"How much?" he asked.
"Ten bucks" she replied.
"Okay."
"Let's see the cash first".

As he presented her with a crumpled ten dollar bill, she
snatched it and told him to follow her.

"Alright, let's do it," she said as she started to unzip her
jeans.
As he scanned the dirty alley with his eyes, he asked her
timidly "Here?"
"Listen Mister," she answered sardonically," What do you
expect for a ten, huh? Maybe you expect a vibrating bed and
a heart-shaped tub? Well, they're redecorating my penthouse
on Fifth, so in the meantime I've had to step down the
ladder a bit. Now come on, time is money!"

"Wait a minute," he said hesitantly.
"What's your problem? Can't you get it up in an alley?"
"Listen, I'd like to talk first".
"Hey, I'm not a shrink. Talking will cost you an extra
$20".
"Here," he said, as he slipped her the bill.

She grabbed the cash voraciously.
"Well, talk!"
He was silent
"Talk, you paid for it".

"Why do you do this?" he asked.
"Hey man, why do you breathe?"

Silence.

"I'm a very unhappy man," he began.
"I've heard this story already".
"No, but I need someone".
"Don't we all".
"But I need..."
"Look man," cutting him off short, "I don't need this shit!
Fuck my cunt, my ass, my mouth but not my brains!"
He turned away instead.

As she stuffed the thirty dollars into her purse, she
screamed at his back "Hey, you're crazy!"

Maybe he was.

As he neared the end of the block he approached the next
savior.

"How much?"

(New York 1982)