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Miss Tammy was smoking again, and I fought back my coughing as the fumes filled the hatchback. She turned every corner tight and fast, sucking what was left of my lunch to one side of my pelvis or the other as we wheeled to the meetup with the John. She was a tall and razor-thin ferret and tonight she looked frazzled and almost damp, like an old sock turned inside-out.

"Mercy, you know how Charlie feels about last night," she rasped. "You keep your phone on and make sure you get the money up front and give him what he paid for. Charlie would rather you call and he deal with the man up front than loose business." Miss Tammy spoke fast and clear, but the lids on her eyes dropped with fatigue. She managed to keep a half-inch of ash smoldering on the end of her cigarette as she clamped a ragged furry hand to the wheel. I had no doubt she'd be the one to pick me up when my hour thirty was done, her eyes dropped slightly more and another empty Starbucks cup on the back floorboards. I had square friends who felt drained from working at a bank or some decent place. I'd already learned if I wanted to keep them as friends I couldn't be honest with how I felt about their attitudes in the face of the work Miss Tammy had done since I was probably a little squirrel.

The diner loomed, a battered franchise of a national chain known for heavy pancakes and bitter coffee. A light, cold mist was falling as Miss Tammy offloaded me by the entrance and tore out of the parking lot with a squeal of the tires. We were near Ginny's block and she was probably speeding to intercept the girl before a John whisked her off to a movie. Bless her, but the girl hadn't learned they never paid you to be a flirt. Miss Tammy, direct as she was, wouldn't be the teacher either. We all knew, after a week tops, Charlie would always do that.

I entered in a whoosh of too-heavy air scented with burnt starch. There was a cop by the door, not unusual at this hour, but he was from this block and wasn't going to waste time on me when most of the couples in here could fit the description of a lady of the night and a desperate asshole. I saw the John in the far corner by a window and he'd already glanced at me briefly. He was a big wide horse, settled in his weight and greying a bit in the mane. His polo was nice though, and the shoes on the bottoms of his hooves were at least stainless steel if not something nicer.

Those were the two things Charlie always taught us first: check their shoes if you wanna know what they're worth, and every John lies about his dick. The second one was probably personal on account of Charlie's little pepperoni nub, as it wasn't like we got customer service cards when we were done fucking them.

"Hello, Mercy," he said warmly as I sat down. I finagled a bit of my tail bush on top of the table, just to keep things light. Not too friendly, not too expectant. I felt bad when I pegged his type right away, because they were the most promising and the least fun: lonely. Worked IT, or maybe managed a big box chain store. Money, no insight, lots of time online. Almost always a wife, who he hated, who nagged and didn't care how long he was gone and how often. But probably not a hitter, at least not in a non-fun way.

"You hungry? You wanna eat?" He gestured at a menu. His own spot across from me was already laden with a half-eaten omelet whose leftovers were more food than I ate most days.

"No thanks, just coffee. Let me be honest: what are you looking for tonight?"

"Look, I know it's your job. My car's out there, we'll go to the movie theater they just closed down on Hampton in a bit. But I'm not gonna lie, I wanna talk for a bit." He gave me that rare thing from a john: an honest pained look, wrinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"Sure honey, we can talk. Just don't expect me to be momma unless you pay extra."

We both laughed a bit and he whinnied in a cute little giggle. He was kinda cute, I had to say. I mean, I hated this part because I'm sure he wanted therapy and it would take forever. He had that long laundry list of grievances, god bless him, the kind people walled up behind money fostered. And he was gonna get to be some savoir to this poor little squirrel girl. Whisper while he fucked her and tip and all that.

I loved and hated him. Cheaper than a therapist and he still got to bust a nut. At least he probably wasn't gonna bite my nipples too hard.

"So whadda I call you, hon?"

"Chuck."

"Okay Chuck, now that you got a pretty girl to listen what's been moving with you?"

If he asked me about my job first with that savior complex bullshit I was gonna scream. The waiter was pouring my coffee and looking at me with the "oh hon..." look usually reserved for cops. Fuck him too.

"Same old shit. Wife's a nag. My son wants to go into finance and I want to ruffle his hair and cry for him at the same time."

I had to grin. He knew how to leverage what he had. He had empathy, and God was I tired of sympathy.

"It's just cold at home and a guy in marketing introduced me to Charlie. You seem like a sweet girl..."

"Then I won't tell you what I've done with my asshole," I cut him off and we laughed again. The cop glanced at us but Chuck didn't look poor enough to be worth rolling for a drug possession. There were perks to boring John's who looked like they could afford a lawyer.

His had was roving under the table now, and I'd wondered what took him so long. "Can I ask you something weird? How long do you plan to be doing this?" No real pause between the ideas. His wide fingers with their broad nails were already slipping under the waist of my panties.

"Well, Chuck, this don't come with a 401k," I said and faked a gasp at the end as he began to circle his finger, totally missing my clit.

"You're a sharp girl," he said softly as he looped his finger around like he was dialing my grandma's phone. "I could help you find a position."

"You're funny, Chuck," I said. This time the gasp was real. He knew how to dig without going too deep. His wife must really have been a nag.

"Let's just go to my car," he said a little breathlessly. When he withdrew his hand he licked his fingers before pawing through his wallet. I grinned before I gulped my coffee and squeezed firmly on the bulge in his khakis while he dug out enough to leave a tip. I snatched the extra from what he left for the bill while Chuck was busy putting on his jacket. The asshole could dispense coffee without the attitude next time.

We cut through the mist at a half-sprint and I was already unzipping his fly with my head level with his navel as he started the car. "Don't go to the theater," I rushed out as he turned on his lights. "The cops already know to watch it." I slipped the long rubbery length of his limp cock out the flap of his boxers and started to pump. "Go to the alley behind Big Tomato. They can't roll people for much there." He was already stiff enough for me to stab his half-chub into my muzzle and I sucked from the throat as I bobbed my head. I made sure to squeeze with my esophagus as I pushed my right thumb between the webbing of my other hand's index finger. It had worked for me so far.

He flared his nostrils, breathing heavy and slow as we rolled through the damp. His shaft was thick and veiny. He was clean, which I appreciated; no funky aftertaste. I jiggled his fat balls with two fingers as I suckled. His belly gurgled from all the food in my left ear. When his duct started to thicken I stopped, keeping my head below the wheel and saving desert for the alley.

He maneuvered into a spot behind a dumpster, ignoring the look from two pizza place workers sharing a blunt as he cut the lights.

He could talk in the act if he wanted to vent. Most of them did. I didn't waste time stripping my panties down my legs and hitching my skirt. I wrapped the full bush of my tail around us. They always loved that. They called me back because of that. His cock was fat and ready, and I hardly had to shimmy my hips to guide it in. "Ooooooh," he grunted as squeezed his eyes closed as I lowered myself slowly down his veiny pole.

"Oh Chuck, you got the right kind of fat cock for a little girl," I breathed in his ear as I began to lift and drop with my thighs. I pulled the top of my tank top down and pressed the softness of my breasts into his face. He began tonguing my nipples and I sighed long and low. No biting. I liked that. Maybe there was something genuine in him. I kept my chest tight to his, feeling the fabric of his polo rustle up and down his chest. I hated front seats; even with my tail wrapped I had to avoid hitting the horn with my flat ass. But his length was ribbed and snaked with fat veins that tickled like kisses. It was nice.

Fuck, I'd forgotten the condom. Well fuck it. Tests were tests and the Plan B was in my purse.

He wasn't talking, just grunting and breathing heavy. "Mmmmmm... uhhhhhh..." he managed as I nipped at his long ear. I rushed hot breath in and down his ear canal and he whinnied slightly.

He stretched me a little, which for me was something. Damn, if he called back I'd take him. His ridges tickled the whole way up and down my snatch and when his flat shiny head slipped along my clit I gasped a little, genuine for once.

I felt his duct bulge again, and I started breathing in those telegraphed gasps you used to hurry them the fuck up. He was kind enough and had a fat cock but I'd stolen a glance at my watch over the headrest and our time was almost up.

When he came it was in three long slow jets, and I admit I relished them squeezing out around his cock as I kept thrusting up and down. His underwear would be soiled and I'd "forget" my two-dollar panties. He'd have one of those stories he saved for only his best friends that ended with (hopefully) a big tip for me and a knowing glance that meant he was a good one. A cool John with a big heart and soiled undies he'd keep somewhere where his wife might find them for a little thrill while he he ate as I went hungry.

"Thanks Chuck," I whispered in his ear as I tickled the other one with the fattest part of my tail bush. He grinned at me, eyes still closed. He could bask all he wanted if he paid cash. He took his time fumbling for his wallet.

"Thanks, Mercy. I'll ask you back," he said as he zipped himself up. I was relishing the hot warmth he'd left inside me and already scooting the panties toward the central console with my foot. He'd given me an extra $20. I'd vouch for him to Charlie. "You deserve better than this," he said as he started the car. The rows of bodegas and used car lots began to slip by as he headed to the gas station we'd agreed on for a drop off. "You see through a lot of bullshit. I hope you find a way out."

Somewhere across town there was a safe house with new furniture. And angry uninsightful woman with a modest job was waiting, her son long ago sent to his room where here was browsing porn and brooding. Chuck would be home within an hour, and a stiff exchange of lies and a cold lie beneath the covers would be the extent of their difficulties. Work would resume tomorrow, and no pimp would strike Chuck with a bottle. No one would pull a gun on his wife. No cop would insinuate a cavity search of his son's asshole for drugs while caught in a car with a strange man. And they would wear the badge of their cold distant troubles as validation nonetheless. Outside the mist left a slick coat of grime on Chuck's car. I didn't have the heart to hate him. Envy didn't stoke that anymore. There was just a cold numb bloom behind my eyes as I grinned and giggled at his smalltalk. I accepted his extra twenty with a wink as I stepped out into the mist at the gas station as he bid me farewell.

When Miss Tammy pulled in on the dot I had a second coffee ready. Gas station coffee, but she'd drink it. Her eyes, heavy lidded as they were, were visible in a spectrum just below my vision before. The tired glaze was refracted, the lifer's long study of things that would not change. I could smell her cigarettes and her fruit perfume mix in the tomb of the hatchback. But outside was only what the car delivered me to or kept me from. The cops and the johns and the people who reported for them or handled their money. There was no possibility Miss Tammy smiled at me, but I would remember it as such. I had to edit. I had to plant and nurture the lie. Hold my eyelids half closed or stare at something that would not reward close study.

"I got you a coffee," I said to Miss Tammy as I climbed in. She took it calmly from my hand without acknowledgement as I shut the door behind us. She was already pulling up the next client on her phone as she squealed out of the lot, her eyes avoiding the road.