The Old Main Drag
*‘I’ve been spat on, and shat on, and raped and abused’*
*The title and description for this story are both from the Pogues song ‘The Old Main Drag’. I was looking for ideas and inspiration and remembered this song. It’s a great song and well worth listening too.*
“Ouch.” Jo’s body hurt with every bump in the road the taxi hit, damn, it hurt with every breath she took. Her head was spinning and her vision blurred.
“This is you luv.” The taxi driver said through the partition as he pulled up to the curb. Jo was unable to move; she wanted to but didn’t seem able. The door opened and Kirsty was standing there, a man just behind her.
Kirsty was talking to her but none of it made sense. She climbed in and gently helped her out, Jo’s legs gave way but the man and Kirsty supported her.
“How you doing?”
Jo slowly opened her eyes, Kirsty was sat beside the bed, looking concerned but trying to smile. Jo tried to sit up but a shooting pain in her abdomen stopped her.
“Stay still, you’re in your own bed, you’re safe.”
She dozed again, unable to keep her eyes open. When she awoke the room was darker but Kirsty was still there.
“I’m thirsty.”
Kirsty smiled at her, “We’ll help you sit up.”
Jo became aware of a man moving on the other side of the bed. The two of them sat her forward and plumped her pillows. “Try to breathe slowly, it’ll ease the pain.” He had a smooth, calming voice. Kirsty left to get some water. The man sat back down, Jo looked at him, trying to focus.
“I’m Bill, a friend of Kirsty’s.”
Before Jo could say anything, Kirsty returned, holding the glass to her lips and telling her to drink slowly.
“I need the toilet.”
“You’ll still be wobbly and sore; Bill can help me walk you.” “It’s ok, he’s seen everything already.”
Jo became aware she was wearing PJ’s, not hers. It was agony walking, her hips, nether regions and abs screaming as she shuffled, leaning mainly on Bill. He was strong and kind, telling her to take her time and that she was doing great.
Thankfully she was able to weight-bear and Bill left the toilet before Kirsty helped her with her bottoms.
“You’re very bruised and have been bleeding down there, so don’t worry if you see blood. You’ve only got one bruise on your face, see.” Kirsty pointed to the mirror. “I’ll be just outside.” She left, kissing the top of Jo’s head as she did so.
When they got her back into bed Kirsty asked did she remember what had happened, Jo nodded and started crying.
“It’s ok, you’re safe now.” Kirsty was holding her hands tightly, “Try to get some more sleep, we’ll talk more later, if you want to.” She dosed off into a fitful sleep.
“Morning sleepy head, feel like some breakfast?” A weak morning light illuminated her unusually tidy room.
“Maybe.”
“Boiled eggs?”
“I hate boiled eggs.”
“Toast?”
Jo nodded.
When Kirsty returned with the toast Jo had managed to sit herself up a little and was looking round the room.
“Did you tidy my room?”
“I couldn’t help myself.” A sheepish grin spread across Kirsty’s face. Jo wanted to laugh but it still hurt too much.
“I get knocked unconscious and you take advantage, typical.” This time they both laughed, Jo’s messiness having been a standing joke between them for a long time.
“What day is it?”
“Wednesday, you came home Monday afternoon.”
Jo just nodded, tears starting to well up and then crying helplessly, her whole body shaking. Kirsty took the cup of tea from her hands and held her as tightly as she dared, rocking gently.
“Thank you for looking after me.” Jo sobbed, burying her head in Kirsty’s neck. Kirsty held her tighter.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really?”
“I know, but I think we should.”
Struggling to change the subject, Jo said, “Who’s this Bill, your new fancy man? I thought you were into women.”
“He’s not my fancy man; he’s a lecturer from college.” Seeing the confused look on Jo’s face she continued, “Some manager from the hotel phoned me on your phone and said you’d been hurt but refused to go to hospital. I was in the corridor and started to panic. Bill came along, and he’s been really kind and helpful to me since I started at the college, he teaches me computers. Anyway, I sort of explained what was happening and he calmed me down and said he’d come and help me.”
Jo nodded, not really making sense of it all but too tired to ask anymore, finding her eyes closing.
“I’ll let you rest; I’ll help you with a shower later if you want.”
“Thanks, that’ll be nice.”
Jo couldn’t sleep, her mind racing with anger, anger at the man who had hurt her and even more anger and disgust for herself. What the fuck was she doing meeting a strange punter at a hotel. She prided herself on being in control of her life, this unusual life she had chosen for herself.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
No one had forced her into prostitution; she had chosen it as a career. One night in her second year at Uni she had read an article about modern day sex workers in the UK and it got her thinking. She read the stories the workers told about their work and how they’d come to be involved in the sex industry. She wondered if she could do that type of work.
She didn’t consider herself particularly sexual or sexy, although she had always attracted attention from boys and men, at least since she’d hit puberty and gotten boobs. She wasn’t popular or unpopular; she had friends, but no one too close. She was sporty and kept fit. She had had three boyfriends, all of whom she had fairly tedious sex with. She didn’t really mind, it didn’t hurt or offend her, it was just boring, not the ‘blow your mind’ she had read about in magazines and the boys always seemed to enjoy it.
She read the article again; she was skint, but no more than any other student. What really got her interested was a sense of boredom and a longing to do something different and a bit wild. She decided to do some research.
The internet is great, over a two night period Jo read up everything she could on different kinds of sex work. There was lots of info and even more opinions. She read about some things she had never even heard of. Some sites were very matter of fact, others were people’s opinions. And then there were blogs, written by sex workers about their lives and experiences. She thought about different jobs, could she do porn? Could she do escorting?
She came across a very smart, professional looking website for an escort agency. She looked at the pictures and read the profiles of some of the girls available and found herself comparing herself to them. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to look alluring whilst sticking her chest out. She burst out laughing, ‘this is madness’ she thought. She looked at the website again and after a little hesitation she filled in the contact form and emailed it off, attaching just a face shot of herself.
They contacted her the next day and invited her to come to their office and meet them, telling her to bring some sexy underwear with her as she would need to have some professional photo’s taken. Jo wasn’t surprised as all the profiles on the website had sexy, tasteful pictures attached. She would be nervous for any interview but was nearly shaking when she arrived at their offices, consoled slightly by the fact it was in a modern office building in the center of town, not down some seedy back ally.
It all seemed a bit surreal; Jo didn’t really know what to expect, but she was greeted by a smiling receptionist who offered her a coffee and said Monica would be with her shortly. Monica was dressed in a smart business suit and greeted Jo in a friendly and professional way, inviting her into her office.
They made small talk for a while before Monica got down to business, explaining, “We pride ourselves on running an efficient, professional company; everything is above board and legal. We provide good support and service to both you and your customers.”
Monica asked Jo more about herself and her sexual experiences.
“I’ve had a few boyfriends, I enjoy sex but it’s been fairly mundane.”
“Have you ever done sex work?”
“No.”
“What are your limits?” Monica asked. Jo’s uncertainty about what she was being asked must have shown because Monica continued, “Do you give blow jobs? Would you allow the client to cum in your mouth? Do you do anal sex? Do you do domination?” Jo was a bit taken aback, never having considered any of these details.
Sensing this Monica said, “Let’s start again, I’ll do my best to explain escorting to you and then you can tell me what you think.” Jo nodded.
“You’re a very pretty twenty one year old with a great body and I think you could make a good living as an escort. Most of our girls are eastern European and many are as sexy as hell but there is definitely a market for English girls. You’re a bit naïve about this lifestyle but otherwise you seem intelligent and able to hold a conversation. The men who come to our website are all looking for different things; some want you to behave like you’re their girlfriend, others want to wine and dine you, have good conversation and then good sex. Others just want to fuck the arse off of you. There are some who want to be dominated, some who want to be mothered, some who want to be peed on and some who want to pee on you. What you must decide is what you’re comfortable with doing and then that appears on your profile. Even if you say you will do a certain thing, you have the right to refuse to do it with certain clients. For instance if you say you are happy to French kiss but the client has terrible breath or cold sores or whatever, then you refuse. It might be awkward but ultimately it’s you body and you decide what you do with it.”
“It’s a lot to take in; I know I can do some of those things, although I’m not sure about all of them. I generally get on well with people and I think I’m probably more of a listener than a talker.
“That’s hugely important to being a good escort, it’s not just about having nice tits and bum, although that helps.” Monica said with a smile. “We can take some photos of you now and you can come back in tomorrow and I’ll show you them and if you’re going ahead with it we’ll put your profile together.”
Jo had never had professional photographs taken, and certainly none in her underwear or less. Mark, the photographer, was very relaxed and immediately put her at her ease. They shot for nearly an hour and he even convinced her to do some topless shots. She left the photo shoot on a high.
She met Monica the next day and the photo’s looked stunning. They chose six for her profile and then got down to what services Jo would provide. She would do vaginal sex with a condom, no anal. She would kiss, she would give blow jobs without a condom, allowing them to cum in her mouth for an extra £50.
“How about couples? How about females?”
“I’ve never been with a woman but I can’t see why not.”
“How about peeing?”
“I think I could pee on them, but not them on me.”
“How about role-play, or mild domination?.”
“I’ve never done it, but again why not. I might need some advice as to what to do.”
Monica seemed fond of Jo and guided her. She became a popular, successful escort, making good money for both of them. She met some horrid clients but most were decent enough, she even became quite fond of some regulars. She became popular with fetishists, each with their own kinks that Jo seemed good at satisfying. She could equally mother one client and punish and humiliate another; at all times being kind and showing care and understanding, which the clients seemed to respond to. She left college with a 2:1 degree, a number of regular clients, one who she still saw, and £10,000 in the bank.
If you’d asked her she wouldn’t have said that she enjoyed her work as such, just that she was good at it and had found her niche. She’d always planned on being a teacher, both her parents were, but now wasn’t so certain. It would mean another year at college and if she was honest she didn’t like children that much. She told her parents she was taking some time out from study and might do a bit of part time work, pretty much the truth.
One of her regulars was a local accountant, he was very proper and would only have oral sex with Jo, saying he didn’t feel he was being unfaithful to his wife if Jo only sucked his dick. Their two hour session consisted of 15 minutes sucking and the rest talking. Whilst never giving away too much information about herself, Jo did talk honestly with him, coming to value his opinions and trust his advice.,
“If you’re going to continue with this type of work why don’t you get your own apartment, preferably in a nice part of town, you can choose who you see, preferably by word of mouth, and charge more than you do presently, the customer not having to pay for the room or buy you dinner.”
That was four years ago now, the accountant had died and Jo really missed him, but his advice was good and now she had a very nice three bedroom apartment and money in the bank. She had regular clients, rarely taking on new ones. She only worked between 1pm and 7pm Monday to Friday but spaced her appointments out, ensuring she could give each client plenty of time and attention. Her favourite client was a well off investment banker who would call twice a week armed with cream donuts. He would stand naked and she would throw them at him, he paid her £300 each session with a £20 bonus each time she hit the ‘bullseye’. She developed a great throwing arm.
She had no interest in relationships or even going out for a drink with old friends but reading the local paper one day she saw an ad for a local advice centre that was looking for volunteers. After a bit of humming and hawing she eventually gave them a call and ended up helping out in the mornings. They gave her some training on people’s rights but mainly she helped folks fill out forms or deal with officialdom. Not wanting to tell too many lies, Jo kept herself to herself, being friendly with the other staff but not getting too close.
One wet morning a bedraggled and disorientated teenager walked in, Jo was manning the desk and greeted the young women, offering a seat and a cup of coffee. She said she had been arrested, was worried that she might end up in jail and wanted a solicitor.
“Well we don’t have solicitors here as such, but we can give you the names of one’s locally who do legal aid cases. Didn’t the police give you a solicitor?”
“They did, but he were an ex John of mine, a right dirty bastard, I told him to fuck off.”
Jo asked was it prostitution she had been arrested for, it was; how many times had she been arrested before, three; what age was she, nineteen; what was her name, Kirsty. Jo got her the solicitors’ names and chatted for a while longer, she was a nice kid, innocent in some ways but very savvy and angry in others. Jo liked her. It was 12 o’clock and Jo didn’t have a client till 2.
“Would you like a bit of lunch, my treat.”
“Why’d you want to buy me lunch?”
“Well I’m going for some myself and I’ve enjoyed talking to you and we can carry on chatting.”
Kirsty looked suspicious but eventually agreed. It was a nice lunch and although she was still wary, she agreed to meet again later that week, after she’d met the solicitor.
“What did he say?”
“That I’m likely to get prison unless I can convince the judge that I’m off the game and not soliciting anymore.”
“Can you get off it, what else can you do?”
“Nothing really, I’ve never had a normal job and dropped out of school young.”
She relaxed a bit and told Jo more about herself. Her mother was a drug addict who died when she was young, she didn’t know her father, brought up by grandparents who didn’t really want her and fending for herself since she was fifteen. All this was said matter of factly, without much emotion.
They talked for a while longer about all sorts of things; Kirsty had an honesty and self effacing sense of humour that appealed to her. The time flew and Jo would have to be leaving soon for her first client of the day, she made a snap decision.
“I know we’ve only just met but I might be able to help you, that’s if you want my help.”
“How?”
“Well I have a nice apartment with plenty of room, a bit of company would be nice. Also if you wanted to go to college on one of those back to education courses I could maybe help you with that, might help with the judge.”
“Why would you want to help me?”
“I don’t know really, just seems right.”
“And what would I have to do for all this help?”
“Nothing as such, I just want to help you out.”
Kirsty looked at Jo, thinking there must be some catch or other agenda going on.
“Look I have to go, here’s my address. Why don’t you come round tonight about 8, no pressure and we can talk some more.”
She left, thinking that by the look on Kirsty’s face she probably wouldn’t turn up.
Jo always prided herself on giving her clients her full attention, making them feel special, but that afternoon she was distracted, wondering about Kirsty and hoping she would turn up. Just after 8 the doorbell rang.
“I’m glad you came, come in.”
Kirsty had a long coat on that was open and from the very short skirt underneath it was obvious she was either going to work or had just finished. Jo wondered whether to say anything but decided not to. She showed her into the living room.
“Well what do you think?”
“It’s a bit messy, although it was clean and tidy in some bits, how come?”
Jo smiled, there was no pretence with Kirsty.
“Well some bits are my working area and some bits are my private area where I can be a slob.”
“What do you do that you can afford this posh place?”
Jo had known she’d have to explain at some point, although perhaps not so soon. She got them both some wine and sat down and explained her life.
“So you’re a tart, same as me?”
Jo smiled and nodded.
“But you’re posh and educated.”
Jo nodded again. They sat there in silence for a while whilst Kirsty took it all in.
“So is this what it’s about, you want me to work here?”
“No, no, not at all.” Jo said, a bit taken aback and chiding herself for not realizing how it must have looked.
“No, I don’t want you on the game at all; I want you to have the chance to do something else. It’s like this, I chose to be a tart as a way of life, I actually enjoy it, I’m good at it and make good money. I don’t think you enjoy it but you don’t know what else to do. If you want me to, I’ll help you change that.”
“Why would you help me?”
“Because I like you and because I can. Also I think it would be nice having someone living here who understands what I do.”
Kirsty didn’t look convinced and Jo found herself nervous that she would say no and scrambling to convince the younger woman.
“You don’t have to decide now, but if you want I’ll help you sign up to college and I can come to court with you next week and maybe tell the judge that I work at the advice centre and that I’m helping you out.”
Ten days later Kirsty moved in.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/lufqrc/the_old_main_drag_pt1_romance_with_adult_themes