After spending what felt like an hour cowering in the safety of the alley shadows, peeking out at the people and cars going by, Isabel knows she has to do ‘something’. She is shivering, and it seems like fewer people are passing by. While embarrassed to have to approach someone dressed only in sheer lingerie, the prospect of being stranded in this seedy neighborhood in the wee hours did not appeal to her one bit.
I was going to try the phone when that bastard mugged me, thinks Isabel, Maybe I’ll catch a break and find some spare change or there’ll be a free line for emergencies or something.
Hovering near the street-side corner of the alley, Isabel holds her breath as a small group of guys around her age go staggering by, laughing, yelling, and obviously drunk and rowdy. One of them even stays back to urinate on the wall across from her, but he somehow amazingly misses the luscious, wide-eyed beauty next to the trashcan and doorway behind him.
At the same time, an angry-looking older man exits the phone booth, slamming the phone down and having trouble with the door. Isabel whispers to the man, “Mister? Could you give me a…”
“Fuck off, tramp!”, grumbles the man, barely looking back as he shuffles off down the sidewalk, grumbling.
“This sucks!”, frowns Isabel, her teeth chattering as she looks both ways down the sidewalk, doesn’t see anyone, and decides to make for the phone booth, despite her lack of change for the machine.
Heels clicking on the concrete, Isabel starts towards the well-lit phone booth...
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