I'm Not A Hooker!!

My friend Annie lives on Aurora/99, right before the bridge in Fremont. The strip is known for its multitude of cheep motels, relics from before I-5 was built and Aurora was commonly used by truckers. Her and Steve have heard gun shots and seen prostitutes and heroin addicts mill around their place. I was leaving Annie's house yesterday and the cars were wizzing by at 50 mph. Out of the corner of my eye, i saw a fast moving car swerve over. I turned to see that it was one of those new Dodges that you sometimes see cops drive. 

I started to walk faster, unlocked my car and then i heard his car horn. Quick little honks and he was yelling "hey! hey!" I looked back and was barely able to see the him but made out through his tinted windows that he was wearing a hat and glasses. 'What does he want from me?' I thought. 'I'm a young girl walking in a sketchy part of town alone, and now I have a strange man cat calling me. Oooooh!'. So as he continued to holler at me, I yelled  back at him "I'm not a hooker!" got in my car and drove off. 

I checked my rear-view mirror to make sure he didn't follow me and he wasn't. Like most women mistaken as prostitutes, my mind started to race. 'Was it my hair?' It was big and curly that day. 'I'm wearing tight black jeans and a cute top, but no high heels. I'm such a bad girl. Is it that obvious to the average john? I don't have any condoms on me. I wonder how much they get paid. How should I even take this? Should I be offended? Is this... a compliment, in a way? A man just swerved off to road wanting to have sex with me.'

By the time I got over to Quinns I was excited to run the whole thing by the girls. I heard my phone chirp and saw that I had a text. It said "It's Eroy! I didn't think you were a  hooker!"

It was one of Steve's friends that i've met a couple times...

I still think it was the hair.