Mallory Monroe - Birth of a Streetwalker - Sex Stories

Mallory Monroe - Birth of a Streetwalker

Mallory felt naked as she stepped into the night. Like a frightened child, she peered from her shadowed doorway, searching for any sign of someone coming her way. Seeing no one, and with a churning mix of relief and trepidation, she forced herself to begin the long walk toward the complex gate. The night was quiet on this side of the wall. Mallory’s senses were tuned for any sign of movement. By the time she was half-way to her goal, she’d heard nothing but the sound of her own heels on the hard concrete walkway. The hollow, double-clap of her steps echoed eerily off the nearby buildings, ghosting her like a maniacal phantom intent on giving her presence away. Mallory cringed each time her foot fell, fearing those lonely, haunting echoes might catch the ear of someone she knew. She was almost to the gate when the door of Mrs. Hopkins apartment came into view. Knowing the old widow inside, Mallory hesitated. ‘Please god, don’t let her see me,’ she silently pleaded as she slowly tip-toed her way past the old women's door. Carefully keeping her steps light, she feared at any moment the old woman would peer through the ancient drapes hanging in her darkened window. In the back of her mind, she could already hear Glenda's smoke-worn voice. ‘Did you see Mallory Monroe last evening? I swear she was dressed like one of those whores you see walking down Holt in the middle of the night! ’ With everything else in her life turning to shit, that kind of attention was the last thing she ...

... needed. Mallory kept a close eye on those drapes as she slipped by, but they never moved. It was with an audible sigh that she rounded the corner and reached the wrought iron gate leading to the alleyway beyond. As she passed through, the old springs slammed the gate behind her, closing her off from her home as surely as it did the life she used to know. Pieces of paper and other forgotten bits of flotsam tumbled with the wind as it gusted fiercely down that darkened alley. The October air was colder than she expected and was already causing goosebumps to rise as it washed over her exposed skin. Clutching her thin wrap tightly around her gaunt body, she hurried toward the lighted street beyond. One would think a young woman, dressed as she was, should be frightened walking down that particular, refuse-strewn alleyway. This was especially true after dark. Deep down, Mallory was afraid, but not of the people who lived off that road. Many of them were her friends, and to them, she was just another unfortunate local, condemned to dwell in the living hell of her poverty-strewn neighborhood. No, it wasn't the seedy and violent streets of Pomona that worried her. It was of those who came from outside that she was afraid. Those faceless men who drove into her neighborhood looking for easy sex. Men who would soon be using her body to sate their lurid desires... These were the monsters of the night Mallory feared most. Cars passed, one after the other, none showing the least interest as ...