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Spider-Man and the Prostitute	By : marvelmaster616 Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Spiderman Views: 30313 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man and I do not make any money off this. Marvel and Disney own X-men. Please don't sue.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Spider-Man and the Prostitute

Chapter 2: The Proposition

Mary Jane’s Apartment
Peter Parker’s head was spinning, but it wasn’t because of Hobgoblin’s knockout gas anymore. Having been Spider-Man for a number of years now, he expected his responsibilities to lead to unexpected places and unusual people. However, he never thought he’d end up in a place like this – the apartment of Mary Jane Watson.
After she told him who and what she was, Peter chose not to wait for his head to stop spinning. Since his spider-sense wasn’t going off, he figured he wasn’t in any significant danger. So he decided to see where this situation would lead him. It wasn’t every day he woke up in some stranger’s apartment – let alone one belonging to a beautiful woman. In addition, his choices were still very limited.
The police and news activity outside hadn’t abated. It was in his best interest to hide out here until the heat died down. With that in mind, he allowed himself to trust this woman as much as he could trust anyone who knew his secret identity. Given how that had burned him in the past, he remained hesitant. However, he quickly found himself intrigued by Mary Jane, who was all too eager to tell him about her illicit occupation.
“So you went from a smoking hot party girl in high school to a smoking hot – well, you know,” said Peter, trying to be polite with his words.
“You don’t have to mince words, Peter. I am what I am. Prostitute, whore, hooker, escort – call it whatever you want,” said Mary Jane as she walked around her kitchen. “It still works the same. Men give me money and I give them sex.”
“Well I didn’t want to be rude about it,” he said in a humored tone.
“Be as rude as you want to be,” she said with a smile. “After saving my life, you’ve earned that right.”
“I appreciate that, but still – I’d rather not make this more awkward than it already is.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I think we’re way past that point.”
Peter laughed and so did Mary Jane. This situation was still sinking in, but they were both processing it as best they could.
In an effort to ease the tension, Mary Jane offered to make him some coffee. He accepted, needing something to settle his nerves anyways. While she brewed a pot for them to share, he got up from the couch to stretch his legs. He still felt sore from the battle against Hobgoblin, but it was nothing he couldn’t heal from. Being in the presence of a beautiful woman certainly helped, but he tried not to get too distracted – although with that dress Mary Jane was wearing, this proved difficult.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. My transition from popular party girl to prostitute wasn’t as jarring as you think,” said Mary Jane as she handed him his cup of coffee.
“I’m doing my best not to overthink,” said Peter as he took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I’m sure there were unavoidable circumstances. You don’t have to describe them if you want.”
“That’s just it though. There are parts of that wrong idea that are somewhat valid.”
“Okay. Now I’m confused.”
“Well if I want you to trust me, I figure I should be open and honest. That means describing some of those unavoidable circumstances you mentioned,” said Mary Jane, now gazing distantly at her cup of coffee.
“You still don’t have to if it’s too hard.”
“You’re sweet, Peter. But it’s not that they’re hard. They’re just…disconcerting. I don’t know how typical my story is. Then again, I don’t know how much experience you have with prostitutes.”
“I know a certain cat burglar who likes to dress like one. Does that count?” joked Peter.
“I doubt it. So I guess my story will have to speak for itself.”
Mary Jane let out brief sigh as she prepared to tell her story. She took a quick sip of her coffee and sat down at a stool near her kitchen counter. Peter sensed it had been a while since she talked about this with anyone. He didn’t get the sense it was traumatic. This might be another one of those stories where irresponsibility trumped tragedy – a story he knew all too well.
“You see, everyone likes to think they understand crime and criminals,” Mary Jane began. “It’s easy to assume a woman only becomes a prostitute because she was abused or had no choice. While this does happen, it’s a very small part of a much bigger picture.”
“I take it that means you’re in another part of that picture.”
“You could say that. You could say a lot of other things about me, but there is a context – one I’ve never been good at confronting.”
Her voice became more serious. Peter didn’t want to make too many assumptions about this woman, especially now that she knew his identity. However, his feelings about her remained mixed.
Peter had already concluded that Mary Jane Watson was no Gwen Stacy or Betty Brant. She already told him that they had gone to the same high school. She also told him that she had been one of the popular girls who had every possible advantage as a teenager. She was beautiful, charismatic, and adventurous. She was a girl so out of his league that he didn’t dare give her a second look, which was probably why he didn’t remember her.
But sure enough, he and Mary Jane had crossed paths at one point in their lives. She showed him a copy of their high school yearbook to confirm it. Now here they were – all these years later, their lives having taken very different paths.
“Make no mistake,” Mary Jane continued, “no woman sets out to become a prostitute any more than a man sets out to flip burgers for a living. However, I did put myself in situations that made that path more likely.”
“Sometimes those situations find you,” noted Peter, speaking from his own experiences.
“Well this wasn’t one of those times,” she said definitively. “When you start filling out bras at 14 and start buying thongs at 15, you tend to get more choices than the average teenage girl. And the thing is I really wanted those choices. I wanted them because the ones I had for most of my life really sucked.”
“How so?”
Mary Jane took another sip of her coffee and then shook her head in bemusement.
“It was because of my parents – especially my father. I know that sounds like the most tired excuse ever, but it’s true…to a very certain degree,” she said.
“So the first assumption I’m making in my head is probably wrong?”
“Probably,” she said. “My parents’ marriage had never been stable. Even I don’t know the full story behind it. I just remember a lot of arguing, a lot of yelling, and a lot of drinking.”
“How bad was it?” asked Peter anxiously.
“Not as bad as it could’ve been, but still pretty bad. Most of it stemmed from my dad being a real asshole. He wasn’t the kind of asshole that would beat, rape, or molest me. He was more of a make-everyone-around-him-as-miserable-as-him asshole.”
“Ah. Those are a special breed,” said Peter.
“That they are,” said Mary Jane. “He made going home after school the worst part of my day. It didn’t matter if I lived with him, my mother, or a relative. He’d find a way to make my life miserable. I knew before I ever put on my first set of stilettoes that I wanted a life separate from him – separate from my family’s never-ending crap. I didn’t jump into prostitution immediately, but I did a damn good job of setting myself up.”
She painted a pretty bleak picture – one Peter couldn’t necessarily relate to. Even though his parents died when he was very young, he had always been surrounded by a loving family. His Aunt May and Uncle Ben created the best life they could for him. He couldn’t imagine how much harder his life would’ve been without them. Even with her beauty and charisma, Mary Jane’s life was full of obstacles.
“At first, I separated myself from that life by getting involved with many others,” Mary Jane went on. “When you don’t want to go home in the afternoon, you have a hell of an incentive to be social. And I got pretty good at it. I made a lot of friends. I connected with a lot of people. So long as they weren’t my father, I embraced them.”
“So you were popular even before you looked great in a thong,” made Peter.
“More or less,” she said with a shrug, “but when thongs and push-up bras entered the picture, it really changed the situation – for better and for worse.”
Mary Jane diverted her gaze again. She blushed slightly and chuckled to herself. This surprised Peter somewhat, but it also further heightened his intrigue.
“It probably won’t surprise you in the slightest, but I found out early on that I’m a pretty sexual person by nature,” she said.
“I had my suspicions,” said Peter with a touch of humor.
“And they’re probably less crude than the actual truth,” said Mary Jane. “I started masturbating when I was 10. Then, when I was 11, my Aunt Anna caught me and gave me a long, detailed talk about sex.”
“That must have been…awkward.”
“Not really,” she said with a shrug. “I actually found it fascinating. I’ve never been uncomfortable with my body or bodies in general. Maybe that’s a byproduct of hanging out with a lot of spitting, swearing boys. But as soon as I found out that boys wanted to hook up, I didn’t avoid it.”
“Not sure I want to fill in the blanks there,” said Peter.
“Then I’ll fill them out for you. At 14, I was making out with boys in closets. At 15, I was giving those same boys blowjobs. At 16, I was having regular – penis-in-vagina sex. And on my 17^th birthday, I celebrated by taking it up the ass the first time.”
Peter almost dropped his cup of coffee. If he had been drinking it, he probably would’ve spit it out. Mary Jane talked about her sexual experience so casually, as though it were no big deal. Maybe that was just a byproduct of him having such terrible luck with women, but he still found it pretty jarring.
He needed a moment to digest these details and to stop himself from looking too foolish. He must not have done a very good job because Mary Jane laughed at his reaction.
“So yeah – I was a major slut before I became a successful whore,” she said, still as casual as ever.
“I uh – I’ll take your word for it,” said Peter with an awkward grin.
“If it makes you feel better, I tried to be a responsible slut,” said Mary Jane. “I didn’t just fuck every guy I met. And whenever I did fuck someone, I had a strict condom policy. If a guy ever got too pushy about it, he can expect to never see me naked again.”
“That’s…pretty responsible. I can’t imagine too many men would risk that.”
“Most didn’t. And I didn’t want them to anyways. I enjoyed being open and intimate with others. It gave me way more than I was getting at home – that and the orgasms were a nice bonus.”
“I’m sure they were.”
“And I’m not afraid to say that I enjoyed all the sex I had. I don’t regret seizing the opportunities that having a hot body gave me either.”
“Since it’s not the 1950s, I don’t see why you should,” said Peter.
“But I did end up having some regrets – regrets that ended up side-tracking my life. I wish I could blame my father for it. I wish I could blame the men I slept with. But what ended up happening was my fault and mine alone.”
Her voice became distant again. As she recalled those regrets, she finished her cup of coffee and set it aside. She then walked out from behind her kitchen counter and made her way back to the living room where they had been sitting earlier. Peter decided to follow her, not even finishing the rest of his coffee.
At first, he gave her some space. This was something she couldn’t be so casual about. She freely admitted to enjoying sex, but that alone didn’t bring her to this point. Mary Jane Watson didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who approached things that recklessly. She had her share of issues, but the issues by themselves didn’t bother her as much as the choices she made because of them. Peter wanted to say he could relate, but he doubted their situations were similar.
“I’m guessing you didn’t realize this until much later,” said Peter as he leaned on a nearby chair.
“Are you guessing? Or are you speaking from experience?” asked Mary Jane as she sat down on the couch where he had been laying earlier.
“I imagine my experiences are way different than yours – even if we both ended up wearing skin-tight outfits,” he quipped.
“You’re probably right,” she said with a light chuckle. “My experiences and my regrets tend to get obscure after high school. Most girls that age make these big, ambitious plans about the future. For me, my only plan was to get the hell away from my father. The problem is the only way I could do that was to rely on others to keep me out of that world. That meant moving in with boyfriends, sleeping on couches, and finding every possible excuse not to go home. I became a nomad of sorts – moving around constantly, hoping my problems wouldn’t find me.”
“You’d still be the sexiest nomad in history.”
“You wouldn’t be the first one to make that observation either,” said Mary Jane. “While it’s not hard convincing someone to let a pretty girl sleep over, it does tend to get…complicated.”
“Why would anyone want to complicate that?” said Peter.
“To be fair, I’m mostly responsible for that. Every time I found someone willing to take me in, I made my intentions clear. I didn’t want to get too emotionally attached. It’s all well and good at first, but I always kept others at arm’s length and I never let myself get too comfortable. I couldn’t dare let my guard down.”
“So you’ll let others into your panties, but not much else?”
Peter almost immediately regretted making such a crude assessment, but it didn’t offend Mary Jane in the slightest. She just laughed it off and shook her head as she recalled this difficult part of her life.
“Yeah, I’d say that’s accurate,” she admitted.
“I probably still should’ve used better words,” said Peter.
“It’s okay. It nicely sums up my approach to life after high school. It might have gotten me laid a lot, but the men didn’t always appreciate it – me basically using them as an escape. Sex can only mask the issue for so long and I had a knack for ditching them as soon as I felt too vulnerable.”
“Sounds like a hard way to live, even for a hot girl,” said Peter.
“It was,” she conceded. “It effectively derailed my career plans. Dedicating most of your time to escaping your problems tends to mess with your priorities. There were times when I entertained dreams about my future. For a while, I even thought about being an actress or dancer.”
“What stopped you?”
“A few big things – a lot of little things – too many for me to list,” said Mary Jane as she sank somewhat in her seat. “I just got too comfortable, relying on the men I hooked up with to keep me from my problems – avoiding any entanglements that might make that harder. It kind of numbed me from feeling dissatisfied with my situation. It sure didn’t help that I had no stabilizing force in my life – nobody to keep my feet on the ground.”
“I know the value of those kinds of people. Believe me, they make a difference,” said Peter. “Kind of makes me wish we knew each other more back in high school. We might have been able to help one another.”
“Maybe in another life,” she said distantly, “but that’s not the life I have now.”
Mary Jane fell silent for a moment. Peter didn’t say anything either. It seemed both their lives had been affected by the presence or absence of a stabilizing force. He found himself thinking back to Gwen Stacy before she died. She didn’t just love him. She helped him keep everything in perspective, both as Spider-Man and as Peter Parker. He couldn’t imagine how messed up he would be if he didn’t have that perspective. Mary Jane Watson, however, didn’t have to imagine. She had lived it.
As she gathered her thoughts, Peter walked over to the couch and sat next to her. It was too late for him to be the person she needed in her life when it everything was so unstable. The least he could do was show her some understanding. His presence helped, but Mary Jane remained distant.
“Whatever life you have now – it’s still yours. That much you can say,” he told her, finally breaking the silence.
“Seeing as how you saved that life earlier, I can appreciate that more,” said Mary Jane, smiling again slightly. “I wish I had appreciated it years ago. Without any serious goals, I basically took whatever work I could get. One of those jobs involved being a model.”
“Well you have the body for it. I’m sure it pays more than being a photographer,” said Peter.
“It paid alright,” she said with a shrug. “I wasn’t bad at it either. A couple of the people I worked with said if I really dedicated myself, I could be supermodel cover girl. The sad thing is…I believed them. I just didn’t dedicate myself as much as I should’ve.”
“So why didn’t you? What got in the way?”
Mary Jane paused for a brief moment and shook her head in dismay. It had all the signs of a missed opportunity – signs Peter knew all too well.
“There’s not much to it. I just made too many wrong choices for too many wrong reasons,” she replied. “While I was working modeling gigs, my father kept tracking me down and hitting me up for money. He never said what it was for. I later found out he had a gambling problem on top of his drinking problem – not a good combination.”
“It never is,” said Peter. “I take it that means you had to keep avoiding him.”
“Pretty much,” she sighed. “On top of that, the men I shacked up with didn’t really appreciate it. One of them even got his tires slashed by my dad – twice.”
“Ouch.”
“Add that to my whole arms-length approach to relationships and even my looks can only take me so far,” she explained. “At the same time, I really didn’t like relying on others to fight my battles for me. It’s one thing to do it while you’re an arrogant teenager. It’s quite another when you’re a competent adult. After one particularly nasty fight with a boyfriend that landed me in a motel for three days, I made a promise to myself – one I didn’t really think through.
“Never a good sign,” Peter commented.
“I said I would never rely on someone else again to protect my life. It sounded so good on paper. When I tried to put it into practice, however – well, it creates as many problems as it solves.”
At this point, Peter could connect the dots. He began to see how a woman like Mary Jane ended up in this life. She had so many things going for her, but so many forces working against her. With nobody else there to guide or support her, she ended up making bad decisions that put her in bad circumstances.
As she reflected on those circumstances, she rested her head on the back of the couch. Her gaze then drifted towards the windows, where the flashing lights of police cruises was still visible. Peter knew how being a target of the police could make life harder. Mary Jane might have known that even better.
“As well as being a model pays, it still wasn’t enough for me to live completely independently,” Mary Jane continued. “With no college fund, no family support, and no real job skills – I guess it was only a matter of time before prostitution entered the picture.”
“It must have been hard,” said Peter.
“Actually, it was incredibly easy – which is a major part of the problem,” she said in bemusement. “One of my modeling friends worked part-time as a stripper at this place called the Hellfire Club. She offered to take me there one night. And being the irresponsible party girl I was, I went. When I saw how much money she was making, I was sold.”
“So it all came down to money?”
“It’s shallow, I know. But yeah – it’s as simple as that. With help from my friend – and after giving a few blowjobs to the guy running the joint – I got a regular gig there. For a while, I was one of their most popular girls at the club. I made more in one night stripping than I did doing three weeks of modeling gigs.”
“The way you fill out that dress, I don’t doubt that,” said Peter, once again noticing her figure despite his efforts to avoid it.
“I like to think I earned it. I know how to dance. I know how to be sexy. And I know how to seduce men,” said Mary Jane, once again showing little regret for using her sexuality. “It helped that this was one of those clubs that offered certain extras for those willing to pay.”
“So that’s how you fell into it.”
“Oh I didn’t fall into it. I dove in head-first. I was all too willing to provide those extras – not just because I’m a naturally sexual woman, but because that money was even easier. It’s way more lucrative to give a guy a quick fuck in a VIP room than it is to spend the night giving lap dances. It was so lucrative that it finally gave me the money I needed to get my own apartment, my own stuff, and my own life.”
“So in the end, you got what you wanted.”
“You’re right. I did – and then some,” she said, her tone shifting again.
It should’ve been a triumphant moment for her. After hearing about how hard she struggled to escape her chaotic home life, Peter thought she would be ecstatic. But nothing could ever be that simple – not for Spider-Man and not for Mary Jane Watson.
“It would’ve been so much easier to keep working at the Hellfire Club,” Mary Jane continued. “It was a secure, organized place. The police never bothered us – probably because the managers paid them off. It also had these big, strong bouncers to kick out the creeps and the cheapskates. But shortly after I started working there, I got a sense that there was something…off about this place.”
“A strip club offering extras on the side – yeah, I’d say that might raise a few red flags,” said Peter.
“None like these,” she said, shuddering somewhat at the memories. “I don’t want to get into specifics, but there were always rumors about the Hellfire Club – disturbing rumors about activities that went beyond strip clubs and prostitution. Sometimes I’d see girls and bouncers disappear and never come back. I tried not to think too much of it. But then there was this guy – Shanobi something – who started taking an unhealthy interest in me.”
“How unhealthy?” he wondered.
“Let me put it to you like this – he paid a professional artist to make a painting of me tied up, naked, and bent over a fancy bed. He then sent it to me with a big bow like a Christmas present and asked how much I appreciate his tastes in art.”
Peter blinked a few times and looked at her in disbelief, but Mary Jane remained dead serious. She even shuddered at the memory, hugging her shoulders muttering something about this man under her breath. Having encountered more than his share of deranged individuals as Spider-Man, he could appreciate how disturbing certain people could be. But he had the benefit of superpowers. Mary Jane didn’t. In some respects, that made her even stronger than him.
“After that awkward conversation, I decided to cut my losses and get the hell out of there.”
“If you had a spider-sense like me, it probably would’ve gone berserker,” said Peter, “so it was probably for the best.”
“Oh I didn’t need any superpowers to figure that out – although something like that would’ve come in handy. By leaving the Hellfire Club, I also left all the benefits and safeguards behind. If I wanted to keep enjoying the fruits of prostitution, I would have to put myself out there in this dangerous, illegal world. Nobody was going to fight for me anymore. I’d have to survive on my own.”
“And you had to do all this without superpowers,” said Peter, finding this every bit as daunting as a Hobgoblin fight. “Did you ever consider leaving?”
“For like five minutes,” scoffed Mary Jane, rolling her eyes. “Like I said earlier, I never really pursued my other dreams. I never got passionate about modeling. I never refined my acting skills. I left the Hellfire Club being really good at one thing – sex. And since no other job would offer me a six-figure salary for working part-time, I just stuck to what I was good at.”
It made sense in a twisted yet logical sort of way. It reminded Peter somewhat of how he tried his hand at show business shortly after he got his powers. He could climb walls and web-sling. Mary Jane could have sex. He couldn’t help but chuckle somewhat at the parallels.
Mary Jane’s demeanor then shifted again. She got up from the couch and walked over towards her window. The curtains were still drawn, but she could still see the flashing lights from all the police cars lining the streets below. Peter remained on the couch. She needed space right now and he gave it to her, but he remained curious and intrigued by this woman’s story.
“I guess that’s when it really sank in. I was going to be a prostitute. I was going to be a criminal in the eyes of the law,” said Mary Jane.
“I deal with criminals all the time, Mary Jane. Trust me. You don’t fit that description,” said Peter.
“Tell that to the NYPD’s vice squad,” she said. “Talk to anyone else in my line of work. They’ll tell you being a criminal is a lot harder than the actual work itself. If you’re not careful, you will get caught. You’ll get thrown in jail, you’ll get a record, and then the world will know you were both a criminal and a prostitute. Whatever life you did build is essentially ruined.”
“But you didn’t let that happen, did you?”
Mary Jane’s demeanor shifted again. She turned away from the window and smiled back at Peter, showing a unique bit of pride. Whatever label the police might have given her didn’t dent her spirit.
“No. I didn’t,” she said confidently. “I had a lot more going for me than most people in this line of work. For one, I already had contacts. Between the Hellfire Club and my friends at the modeling agency, I could set up shop discretely and carefully. I created a website, I got a private phone line, and I found out how to screen clients. It helped me skip the part where I wander the streets and hang out in dive bars, hoping that the creepy guy eying me isn’t a cop or a rapist.”
“That’s both careful and smart,” said Peter.
“And it worked. Before long, I had a steady list of loyal customers. Bankers, lawyers, doctors, athletes, politicians, judges – my fan base was pretty diverse. I soon got it down to a system. They call me, we set up an appointment, we meet at a hotel, and we do business. It really is that easy.”
“It almost sounds too easy,” commented Peter.
“It can be for some women – and even a few men. But that’s another thing that really set me apart. In addition to being really good at sex, I actually really like it.”
She actually sounded seductive when she said that. It was another source of pride for her, being both good at sex and enjoying it. Even Black Cat – who loved flaunting her sexuality – wasn’t this overt. Peter couldn’t help but find that a little arousing.
“Well that’s a nice bonus,” he said in a humored tone.
“It’s not a bonus. It’s a requirement if you’re going to be successful at this job,” said Mary Jane. “Anyone can just suck a dick and get a guy off. Anyone can just lie on their back, spread their legs, and let someone with a boner go at it. Like any other job, you have to put some real effort into it. Unlike other jobs though, that effort leads to more than just good money. It is possible to have sex with strangers for money and get real pleasure out of it – including real, un-faked orgasms.”
“Well I wasn’t going to make accusations otherwise,” said Peter with an awkward grin.
“I believe you. I just feel like that’s something I need to say outright because a lot of people – including my own clients – get the impression that everything is faked – that a woman can’t actually enjoy random, illicit sex. It’s not as hard as some people make it out to be either. I know how to make myself cum. I know how to find out what gets my partners off. It’s sex – not rocket science.”
“I can think of a few actual rocket scientists who would argue that.”
“And I’d still win that argument,” she said confidently. “My best proof is my own success. By enjoying my work and actually making an effort, I set myself apart from the competition.”
“That and looking good in a dress helps,” Peter reminded her.
“That too, but believe me. I’m not the most beautiful prostitute in New York.”
“If I didn’t chase beautiful cat burglars in skin-tight outfits, I’d have a hard time believing that,” he said to her.
“You’re sweet, Peter. But it’s true. There’s competition in prostitution like any other business. My skills and my love of sex helped establish me in all the right ways. In an illicit business like this, word-of-mouth is your best tool. After securing a few clients, I developed a pretty strong brand, so to speak. When a man pays for a night with Mary Jane Watson, I make damn sure they remember it.”
Her determination surprised Peter. She sounded less like a prostitute and more like an actual businesswoman. Maybe that was the point. She treated it in a way similar to the way he treated being Spider-Man. She had a special set of talents and she used them – the main difference being that she was smart enough to make money off her talents.
Sensing she was getting somewhat defensive, Mary Jane paused for a moment. She then casually walked away from the window and began pacing in her living room. The details of her chosen profession clearly didn’t bother her. However, something about this life she had built still left her conflicted.
“If I’m starting to sound hostile, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Hey, I just fought Hobgoblin. This is my kind of hostility,” joked Peter.
“Thanks for understanding. I just…don’t get to have conversation very often. It’s the one part of my job that I have problems with. It tends to…disconnect me from the world. Sure, I get money, independence, and pleasure. But still – it’s like I have to defend myself at every turn. I always have to look over my shoulders, worried that a client will turn on me or a cop will arrest me.”
“It’s a hard way to live – feeling like you could get attacked at any moment.”
“I also have a hard time sharing my life with others,” Mary Jane continued, “and it’s not just because part of that life is illegal. People see a prostitute and they can’t seem to figure out how they feel about them. Some might feel sympathy. Some might feel scorn. Some might be totally okay with it. But it’s hard to even find out because I can’t always be honest with others…or even myself at times. It’s almost like I have to…”
Her words trailed off as Mary Jane paced more restlessly. She hugged her shoulders again, getting more distressed as she tried to articulate something she hadn’t put into words before. Peter ended up getting up from the couch and stopping her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“It’s like you have to wear a mask,” he told her.
“That…is actually kind of fitting,” said Mary Jane with a half-grin.
“I can’t relate much to a beautiful woman who works as a high-end prostitute,” said Peter, “but I can relate to having a job that makes you a target – one that cuts you off from part of the world. Sure, I keep my clothes on. But I’d gladly do my job naked if it meant never having to deal with J. Jonah Jameson again.”
She actually laughed at his joke this time. Peter couldn’t remember the last time a beautiful woman laughed at his jokes instead of calling him immature. He felt Mary Jane’s distress fade almost instantly. She smiled again. She even offered a kind gesture in return, lightly touching his chest.
“Well you’ve got the body for it so don’t rule that out,” she said with a somewhat sensual teased.
“Um…thanks,” said Peter, blushing slightly. “I guess whether you’re a prostitute or a vigilante, you need to hold onto as many options as possible. It’s the only way you can make it work.”
“Except what you do is more noble,” she told him. “You fight criminals. You save lives. You protect people – even when not everyone appreciates it.”
“I don’t know. I think the horny men of this city would disagree.”
“But we know who saved whose life earlier this evening. We know which one of us can say they’re doing the right thing for the right reasons. I don’t regret my job or the life I have, but I do regret the decisions that led to it. Every time I had a chance to make the responsible decision, I didn’t.”
“You’ll get more chances. You just have to be ready for them,” said Peter, once again speaking from experience.
Mary Jane’s smile widened. This time, it wasn’t seductive or sensual. It was a true, genuine reaction from a true, genuine connection. Peter felt it in her presence. He almost forgot that they were standing just inches away from each other in the center of her living room. It was impossible to forget whenever he was this close to a beautiful woman. Yet somehow, this beautiful woman set herself apart.
Another silence fell over them. This time, it wasn’t awkward, but Peter did get the sense there was tension. However, it was tension of a very sensual kind. Mary Jane’s hand remained on his chest. Her touch sent some clear signals. These signals were strong enough to get Peter’s blood flowing in a very particular way. It added to the tension, which made him somewhat nervous. His history with beautiful women and tension was not necessarily a good one.
Mary Jane eventually sensed it and removed her hand. Peter removed his hands from her shoulders as well. He still felt somewhat awkward, but Mary Jane kept smiling. They had now entered uncharted and unexpected territory. He wanted to know he could trust this woman with his identity. He ended up getting much more than that.
“I hope I get those chances soon,” said Mary Jane, “because as of now, I’ve told you pretty much everything I can tell you about my illicit life. You know who I am, what I do, and where I live. If you wanted, you could find the nearest cop and turn me in.”
“I’m not going to do that, Mary Jane,” said Peter definitively.
“I know you’re not, Peter. And I’m not going to tell anyone about your identity either,” she replied. “Who would listen to a prostitute anyways?”
“You’d be surprised what kind of sources the Bugle cites.”
“Beyond that, you still saved my life. You fought Hobgoblin. You’re going to do the right thing because you’re Spider-Man. Not everybody is going to appreciate it and it’s definitely going to make your life harder. But you do it anyways.”
“Well…yeah,” said Peter, grinning awkwardly again. “I’m a hero.”
“That you are. You’re a hero – a wonderful, responsible, handsome hero.”
She made it a point to emphasize that last part. Now Peter was really feeling the tension. He had forgotten that he was shirtless in addition to losing his mask, but Mary Jane sure didn’t forget. He could feel her admiring gaze – something he hadn’t felt since his last encounter with Black Cat. However, her gaze never felt this sincere – or arousing, for that matter.
Mary Jane reached out to touch his chest again. This time, she was bolder – inching closer and letting the heat from her body mix with his. Before long, their lips were tantalizingly close. Her beautiful face dominated his entire field of vision. His arms – operating on their own, it seemed – snaked around her waist. This woman captivated him almost as much as she aroused him.
Peter felt his heart jump as even more of his blood-flow shifted. He wanted to badly to just kiss her – to taste the lips of this beautiful woman who he had just saved. However, he remained conflicted – not certain of where this was going or what this woman had in mind. If the look in her eyes was any indication, she was definitely contemplating something – something that involved him.
“Guess you were right, Peter – way sooner than you’d thought you’d be,” said Mary Jane.
“Um…how so?” said Peter, trying to remain coherent while in the arms of a beautiful woman.
“Another chance did come along – a chance to do something right for once. And this time, I’m ready for it!”
Before Peter could get ready himself, Mary Jane Watson crashed her lips against his and pulled him into a powerful kiss. His eyes widened at first, paralyzed by the flood of tastes and sensations that followed. It was quite possibly the deepest, hardest, most intoxicating kiss he had experienced since Gwen Stacy died. It quickly sent him into a daze. Before he could fully process what was happening, he closed his eyes and started kissing back.
However, the kiss didn’t last for very long. Just as Peter was developing a taste for her lips, she pulled away from him. Then, with strength that would’ve made Rhino jealous, she pushed him back onto the couch. He stumbled clumsily, which was actually quite a feat for someone with spider-powers. Before he could even regain his composure, Mary Jane sensually slipped onto his lap – holding onto his shoulders and straddling his pelvis in a way that made his pants feel a lot tighter.
“Did you enjoy that, Peter?” she asked him, her every word dripping with seduction.
“I um uh…” stammered Peter, unable to get any coherent words out.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll also take that as confirmation. The way I see it, I’m in a unique position – one I don’t think I should squander.”
“Unique – right,” said Peter, still stammering with his words.
“You’re a hero – one who wears a mask to protect your life and those around you. It’s helps you do the right thing, but it makes your life a lot harder – too hard for someone trying to do the right thing.”
“Harder – that’s one way of putting it.”
“I can already feel that,” she said with a coy grin, indicating she felt the growing tightness in his pants as well. “Whatever you want to call it, I don’t think it’s fair – a man like you who does the right thing, but gets no appreciation for it. You save lives like mine, but the cops still hate you and people still call you a menace. That’s just wrong. Men like you who do the right thing – they should be rewarded. They should get something for being responsible. And I’m in a position to do just that.”
Peter could already see where she was going with this. Even in his stammering daze, his brain could connect the dots and other parts of his body responded accordingly. Mary Jane went onto make her intentions even clearer, leaning in and kissing down his neck while sensually pawing his upper body. Peter let out a light moan of contentment. Her touch and her lips were so intoxicating, conveying just the right amount of energy and intent. She truly was a professional. It made Peter Parker actually feel lucky – something he hadn’t felt in quite some time.
She tempted and tantalized him, showing off more of the skills that made her such a successful prostitute. Then, Mary Jane abruptly pulled away again, leaving him wanting more yet still very much enticed. He watched as she rose up off the couch again and stood in front of him, ensuring he could see her voluptuous body in addition to her seductive gaze. Still wearing the same dress she had on when Hobgoblin attacked her, she even did a few sexy poses to further tempt him.
“Here’s what I propose, Peter Parker – let me spend the rest of the night rewarding you,” said Mary Jane, her tone leaving no room for ambiguity.
“Um…how so?” asked Peter, pretending he didn’t already know.
“By giving you the ultimate VIP treatment – one I usually reserve for my highest-paying clients,” she said. “It’s an all-night, all-inclusive package. First, I’ll give you an exclusive private striptease – complete with a lap dance and no touching restrictions. And once my panties come off, they stay off for the rest of the night. My pussy, my breasts, my ass – they’ll be yours to enjoy in any way you see fit. Hell, I’ll even teach you some new ways to enjoy them!”
Now Peter’s heart was racing as fast as his thoughts. Every kind of lustful desire he could’ve had for this woman ran through his mind. The prospect of having a naked Mary Jane Watson all to himself for the night felt too good to be true. He thought he would wake up at any moment – that this was some perverse dream from someone who hadn’t been intimate with a woman in quite some time. But he wasn’t waking up. This was really happening.
“Then, once you’ve enjoyed your dance – and any extras that come with it – I’ll take you to my shower where I’ll give you a good, thorough cleaning. After your fight with Hobgoblin, I imagine you’re sore and sweaty anyways.”
“Among other things,” said Peter, already fantasizing about the prospect of showing with this woman.
“Then finally – I’m going to take you into my bed and give you the best sex of your life. Whatever it takes, I’m going to make sure you’re the most satisfied man on the face of this planet. We can go at it as long and as hard as we need to. If you just want to cuddle and kiss, I’ll do that. If you need to tie me up with webs and fuck my ass until I pass out, I’ll do that too.”
“I uh…don’t think I’ll need anything that extreme.”
“It doesn’t matter how extreme it is. Tonight, I’m Spider-Man’s personal whore. My primary goal is to pleasure him as he deserves to be pleasured.”
Now, Peter wondered if this was something more than a dream. Now, he wondered if he had actually died in his battle against Hobgoblin and he woke up in Heaven. Mary Jane Watson might very well be an angel – an insanely sexy angel. Regardless of whether or not this was Heaven, he was sure of one thing. He wanted this woman.
“I uh…I don’t know what to say. I usually have a smart quip for every situation. But this – I’ve got nothing,” he said with a goofy grin.
“You could just say yes or no,” said Mary Jane coyly. “This is just what I’m offering. If you want to just crash on my couch tonight and watch movies, I’m okay with that too. But if you want something more…”
Peter didn’t even wait for her to finish. Dream or no dream, he wanted this. On a day like this, he needed it.
“Yes! I mean – yes, I do want more,” he said quickly. “I just – I’m not used to being rewarded like this. Since I became Spider-Man, I haven’t exactly been that lucky.”
“Well it had to change at some point. So it might as well be tonight,” said Mary Jane, now leering over him with her seductive gaze. “You do the right thing. You save innocent lives – and not-so-innocent like mine. Far as I’m concerned, you deserve more than luck.”
“I’m already feeling pretty um…lucky,” said Peter, her breasts hovering right in front of him.
“Well face it, Tiger. You’ve hit the jackpot!”

Up next: The Lap Dance
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Spider-Man and the Prostitute