Street Girl

Hygenic sex, Ribald sex, Lush sex,

His wealthy parents had told Dane— community service— would look good on University admissions.

Maybe that was true, but screwing your girlfriend on a Friday night would induce a better immediate good feeling.

Geez, he needed his fingers warmed up on Tori's fulsome breasts — If she was in the mood.

Though she hadn't seemed put out about no sex this particular Friday night.

The night was nippy and heading colder.

Everyone had frost breath inside and queued outside the Charity Street Kitchen Van on the curb of a shabby grassed council reserve with nearby graffiti, toilet amenities, and broken play equipment.

Dane was holding the polystyrene cups a tad longer than necessary as he was handing out tomato or pumpkin soup and packaged ham and cheese or salad sandwiches to the street people. Bag ladies, homeless youth, druggies, alcoholics and local squatters emerged through the shadows from the abandoned inner-city warehouses and storage yards of a former light industry zone.

What was once vibrant but quickly derelict and vandalised within eighteen months — the graphic truth of the post-Covid world hitting the local economy.

This was Dane's first night out in an alternate world, the underbelly of his home city.

He had on his politically correct senior college volunteer smile as he served nicotine-stained alcoholics. A couple of crazed eye snorters had him a bit uncomfortable and jittery. But he was polite, and they headed off on their natural high before spitting out the hot soup with foul-mouthed invective. They distracted Dane before he turned to serve the last person queued before they packed up for the night.

Well, there were actually two young women — one in front— and one behind.

It was the sassy blue eyes and the black woollen fingerless gloves with their delicate, perfect cock manicuring digits that grabbed his immediate attention.

Her companion behind her shoulder had her head down and hair over her face. She was a genuine shadow girl who didn't want to be seen.

Dane was distracted by Arnold behind him. The senior volunteer he was working under. He was going to the loo.

Dane turned back; the two girls were still waiting patiently.

Both seemingly indifferent to time and the chill, the intensity of a building frost permeating a shiver under the skin in the bite of the winter night.

He recognised the shadow girl, now in the light of the van — Tanya.

He remembered her as the girl who had dropped out of his college art class early in the year. He remembered her by association, an extraordinary and thought-provoking pencil drawing of angst, wizened but kind, aged hands.

At the time, he admired her skill and wanted to talk to her about her artwork. He actually liked her quiet, shy manner.

However, at that point in his life, Tori manipulated him, and she kept his eyes fixed on her, not trusting him or allowing Dane time with other girls, even as friends. And certainly not trailer-trash.

Tanya's brown eyes looked switched off tonight.

However, the blue-eyed brunette with the finger gloves was switched on. Dane knew that sassy girl cock- keen look from hand jobs by girls before being snared by Tori. Well, rich parents push their offspring together.

The foxy girl caught his hand as he passed her a pair of ham and cheese sandwiches. This girl liked what she saw and acted.

Dane liked the sureness of the touch.

Her slender, long fingers. They were the invitation accepted before her confident words.

A girl who always got what she wanted — like Tori.

"Need some action, stud… I'm yours right now…just get out of the van and follow me."

Tanya reached up and grabbed her own soup and sandwiches from the van shelf.

Self-help, as Jodie was cocking hunting again.

Tanya was sipping her soup under a streetlight opposite the reserve. Jodie was making her way slowly back towards her.

Tanya was surprised.

Jodie was never rejected.

Well, is offered pussy?

She didn't bother to self-answer that one.

Dane was smooth as he told Arnold it was okay to leave him here and not drop him off at the HQ.

A friend was picking him up in ten, and he would be fine.

Arnold drove away in the van.

Tanya had finished her soup.

Jodie hadn't said anything.

Her sandwiches were finished, and she angled her body into the streetlight post.

Waiting.

Tanya was used to this. They often waited.

Tanya noticed how lean Jodie was. Jodie was her best friend in a shady world usually devoid of buddies. She had affectionately named her. She had saved 'T' from herself.

Months back, after seeing T sleeping isolated and unsafe near the bushes on the reserve's back edge, Jodie invited Tanya to her squat.

They got along fine and watched out for each other.

Jodie showed 'T' how to 'milk' all the charity organisations in the city for food vouchers, free clothing, and girl toiletries.

Jodie made some money by busking near the central railway station, and Tanya made loose change creating three-minute caricature portraits to survive on the margins of the cash economy.

'Home' was the former office of a light machine parts factory. It was closed but not securely. It was unknown to them; it was in limbo receivership and a court rigmarole of lawyers. There was cold running water, and it was reasonably secure and dry.

Jodie was great; she didn't snoop into Tanya's unwanted status at home, and Tanya left Jodie's past and her present evident sexual predilections alone.

The young guy was out of the food van.

The van disappeared.

Tanya had a rare smile. Jodie had Friday night cock again.

Tanya liked guys. She was just closed off by herself, though.

When you're told you're worthless and not wanted, it hurts. It takes immense inner strength or a soul mate to bring you truly to a new 'home' in your life. Tanya was determined not to expose her inner raw self to anyone.

Dane was the moth to Jodie's hot flame.

Jodie — he said to himself, remember her name. It helps; this is unreal, but remember her name.

Her body was a magnet under the street light as her devastatingly lustful smile lured him in.

Dane and Jodie were touchy and kissy, needing a room already. They walked hands down the back of each other's pants quickly in front of Tanya and back to their squat.

Some narrow access alleys between warehouses, known holes in wire fences and a broken fire door and up a stairwell.

Tanya was sitting on an old swivel office chair, spinning a bit. The moon, through the skylights and high windows, outlined known shapes. Known noises from the other side of a door filled the silence of the sparsely inhabited wasteland.

But the actual desolate tract was the ache in Tanya's heart.

Tanya heard the rising moans of pleasure through the thin wall as Jodie was obviously enjoying having her pussy and brain fucked out simultaneously — in the space, they both slept on a discarded double mattress.

"Orrgh! Orrgh!" like a she-wolf on heat!

Even the guy was groaning loudly.

"Ugh! Ugh!"

The guy was apparently giving Jodie the ride of her life or dogging of her young, energetic experiences.

Tanya didn't care much as it went on and on.

She just swivelled to the left and right on the dilapidated office chair. The direction didn't matter like her life —

Dane woke up and looked at his watch. It was two o'clock.

The girl — what was her name again —was still next to him — in a deep sleep.

The Miss; sheez, she had milked him twice in thirty minutes.

It was fantastic.

He had a guy's roll of emergency lucky sex condoms, but she had his cock in her faster than a flasher could expose himself.

She was fucking stunning the way her tight pussy rode his cock, and her anal, no condom-dogging invitation — was ball-bursting intense.

Tori suddenly fronted in his mind. Even after their always condom sex, Tori went to the bathroom, he realised now, to clean herself up. After sex, she didn't sleep with their sex smell or joint emissions.

After tonight's experience, Tori, his only girlfriend involving sex experiences, seemed mechanical and controlled.

Controlled for what purpose?

He lay there a minute, thinking of Tori and sex. He realised Tori didn't actually love him or was passionate and edgy in sex like this girl.

The edginess was awesome, but he wanted something more profound with a girl.

What was her name?

Not remembering meant she didn't matter; it bothered Dane that he had lost her name.

He dressed in the dark. There was enough moonlight through the windows. He glanced at his watch: 2.30 a.m.

Dane opened the loose door to quietly leave.

He paused to let his eyes adjust to the darker, more extensive area and locate the stairwell in the shadows.

He saw the swivel and heard the soft sobbing simultaneously to his left.

Tanya.

He felt like a selfish prick. He hadn't even thought about her, or where she must have slept or how she felt about her friend and God; she must have heard them shagging.

He was closer, behind her, but not in her space, when he quietly said, "Tanya, are you okay?"

"How do you remember me, Dane?"

"I just do; it was your drawing of the aged hands. I was intrigued."

"They were my grandmother's. She died soon after of cancer. She cared for me. I was forced back to live with my mother, who didn't want me. My gran knew and tried to fight the cancer."

She sobbed.

"My mother's new partner leered at me creepily. Only my gran cared. I ran away. I was told I wasn't wanted by my own mum and that I should have been an abortion. I don't think she even reported me missing."

Dane pictured the hands.

We think we know someone, but we don't.

He also realised how selfish we are about sex for ourselves.

Tori and — Jodie — he finally remembered her name — were complex human beings, but he wanted to know the depth of this young woman— and he started through her voice and its connection to the drawn hands.

"I liked you and wanted to talk to you," Dane confessed.

"Me too, but there was Tori, and then I ran away."

"Geez, you must think me a prick now after succumbing to the opportunism of Jodie's invitation."

"No, because I didn't really know you, yet I do now, talking to you."

Dane didn't hesitate: "Look, come home with me. My parents are on the boards of city charities and will get you into a women's shelter, even Jodie — if you would like — or she wants to."

Tanya packed her stuff in five minutes.

Five minutes to pack everything you have — thought Dane.

A backpack and a poster tube.

Dane used his mobile to call a taxi at the reserve.

They held each other and jumped about to keep warm while waiting. It was freezing cold.

In the taxi, he asked, "Does the tube contain your grandmother's sketch?"

She whispered, "Yes."

They arrived at his grand house. His parents were as expected, asleep.

Tanya and Dane were in his room upstairs. There was central heating. He still had bunk beds from his younger sleepover days. He gave Tanya his usual bed, the bottom one. He was about to climb up to the top bunk when:

Tanya said: "Dane, cuddle me, please."

He cuddled her. Nothing more. It was what she needed.

His tenderness seeped into her aching heart, and the floodgate of emotional need opened.

They touched each other's bodies in the most lingering, unhurried and sensual exploration of their lives. 

Their own bodies that they thought they knew but didn't really know. Bodies sharing for sharing beyond immediate selfish orgasm.

They were petting, caressing and fondling as lovers do. They didn't know this was how lovers embraced but they realised something was binding them beyond themselves.

Their bodies were the adhesive to their souls.

His cock and her pussy touched as an act of giving first and then receiving — they were partnered long-term before they realised it themselves.

Engaged in veiled sex under the doona, but it was terrific. It was shared human joy.

Tori's controlled hygienic ministrations and Jodie's carnal adroit dexterity faded in the mutual enchantment of viscous romantic friction.

Ah, just a pussy and cock doing their job, eh?

Tell that to Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Tristan and Isolde, Paris and Helen of Troy, Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal.

Tanya and Dane discovered the more of sex and blessed is anyone who has or does in their lives.