My dream –

Standing on my usual street corner, awaiting customers, for three nights already, across the street, parked, I saw the same black Mercedes-Benz AMG S65. The windows had a factory tint; so I couldn’t see its occupant. Perhaps I should have been alarmed, but I don’t get that way. If I did, I wouldn’t be conspicuously inconspicuously selling my wares at a busy city intersection.

I wasn’t dressed as a prostitute, though I was one. My dress was flattering to my figure, my heels gratifying to my butt, my hair and makeup provocative but not excessive. Sure, I was overdone for an office girl, but underdone for a whore.

It worked for me. Every night, long before I felt compelled to cast a coquettish eye at any particular driver, a vehicle stopped, its passenger window lowered, and I invited in to do what I was there to do.

On the fourth night, just as I had made it to my corner, the black Mercedes, parked, started up, and came around, stopping in front of me. When the window was lowered, to my surprise, a woman was at the wheel, a Chinese woman, apparently.

‘Will you get in? I would like to talk, but not so indiscreetly.’

I got in, and closed the door.

‘I am just going to drive around the corner. Is that alright?’


I was curious where all this was going, but I was game, however kinky it got.

Parked on a somewhat darkened side street, the woman turned to me, as I sat up front beside her.

‘I know this seems strange. You didn’t expect a woman. I’ve been watching you for several days. I know that you’re a prostitute, a popular one. I’ve never done this before, obviously. I’m not even sure what I’m doing. Can you bear with me ’til I get it out? I’ll pay you. I have questions, first, then we’ll see what, if anything, comes next.’

‘I am a prostitute. You got that right. I doubt, though, that any of your other presumptions are correct. Yes, my work is my livelihood; so I have to make money, but we can talk about that later. What questions do you have?’

‘I’ve got quite a few. Is there a place we could go where we could sit for a while, and have a private conversation?’

‘A public place?’

‘Yes, someplace quiet.’

‘My favourite place is The Hidden Village. It’s a Lebanese café of sorts. They have strong Lebanese and Turkish coffee, baklava, things like that. I like to go there after my tricks, before I go home for the night.’

‘That sounds good. Can you direct me there?’


At The Hidden Village, seated, coffees in front of us, the reason for our liaison is revealed.

‘First, if I may, what is your name?’

‘I go by Vivi on the street.’

‘Vivi, I am Ziyou 淄牖, but you can call me Yoyo.’

‘I know you’re wondering what this is all about; so I’ll get to it. My husband and I have not had sex for years. That’s okay. I take care of myself, or I find another way. He gets in these depressions, though, or at least that’s what they feel like to me. He withdraws. They are really deep, almost scary. He stares at the walls. He doesn’t say anything for hours. At first, I was annoyed. That just made things worse. Then I started thinking about doing something crazy. Maybe I could shock him out of his stupor.’

‘I suggested to him that maybe I could bring another woman home, to do a striptease or something. It wouldn’t be explicitly sexual, just enticing, seductive, tempting. Something to bring some life back to him.’

‘When I mentioned that to him, his eyes lit up immediately, his expression changed dramatically. He said he liked that idea. I could hardly believe it. That’s when I started looking for a possible candidate for the job. When I saw you standing on your corner, I couldn’t tell at first that you were a prostitute. You don’t dress like one, really. You’ve very pretty, and sexy, but not slutty. The more I watched you, though, the clearer it became. I never had long, though, because you were always picked up right away.’

‘Okay. To begin with, I strip; I don’t tease. Secondly, do I understand correctly that no sex is expected, not even a blowjob?’

‘No, this is not like that. My husband is impotent.’

‘What about you? Are you impotent?’

‘No, but I’m not lesbian, either.’

‘Are you sure about your husband. If he is so eager to be entertained by another woman, maybe, if I may be so blunt, he wants another woman, someone other than you.’

‘Men need women who are mothers, Marys, and whores; all-in-one, but not simultaneously, of course. First, they need their women to mother them; then they want devoted wives, Marys, the mothers of their children; then, lastly but not necessarily leastly, they need bad girls, sluts, not repentant Magdalens, but whores. Are you, have you been, all of those women to your husband?’

‘No, I guess not. I haven’t been the whore, certainly.’

‘So, there you have it. He wants to be entertained by one.’

‘I never thought of that.’

‘There’s another reason I may not be the girl you are looking for, besides my preference for real, down-and-dirty sex over striptease. There’s nothing phoney about me. I am as I appear; I appear as I am. And what is that? You think I’m just a girl. I’m a girl with a cock. Even my breasts are mine. I’m sure you noticed my flat chest. Do you know what a trap is? In short, a trap is a boy who seduces men as a girl. There’s no trap with me, though, because I really am third-gender. I’m not really male, not really female; I’m in-between.’

‘What are you telling me? You have a penis? But you’re so pretty. You look and sound just like a girl. Even your voice is feminine. And where do you hide that cock?’

‘Yes, I tuck the cock. I’m not disguising my voice, either. I sound like the girl I am inside. My voice never changed’

‘So all those men who pick you up for sex every night, they know…they know that you’re not really a girl, a woman?’

‘If they don’t know already, they find out very quickly. Don’t forget, I have another hole down there, and its worry-free. You’d be surprised at how many men are latently or dormantly homosexual. They jump at the chance to do what they’ve wanted to do all their lives, to fuck another man.’

‘Wow, this has been unexpectedly eyeopening. I never imagined that this is how it would go. I thought I’d propose something to you, talk about the price, then make a plan.’

‘I’m curious, though, what would you change?’

‘For what? I told you that I don’t do striptease. It’s either sex with you, or sex with your husband. Or it could be sex with both of you.’

‘Would you fuck me in front of my husband? That would certainly shock him out of his lethargy.’

‘You said you weren’t lesbian. I am a woman with a cock. How does that work for for you?’

‘How much? How much would you charge for that?’

‘You are buying my coffee and baklava, I presume. So…so I’ll let you figure how how much it was worth when I am finished.’

‘And what if your husband wants some…some of me, either my mouth or my pussy. We have pussies, too, you know; they’re just in the back. What if he wants some?’

‘That’s just too bad. He can’t have any. You’re mine. He can watch, but he can’t touch.’

‘You go, girl. No you’re talking. Let that whiny little boy find another mother.’

‘So, are we on? Will you do it? Will you come over, dressed as you are, of course, as a woman, and fuck me in front of my husband?’

‘I’d love to.’

‘And if I find out that I’ve been lesbian all along, will you be my lover?’

‘I won’t stop turning tricks with men, though. I’m still going to be out on my corner every night.’

‘Why, if you don’t have to? You seem really smart. You could do something else.’

‘I do. During the day, I write. It’s only at night, usually, that I get fucked by strangers.’

‘I knew there was another side to you.’

‘Just like there is another side to you.’

‘Are you good for tomorrow evening, nine o’clock? That’s when you arrive are your corner, right? I’ll pick you up.’

‘That sounds good.’

‘And for tonight, for your time, for the enlightening conversation, what do I owe you?’

‘For my wildness and wiseness, worse than I am, and better, again, you put a price on pricelessness.’

‘I can’t; so I’ll give you what I had planned to offer before I knew all that I know now.’

‘Can you take me take to my corner. The night is young.’

‘I can’t believe that I couldn’t be happier to do so. You are an amazing woman.’

‘And so are you.’