Chapter 1

 

It had been nearly ten years, but I recognized her. She hadn't changed all that much. In fact she was prettier now then she had been in high school. I knew her because she ran with a crowd that I sometimes ran with. You know, not actually "in" the group, but a sometimes replacement. Jill Jordan wasn't someone I was likely to ever forget. I had a big time crush on her. We never dated or anything. I just admired her from afar and lost contact after graduation. By the way, I'm Travis Tolliver.

I couldn't imagine what the hell she was doing in that part of town. I sure wouldn't have been if I had a choice. My car decided to give me trouble and finally just quit. I was waiting on AAA to come rescue me. When I first saw Jill she was standing on the corner as if she were waiting on a ride. As I watched, trying to decide if I wanted to go over to her, a black man approached her and they conversed for a few minutes. At one point he raised his hand in a hostile manner and Jill cringed.

After the man walked away I sat and wondered about the situation. I've never been accused of being the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I'm not stupid either. It finally dawned on me that Jill must be a prostitute. She was waiting on a john and the black guy must have been her pimp. While I watched and waited on the people from triple A, I saw her get into various cars and drive into an alley. The time in the alley varied from ten minutes to twenty minutes.

After watching for nearly an hour I saw a fancy sports car make a U-turn and stop beside her. She waved at the driver, a white guy, and hurriedly jumped into the car and it sped away. As it went past me I saw Jill hugging the driver and giving him a big smooch. They went past the alley entrance.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not overly knowledgeable about the prostitution business, but that didn't look kosher to me. I turned and got the tag number from the car as it went past me and wrote it down on the back of my hand. I didn't know why, but I did.

AAA finally arrived and towed my car in. The wrecker driver was nice enough to give me a ride to a cab stand and I took a taxi on home to my bachelor apartment. I had been baching it for over a year since my wife, Marylyn, left me. Actually it was a mutual decision based on the fact that she had grown to despise me. The joke's on her. She had no more than hauled ass out of town with her personal trainer from the gym when an uncle, I barely knew I had, died and I inherited a bundle of money and property. If you think I was stupid enough to get in touch with the ex and tell her of my good fortune, you're even dumber than you think I am.

So I found myself, at the tender age of twenty-eight, a wealthy play-boy. Actually I wasn't a play-boy. I didn't know how to be one. I had spent ten years, more if you count the part time work during high school, working my ass off. Working doesn't leave a lot of time for the good life. Marylyn and I married young...way too young. We both had come from blue collar families and we wanted it all. We worked hard, both of us, and saved our money. Not that saving it did me any good. The bitch took it all with her when she left.

By the time I got home and changed clothes I had nearly forgotten about seeing Jill. It wasn't until I started to wash my hands and saw the tag number that I remembered. I called a friend who had a friend that works at the DMV. I had the name of the car owner in less than fifteen minutes. It was registered to Sean Collins of 1254 North Avenue C. The name was familiar, but I couldn't place it. I had the information, but didn't have any idea what to do with it. I wrote the information down on a pad and forgot about it.

It took the repair shop three days to tell me that it would take six weeks to fix my car. Since I became rich I drove fancier cars. This one was a high dollar import and I have developed a theory that the more a car costs, the longer it takes to fix them. Also they break-down more often. My ten year old Ford Tarsus was parked behind my apartment building, and it took exactly an hour to recharge the battery, start it up, and drive off. There is a moral there if you want to look for it.

One of the buildings I inherited was an abandoned five story storage building. The company that had occupied it moved out long before I came on the scene. I was in the process of converting it to a condo apartment complex.

Since the old storage building had been empty for a long time, it took an act of congress to get the power turned back on. First they had to inspect and make sure that it wouldn't burn to the ground when it was powered back up. That took five days and another three days for some asshole to go throw the switch.

A few more days to get a design company to look at it and another week to get some drawings of what they thought I wanted. They recommended a contracting company that I immediately wrote off as a bad deal. I'm fairly rich and I plan on keeping some of my money by not giving it to a bunch of over-priced yuppie contractors. Being thrifty is a hard habit to break, and I had learned my lesson from living a hand to mouth life..

I spent twenty minutes letting my finger stroll through the yellow pages and found a contracting company that suited me just fine. I met with them on a Monday and they had my living quarters done enough so that I could move in by the following Monday. I took the whole top floor, and we installed new heating and air conditioning and all new electrical wiring.

For the next three months the contractor had two full crews working on my building. I tried to help out, but it soon became obvious that they considered me someone to work around. They didn't actually tell me to get out of the way, but I could tell it was what they were thinking.

It was when I was moving my furniture into my new quarters that I saw the pad of paper I had written the tag information on. Since I wasn't gainfully employed, I decided to go look at 1254 North Avenue C. I was still driving the old Ford which was out of place on Avenue C. It was a street where the rich live. Snazzy town houses, with doormen and places where a cup of coffee cost five bucks.

I found a spot where I could see number 1254 and parked, getting a hard look from a couple of people who walked by with their fancy and totally worthless dogs. I sat and wondered what I was doing for nearly an hour. My tenacity was rewarded by the arrival of the car that I saw downtown. A man, Sean Collins I assumed, got out and went in the townhouse. He was back in a few moments with Jill Jordan . Jill was dressed much like she had been the last time I saw her. Short skirt that barely covered her ass, a blouse that was sheer so that even from where I sat I could see her nipples. Super high heels completed her outfit. Jill was dressed like a whore. A whore from yuppieville, but a whore none the less.

I followed them back to the seedy downtown area when I had first seen her. She got out of the car and perched on her corner. The guy drove off with a wave of his hand and a toot of his silly sounding horn. I parked and carefully made my way closer to where Jill did her stroll. I found a doorway I could stand in while I spied on her.

Over the next hour or so, several men approached her, a quick discussion held and into the alley. Occasionally she would go into the alley in a car. After a couple of hours the little sports car pulled up, Jill jumped in and they left.

"You want to party sugar?" a voice behind me asked. I turned to see a heavily painted black woman with a lot of age on her and even more hard mileage. "I can give you things you never had before." I opened my mouth to tell the old hag that I didn't want leprosy or crotch rot. I changed my mind.

"Not right now," I said as pleasantly as I could. "That gal that just drove away. You know her?"

"Yeah, that's Judy," the old crone said showing me that she didn't have any front teeth. "Wastin' your time with her. She only comes down here a couple times a week. Mostly only gives blowjobs. A man like you needs to skink his big ol' cock deep in a woman. Am I right?"

I gave the old hag a twenty and found out that Jill, who showed up on the street as Judy, always came on Tuesdays and Fridays afternoons at about the same time. I also met Petey the pimp who 'owned' that part of the street.

"Yeah I know who you're talkin' 'bout," Petey said. It cost me fifty just to get him to talk with me. Petey considered his time something of value. "Calls herself Judy. She a head whore mostly. Only charges twenty for head. I mostly don't give her no grief 'cause she don't take no serious trade away from my bitches. She prances around, flashes some skin for a couple hours, blows a few dudes, maybe a hand-job or two, and leaves." He smiled showing me a lot of gold. I made a deal with Petey for Friday. He seemed pleased at the prospects of an easy hundred bucks not to interfere in my plans. I say plans, but that's probably an over statement.

The next day I did some detective work. I found out why the name Sean Collins was familiar to me. Sean was a city councilman and had been in the papers a lot. He was odds on favorite to be the next mayor according to my sources. A mover and shaker in local politics. I also found out that Jill and Sean were living together, but apparently not married. I racked my brain trying to figure out why someone like Sean Collins would have any dealings with a head whore. Then I spent some time trying to figure out why a beautiful woman like Jill would be in the illicit sex business. With her looks and figure she could make a bundle as a call girl. It was a long way from Avenue C to an alley off Euclid Street.

On Friday I waited until I saw Jill and what's his name drive up. When the guy was out of sight I drove up to where Jill or Judy waited.

"Hi," she said brightly leaning down to look in the window showing me a lot of cleavage. "Want to party?"

"How much?" I inquired. I was wearing a fake mustache and glasses. I hoped I didn't look as stupid as I felt.

"I do head for twenty," she answered cheerfully.

"Okay," I said. "Get in and let's party." She opened the door and got in.

"Pull into that alley," she said pointing to the entrance. I drove passed the alley and turned at the next block. When she realized that I wasn't turning into her alley, she looked around. I knew she was looking for Petey.

"Ah, look mister," Jill said hugging the passenger door. "I'm not...You better stop this car and let me out. You're going to get in a lot of trouble. You are making a huge mistake."

"Really," I said. "I think you are a street walker and I think I paid your pimp for your service. What's the mistake?" In all honestly I had not thought much past getting her into my car. Now I was winging it.

"No, you see I'm not really a prostitute," Jill said "I'm an undercover cop. Stop now and..." she stopped talking about being a cop when I laughed. "This is not real," she said softly.

"It's real to me," I said calmly.

"Pull in to an alley and I'll give you some free head," she said hurriedly.

"Now that won't do me any good will it? I still won't have any pussy." Tears were running down her heavily made up cheeks. I decided to end the game I was playing.

"Relax, Jill," I said. "I'll settle for a hand job and a kiss." I was at my storage/apartment building by that time. I pulled in behind it and parked. I took the fake mustache and glasses off and tossed them onto the dash. "What the hell are you doing, Jill?" She was staring at me.

"Travis? Travis Tolliver? Is that you?" she said.

"Sure is, Jill, I mean, Judy," I answered with a grin. "I say again, what the hell are you doing playing whore?"

"God! You scared the hell out of me," she said with a sobbing laugh. "My heart is racing like crazy. Where on earth did you come from? Why?...What?...Travis Tolliver. I haven't seen you since...I don't remember the last time." Suddenly she changed from frightened to pissed. "What the hell do you mean scaring me like that? Who do you think you are?"

"I saw you a few week ago," I said. "I said to myself, Travis that's ol' Jill Jordan and she's on the stroll. Things must not be going well for your old high school friend. You need to help her out. Throw a little business her way.' Of course that was before I knew you were picked up and delivered in a fancy sports car." She stared at me without speaking even though she looked like she wanted to say something. "So Judy, how's it going?"

"Damn you, Travis Tolliver!" she said half laughing. "I'm still shaking like a leaf, you bastard. Why did you do that?"

"Not sure, Jill," I answered honestly. "Truthfully, I didn't intend on scaring you. Why are you playing whore?"

"I do it because..." she paused and look away. "It's not for the money or anything. I have a...a friend and he wants me to."

"That would be councilman Sean Collins?" I asked, knowing the answer. "I'm getting the impression you don't care much for the game, so why do it?"

"Look, Travis," she said. "It's a long complicated story."

"I'm in no hurry, Jill. Tell me a long complicated story." I took her up to my still under construction apartment. She seemed impressed. We sat down in my still under construction living room.

"So, Judy or Jill," I said. "Tell me a long complicated story. We have the time."

She glanced at me then back out the windshield of my car. She took a deep breath and began.