows between her legs and raises the hair on her body. All her senses aware and awake, preparing her for the long cold night ahead.
She struggles to understand, blacks out, forgets what she was doing, and runs her fingers through her hair, STOPS. Her fingers get caught in a knot, “SHIT”!
“I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY”…
She rolls her eyes at the store owner, while his eyes are still stuck on her nipples, licking his lips and smiles. She knows what has to be done.
I like this
Great write with amazing imagery.....Pat