Motel Five

It was the mustiest, most run-down motel in all of Memphis--but it was cheap, and it provided what was needed by weary travelers. Despite its terrible quality, there was one thing that remained in tip-top shape--well, two things. Libby and Nova, the main attractions at dingy Motel Five, brought in most of the customers by revealing outfits and charming smiles. So long as Libby and Nova brought in X amount of customers one month, they were granted room and board for the next month. It was simple enough, and provided Libby with a fair amount of spending money. Most of it was spent on food or new bedding, but Libby had been saving up ever since she'd taken the job.

Yes, Libby was saving. She didn't know what for, even. Hell, she fantasized about saving up enough to buy a huge dress and hat, and getting on the nicest steam train out there and heading up to some magical place like... like New York.

But, realistically, she knew that could never happen. With the money she had now, she could barely even afford a train ticket up to Kentucky. Libby cursed under her breath--her brother had made it big in the banking business right off the bat, and Holly had married into wealth. Fucking assholes couldn't even share some of their money with their sister that had to whore around for a living.

Nova was a very motherly person, and with a much better body than Libby's; it was curvy and thick, and her hair was a light blond. Her corset was tight, emphasizing her sleek bosom. Libby envied it, much like she envied her family's fiscal and romantic success. Libby was a woman full of jealousy and sin, and, hopefully later tonight, some stranger's genitalia.

She'd been falling short that month.

Inside the motel rang the sound of thick boots stomping in. The owner of those boots marched straight up to the owner of the establishment. In a loud voice, a young man demanded to see the least expensive girl that evening. The owner consented, and a few minutes later, that same young man barged into Libby's room.

Though he was handsome, he was clearly drunk. His curly brown hair was askew and sticking out at all angles, his movements were unsteady, and his breath smelled of alcohol.

A drunk customer was better than no customer.

Great. A drunk. Libby swallowed what little pride she had and eyed him up and down. He was handsome, indeed--he looked much better than the trash that normally rolled into the motel.

Libby crossed the room to him, which wasn't that long of a journey. Her room was small and cramped, with barely enough room for a bed and a dresser. "I'm all yours," was all she said, slowly moving her hands up and down his sides.

"Very well, thank you!" he exclaimed. Snatching her hand, he led her over to the bed. He did not say anything as they shared each other. The two of them just carried on without saying a word to each other.

The young man seemed to have sobered up a bit. He laid staring at the ceiling, before reaching over and pulling out a piece of chewing tobacco from his trouser's pockets which had been thrown down on the floor.

As he chewed, he stared intently at Libby.

"You know, there's talk of war." He chomped loudly, with the juice from the tobacco flying everywhere.

Libby wiped a drop of juice off of her cheek, staring up at the ceiling. Her chest was heaving, she was so out of breath. This guy... this guy was wild. Good God almighty.

"Really, now?" she asked, shifting to look over at him. He had such an intense stare. It kind of turned her on. "What's everyone fighting about now?"

"The South wants to split away from North. On account of slavery, and all the new states that are entering the Union that are free..." Maxwell Silva chomped on his tobacco loudly and thoughtfully.

"It's always on account of slavery. I don't really care if there's slavery or not, seeing how I don't own a plantation. But it's not worth it if everyone is just going to keep arguing about it. More trouble than it's worth, I say."

Libby mulled it over. "Slavery, eh?" She figured it was better for her not to say anything but the bare minimum, and definitely not provide any opinions for him to shoot down. It wasn't like she was an educated male that could provide any valid points-of-view on matters, especially those as serious as a potential slavery-based war.

"It's always slavery." Max shook his head, and scratched his scalp. He groaned a bit after he spat out of his tobacco onto the dirty floor. "Christ, I could go for a smoke right now. But anyway, what I'm worried about is having to fight in the damned thing. I would not to waste my limited time existing to fight for some older men whom I will never meet."

But if you fight against slavery, then you get to free loads of men and women of all ages! "You probably won't have to. There are plenty of men out there willing to fight."

"No, anyone with a brain knows that fighting in war leads to know good for 'ya. Only the foolish think that war is going to be nothing but glory and a Sunday picnic for them." Max disagreed with her heartily.

Libby sighed. "I apologize. I don't know much about politics or war or anything like that." Oh, how she hated feeling that way. Admitting that she was wrong was something that Libby hated to do. But, she was a woman. An uneducated woman, living in the south. In these conditions, even if she was right, she was wrong.

As she lay there in bed next to a total stranger, she realized how much she longed for a different life--one where she could actually take pride in herself and her actions.

Alas, that life seemed impossible to reach.

"That's a shame. You work at a hotel. I'd imagine you would be hearing news all the time. You don't happen to have a pipe, do you? I have some tobacco." Max said rather bluntly.

"Whenever the men start talking about all of that, I'm told to leave the room or to run an errand for them. You're the first customer to talk to me about any of that. Directly. Or, talk to me in a civil manner at all, for that matter." If a man here talks to me, it's dirty talk or giving me orders like I'm one of those niggers out on some plantation. Libby got out of the bed, and went over to her dresser, pulling out the second drawer. Anything a customer left in the room became hers, and all of it went into the second drawer. She rummaged around a bit and pulled out a pipe, handing it over to Max.

"Whenever someone leaves anything in my room, I keep it," she explained to him. "You can take it if you want, I have no use for it."

"Oh, well thanks! You're mighty nice." Max complimented her politely. With swift and skillful movements, he filled the pipe with tobacco and lit it. Sighing, he puffed out a large smoke cloud.

Libby sat on the bed next to him, still completely naked. "Thank you, kind sir. You're mighty nice yourself." He was, at least compared to her other customers. Most customers would either leave or fall asleep post-coital.

"...Um, when do I have to leave by?" Max asked her.

"Noon, unless you want to stay for another night. Every night is one dollar with me, one-twenty-five with Nova, and eighty cents without company."

The war had really started, eh?

Men were hauling ass to join the war effort on both sides of the union. Business was slow as men enrolled in the army by the dozen, and whatever men she ran into on the job were always blabbering about the war. It was inspirational, almost--but, as a woman, all Libby could do to help the war effort was become a nurse, and that was a pansy-ass, depressing job if there ever were any.

But then, Libby hatched a plan. A plan that might just be crazy enough to work.

One quiet night, Libby reached into a dresser drawer and pulled out a dull pair of scissors. Hastily, she cut off her long locks of hair and morphed it into a pixie-cut of sorts. It was kind of awkward-looking, but, as Libby looked in the mirror, it certainly made her look a lot more ambiguously gendered.

With that, she threw on a raggedy, baggy shirt and old pair of trousers that were tucked away out of sight, and stood back to look at herself. She was damn lucky her figure wasn't very feminine in the first place--her hips weren't very curvy and her chest was relatively flat. Hopefully no one will notice.

Libby cleared her throat nervously as she started packing up her things. Once everything was in a suitcase, and she had a small pouch of money in hand, she left the motel in search of greener pastures.

my hero