The Homeless and the Bitch

Randi Wright treats the homeless like props. She struts past the gate where Bill Bailey sleeps and empties her bladder right over him, the stream splashing his bedroll. No apology, not even a glance down—just the click of her heels on concrete. Then she flicks a single dollar to the wet ground and lifts one slender foot, toes painted red, waiting for worship. Bill stares at the cash, then at her arched instep. He picks up the bill, presses his lips to her warm sole, and tastes the faint salt of her skin. She watches, lips curved, as he licks between each toe. When he finishes, she presses her other foot to his mouth. He sucks each toe clean while she keeps him pinned beneath her. Only after she’s satisfied does she step away, leaving him hard, grateful, and still dripping from her piss.