Prey (2 page)

He held his
hands up in surrender. “OK. OK.” He dropped his arms and walked to
the large, flat-screen television in the corner of the room. One
finger pushed a button on the top of the unit and a low buzz filled
the room, replaced a split second later by muted images, as the set
flashed to life. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Susan prodded
her heels through the thick carpet and threw herself into the deep
cushioning on the armchair nearest the door. Her shoes struggled to
touch the floor and, all of a sudden aware of her lack of stature,
she snaked her hand back to the outside of the pocket containing
the knife. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the live news
and her customer.

“
Would you like a drink? Maybe something to eat?”

She licked at
the dry surface of her lips, opening her mouth to voice the nod of
her head. Her eyes stretched for a second and she turned stiff.
“No. It's OK.” Her fingers edged inside the pocket and stroked the
handle. “So, what's the plan and where's the money?”

The punter
reached inside his back pocket and retrieved a bulging, leather
wallet. The clip popped open with a short flick of his thumb. His
lips moved a little, as if speaking unheard words, as he pulled out
a few notes. He slid the money onto the surface of a small table,
beside the armchair, next to a few remote controls and an open
packet of aniseed sweets.

Susan reached out and, as her hand fell short, she pushed
herself up in the chair, then stretched the few extra inches and
pinched the payment between her thumb and forefinger. She slid the
notes apart and cracked a smile after a quick mental count.
One hundred and twenty.
She straightened her features and relaxed back into the
furniture, waiting for instructions.

Scanning the
younger woman's body with his anticipative eyes, the host rolled
the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. “I have more if
needed.” He paused his gaze over the swell of her breasts and
sighed through his flared nostrils. “I'm Simon, by the way. You
gonna tell me your name?”

“
Susan. Pleased to meet you.” Her eyes rolled to the top of
their sockets, as she folded the money between her fingers and
rolled it into her coat pocket. The other coat pocket.
Just in case.
She returned
her hand to the outline of the knife and stroked it through the
material of her winter wear.

Simon placed
the wallet on the arm of the sofa and lowered himself to sit next
to it. He exhaled long and hard, raising one hand to ruffle the
short hairs atop his head. “Are you gonna sit there on your own all
night?” He tapped the empty cushion next to where he sat. An eager
smile shot across his lips, as the sparkle in his eyes echoed the
gesture.

With a twitch
of a cheek, refraining from forming a full scowl, Susan lifted
herself from the armchair and slid her shoes across the carpet,
before plodding into the opposite end of the sofa. The smell of
expensive aftershave scratched at her nostrils and they scrunched
up in silent protest.

Without a word,
Simon crept along the sofa and paused a few inches from the
prostitute's body.

She glanced out
of the corner of her eye and spotted a growing bulge in his
trousers. Her shoulders sagged into the back of the sofa. She
pulled her legs tight together, the sole of one shoe lifting and
prodding into the top of the other.

The cash-laden
punter reached across and ran one meaty hand over the younger
woman's knee, sneaking it higher at an almost unnoticeable pace.
The liquescent flop of his lips lapping against each other filled
the otherwise silent room. He moved to the inside of her thigh and
paused to squeeze the flesh there.

She retracted
by clenching the muscles of her legs.

Unperturbed,
Simon continued to squeeze the fleshy mass of Susan's inner-thigh,
his touch sliding higher as the volume of his breathing grew with
it. As it reached a rasping crescendo, it cut off in an instant and
turned into a phlegmy cough. A few seconds passed before he spoke.
“Can you take your coat off, please?”

Susan's eyes
jolted wide open and her fingers pressed hard against the bump in
her pocket. Her pupils jittered as her lips hung agape, searching
for the words to utter. “Can I just use the bathroom, first?”, she
stammered.

“
Sure. It's the second room on the left.” Simon withdrew his
hand and sunk back into the couch.

Susan left the living room and faced the stairs, her heart
raising in tempo. She ascended them with hesitation, taking notice
of the mini wall above the top end of the bannister.
Enough for someone to hide behind.
The thought weighed heavy on her limbs and slowed
her advance. Her fingers clutched for the security of the knife.
She gripped it tight and focused on the blind-spot, her eyes
stinging as they begged to blink.

A loud rumble
raped the quiet.

Susan jumped
out of her skin. She pulled the knife from her pocket and stabbed
it out in front of her. The light glinted off the blade in sharp
arcs. Her limbs stuck to the spot. Blood surged through her ears
and she struggled to listen for the origins of the disturbance. Her
breath bottlenecked in her throat as it struggled to feed the
building pressure in her veins.

“
Looks like we were just in time,” Simon's voice boomed from
the room below. “That's going to be a nasty storm.”

With a loud and
racking gulp, Susan fell against the wall, reaching out an arm for
support as her legs turned to jelly. She spat out a lungful of air
and closed her eyes. The blade disappeared back inside its hiding
place, amidst her trembling grasp. She waited where she stood,
hoping her heart wouldn't explode before it had a chance to calm
down. It pounded against her ribs like a pneumatic drill.

Another brattle
of thunder sounded from the outside world.

Still wedged
against the wall, Susan inched toward the landing. She bent her
neck and snaked her gaze around the bannister. A pocket of air
sighed through her teeth as the area on the other side revealed
itself as empty. Using one hand to rub her belly through the heavy
material of her coat, she shook her head and grunted a half-hearted
chuckle. She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind
her.

The room
gleamed white, not a sign of colour to be found. Even the face
cloth in the sink merged with the ivory tone of the porcelain.

She crossed to
the wash-basin and twisted the cold water tap, scooping up handfuls
of the refreshing liquid and splashing it on her face. A relieved
sigh released from her lips and peppered the curtains with specks
of transparency. Both her hands found the sides of the sink and she
rested her svelte weight against it, taking long, deep breaths. Her
heartbeat abated and the pressure in her temples eased a
little.

Long moments
passed, with just the constant hiss of water and its gurgling
retreat down the plug hole, to distract her meditation.

Her eyelids remaining closed, the orbs flicked and jetted
around the sockets, as Susan pulsed her lips in inaudible words.
Smiling at the outcome of her thoughts, she returned her gaze to
the real world, searched the strange room for a towel and, upon
finding it, used it to dab the moisture from her face and hands.
She removed her coat, folding it over one arm. Her hand whipped to
the pocket and clutched the handle.
Perfect.
She released the object,
turned on her heels, and headed back downstairs.

Simon sat on
the edge of the sofa, a large tumbler balancing on the arm, next to
his wallet. The amber liquid inside glowed under the ceiling
lights. He smiled. “Thought you'd got lost. I was about to call a
search and rescue team.” He chuckled and grabbed for the drink as
it threatened to topple from the jiggling of his amusement.

Susan faked a smile and rushed back to the opposite side of
the sofa. She eased her coat down over the arm, careful to place it
with the right pocket up.
Perfect.
The younger woman sank into the plush comfort of
the couch and exhaled through flared nostrils. She watched him out
of the corner of her vision.

The punter
inched closer to his companion and chewed on the inside of his lip.
His eyes jerked uneasy in the sockets. The bulge at the front of
his trousers strained through the material.

The prostitute gazed down at the floor and, upon noticing a
scuff mark on the top of one shoe, she tensed the muscle at one
side of her face. She rubbed the soiled footwear against the
clothing on the back of her other limb. It came back cleaner. Her
features relaxed, apart from the sleekit movement of her eyes, as
they continued to steal a peak at the owner of the house.
Just in case.

The meaty hand
prodded through the air and landed on her thigh again. His fingers
squeezed the soft, pliable flesh through her leggings. He slid
higher and stroked with gentle pressure.

Susan clammed
up. Her knees drew toward each other, as if trying to protect what
lay between them. She lowered her eyelids to half mast and her
teeth found the back of one lip, gnawing at the now sensitive
skin.

He spoke in a
low, guttural tone. “How much would it cost for you to stay the
night?” His probing digits stiffened as if bracing themselves for
the answer.

As the rest of
her body froze solid. She widened her eyes. Long seconds passed
before she released the grip of her bite, and opened her mouth to
talk. She paused. With a glance to the side, she scanned the bump
on the pocket of her coat and turned to face Simon. “Three hundred
more.” Her lids relaxed a little, as she pursed her lips and began
to chew at the inside of her cheek.

He didn't
speak. His hand moved and the tip of one finger teased down to the
back of her thigh. The sloppy, wet sound of his lips and tongue,
caressing each other, filled the room. He leaned across until his
head hung a mere few inches from hers and his breathing intensified
in volume and in frequency. “OK.”

She dug the
back of her head into the cushion behind, as the overbearing aroma
of whisky seeped into her tastebuds. Her lips curled and recoiled
in protest. She managed a simple, “OK.”

He grinned.
“Are you sure you don't want something to eat or drink? Something
to warm you up?”

“
No. I'm fine.” Her words jabbed through her lips and negated
any counter argument.

He made the
final push and brushed the heat of his lips against the younger
woman's cold cheek.

“
No.” She pulled back and fixed his gaze. “No
kissing.”

“
How about if I pay extra?”

She considered
the offer as her eyes drifted and found nothing in particular.

Simon clutched
his wallet and popped it open.

“
Another hundred.” She turned back to face him.

His fingers
searched through the contents of the wallet and picked out more
currency. He held it out in front of him.

Susan plucked the notes from his grip and scanned the corners,
before lifting her jacket and storing the money in the correct
pocket. The beginnings of a smile crossed her lips.
Five hundred and twenty in total.
She twisted back to face the middle-aged man and
relaxed just enough to enjoy the plush comfort where she
sat.

Simon returned
to the job at hand. He groped and caressed the younger woman's
limb. His breathing returned to a rasp and pulsated through his
nostrils as the growth in his groin flexed against the tight
material of his trousers.

A low sigh
penetrated Susan's ears and it took a second before her head cocked
and her eyes stretched, surprised to hear it as her own. Taking a
mind of its own, the prostitute's pubis pushed down into the sofa
and rolled forward, missing the older man's straying digits by the
merest of measurements. Her cheeks reddened.

His breath
catching in his throat and helped each time he swallowed, Simon
leaned his lips forward and kissed at the jawline of his guest.

She didn't
fight it this time. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a long,
exquisite suck of air into her body, pausing for a few seconds as
her chest pushed out, her nipples rubbing at the taut material of
her top. She released the breath and listened as it soaked through
her throat and parted lips. A tingle resonated between her thighs
and twitched as a probing digit brushed against it for a split
second. She chased it with her hips.

He kissed
across the growing warmth of her cheek, his tongue sneaking through
his lips to taste her skin.

Susan sank her
tongue into the back of her mouth and gathered saliva. She rolled
it around her lips with its tip moistening them for what lay
ahead.

His lips
brushed, ever so slow, across hers. The very tip of his tongue
teased the edges and promised, once or twice, to squirm into the
wetness beyond. His breathing reached fever pitch, through his
flaring nostrils. His hand swirled around her thigh and up over her
stomach.

The young woman
groaned into his mouth, urging his hand back between her legs,
without words. She rose her bottom up off the cushion when it
didn't happen, as if chasing the touch. Her lips hung loose and
writhed as she kissed back with featherlight effort.

Moving his hand
across the slim, soft tummy of Susan, Simon slipped the tip of two
fingers down under her sweatshirt, stroking across the hot, bare
flesh beneath. He sucked on her top lip with gentle care, as one of
the exploring appendages found the tight crevice of her belly
button.