Rpkitten
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2010
- Posts
- 455
Heather always preferred walking home instead of catching a ride (or, heavens forbid, taking the bus!). After being locked up in a big concrete prison all day, it was a welcome change to feel the sun kiss her face and the way her skirt gently brushed against her slim thighs as it was caught by the afternoon breeze. Most of all she enjoyed the alone time... a brief pause between her hectic classwork and homework. Of course the solitude wasn't entirely optional anymore... not since her world got turned upside down back in March.
As she turned the corner into her neighborhood, Heather immediately noticed the blue and red spinning lights of a police car parked in front of her house! She took a few slow steps as she tried to make sense of the sight, her mind trying to rationalize it as anything but the worst news possible. She watched helpless as her mother stepped from the door, a single tear glistening from her right cheek and cuffed hands behind her back. "Mom!" Heather yelled and ran to her but was stopped by a burly cop who was escorting her mother to the squad car.
"Don't worry, baby," her mother told her as the cop placed his hand to the back of her head and pushed her down into the back seat of the car. "Everything's going to be okay..." That's what she said, but the look on her face told a different story.
"Your mom's under arrest," the cop said and slammed the door close.
"Arrest?? W~what for?"
"Prostitution, to start." Heather's heart sank and when she looked into the back seat of the squad car, and her mother glancing away, she knew it was true. "And we have reliable leads that she's involved in a lot worse... but all we're charging her with for now is prostitution."
Just then she heard a noise echoing from inside the house. "We have a search warrant," the cop explained and Heather took off for the house before he could finish that statement. Inside, the place was a mess -- furniture moved from the walls and cardboard boxes full of file folders stacked up at the doorway.
"Those are my mom's real estate records!" She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and another cop with his hands full. "Hey! That's my computer! You can't take--"
"It's evidence now, kid," the ass with a badge said and carried it away.
In a panic Heather bolted up the stairs. She glanced in her mom's room and found it picked clean by the vultures, then darted to her room to find a third cop standing in front of her dresser and "inspecting" one of her thongs. "Like mother, like daughter?" he laughed.
"Fuck you," she spat back with venom.
"No thanks.... I don't pay for my pussy," he sneered as he pushed his way past her.
A half hour later their cars were packed and they were gone, leaving Heather all alone in a house that had never felt so large or empty. She walked room-to-room surveying the damage and stopped in her mom's room. They had cleaned it out, but Heather couldn't help but look around anyway. She struggled to lift the mattress back onto her mother's bed and tried not to think about how many men she had serviced there. She sighed and walked with slumped shoulders to the closet. Clothes were strewn about, their pockets checked and then tossed aside. She began cleaning the mess, gathering up as much as she could when she notices a tiny little glitter from the edge of one of the closet's wooden panels. She leaned in closer and saw how it had been worn down from frequent use -- someone pulling it and pushing back into place. With nervous fingers Heather touched the panel and pulled it free! The whole panel came away and cast light into a narrow space hidden behind the closet. Boxes rested on the floor with more clothes hanging from a rod. She opened the boxes and the hanging clothes; a tiny leather skirt and fishnet stockings were all she saw before breaking down in tears. Then the next box: an array of dildos, stringed beads, and some kind of leather contraption she had no clue what was for. And really didn't want to!
And on top of that box was a small, black book. Heather took it and sat on the floor. Inside were records of names, dozens of them, with phone numbers and a dollar figure penciled in next to them. They were all obviously aliases... things like Bulldog and Maestro. And scribbled beneath many in her mother's handwriting was some kind of code with stars. FP, BJ, AF, and so on. She was bright enough to follow what BJ must stand for, but as she pondered the others her cell phone rang.
"Hello? .... Mom! Mom, are you.......... Ye~yes I.......... no, well I have a little......" She fell silent as her mother tried to make the most of her brief call -- speaking quickly and reminding her everything would be alright, but she wouldn't be able to come home soon.
"I~I'll get you a lawyer, a good one, and..................... mom, I know.... I know they're expensive, but we have.......... what do you mean they froze the accounts? They can't do that! That's................... I know..........." As she listened to her mother, Heather continued flipping through the book her eyes falling on entries like Miss Winter and Ace Dawg. "Mom, I'll find the money. I'll get a job, and....." Her voice fell silent at the sounds of her mother crying from across the phone. She turned one more page in the little black book, to an entry for Mister M., who apparently was a regular judging by the eraser marks under his account and a very surprising note reading, ***Heather's Clothes***. She paused... did her mother dress up like her for her, ummm, clients? Maybe a few even fantasized about....
"Mom, don't worry," she said and closed the book. "I can get the money. I'm sure I'll think of something."
As she turned the corner into her neighborhood, Heather immediately noticed the blue and red spinning lights of a police car parked in front of her house! She took a few slow steps as she tried to make sense of the sight, her mind trying to rationalize it as anything but the worst news possible. She watched helpless as her mother stepped from the door, a single tear glistening from her right cheek and cuffed hands behind her back. "Mom!" Heather yelled and ran to her but was stopped by a burly cop who was escorting her mother to the squad car.
"Don't worry, baby," her mother told her as the cop placed his hand to the back of her head and pushed her down into the back seat of the car. "Everything's going to be okay..." That's what she said, but the look on her face told a different story.
"Your mom's under arrest," the cop said and slammed the door close.
"Arrest?? W~what for?"
"Prostitution, to start." Heather's heart sank and when she looked into the back seat of the squad car, and her mother glancing away, she knew it was true. "And we have reliable leads that she's involved in a lot worse... but all we're charging her with for now is prostitution."
Just then she heard a noise echoing from inside the house. "We have a search warrant," the cop explained and Heather took off for the house before he could finish that statement. Inside, the place was a mess -- furniture moved from the walls and cardboard boxes full of file folders stacked up at the doorway.
"Those are my mom's real estate records!" She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and another cop with his hands full. "Hey! That's my computer! You can't take--"
"It's evidence now, kid," the ass with a badge said and carried it away.
In a panic Heather bolted up the stairs. She glanced in her mom's room and found it picked clean by the vultures, then darted to her room to find a third cop standing in front of her dresser and "inspecting" one of her thongs. "Like mother, like daughter?" he laughed.
"Fuck you," she spat back with venom.
"No thanks.... I don't pay for my pussy," he sneered as he pushed his way past her.
A half hour later their cars were packed and they were gone, leaving Heather all alone in a house that had never felt so large or empty. She walked room-to-room surveying the damage and stopped in her mom's room. They had cleaned it out, but Heather couldn't help but look around anyway. She struggled to lift the mattress back onto her mother's bed and tried not to think about how many men she had serviced there. She sighed and walked with slumped shoulders to the closet. Clothes were strewn about, their pockets checked and then tossed aside. She began cleaning the mess, gathering up as much as she could when she notices a tiny little glitter from the edge of one of the closet's wooden panels. She leaned in closer and saw how it had been worn down from frequent use -- someone pulling it and pushing back into place. With nervous fingers Heather touched the panel and pulled it free! The whole panel came away and cast light into a narrow space hidden behind the closet. Boxes rested on the floor with more clothes hanging from a rod. She opened the boxes and the hanging clothes; a tiny leather skirt and fishnet stockings were all she saw before breaking down in tears. Then the next box: an array of dildos, stringed beads, and some kind of leather contraption she had no clue what was for. And really didn't want to!
And on top of that box was a small, black book. Heather took it and sat on the floor. Inside were records of names, dozens of them, with phone numbers and a dollar figure penciled in next to them. They were all obviously aliases... things like Bulldog and Maestro. And scribbled beneath many in her mother's handwriting was some kind of code with stars. FP, BJ, AF, and so on. She was bright enough to follow what BJ must stand for, but as she pondered the others her cell phone rang.
"Hello? .... Mom! Mom, are you.......... Ye~yes I.......... no, well I have a little......" She fell silent as her mother tried to make the most of her brief call -- speaking quickly and reminding her everything would be alright, but she wouldn't be able to come home soon.
"I~I'll get you a lawyer, a good one, and..................... mom, I know.... I know they're expensive, but we have.......... what do you mean they froze the accounts? They can't do that! That's................... I know..........." As she listened to her mother, Heather continued flipping through the book her eyes falling on entries like Miss Winter and Ace Dawg. "Mom, I'll find the money. I'll get a job, and....." Her voice fell silent at the sounds of her mother crying from across the phone. She turned one more page in the little black book, to an entry for Mister M., who apparently was a regular judging by the eraser marks under his account and a very surprising note reading, ***Heather's Clothes***. She paused... did her mother dress up like her for her, ummm, clients? Maybe a few even fantasized about....
"Mom, don't worry," she said and closed the book. "I can get the money. I'm sure I'll think of something."
