I hadn’t wanted to work that night. It was the day before Christmas Eve and it was absolutely freezing. The forecasters had promised snow, which conjured up all sort of potential problems for me. I wasn’t looking forward to being out on the streets in a skimpy outfit and high heels. Dennis had insisted though and after another row, took me down to their grotty shop in his beamer.
He could be a belligerent bastard at times. 6′ 2″ tall and a muscular 200 pounds, he was twice my weight and liked to throw it around when he was angry. I’d threatened to leave him countless times, but the lack of alternate opportunities, coupled with his unlikely generous nature, always kept me by his side.
Dennis had an annoying habit of slapping my butt, which hurt like hell, especially when I was naked. His idea of foreplay was to strip my clothes off and wrestle with me, before taking me from behind. He could be brutal when he was fooling around, because he didn’t know his own strength, but I had always liked it rough. So, against all reason I put up with it.
When we were out though, Dennis was a happy-go-lucky sort of guy with a jovial temperament. The problem was that his idea of a joke usually ended up with me getting hurt. The upside of our relationship was that he was a beautiful man and when we were out socializing, and I was dressed to the nines, he made me feel a million dollars.
Dennis’s dark killer eyes attracted me from the outset, along with his smooth mahogany handsome face that turned all the women’s heads. His Caribbean heritage had also given him a beautiful wide, dipping nose and thick sensual lips, which when parted, revealed a fine set of amazing piano-key teeth. With his thick, short black hair, diamond studs in his ears and open necked shirts, he looked like the playboy he dreamt he was going to be.
Somewhere along the line, Dennis had joined up with two other black guys, Norman and Tony, who together had turned a small office in Soho into a porn shop. It was in a busy location in London’s West End and the boys were lucky to get their hands on the lease.
They used the porn shop as a front for the prostitutes they managed and had gone to great lengths to carve out a territory for the girls. A lot of money changed hands and there was often reports of violence between the porn shop owners, gangs and established pimps.
Dennis was younger than the other two, but a hard worker and took over the outside work, keeping an eye on the street workers. I didn’t want anything to do with his friends, but after showing me a more persuasive side to his character I eventually agreed to do a few nights a week for them.
The shop was situated in a narrow back street in Soho and as a side line they sold dirty mags and other bits and bobs during the day. I was always amazed by the amount of shady customers who came through the door and left with a carrier bag full of either porn or sex toys. There was a back room where the girls could sit and keep warm, eat and use the loo, which was handy in that part of London.
Because it was so cold, I put one of my thickest corsets on, under a tight spandex dress. The thigh length red frock had long sleeves, but was cut low to show off my ‘C’ cups. I wore a pair of lace shorts, instead of a thong and found some thicker white hold-ups. I had slipped into a short, blue satin bomber jacket and 3″ red stilettoes to complete my outfit.
I’m 5’6″ tall, kind of slim and fit a size 8 dress perfectly. Because I’m slim my ‘C’ cups look large in proportion to my petite body. I soon discovered, from a young age, that my tits attracted the men, especially the black guys at school.
Looking in the mirror at my slightly oval face, large green eyes, and high cheekbones, I decided that my favourite features were my full, baby doll lips. Everybody comments on the way my lips pout, even when I’m upset. My shoulder length dark hair, cut with a fringe, suited me, while my fair complexion with a sprinkling of orange freckles made me look a couple of years younger.
“Hey Beth,” shouted Norman from behind the counter as we entered the empty store. “Good to see yor ass in early for a change.”
It was 6. 00 pm and I didn’t usually come down to Soho until 7. 00 pm. The punters were just starting to roam the streets and besides I liked to start and finish early. Dennis had been on my case all afternoon, hurrying me along because the weather might turn nasty.
He wasn’t worrying about me though, he was afraid my earnings would drop if it started snowing. Anyway the guys let me start and stop when I wanted because I was his girlfriend. That was a loose term, because he was quite happy to let his partners bone me if it didn’t interfere with my whoring.
Dennis didn’t mind, because he had always used me as an asset, rather than an exclusive possession; and I had gotten used to his mates drooling over me and paying for sex. I liked Afro Caribbean men, because with them it was an animal thing, rather than all that cruddy emotional crap. And, because they were virulent and usually well endowed! Dennis’s partners were no exception.
“Fucking too cold to catch the bus Norm,” I responded to his remark.
Norman was the oldest of the three men and naturally assumed the role of boss, which the other two seemed to accept without argument.
Heavy set and shorter than Dennis and Tony, he had a happy smiling face that suited working behind the counter. He left all the work with the whores to Tony and Dennis, but he wasn’t averse to mixing it when it came to providing some muscle.
“I Thought I’d warm my ass in here for an hour or two.” I added, approaching the counter.
Tony looked up from his porn mag and ran his greedy eyes over my body. He was the quiet one of the trio, but the most violent.
Over 6’0″ tall, Tony appeared to be made of solid muscle. He sat in the corner of the store and if ever there was a deterrent against shoplifting, then he was it. He reminded me of a young Mohamed Ali, who’s picture I used to have on my bedroom wall when I was a teenager.
He had a handsome rugged face, golden brown skin, a wide nose and cold intense, brown eyes, which always lit up when he looked at me. He slowly ran his thick fingers through his short curly hair as he searched for the right words to say to me. Out of the three men, he was the most infatuated with me, both sexually and emotionally. I had to tread a fine line when we were all out together, because the big man only had eyes for me.
Tony was the possessive type, which could cause a dangerous situation among the group. Dennis was unable to recognise, or appreciate the possible ramifications of Tony’s fixation on me. For my part, I let the big man have as much sex as he wanted when I came into work, but resisted his attentions when we were out socialising. The plan seemed to be working thus far!
“Beth, I wanna ask you summat, could you take the chair for a minute Den?” he asked politely, which seemed incongruous coming from the huge muscular man.
“Sure big man,” replied Dennis.