I was an usher handing out condoms at the rex on queen but it was really a whore house, complete with hookers, strippers and other types of trades women. I was wearing the same uniform from the lightbox, which led me to believe it was an affiliated establishment. I was with security guard Robyn MacCrimmon, a woman who works at the don jail and I lived with at pitman hall. Being there with her I felt safe.
As I passed out the condoms, from a big medal milking can, I was subject to the gaze and judgement of those who came and went. Working women, some tranny's, smoking cigarettes and wearing too much makeup. The suit wearing men mixed with the city street folk. And of course, the many pedestrians walking by.
Timid and a little ashamed on the spring night that seemed warm and glowed neon in the city air, I was dreaming.
Robyn ran forward to a black car driving by that was filled with men. Loud ginos with their windows rolled down, some riding in the open trunk. She sat on the back bumper between two dudes as it slowly drove west down queen.
I realized my safety had gone as the commotion moved past and the regular city noises emerged. I centered my vision and ahead of me was a cop cruiser pulled over on the south side of the street. It bumbled with walkie talkie talk and twinkling lights and suddenly tore a u turn onto queen west bound. They were after Robyn and the black car, it was obvious.