REMEMBERING
by Zenna
"So, how about you let us take our chances, hey?"
Bianca squinted down at what the man was offering her, struggling to make out the notes in the dim light of the alleyway. It wasn't really enough ... but she was desperate. She nodded and slipped the condoms back into her bag, trying to ignore the sniggering from the man's companion.
Fifteen minutes later, she was back inside the club, all too conscious of the cum coating her mouth and streaking her stockings as it dripped out of her panties and down her legs. She really shouldn't have agreed to let them take her at the same time, much less without protection. Only, how else was she going to make the money to pay off her debt to Anton?
Slipping into the bathroom, she thought for a minute about trying to clean herself up. But there were too many other women around and besides, even here there wasn't much illumination. The stains would have to wait until she got back to her tiny apartment down near the docks. She contented herself with repairing her crimson lipstick, checked the mascara that encrusted her eyelashes and ran a thoughtful hand across the stubble on her chin.
Wait, what?
She stared into the mirror. For a moment there she could have sworn that ... But the skin was unblemished - or at least, any spots or marks were well hidden under the extensive makeup.
She shook her head, then brushed the platinum blonde tresses away from her eyes, careful to ensure she didn't poke herself with her long, brightly painted nails. She must be tired, she thought, although sleep was out of the question. Not with several hours still left before dawn.
Walking back into the cavernous main room, she winced at the volume of the music and looked around, hoping to spot another client. But instead her gaze found a familiar face. She didn't usually talk to others, but on an impulse she walked over and hailed the tall redheaded woman who was leaning against a pillar with a slightly impatient look on her pretty face.
"Hi Cindy, how's it going?" Bianca had to shout to make herself heard over the din. The woman looked around. She opened her mouth as if to reply, then stopped as if puzzled. Peering at Bianca, she asked: "Do I know you?"
Bianca smiled. "Sure. You work at Players, right?" The woman nodded. It was a strip joint not far from where Bianca lived. Not all of the girls there offered "extras" to the clients who paid for a private room, but Cindy was very definitely one of those who did. "I saw you there a couple of times. I mean ..."
Bianca trailed off. She had a vague recollection of Cindy looking up at her, arching her eyebrows as she lasciviously ran her tongue over ... But that couldn't be right, could it? "I worked there for a little while", she amended. That must be it, she thought.
Cindy's frown of confusion was replaced by a smile. "Oh, okay. You working tonight?" Bianca nodded. "You?"
"I was meant to be", answered the redhead, "but my girlfriend hasn't shown up. We have this duo thing going, guys go crazy for it, you know?" Her voice trailed off as she looked Bianca up and down, taking in the low cut blouse that drew the eye to the massive boobs inside, the short black skirt that emphasised rather than concealed the bubble butt underneath, and the fishnet stockings and extravagant platform heels that completed her outfit.
"You ever been with another girl?" she demanded. "Yes of course", replied Bianca, "only ..."
"Well then", said Cindy with a grin, grabbing Bianca by the arm and hustling her towards the bar. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink. I have a business proposition for you ..."
Bianca listened as Cindy explained what she had in mind, sipping on a vodka and lemon and appreciating the chance to wash away the taste of semen. Cindy and her friend were apparently allowed to entertain men in an upstairs room at the club that Bianca had never known about. Even after paying a sizeable rent for the privilege, the way Cindy told it they could make far more in a single session than Bianca would earn from a whole night's tricks in the alley outside - or on the street corner that Anton had her frequent most other evenings.
"All you gotta do is make out with me a bit first, okay? That gets the guy good and horny, then he can take turns fucking us." Cindy gave Bianca a warm smile and gestured towards the blonde's impressive bosom. "He's gonna love those. And I'm kinda looking forward to feeling em out myself ..."
She giggled. "I take it they're not real?" Bianca shook her head. "Didn't think so. How long have you had them?"
The blonde frowned. "Um ... not long. I'm still getting used to them. But listen, Cindy, there's something I need to tell you -"
"If you mean that you're packing a little extra in your panties, way ahead of you sweetie." She laughed at Bianca's surprised expression. "I've worked with a few trannies, you get to know the signs. Does it, uh, work?"
Bianca blushed and shook her head. "No, not at all. Does that matter?"
Cindy shrugged. "As long as the client's okay with it, I don't see why. Do you normally tell yours?"
"Anton says that if they just want blowjobs, stay quiet about it. And if they want more, offer anal. So not usually, no."
"And if they figure it out?"
The blonde grimaced. "Some of them ... don't take it so well." She winced at the recollection of her most recent beating.
"And - Anton, was that his name? He do anything about that?"
Bianca ducked her head. "He says to do a better job next time."
Cindy's expression revealed exactly what she thought about that. But she simply said she would check with her next client that he didn't mind seeing a transsexual. She disappeared for a while, then returned, smiling. "Says no problem at all, in fact it's quite a turn on for him. Come on, time we headed upstairs."
As she led Bianca up to the private room, she asked: "So, you don't ... come or anything?" Her new companion shrugged. "I leak a little sometimes, but ... no orgasm. Not since ... well, since I've been like this."
Cindy gave a sympathetic frown. "That's too bad. You going to get, well, the rest of the operation done?" Bianca shook her head. "Can't afford it. Not on the money I make right now anyway. And only if, you know, Anton thinks it's a good idea."
There was no time for further conversation, as they entered a tastefully furnished room whose decor was far nicer than anything Bianca had seen to date in the club - not to mention anywhere else she'd been working recently. A grey-haired man in what looked like an expensive suit rose from a couch to greet them.
"Hello again David", said Cindy. "This is Bianca."
David Mason, thought Bianca, but then realised that while the man's name had instantly popped into her head, she had no idea who he was, or how she knew him. She saw that he too was frowning at her. "Do you ... work at Fletcher Wright?" he asked.
Bianca knew that name as well, but not what type of firm it might be. She shook her head. He stared at her for a minute, then smiled. "Well, you must just look like someone I know, although I'm positive if I'd ever seen your, ah, chest before I'd have remembered it!"
Cindy laughed and offered to fix them all a drink from a well stocked bar in the corner of the room. They sat down and chatted amiably for a few minutes, before the two hookers undressed one another and repaired to the large bed.
It all went very well, at least for two of them. Cindy clearly relished playing with Bianca, enjoying a couple of noisy orgasms while being licked or fingered by the transsexual. As for David, he was very active for his age. After vigorously fucking both his companions and spilling a good quantity of seed inside Bianca's asshole, he recovered fairly quickly and, after the blonde and the redhead took it in turns to fellate him, gave Bianca the titfucking he'd clearly been dreaming of since first seeing her enormous rack.
He insisted that Cindy lick up the cum he'd left all over the blonde's boobs, having secured their agreement that he need not use a condom for his second time. The redhead was only too happy to oblige and contrived to come once again - although Bianca thought that one at least might have been faked. If the other two had been, she was a magnificent actress ...
As for Bianca herself, she pretended to enjoy the sex. But in truth, she wasn't at all turned on by anything her partners did. While David was nowhere near as rough as many of her usual clients could be, his penetration of both her mouth and her well used rear passage still left her feeling somehow soiled. She couldn't explain it, there was just a feeling of ... wrongness. And she really hated the taste of cum, even though this time it was only the residue left on Cindy's lips that she had to put up with, as they shared a final kiss.
But if the client at all noticed her lack of enjoyment, he didn't say. Indeed on the contrary, he seemed delighted with the service he'd received and asked if the two of them would be interested in joining he and some friends on a forthcoming boat trip. "You'd need to, ahem, accommodate a few of us in a group. If that's okay, of course?" His eyes twinkled.
"Of course", said Cindy, returning the smile, "but it'll cost you." She named a figure so high that Bianca's jaw dropped open. It was bigger than anything she'd ever earned in a week - or a month even.
"Each", added the redhead. To the blonde's surprise, David agreed without demur and left the room, whistling cheerfully. Cindy was equally happy, a mood which only improved after two more successful shows, which brought sizeable tips from the men concerned.
As the two girls walked out into the dawn, Bianca was staggered by her share of the night's takings and readily agreed to come back the following evening to resume the partnership. She felt so well off that she decided to take a taxi home, rather than the lengthy, painful and sometimes quite scary walk back through the red light district that was how her nights usually ended.
As they waited outside the club, Cindy raised a subject that had clearly been puzzling her. "You recognised David, didn't you?"
"Yes", admitted Bianca, "but I can't remember where from. I'll have to ask Tina."
"Who's Tina?"
"She's my ..." Bianca trailed off in confusion. Who on earth was Tina? "Doesn't matter", she added. "Look, here's a cab, I'll grab that." She turned to hug the redhead and then jumped quickly into the vehicle, relieved not to be facing any further questions.
When she got home, she slept well for the first time in what felt like ages, got up to fix herself the small meal that was all the meagre stock of food in her pantry would allow, did a few chores, and settled down to wait for Anton.
She never had any clear idea of whether or when he would visit, though his standing instruction was to be ready at all times. If he wasn't there before 10pm to tell her otherwise (as he had done the previous day in sending her to the club), she was to work the streets a few blocks away.
She wouldn't dream of doing anything else. He rented the property in which she lived, told her where and when to work, decided what she could buy and, most important of all, supplied her with the magic pills that kept the nightmares away and allowed her to put up with her dreary existence.
If Anton didn't make all the important decisions for her, then she would have to herself. And that would be a terrible idea, because, because ... well, it would just be very bad indeed. She could certainly recall him making that point often enough. As he said, she was just a cheap whore who owed him money. She wasn't entirely sure what the money was for, but perhaps the pills were very expensive.
What most mattered to her right now was what kind of mood Anton would be in. When he was frustrated with her, which sometimes seemed to be almost a permanent state of affairs, he would take out his feelings on her, sometimes verbally, but often physically. It was not so much his fists that she feared, as the enormous length of manhood he carried in his pants, the biggest she had ever seen. He was hung like the proverbial stallion and had no compunction about driving its massive length so far down her throat that she would gag helplessly, or brutally reaming her tender asshole with little lubrication but maximum discomfort.
It was somehow worse being fucked by him than by any of her paying clients, regardless of how violently some of them treated her. At least she had the sense that they were doing it to slake their lust - and many of them indeed thanked her afterwards, or apologised if they had hurt her. With Anton, on the other hand, there was always a sense of rage and contempt when he used her that she found profoundly unsettling - not least because it so powerfully reinforced her sense of inadequacy.
Of course, it was worse still when he was really angry with her - as he tended to be if she'd failed to earn her quota, or got herself so badly hurt that she couldn't do tricks. On two horrendous occasions, he'd driven her outside the city and dumped her at some of kind of camp, where she'd been expected to "entertain" a gang of roughly dressed men. And not just them, but sometimes even - but she did her best not to think about that. Both times, she'd been forced to walk or hitch her way back home after a night of exhausting and degrading revelry - and with not a penny to show for it.
Still, when Anton was in a good mood ... although now she thought about it, she wasn't sure she could remember such a time. Still, he surely would be now, once he saw how much she'd earned from her work with Cindy. Perhaps she might even get within reach of paying off her debt?
But any such hopes were quickly dashed when he came round that evening. Paying little heed to the impressive pile of banknotes that she handed over - although he still pocketed the proceeds, she noticed - he concentrated instead on berating her for working for a stranger. How was he going to protect her, he said, if he didn't know where and for whom she was turning tricks? Besides, she was just a cheap hooker, and when the men who Cindy serviced worked that out, they'd be really angry, and then who knew what they might do to her?
Bianca wasn't sure about the first of those arguments - she'd seen no sign of any "protection" since ... well, since she'd been working for him. But the second resonated powerfully. Cheap whores, she knew, didn't earn the same money as expensive callgirls, and she was quite clear which category she fell into. So she promised not to go back to the club, and indeed never to take on new kinds of work without checking with him first.
That seemed to satisfy Anton. He even flashed a rare smile when she agreed with his assessment of her. Taking advantage of this, she asked the question that had been on her mind all day. "Anton, who's Tina?"
There was dead silence. A series of expressions seemed to flicker across his dark features, but too fast for her to decipher them. After a few seconds he shook his head and said: "No fucking idea. Why you asking?" The stare he returned was hard and accusing.
Flustered, she claimed that it had come up at the club, and quickly tried to change the subject, something he seemed happy to let her do. It was only a short while later, after he had just left, that she noticed two surprising things. He hadn't punished her at all for her mistake in working with Cindy. And he'd left his phone behind.
For a while she was too scared to touch it, in case he returned - as he surely would do when he noticed it was missing - and caught her looking at it. But after a while, she couldn't resist the temptation to check the contacts. And there, sure enough, was the name Tina.
It took a few more minutes for Bianca to pluck up the courage, but she eventually phoned the number in question - which, yet again, seemed eerily familiar.
After a moment, a woman's voice sounded on the line. "Heya. Thought you were going round to give the bitch a good seeing to? Have you finished already?"
Bianca slowly pulled the phone from her ear, ignoring the squawks as the woman called out: "Anton? You there? What the fuck's going on?"
The voice was one she'd known for years, ever since ... since what ? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying without success to figure out the connection she had to this woman, what they meant to one another. But all she could summon was an image of a petite brunette, stark naked and her face hidden as she thrust her rump into the air and begged to be fucked by, by ... by Anton, that's right, there was no mistaking the outlandish size of the phallus that was disappearing into her eager cunt. And Bianca was there too, watching them, but unable to move, until there was a sharp pair in her arm, and then she couldn't see any more ...
With a sob, she broke the connection and put the phone down, only to snatch it up again a few minutes later and delete the call she'd just made from the phone's log. That too was a surprise, because she didn't own a phone and couldn't ever remember having one. So how had she known about the call log?
She didn't have time to dwell on the mystery, however, because Anton's key was sounding in the door. She rushed to greet him, holding out the item he'd come to retrieve. He snatched it from her, snarled something she couldn't make out, and left just as quickly.
After he'd gone, in the hour or so before she was due to head to her usual street corner, she replayed the woman's words, saying "Tina" like an incantation, as if she could somehow summon the missing woman. The most she got was another name - Mitchell, was that it? Tina Mitchell, she presumed, although that somehow didn't sound right ...
She did also have an address. It had been part of the contact details in Anton's phone. If only she could go round there! But she couldn't risk not being at the apartment, or on the streets, if Anton came to check. Besides, she recognised the suburb as a leafy, respectable one that she simply couldn't visit, not looking the way she did. Her working clothes, which ran to revealing tops, short skirts and the sluttiest of shoes and hose, were all she owned. She didn't even have a coat. If she needed one on the rare cool evenings that the city sometimes endured, she had to beg one from one of the other girls - or find some other way to stay warm. If she were seen anywhere near Tina's house looking the way she usually did, she'd be quickly arrested, she was sure.
That night, she endured one of her most miserable stints on the street - which was saying something. Her only paying clients were a trio of well-dressed but very drunk men who picked her up in a limousine, describing her as "the cheapest, nastiest whore we could find". They bargained her down below her usual minimum price, insisted on coming all over her face and hair, then made her get out of the car without cleaning herself up.
As they drove away, hooting with laughter and derision, she felt tears of shame mingling with the gobs of spunk that spattered her glowing cheeks. It was almost as if they had deliberately been trying to humiliate her ...
But help came the following day from a unexpected quarter. She opened the door mid-morning, after being awakened from an uneasy sleep by a loud knocking, to find an agitated Cindy. She had got Bianca's address from another streetwalker and had come round to find out why her new partner hadn't kept their appointment the previous night.
When Bianca tried to make excuses, Cindy refused to accept them, eventually dragging the true story out of the reluctant blonde. She clearly wasn't impressed with Anton but, wisely perhaps, didn't press Bianca about her level of dependence on her pimp, or his distinct lack of care for her. Nor did she try and talk the transsexual into defying Anton's ban on their working together. She concentrated instead on doing what she could to help reassure and support someone who was clearly struggling to cope.
Just chatting to someone friendly was an unusual experience for Bianca. She couldn't recall the last time it had happened, in fact. Without really realising it, she began to open up about her quest to figure out who Tina might be.
After listening for a while and clarifying a few details, Cindy paused for a minute to think about what she'd heard. Then she leant forward, rested a hand on Bianca's arm and asked in a quiet voice that belied the intensity of her gaze: "Honey, is there anything you can remember from before you started working for Anton? Like where you lived? Where you grew up?"
"Yes of course", answered the blonde with a nervous laugh. "I used to - I mean, I was ..." Her voice trailed off in confusion. Dumbly, she shook her head, as tears started to roll down her cheeks.
The redhead shook her head in disbelief, but said nothing, instead pulling Bianca into as close a hug as her massive boobs would allow and holding her until the sobs subsided.
"Okay", Cindy said eventually, after going off to get Bianca a glass of water and marvelling at the lack of even basics like tea, coffee or milk in the blonde's kitchen. "How about we go round -"
"But I can't!"wailed the transsexual, "what if Anton found me missing? He'd ... I don't know what he'd do!"
"Okay", answered the redhead, holding up a placating hand. "Calm down sweetie, it's okay. Tell you what, I'll go to Tina's address myself, see what I can find out, alright?" Bianca nodded, her lips trembling. "It might take me a day or so, but if you let me know where you usually work, I'll come and find you there, yeah?"
It turned out be three days before Bianca saw her new friend again. During the intervening period, business had been slightly better, but somewhat ominously there had been no sign of Anton. Bianca had run out of pills and was just musing on how badly she needed to take some, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Turning round, she found Cindy, with an odd expression on her face. She immediately looked round wildly, fearful of them being seen together. But the redhead made calming noises. "Don't worry babe, there's no problem here, we're just two working girls having a chat, yeah?" She wryly indicated the clothes she was wearing - a figure-hugging bodice, leopard print skirt and thigh-high boots. They revealed her profession just as plainly as Bianca's micro skirt, stay up stockings and the barely adequate crop top that strained to hold in her pneumatic breasts.
The blonde nodded and then forced herself to ask: "So what did you find out?"
Cindy gave a wry smile. "Took me a while to find her, but I finally tracked her down at a local cafe. This is her, right?" She showed Bianca a picture. It revealed an attractive and elegantly attired brunette, who was sipping a coffee while looking at her phone.
Bianca stared at the image. "I - I think so ... Yes, no, I'm sure of it." She took a deep breath. "So that's Tina Mitchell?"
"Summers", corrected Cindy. "Tina Summers, she's called. Mitchell was the name of her husband. The waitress at the cafe told me he disappeared a bit over a year ago. Quite the local mystery it seems."
A chasm seemed to open up in the pit of Bianca's stomach. "Mitchell", she breathed. "Mitchell Summers." As the name echoed in her head, a kaleidoscope of images raced across her vision, blinding her. She didn't realise that she'd dropped to her knees until she felt herself being hauled up by Cindy.
Slowly, her sight returned , revealing a worried look on the redhead's face. "Are you okay doll?" Cindy asked, holding the blonde tightly in case she collapsed again.
"Not sure", murmured Bianca. "But I think I know who I am ..."
(To be continued)
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xoxo Zenna