By Scot Sothern
She tells me her name is WeeGee and she’s a psychic and we settle for a twenty dollar hand job. She lacks finesse and pulls and tugs like she’s plunging a toilet. It’s not working so I tell her never mind I’ve got a better idea.
“What kind of idea? I’m too high-class to do funny shit, mister.”
“I wanna take your picture.”
“You gotta give me more money for a picture. I already gave you a squeezer and it’s not my fault if you didn’t come, so if you want to take pictures of me you gotta give me twenty more dollars.”
“Yeah, okay.” I reach for my wallet, take out a ten. “Here’s ten bucks, I’m keeping the other ten because it’s only half my fault that I didn’t come.”
“Okay, but you can’t show my face. Someday I’m gonna marry a really important rich guy. You can take my picture for ten dollars but you can’t show my face. Because if you do then someday you could blackmail me.”
“Here, wear this.” I’m prepared for just such an emergency and have a bear-mask in my backpack. She puts on the mask and climbs into the back. She pulls up her top to expose her breasts. I suggest a comfortable pose and take three pictures.
She tells me this is kind of fun and I remind her of her old man.
This gives me pause and I ask old man, as in boyfriend or father?
She laughs and says same difference and that’s enough pictures, you gotta take me back to my corner now.
I take pictures of Starlight in the back seat but I’m concerned she is going to nod off. I don’t really want a passed-out whore in the car, so I wrap up the photo session and drive her back to where I found her. Before she gets out I dip into my backpack and take out a threesome of condoms.
“Here, you go,” I say. “Take these with you. Protect yourself.”
She looks at me like I’m way out of focus. She takes the chain of rubbers, climbs out of the car and as she staggers off into the shadows she flings them to the curb like a spent cigarette.
She starts dancing, kind of a slow-motion Marilyn Monroe; wiggle and mug. She laughs for the first time and I take more pictures; telling her that’s great, you’re really hot, I’m falling in love, and hard as a knuckle sandwich.
I set the camera on the bed when I come to the end of the roll and I take her hand, thinking a slow dance might be nice. Maybe we can talk in whispers.
She says, “If you want to have sex we should do it now and kind of quick, because my boyfriend is out in the parking lot and probably looking at his watch and If I’m not back out there in about ten minutes he’s gonna be up here knocking on the door and asking for more money.”
I say, “Oh, okay, sure.”
Opening February 13, 6-9 PM
Little Big Man Gallery
1427 E. 4th Street
Los Angeles CA, 90033
(All rights reserved. Text @ Scot Sothern. Images @ Scot Sothern and courtesy Little Big Man Gallery.)