The start of a story I am working on

Hey everyone, this is a short story I am working on. Let me know what you think.


The red light gleamed off the wet black concrete as thick, murky steam rose from a nearby manhole. At the five-point intersection, there was a slab of sidewalk decorated in low-cut dresses, revealing skirts, and inches of heels.
“Yo!” A rough, grisly voice boomed. A beat-up red truck halted on the side of the road. Opening the door, the longhaired brunette slipped into the cage. A mix between smoke, beer, and marijuana consumed her as she closed the door and took off her black trench. Her breasts were spilling out of a tight leather dress. She ran her fingers through her shiny, chestnut-brown hair. “Name?” Grunted the beast.
“Brandi,” she said, as the light went green and the car zoomed down the road.
Not a mile or so down there was a shabby old hut waiting – the Wishing Well Motel. The one story, wooden building was chipped in more places than any other motel in Greenwood. The roof was patched, windows cracked – it was hardly a place to be. But then again, she’d seen worse.
The inside of the fourth room didn’t smell any better than the car. More smoke surrounded her and a musty, dead smell attacked her. There must have been a dead possum here not more than a week before.
The nameless man locked the door and turned to his prey. “How much?” Brandi noticed his whiskery, greying mustache as he spoke. He’s half baldhead didn’t hide his age – 54. Bile rose up her throat as the man took off his shirt, a hairy beer-belly hanging carefree from his trousers.