Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 John Dick's, Intro by sirkeljerk (sirkeljerk@hotmail.com)

   John Sax had been a lawyer for 12 years before he was disbarred.  Ugly
little matter involving a hot little hooker he took on as a charity case.
He'd been working for a large firm in town, married, good salary.  Decided
to give something back to the community.  Maybe he was just restless. 
Signed up to get one case a month from the local legal aid clinic.  They'd
sent him Violet the third month.  Violet was about 18, maybe 20.  She had
dark, exotic skin and nice big tits on her skinny little body.  Mouth like,
well, a whore.  The firm had frowned on her coming to the office, so he met
her at a diner downtown.  Image and all.  The moment he set eyes on her,
he'd wanted to fuck her.  Reminded him of his youth, a cheerleader he'd
once screwed, something.  John was 45.  He'd gotten a little soft from his
football playing days, a little complacent with himself.  Plus his wife
never quit bitching, his kids were young and incomprehensible, and this hot
little whore had needed his help and played up her sexuality to get it. 
John was a public defender, he hadn't spent time in the gutter.  He thought
it was romantic, fighting for the little guy, or whore in this case.

   He'd beaten Violet's rap, put in long hours, figured out a cop had
perjured himself in establishing probable cause.  He'd felt good about
himself, on the side of right.  Violet was so happy she asked if she could
give him a free one.  He couldn't resist the adrenaline.  He'd taken her to
a nice hotel, fucked her for 24 hours straight, mouth, pussy, ass, he'd
done it all and found that he craved more.

   This woman, this whore offered something his wife never could.  Sure it
was clichéd by John was living that kind of life.  His wife was a fucking
virgin on their wedding night.  He lived in the Burbs.  Fuck he coached
soccer.  Plus Violet's breasts were huge and firm.  He liked fucking her
from behind while squeezing those big sons-of-bitches the best.  And
calling her a whore, loud, and her smiling.  Yeah, John liked that.  Violet
introduced him to coke that night and he'd loved that too.  Fucking this
hot black hooker while a freight train was running through his mind, it was
like nothing else.  Next day he went back to work, went home and kissed his
wife, played with his kids, but nothing felt the same.  Not like it was
before.  Doors, he thought, had been opened.  Memories of the evening kept
flashing through his head.  Violet on her knees having her face fucked. 
Violet straddling his lap as she bounced up and down on his cock, calling
him a dumb cracker.  Violet screaming as he slapped her ass with his belt
and she called him daddy.

   He waited a day, then couldn't resist.  Paged her from work.  Her voice
was silk on the phone.  He asked her to meet him up by the offices, a
coffee shop.  She agreed, was standing outside, looking every bit a hooker
in an overcoat and knee high boots.  John couldn't hide his excitement. 
Had kissed her on the streets, before dragging her to his car.  She blew
him over lunch.  Her dark hair tickling his thighs as he sat in his car,
tucked in a dark corner of the parking lot.  No charge this time and she
gave him some more blow.  He gave her $100 for that.  Shared some in the
car with her.  Went back to work high as a fucking kite.  The vision of her
sweet head in his lap stuck with him through the day into the night.  When
he fucked his wife that night, he murmured "violet" with every thrust.  His
wife was so drunk she paid no attention.  He felt empty, sick after he came
all over her tits.  She thought it was gross, screamed at him, called him
rude.  He laughed when she passed out before she could clean up.  His life
seemed meaningless.  He took a snort of the cocaine and stayed up all night
trying to convince himself not to page Violet.

   Next morning John told his wife he was leaving on business, told the
firm that he had a family emergency.  Paged Violet, met her at the hotel
downtown.  She looked sad when she met him, not the sex kitten that he had
come to expect.  He was disappointed, verging on angry, the blow that he
had just done was rushing through his mind.  But it was just money.  She
couldn't keep fucking him for free, needed to eat.  Joh was so happy, so
relieved.  Money was no problem.  John had plenty of cash.  Went to an ATM,
felt extravagant, gave Violet $1000 and then went down on her in the
elevator of the hotel.  She'd obviously been with another customer, but
John couldn't have cared less.  The sex kitten was back with a vengeance.
She was a perfect, ripe, willing slut for his money.  John rationalized,
the enthusiasm was for him, just she needed to eat.  He particularly liked
seeing his white cum drip down her dark face, her pink tongue scooping it
up as it dripped past her mouth.  When she fingered herself to orgasm in
front of him, moaning and humping her hips, he thought that he felt a kind
of love.

   She scored more blow and they holed up for three days.  He withdrew
$1000 each day and also bought his little whore clothes, jewelry, more. 
Each night Violet would ride his cock as he told his wife that Cleveland
was boring.  Each morning she'd rim out his ass as he told the firm that
his father was making a slow but steady recovery from the stroke.

   The third night, Violet scored more coke, but something was wrong with
it.  John was fucking the little whore in the ass while biting her neck
when he felt like a gun went off in his head and all went black.  He came
to some time later amid feces and urine.  Violet lay underneath him,
shaking uncontrollably.  Foam coming from her mouth.  John panicked, almost
ran.  But, he cared for the little whore in his own fashion, couldn't just
leave her.  He could barely see straight, fumbling for clothes and keys. 
Violet was unmoving on the floor and he carried her down the stairs, 13
flights.  Drove her to the hospital, she was admitted, John gave them the
bad drugs.  They pumped her full of all kinds of shit, flushed her
bloodstream, god knows what else.  Cops came, arrested him for the drugs,
the prostitution.

   John could have beat the charges probably, hospital had invaded his
privacy, cops didn't know that money had changed hands, but he was too
numb. He couldn't have beaten the disciplinary charges from the bar
association.  The divorce either.  He appeared in court first for the
divorce proceedings, then to plead to drug charges, finally before the
disciplinary committee to be disbarred.  It took three months.  In that
time, John got a small apartment in a crummy part of town.  His wife got
most of the money in the divorce settlement and most of the rest he put in
trust for the kids.  When Violet was coherent again, he asked her to come
live with him, quit whoring, be his secretary.  She told him to fuck off,
but he was persistent, bought her every night till she agreed.  She
couldn't read or write, had never used a computer, but she could answer the
phones.  Plus she didn't mind the new violence of his sex.

   On the day he was disbarred, the ex-lawyer opened John Dick's, an
investigative service.  He liked, probably deserved the seamy side, he
decided.  He had enough contacts in the legal community to get work and it
meant that he could wallow in both his own and other people's perversions.
Make money off it.  Violet told him that now he was a whore like her.  He
smiled, and put the gag back in her mouth.
   To be continued...