Yes, I have an awkward view of the world, to the world it's my vice, to me it's my virtue.

Today at work, something bizarre happened. Something crude, vulgar and just really fucked up.
My side of the workshop has a massive window that is completely one sided, everybody walking outside on Pretoria centrals street can't see inside, only their reflections. Home Affairs is just up the road and free shelters are two blocks down. So naturally the area is swarming with South Africa's hopefuls.

I was sitting at my bench eating my lunch and rocking out on my Ipod, blasting some wicked beats by Tchaikovsky and Debussy. I felt a tap on my shoulder, it was one of the guys that works in the same room as I do. A fat guy that always reeks of Klippies.
“Hey, check that chick outside there,”
It was a hunched figure in a gray tracksuit covered with small holes and different coloured stains. It had long hair, the same colour as a shagged diesel cars exhaust fumes with a full-on bald spot across the whole top section of it's dome. It's face looked like it had been hanging out a speeding trucks window for 20000km, stretched and covered in blotches, similar to a dirty cars windshield. It's skin had a beautiful brandy tan. I tried to look for the sandstorm that was making the persons journey so hard, but then I realized the poor soul was bordering on being crippled, which explained it's bent figure.
“She's hot,” I remarked. Something told me she was a woman.
“How do you know it's got a flange?” asked my friend politely.
For those who don't know what a flange is, its a mechanical part that takes strain in a motor and apparently resembles a vagina.
“Look, there just above her waistline, two tits,”
“Oh ya, I can check,” He managed to make out the two crests.
She took a seat on the other side of the road, opposite our shop. My friend quickly grew bored and left for his afternoon shit. I was interested and carried on watching her. I paused my Ipod. She took out a bottle. I couldn't quite make out its contents, but I guessed from her bad fashion sense that it was probably spirits, from the Screwman Hardware shop up the road.
Everybody that walks past our shop looks at their reflection in the one way glass. I like to smack the glass and give the vain souls a fright. She was opposite us and never looked at herself once. She took a big slurp, sat still and fell back immediately. She started to roll on the ground, and glided her hands slowly up her torso, making it very obvious that she wasn't quite in our dimension. I seized the opportunity by flicking “my tracks” to a random Kenny G 'sax' solo (I don't have a sick obsession with the 80's, I'm not a homosexual and I don't watch soft porn, sometimes...). I thought the song that started playing was suitable for what was playing out on the street.
I'll called her “Olivia”, because I found that name quite suitable at the time.

Olivia began to stroke the silky tracksuit more rigorously and more passionately now. Rolling in the dust like it was a romantic setting in a nobleman's barn on a bed of hay. A group of black ladies walked past her and laughed and then carried on with their conversation. Olivia was oblivious of them and carried on the sensual stroking, moving closer to her waistline. Slowly, she unzipped the tracksuit jacket and parted it, exposing a white t-shirt (with vomit stain).

By now, I was in tears laughing at was happening.

Olivia resembled a snake, wriggling in the dust. Her hand dived into her pants, and began it's journey into the the black hole. She arched her back and fingered herself harder now.

I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. Kenny was making sweet love to his 'sax' by now, which was doing wonders for the scene.

And then she stopped. Probably after an explosion of pleasure. Her hand still stuck in her pants. She just lay there. Kenny also died down by now. I had to change the track quickly. Moby “Inside”, perfect, heres a link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHBkVYSOE5U to the song if you want to hear it, trust me, it will modify my story.
I started getting scared, Olivia wasn't moving at all, she looked dead still. I ran outside to get a closer look, still no movement. Olivia was dead. It was probably the best sex she ever had.
The tramp who fingered herself


I moved closer, across the street. I stood about ten meters from her. I looked on, too afraid to move closer. Suddenly, she bolted upwards as though a greater force granted her a second chance on planet Earth. She looked round, the same shagged expression on her face that she had before the wild sex. I paused my Ipod. She casually stood up and walked away at the same stressed pace.

Olivia, je t'aime....

My friend was standing at the door. I picked up my phone and dialled him, he answered,
“Ya,”
“She charges R35 for a blowjob and R60 for a shag.”
“Fok jou.”
Subtle.