RennyStyle
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2016
- Posts
- 2,279
The brothel sat in the middle of a stone alleyway drenched in red neon. Automobiles slowly worked their way through the throng of criminals and sex tourists clogging up the one-lane road in hopes of getting lucky in one of the many brothels, strip clubs and massage parlors surrounding them.
Prostitution was legal here, but that only meant the act of selling sex for money. There was still plenty of crime going on wherever you chose to look. And the women who worked in these establishments weren't all there by choice.
Alexa was a prime example. Shortly after her son was born, she had fallen in with the wrong crowd and found herself kidnapped and trafficked here, sold to the proprietor of this establishment for a few handfuls of cash. She had been quickly instructed and put to work. Without a passport or access to her earnings, and with security watching the doors, escape seemed more an more impossible. But the memory of her son, and the hope of seeing him again, gave her strength when she felt as though she had none left.
Alexa contemplated her situation as she gazed at herself in the mirror. She was so lost in thought, she almost didn't hear the buzzing or notice the blinking red light in her room. Her signal to get to work. She shut her eyes and mentally prepared herself.
Alexa stepped through the glittering red streamers acting as curtains concealing her private bedroom and onto the lit neon floor. She was in a small glass booth, sandwiched between others in a row in the basement, an item on display to a collection of men on the other side of the glass milling about. Thumping, rhythmic techno music oozed through the aging sound system and she began to dance.
She was dressed in red lace lingerie, but covered that with a see-through plastic raincoat that caught and distorted the neon lights, creating strange and attractive shapes as she moved her body. The booths were a few steps above the clients, making her look taller and more desirable.
If one of these men took a liking to her, they would pay a cashier and a light would go on in front of Alexa. She would retire to her room and be greeted with a client and be expected to meet his demands.
Prostitution was legal here, but that only meant the act of selling sex for money. There was still plenty of crime going on wherever you chose to look. And the women who worked in these establishments weren't all there by choice.
Alexa was a prime example. Shortly after her son was born, she had fallen in with the wrong crowd and found herself kidnapped and trafficked here, sold to the proprietor of this establishment for a few handfuls of cash. She had been quickly instructed and put to work. Without a passport or access to her earnings, and with security watching the doors, escape seemed more an more impossible. But the memory of her son, and the hope of seeing him again, gave her strength when she felt as though she had none left.
Alexa contemplated her situation as she gazed at herself in the mirror. She was so lost in thought, she almost didn't hear the buzzing or notice the blinking red light in her room. Her signal to get to work. She shut her eyes and mentally prepared herself.
Alexa stepped through the glittering red streamers acting as curtains concealing her private bedroom and onto the lit neon floor. She was in a small glass booth, sandwiched between others in a row in the basement, an item on display to a collection of men on the other side of the glass milling about. Thumping, rhythmic techno music oozed through the aging sound system and she began to dance.
She was dressed in red lace lingerie, but covered that with a see-through plastic raincoat that caught and distorted the neon lights, creating strange and attractive shapes as she moved her body. The booths were a few steps above the clients, making her look taller and more desirable.
If one of these men took a liking to her, they would pay a cashier and a light would go on in front of Alexa. She would retire to her room and be greeted with a client and be expected to meet his demands.