Super Mom: Besieged (Chapter 7) (Patreon)

Chapter 7

“This is definitely a Monday,” Super Mom whispered. “The Mondayist Monday of all Mondays.”

It was just one in the afternoon, but after five hours on patrol her white gloves were stained with blood and coffee from a knock-down, drag-out in a coffee shop. That same sugary coffee had gotten into her long hair, as well. Her left boot was stained by hot tar, probably ruined and had to be replaced. And her costume’s zipper just broke at the small of her back. 

A safety pin a sweet older woman provided saved her modesty, but the costume had to be repaired, if not replaced. Thankfully, she was an amazing seamstress. Super Mom made all of her costumes.

“I just want to go home and call it a bad day.”

Her patrol didn’t end until six. While they were on the “honor system” when it came to patrols and times, and she could start and end a patrol at any time, Super Mom gave her word. She was obligated. So best case scenario, she’d snatch a little time to go home and change her costume out for a fresh one. She had eight more costumes, three more pairs of boots, and a drawer full of opera gloves.

And I need to wash my hair. ASAP.

Super Mom had another option, and had even prepared ahead of time. So she flew over to Hightower. The streets of that unsavory district looked abandoned in comparison to the traffic after dark. The heroine covertly flew up and dropped into an alley. She ensured no one was in the alley. There were no windows over looking her locations, so she stood straight and spoke her magic’s trigger phrase.

“Alter ego.”

And Super Mom transformed into Bethanny Mitchell. Only, the young stay-at-home mother of two stood there in a tight white halter top that really displayed her natural gifts, pink miniskirt, and white patent thigh boots. Even her purse was white patent leather. Her long, thick blonde hair was teased up to be a lot bigger, sexier than normal. Chandelier earrings, multiple bangles, and a glittering belly ring provided the dazzle.

She sucked in a deep, steadying breath. It’ll be all right. I’m strong and can handle this.

It wasn’t her first time to go undercover in her alter ego’s guise. Blonde Bethanny looked absolutely nothing like black-haired Super Mom. Still, she was in the most dangerous district in the city and without any super powers as Bethanny.

Projecting slutty confidence, Bethanny strutted out of the alley and out into the light of day. Baby blues looked up and down the street, quickly locating slow moving cars and any possible johns on foot. They had to be avoided. 

Spotting a group of five hookers chatting merrily, she made for them in a casual way, so as to not spark any concern. She almost reached them. Two of them turned to look at her with questioning looks, so she smiled. And then it happened. A car rolled to a stop at the curb. A middle-manager type in suit and tie rolled the passenger side window down and waved her over.

Bethanny had no choice. She went over, bent over, and leaned in through the window.

“Hey, mister, looking for a date?”

That was the standard opening line for hookers in Hightower. The forty-something white man stared hungrily at her dangling tits, barely contained in her halter. 

“Yeah. Yes,” he said. “I want to date you. How much?”

She smiled, “Fifty dollars.”

His eyes lit up. She knew he was going to accept. Fifty dollars was the usual price of a hooker hookup. So she acted fast. Pointing at his lap, with a small bulge there.

“Wait a minute. How big is your dick?” she demanded. “Pull it out. If it’s too small, I’ll have to charge you double. If it’s too big, I’ll have to charge double.”

“What the fuck, whore?”

And that’s what she wanted.

“Whore! Whore! You fucking come down here for some pussy, and then you call me a whore? Fuck you and the little dick you rode in on.”

She stomped away, while he peeled out cursing the entire time. She covertly glanced at the nearby group of hookers. They were all laughing. So she gave them an exasperated look.

“Why can’t they at least be nice about it? I know what I am,” she cried. “Just be nice and I’ll be nice to you.”

“I hear you, girl,” a short blonde said, hands over her heart. “Men are pigs.”

There were two white girls, two black, and a Latino beauty in the group. All were dressed skimpily like Bethanny. Way too much makeup, making her reconsider how much she put on. 

“Life on the street is hard,” a black hooker said.

“I know. I just started last week,” she said. “I thought it’d be a lot easier. I thought the men would be more eager, nicer, than they are.”

“You got a manager?” the blonde asked.

“No. Why would I want to split my money?” she asked. “I’m barely making enough to feed my babies as is working days. A pimp would just make me work nights, and I need to be home for my babies.”

She got five sympathetic looks. So she joined them, the hookers opening a spot in their little circle for her. 

“Hi, I’m Angel,” she said.

“Real name?” the other black hooker asked.

“No. I’d never use that,” she said.

They just nodded. Then the Latina looked her up and down critically.

“You are so fine, Angel. I’m Carmen,” she said. “Pleased to meet you, but girl, you are quality snatch. Why are you working down here?”

“Divorced. Lost everything,” she said, shrugging. “Got the children, a ton of debt, and found myself on the street with no job. Never had to work a day in my life until…”

“Wow. That sucks. So you started hooking?”

“Not at first. I tried stripping, but being up on stage freaked me out,” she said. “Prostitution was my backup. Luckily, fucking is something every girl can do.”

“So you’re a natural,” the first black hooker said. “You look like a wet dream come true. I bet it’s been easy for you.”

Bethanny rejoiced. That was the opening she sought. So she snorted in disgust.

“It’s been hard, but getting easier,” she said. “My first day, literally, the first man to approach me for sex, broke my heart.”

“How’s that?”

“It was Mayor Hook!” she cried. “I voted for him. I even worked as a campaign worker for him in the last election because I believed in him and his family values platform. I was devastated.”

“He’s a horndog,” the other white hooker cried. “I think we’ve all dated him.”

“Did you fuck him?” Carmen asked.

“Well, yes,” she said. “It was fifty dollars. I need the money.”

Before she could begin questioning them, the women all stiffened with resting bitch faces. Then she noticed the police car stopping at the curb. The cop in the passenger seat waved them over. Bethanny and the hookers backed away warily.

The cops didn’t take that well. Both got out and approached them. The hookers, and Bethanny, backed against the wall. It scared her how frightened the hookers were of the cops. She looked at their name tags. Officer Rainwater and Corporal Foster.

“Are you new?” Corporal Foster asked. 

“Yes,” Bethanny said in the tiniest voice.

He pressed up against her, moving in for a kiss. She averted her face.

“This is inappropriate.”

He chuckled. “You’re a funny girl. But a very pretty, funny girl.”

Corporal Foster’s right hand grabbed her left tit. Her breath caught. Being molested by Annarky’s finest shocked her so much, she failed to avoid his next attempt to kiss her. The cop claimed her lips, pulling a moan out of her. Then both of his hands came up to strum and pinch her suddenly erect nipples through her tight top. Bethanny gasped and squirmed, mind in chaos. She wanted to make him stop, but the cop might then arrest her for solicitation. While she could beat the charge, she would be “outed” as a prostitute. 

Utter humiliation.

The cop quickly got both nips rock hard, poking dramatically against the white fabric. Heat flooded her face. He grinned at her. After kissing her again, which she didn’t bother avoiding, too late for that, Corporal Foster’s hand stroked down across her taut belly. His hand snaked between her legs and started rubbing her through her white cotton thong. 

“Damn, Tommy, this whore is sopping wet.”

The other cop laughed. “Probably cum dribbling out of her.”

“Ah, fuck,” Foster cried. He thrust is index finger in her face and gave Bethanny a baleful look. “Is this cum?”

Just to keep him from touching her anymore, she said, “Yes. Probably.”

The cop slapped her. Thwack! Right across the face. Then he shoved his finger between her glossy pink lips. 

“Suck it. Lick it clean, whore.”

She couldn’t breathe. Why were cops treating her like that? What gave them the right to treat any woman like that, no matter what she did or didn’t do? But she still obeyed, first sucking on his finger, and then licking it clean.

Corporal Foster didn’t move away, but glared into her face. “Have you ladies seen Super Mom? We have a report she was seen in this area.”

“Super Mom?” Bethanny asked. “Why are you looking for her?”

“There’s a warrant for her arrest,” he said. “Assault and battery. Stalking. Filed by a young woman working on this street. So have you seen her?”

“I did,” Carmen said. “About ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago. She just flew by overhead.”

While the knowledge her alter ego was wanted by the police shook her, Bethanny was grateful that Carmen drew the cops’ full attention away from her. The two cops turned to the Latina beauty.

“Are you going to arrest Super Mom?” one of the black hookers asked.

“Damn right. She’s not above the law,” Officer Rainwater said, his face screwed up in anger. “Bitch got it coming to her. So call 911 if you see her around and about.”

“Will do, officer,” Carmen said. 

The cops drove away. Bethanny watched him, stunned into silence. An arrest warrant? The police were looking to arrest her. It had to be Cindy that pressed charges, but assault and battery? And then she remembered their encounter two nights back. She actually laid hands on the young woman. 

I grabbed her, so technically I did commit assault and battery, she thought. Oh my God, I am actually guilty of a crime!