Hooker in Blue

The morning sun flitted through the window and caught the mans peripheral vision, temporarily blinding him. His first instinct was to stand and look out his small apartment’s only window and to the sunrise over the large and beautiful Blue out there. That view always calmed him, gave him peaceful contentment, and whispered how lucky he was to have been able to procure this spot for his little shack.

He didn’t stand though. There would be time for that later, this was the last customer of the night. The very man who had given him this small plot of dirt and the materials to build the place was with him now demanding his weekly rent.

He lowered his blond head out of the streak of sunlight and took his most generous benefactors’ small penis in his mouth with enough enthusiasm to make the man feel three times the size and a gift from the heavens.

“Curlicue…ohhh…”

Curlicue smiled at his name moaned and began his work on round two in quick and precious fashion, having done it enough to know exactly how his client liked it best.

He swirled his tongue down to the base and sucked on the mans ball sac causing the man to shiver and groan in appreciation.
Curlicue could taste every hint and nuisance of flavor of the man. His quasi savior, Mayor Jukno, was a short tubby man whose taste and smell mixed pungent and musky with a dull sweetness of the nicotine and tobacco of his plantation atop residue of rank filth musky sweat that nestled under Juknos flaps of skin. When he had first started five years ago he had found this mans taste to be both repulsive and yet strangely satisfying, as if quelling some subliminal need. Having something slid between his lips felt so familiar and right. Further proof that this was his destined profession, a whore and prostitute of the small island community. Who else would enjoy such things?

Yes…there was that feeling and then there was this undeniable skill. His long fingers caressed the man thigh and balls as it slipped around the round stomach to the mans’ ass. He didn’t know how his fingers and hands had gotten so dexterous but with one smooth movement they were slicked with oil and prodding at the man’s entrance expertly and gently as Jukno cooed.

His fingers moved at quick and perfectly timed intervals, knowing exactly what he wanted and obeying with speed and precision.

Jukno thrust his back into the bed in the predicted orgasm, pulling out of the warm mouth suddenly to spurt his seed across the blonds face. Curlicue tried to catch as much in his mouth as possible…less to clean out of his meager but lush furniture later.
Satisfied that Jukno was asleep and snoring blissfully, the blond stood now and looked out his window, felt the sea spray against his naked skin. It was truly worth it.

Okay maybe if he was truly honest with himself, he would have wanted more in life than to be prostitute. A nice woman, a career that helped people and satisfied them in some other way…something that didn’t leave him covered in slime and feeling quite so dirty. But when he looked at that sea he felt satisfied, accomplished, content, if not a little lonely (something all the sex actually helped with). Happy.

Yes he was happy and it was all thanks to Jukno. Curlicue looked to the unattractive but sweet man passed out on his newly bought sheets. Even if he wasn’t happy…it wasn’t like he could leave someone who saved him and gave him so much that easily.

When he had washed up on the beach five years ago he had a head wound, was nearly drowned, and no memory. Jukno had found him and brought him to his villa, had a doctor come and treat him. Together they had investigated the suit he had been found in. Nothing in the pockets but a bottle of oil, a piece of ginger, and soaked matches.

“Well…”Jukno had said. “Grandline Ginger is an ingredient that only has use for two people. You are either a rare first class cook that knows how to cook out the harsh impurities and add the refined spice left over to select dishes or you are one of those rare prostitutes so in demand that they eat the ginger raw for the impurities that act as a very strong aphrodisiac.”

The blond had nodded.

“Before we find out which you are, do you have a name my new Curly-brow friend?”

His eyes lit up.

“That sounds familiar…I think that was my nickname…my real one must be close…Curli…” He tried sounding out.

“Cue?” Jukno tried.

“YES! That sounds right. Annoyingly familiar. Curlicue. Sounds French.”

“Sounds weird for someone to yell out in bed.”

“Hey shithead! Don’t assume I’m a prostitute yet!” The blond had fumed.

“Sorry, sorry…you’re right. It’s just…this island has a lot of great cooks already, the ocean has a lot of fish after all, and not one is like you. They all are very sophisticated and on the fat and ugly side with names that sound like cooks names. You on the other hand, are perfectly slender, good looking, swear like the crudest sailor, and have a name like some stripper.”


He was pissed for some reason. Sure the guy had saved him and was rich…but he was probably just as ugly as these chefs he was talking about and the way he assumed the blond was whore sounded a lot like…he wanted that to be true.

Curlicue was on his hands, legs up and over his shoulders in some strange position before he knew it…his body felt tense…poised to do… something… to someone…adrenaline was pumping, but the confusion of what the hell was happening caused his anger to slip away and was doing a back bend easily before resuming standing.

Jukno was standing in shock with a weird little grin at the scene.

“How much I would give to know what you are supposed to do in that position…no cook I know is that flexible, that’s for damn sure! And your name seems very fitting…with that flexibility you can curl into a perfect circle I bet. Or suck your own cock! Maybe you altered your eyebrow to fit your name…kind of like your calling card when people see you on the streets.” The man was practically drooling. Curlicue was frowning.

“Please…show me your kitchen.”

“Of course.”

The blond stood at the counter with a chefs knife. He felt happy and natural here. Yes…he was a cook after all. He chopped some vegetables like a pro…he cracked some eggs into a pan…and he realized he had no idea what he was doing.

“Weren’t you supposed to peel the carrots? Put some kind of oil in the pan first?”

Yes everyone knew that…but somehow he felt whatever he wanted to make didn’t go that way. Then again he had no memory of any recipes at all, what he should do next, or how it was going to taste. His hands liked to cook but his brain didn’t know how. Frustrated he turned off the stove and placed the knife down on the board.

“Hmm…maybe you like to cook but aren’t any good at it. Yes. I could see you as a prostitute that likes to cook or maybe used to work as a prep cook before times got tough.”

It made perfect sense. The knife fit his hand perfectly…but didn’t explain everything else. His weird name, his flexibility, and his sudden itchy need for something in his mouth.

“It’s all for the best…like I said…we have a lot of good cooks here, no way you could make a living that way. I am the mayor of this island and I can say…you are the handsomest man here and it’s only prostitute. “

Somehow…the blond wanted to try it. Confirm to himself that it was a lie. But that first time he crawled between the mans thick unappealing legs, he found doubt instead. Delicious. The uneasiness that had been in him since he woke up on the beach and nagged at his lips was saited taking the tobacco planters dick in his lips and savoring it. He was getting a little aroused at hearing the groans of the other man…but not enough to fully enjoy it.

He found the grandline ginger, accepted his fate, and took a bite…finding it quite easy mere moments later to writhe in pleasure at the simplest sexual touch or thought.
The mayor helped him practice, re-remember his forgotten art of seduction, and gave him the small shack of an apartment that faced the important ocean.

Even as he looked at it now he knew.

“This is why I came here. I wanted to do whatever I wanted to do here.”

The mayor opened his eyes blurrily and drunk in the blond standing naked in the sun of the window.

“You should sleep. You have a busy afternoon and night ahead of you.”

The blond nodded but didn’t move from the view. Not yet.

The mayor had volunteered to be his manager and make sure his finances were in order. Curlicue didn’t really care that he didn’t see much of the money he was sure he was earning. He would have been dead without him and what did he need money for? He had an ocean view, a small kitchen of his own to try to cook in, plenty of fish in the ocean, every man in town a repeat customer…keeping boredom and unnamed loneliness away, and plenty of ladies to ogle over at Juknos private parties (although he had got wind that for some reason the girls would be seriously punished if they came within 5 feet of him, so he kept his distance).

“What’s on the shitty agenda tonight then?”

“A party…my dear man whore. A huge one! The new king of pirates and his crew is in our very port. I expect you to show them a very good time.”

Curlicue grunted at the nickname even as a glint his eye. Noone found their island in the five years he recalled living here…apparently log poses never picked it up due to some magnetic force clash in the currents beyond the island. Ships often sailed right by not even noticing the patch of land in the distance.

King of Pirates sounded really nice to his ears although he never wanted to be a pirate. It spoke of adventure and bravery and nakama…and the blond couldn’t wait to meet them.

“You can do that right? Having them as allies would be very good.”

The blond smiled.

“They will have never had better.” He had complete confidence.