Alright, a weekly exercise in story-telling. Will be a series. Don't mind the language--as they say, writer's license.

It is a night so cold that every breath Tom exhales seems to produce a crystal clear plume of vapor that extends about five feet high above his mouth. As usual, Friday means to Tom a frenetic search for that ideal piece of tail that can satiate his ever-hungry libido. Dressed up in a ragged pair of jeans and a woolen shirt, both of which he bought four years ago, Tom scours the suburbs in his caddie with a high hope of spotting the right kinda dame turning tricks for quick cash. He has to be extra careful, what with cops getting more vigilant after the prostitute ring being operated by a Salvadoran immigrant got busted a couple of weeks ago.
Getting arrested was not cool at all, especially when big black guys raped you over and over in the gut till you fell on the floor and licked your own blood-covered feces. And to think you didn't even know you shat yourself till ya came to your senses. Those officers didn't give a rip. You're on your own when you're in prison, and everybody treats you like an exile, even your fellow prisoners. Ah, those prison gangs, he remembers. Hispanics had their own clique, and blacks their own. Whites, too, seemed to form their own cliques and alliances, but not to the extent that the latter two formed, but they always had swastikas or Celtic Cross tattoed on their arms. It was always big bad Leroy, an african american with a wiry frame, versus Gordo, a MS-13 convict nicknamed thus because of his size. Of course, these two never laid their fingers. They let their retinue do their fighting. Everyday was a war-zone. And some of these people were highly creative when it came to creating weapons to smite and maim their opponents. The officers had to be extra cautious because prisoners were getting more and more vigilant. Heck, not even shoe-laces were allowed, as they could be used for strangling foes. And suicide was as common as dirt. For some prison blacksmiths even egg shell was a good candidate for weapon-making. A prisoner with eyes gouged out was a common sight to behold.
As he reminisces the good ol' days, Tom suddenly spots a dark-haired broad on his rear-view mirror. How did he miss her? He quickly makes a U, drives a little farther away from where she fixes herself like an electric pole, and makes a U again. He needs to make sure it's not a police dragnet. Cripes, don't want the prison experience again. But he has to get laid. It's been one whole week since he had sex and he is hornier than a two peckered billy goat. He slowly drives towards her and opens up the car window.
"Show some cash then we'll talk", she croons softly.
Ah, an asian. Looks like a filipina, he thinks. Asians give great head, or so was the stereotype his prison peers frequently mentioned.
"I'll give you $100 for a quick sucky sucky" Tom answers holding a freshly minted bill.
"I'll do more. Drive me to a hotel" comes the terse reply. And so Tom quickly rents a room in the cheapest hotel he finds in the neighborhood.

"Hey, no touching, bozo. I'll do all the work, cheapskate. If you want to touch me, cough up some more greens". So he gives her an extra 20 dollars.
He starts kissing her in the lips, kisses her chin, and moves down. She quickly lifts up her dress and lays bare on bed save for an underwear that covers her privates. Hmm, what's with those grandma panties, he wonders. One woulda thought she would be proud of her bod. What's she got to hide? "Suck these perky D-cups, honey" she challenges him. He acquieses in her demand.
Now he moves down to her bellybutton. It was time for some third-base action. No sooner was he about to pull down her panties than she lifts him by his hair.
"Are you sure?", she asks. What sort of a question was that? And what a time to ask. After a quick nod, he motions towards her crotch again, and with a quick jerk removes her panties. What he sees surprises him. A male penis dangling like MJ dangled his baby from the balcony. A transsexual. Not uncommon in the region. Ah, what the hell. The night was still young and he was hornier than a three balled tomcat. And it wasn't something he hadn't done before. Prison life had made him hardier and more broad-minded.

And so he quickly dives towards her crotch. Or was it his crotch? Who cares, it's just a piece of meat.

THE END.