Yeah Write #210- Hellbabes Hustle

Hellbabes Hustlers

by

Shannon Barber

 

An hour before open the girls were all inside singing and in varying states of undress and makeup application. Every station had one or two girls in front of the lit mirrors, fingers fixed lipstick smudges, lashes fluttered.

“Nia what have you been eating goddamn look at that ass.”

Lulu a long legged topless girl stood behind Nia, her mouth hanging open.

“Can I?”

Nia glanced over her shoulder and laughed.

“Yeah, go ahead. And I been eating good lately. I was here for fleet week.”

Lulu gripped Nia’s butt in both hands and squeezed gently, cooing pure contentment.

“When you fully transubstantiate you don’t fuck around do you. Like, I don’t even like girls, but will you sit on my face later?”

The room erupted in loud laughter, Eli a medium brown girl with dimples and tattoos laid on the floor howling.  Another girl walked by and stopped to give her two cents.

“Bitch that is the gayest fuckin’ shit you ever said. You want somebody to sit on your face, you like girls that way don’t play.”

Lulu stopped caressing the booty and contemplated before nodding.

“Yeah, you right, you right.”

She bent and bit the other woman lightly before going to go put on her shoes.  The dressing room door opened and a tall woman wearing a red head wrap and skin tight matching cocktail dress hollered over the general din.

“Ladies we have fifteen minutes. Finish getting ready so we can start and please, whomever has been regurgitating bones in the alley can you please stop doing that? We have disposal areas for regurgitators clearly marked. And you put your face together, we are not doing supernaturals tonight.”

A girl turned; from the shoulders up her head was a mass of squirming pitcher plant like mouths on delicate wet pink stalks, the whole mess shook for a moment before a smooth pouty mouthed face replaced it. She grumbled, her voice like something pulled through broken glass and mud.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mama, the boss smiled.

“I know we all hate this human face business, but we gotta eat. So buck up bitches. And I would like to inform you all that our resident negotiator Desiree set an all-time record last quarter, most souls dedicated to our realm of the Pit. Give her a hand.”

The girls all clapped a few dropped glossy messy kisses on Desiree’s cheeks.

“Oh, and one other little thing- I’m sorry to say to both our regurgitators and our eaters, unfortunately these are rich White boys so don’t eat any of them without their consent. Get with Desiree and I’m sure you’ll all eat well. Questions, comments or concerns?”

A baby faced girl with huge pale brown eyes and a raspy baby voice piped up.

“Mama, can the DJ please play my damn song when I’m stage? I brought it special for tonight. And please don’t forget I’m going as Jasmine tonight. Not Diamond anymore.”

Mama took the notes, nodding.

“Anyone else?”

A few other girls mentioned other song preferences, the resident twerk team settled their stage time, one girl needed a tampon and a hug.

Unlike most of their Pit born brethren, the ladies of The Pink Palace figured out how to stay fed and under the radar years ago. They had done away with exhausting and showy possessions, their chosen worldly occupation kept them  off the radar of The Church by mutual consent and the diverse group of regurgitators, eaters, bone pickers, soul negotiators, reapers, reavers, succubi and other varied species of previously relegated to the Pit demons.

Just before the doors of club opened the more cautious sort might have heard the chittering  clacking and scritching of otherwordly giggling, and excitement.

\All hail the Hellbabes Hustle.

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