So I came home just in time today to see the young blonde girl in pyjamas, who had been advertising the best, way better b-jobs, than anyone ever – “she’ll butter it,” escorted out of the alley by what looked to be her mother.
(her possible grandmother?)
She was walking, head down, ahead of a woman keeping up with her quick pace, in black heels and with a laptop case – both items to easily cast you apart from the brethren of that strip. I heard her first last night, she was on a mission to find someone who was interested in her ‘services.’ She was hawking with a feverish enthusiasm and language much clearer than the usual nonsense grumblings or angered shouts born in the ditch. After rapid fire adverts for blow-jobs, hand-jobs, etc., (she would have made a great cheerleader) she then started asking what day it was, what time it was, because her parking might have expired – ‘I’ve been parked down here for ten years!’ she exclaimed. I went home for lunch, and it wasn’t until I heard her familiar voice again offering up – you guessed it – blow jobs, that I caught a glimpse of her – blonde hair, maybe about my age, wearing pyjama bottoms. I considered for a minute that I should call the VPD, tell them there was a sad girl in the alley trying to sell her mouth/hands/body – but I went back to work. I’m glad to see someone came for her; it both confirmed the notion that this should not be her fate, and created a conclusion for one sorry story from the alleyway, as there haven’t been many. She was there all night and into the following day past 5pm prostituting herself. I have a feeling the laundry list of done-wrongs had found itself beyond extent after an overnight out there – I don’t envy what either of them must be going through right now. Makes for a memorable ride home….