An alternate reality if Mickey was never a cop, and the Jump Street Program never existed!

Tom's POV

I am not a lousy cop, but I sure felt like one when the captain made me work Vice one evening. He informed me that it was an undercover operation, and I had to go undercover as a client and arrest some prostitutes in the area.

All right, fine. Whatever.

I have never gone undercover before, but Captain thinks I will be a natural at it. I do not know why he says that. I have tried acting once in a school play when I was a kid, and I nearly threw up on the stage. This might be different, but who knows if I can pretend to be someone I am not. What if they see right through me? I felt like I needed a partner or some sort of script to follow, but Captain told me to improvise. I am not exactly an improvise kind of guy. I like strict order, and explicit instructions.

I drove my Mustang over to a popular corner for prostitution and wore some plain clothes. I had a wad of cash to flash in my pocket, and I pulled up against the sidewalk. Those loitering the sidewalk were wearing dresses so short they could barely move, and heels so high they could barely walk. Their hair was bigger than Texas, and the looks on their faces told me that they have been doing hard drugs. I could see their decaying teeth and rotting gums from my car. They were all so young, it was shocking. Their skin was covered in small sores and scars from picking, due to the common sensory hallucination from the drugs that bugs are crawling on their skin. The lack of appetite from the drugs caused them to appear hallow and gaunt. Methamphetamine has been popular around here, and people will do anything to get it.

Immediately, a girl came up to my window. I already had it halfway unrolled and she looked almost my age. There was no way she was any older than me. Her brown hair was bouncing off her shoulders with every step, and her hazel eyes shined brightly under the street light. Her porcelain skin looked smooth and healthy from what I could see. Her bright smile showed no typical signs of meth use. She would be beautiful if she had a normal job.

"How much do you charge?" I asked her.

She wore dark lipstick that made her teeth look whiter, and she chewed gum obnoxiously. Her big hoop earrings nearly touched the straps of her small dress. Her sleazy outfit of black lace and fishnets were enough to give her a ticket for public indecency.

"$100," she said.

"Little steep, eh?" I asked and started thumbing through my cash. But out of everyone else I saw, I'd rather have to be close to her.

She shrugged. "Kiss or get off the pot."

I nodded at her to get in, and she did. I put the car in gear and drove off. Once she was in my car, I realized that she looked much cleaner than the other prostitutes around here. Her skin was clear, and I did not see any signs of picking or scratching at the skin, especially around her high cheekbones. I wasn't going to rule out the use of makeup. I also did not see any needle marks on her arms like I did with the others. Just a few bruises. But, her nose looked a little inflamed. Perhaps she had a cold.

"I'm Kitty," she said and sensually brushed her hair behind her shoulder.

"I'm Tom," I said. I kept my gaze on the road as she fixed her hair in the mirror.

She eventually reached over and took my baseball cap off my head and started playing with my long hair. Her nails were painted in a dark color that I could not see very clearly, and she smelled strongly of cheap perfume.

"Do you know any good places?" I asked her, and I could feel the slight quiver in my voice.

"Are you nervous?" She asked sweetly with a smile. "Is this your first time, honey?"

"You could say that," I said and I cleared my throat. If I had seen her in a coffee shop or the grocery store, I never would have guessed that she was a prostitute. She did not seem like one.

"Yeah, I know a place. Turn down Hillside Drive," she instructed and I followed her direction. I had never done this before, so I was not quite sure how far along to go with this. Do I have to go as far as to sleep with her? Do I drive her straight to the station? Do we pull up to the place then I bust? I ended up coming to the conclusion that I will bust her whenever it feels right.

"What got you in this line of work?" I asked, trying to make conversation as we drove down the dark and lonely road.

She kept flowing her fingers through my hair, messing it up and lightly massaging my scalp. She was extraordinarily nice, and I hated to admit that I was falling for it. The pomade I had put in my hair this morning was coming off with every brush she made through my hair. It was relaxing and I felt that I was letting my guard down. I wish I could say that I did not like it, but thou shall not lie.

"You know... shit happens," she said in a soft, almost angelic voice.

"Are you not worried about getting caught?" I asked.

"Eh, not so much anymore," she answered with a shrug.

"This is not exactly the safest occupation in the world," I stated.

"Whatever pays the bills," she said and reached into her bra and pulled something out. She rested back in the seat as I was looking at the road, not really paying attention until she brought the back of her hand up to her nose and sniffed really hard. I darted my eyes between her and the road, realizing that she was snorting cocaine. She must have noticed this because she asked, "wanna bump?"

"No, God no," I said firmly. I was really hoping that she would be clean, but I was not surprised that she was not.

"Calm down. It's only a little," she said and put her little packet of the white substance back into her brassiere.

"Did you finish school?" I asked her, trying to get back to a better topic.

"No. And what about it?" She asked defensively, "are you paying me for my services or for my life story?"

"Consider this part of the deal," I said.

She exhaled sharply before she answered, "no one on that corner has finished high school. Most of us have dropped out."

"Listen, you're a beautiful girl. You look good, real good. Why'd you throw it all away for a dangerous job and to get high?" I asked her.

"I didn't actively choose this life. I was thrown into it. Mind if I have a smoke?"

"Have at it."

She reached into her bra and took out a small carton of cigarettes and stuck one of them between her lips. She asked me if I had a light, so I pointed to my cars cigarette lighter. She lit her cigarette and blew the smoke out the window.

"What's the occasion for tonight, Tommy?" She asked, turning on her charm once again. She seemed fastidious and precise.

"I—I got a promotion," I answered off the top of my head.

"Oh, lucky me," she said and leaned to kiss my cheek. Her lips were soft and warm, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I had to snap back into the fact that I was currently working, and the knowledge that she was only acting this way because I was supposed to give her $100. She didn't actually like me. It is just part of her ruse of being a maneater. If I'm not careful, she will chew me up because money is the only thing on her mind.

We pulled into a motel, and she started to get out of the car. Even in her heels, I was still taller than her. We walked up to the door to the main lobby and I stopped.

She turned to look at me and spoke just like a baroness, "are we going inside? It's a little too cold for what I'm wearing, and far too cold for what I won't be wearing in two minutes."

"Kitty, I'm a cop." I flashed her my badge and saw her expression drop. "And you are under arrest for prostitution."

She exhaled disappointedly and dropped her cigarette before she put it out with the toe of her high heel. She groaned and I told her to go up against the hood of my car. She slowly walked and did as I told her, but then she took her heels off.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I reached my back pocket for my handcuffs. "Up against the car."

"I just want to do this one thing," she said before she took off running down the street.

"Shit," I blurted and ran after her. She disappeared behind some trees and before I knew it, I felt a heavy thud against the side of my head. I collapsed down to the ground and held the bump on my head, quickly realizing that she chucked her shoes at me in order to get away.

I stood up and spun around trying to find her, but she was gone. I stomped back to my car, pissed that my first night on Vice was a failure. I shook her face out of my head and drove home.

I went back to my captain in the morning and got an earful. He told me that I was irresponsible, and I wasted a night running after one girl when I could have gone back to get another. He ended his lecture by suspending me for the rest of the day.

Pissed, I decided to go for a drive after a greasy dinner of cheap pizza and beer. I drove down the same streets I was patrolling the night before, and immediately found Kitty again on the same corner.

Kitty was standing against a building, smoking a cigarette while talking to another lady of the night. I pulled up and she approached my car.

"Hey, baby, how—" she said before she saw my face. Her jaw clenched and her nostrils flared as she said roughly, "get out of here, you fucking narc."

"Not a narc tonight," I promised. I showed her my money and said, "get in."

"Why should I trust you?" She asked, chewing her gum. She crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow.

"Cause why would I come back to the same person a day later?" I asked. "If we were trying to get you, we would have sent someone else."

She chuckled, "you'd have to be pretty stupid."

"Do I look that stupid?"

She paused before she said, "yeah, kinda."

She was getting too comfortable.

"Just get in."

She finally got into the car and I quickly took off.

She had the same routine of playing with my hair and massaging my scalp as I drove. This was an invitation that I was not going to decline because I knew that she was guaranteed to blow my mind. She tried to remind me of where to go, but I told her that I had another place in mind.

"I feel like we have gotten to know each other pretty well," I said casually as she was sucking on my neck. My fingertips tingled at her touch, and I kept my eyes on the road. "What's your real name?"

"My what?" She asked with her lips still on my throat.

"Your name. Your real name."

She chuckled and she put her ear on my shoulder and she said, "only if you can guess."

"Give me a hint."

"Starts with the letter M."

"Marie?"

"No."

"Matilda? Molly? Mia? Megan? Madison? Madeline? Maya? Melissa?"

She said no to all of those.

"Just tell me," I nearly begged.

"Girls have pseudonyms for a reason. You are a cop, you should know that."

"Don't you trust me?"

She very quickly answered, "no."

"Fine," I said. I paused before I started listing off every name I could think of, "McKenzie? Morgan? Mable? Minnie? Michelle? Mary? May? Melanie? Mikayla? Miranda? Missy?"

"Are you done?" She almost giggled.

"Maybe..."

"One of those names is mine. Truly."

"Which one?"

"I'll tell you after our session," she promised.

We pulled up to a seedy motel that I have been to once before because there was a call of domestic disturbance. She reapplied her makeup as I got out of the car and headed to the room because I already had a key.

"How do I know that this isn't some trap?" She asked me.

I opened the door and said, "I'm thinking of this as pay back for my boss."

"Well... then what are we waiting for?" She asked alluringly.

It was an invitation I could not decline. She was driving me wild, and she was out to get me. I wanted this to be a night I wouldn't remember, but she would be the one I wouldn't forget. As willing and playful at a pussy-cat, she wrapped her hand around my red tie and pulled me into the room.

I love writing these alternate reality type of chapters! It was inspired by the last gif and Killer Queen 🤪
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