Stay Dead: A Novel (28 page)

“I told you not to go down there alone.”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well it does, do it again, and that’ll be
you down there. You don’t want that do you?”

She shook her head slowly from side to side,
staring into the man’s baby-blue eyes making certain he knew she
didn’t want that to be her down there in the dark.

“Good, then. Listen, I got to run out for a
bit. You just keep an eye on things till I get back and don’t go
down there. Let the piggy play with his pet, okay?”

“Okay, whatever.”

The man left, grabbing a set of keys on his
way out the door. He walked out into the sunshine. It was a
beautiful warm day. The kind of day fit for a trip to the beach,
but the man, Jerry, wasn’t dressed for the beach, nor did he aim to
go there. Jerry was on his way to Club 18, the local gentleman’s
club, which was full of anything but gentlemen. It was barely four
in the afternoon, and Club 18 would be nice and empty for a
bit.

Jerry reached into his glove box and pulled
out a flask. The flask had seen plenty of action, its surface
scratched and dented, but its innards full of warm whiskey that
went down as smooth as spit. By the time he reached Club 18 the
flask was empty and his dick was getting hard. The club had a
reputation for finding the youngest, stupidest girls around and
turning them into perfect little whores both onstage and off. Jerry
came for both. He worked himself up watching them, even though he
already knew whom he came for. By now he had his favorites and knew
their schedules. He was, after all, a favored regular with the
owner and the whores alike--he paid well and he paid often. So what
if he was rough? So what if he was an asshole? He paid in cash and
he kept coming back. He might as well have been Jesus H. Christ to
them all. He sure as shit acted like it when he strode in.

Today was different, though. He came with a
purpose more important than his pecker, though he’d get that taken
care of as well. Today he would set up his next little plaything.
He tired of the man downstairs. How much more could he take, he
wondered. And he wasn’t keen on men, but when a piggy presented
itself for play, who was he to say no?

Her name was Red, and for good reason: she
dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood--the sexy adult version--and
had reddish hair the color of fallen leaves. Her skin was pale and
freckled, toned and tight, flexible and smooth to the touch. He
wanted her bad. Almost so far as to keep her all to his self, but
that wasn’t right, he figured. He found his way to his usual spot
near the stage, between the entrance curtain and the stripper’s
pole. How he wished the strippers spun around a blade instead a
dull cylinder. His pocket was full of singles and they were burning
a hole.

The music clambered on and a new dancer took
the stage, as the previous one picked up her clothes and headed
off. He didn’t know her name and didn’t give a good Goddamn. She
was a fiery-hot brunette dressed up like a businesswoman in a tight
black suit and skirt. Her hair was tied tight in a ponytail and her
dark brown eyes glistened behind a pair of fake glasses. She
carried a clipboard and strutted on a pair of high heels that were
downright deadly. Jerry couldn’t help but smile, and clap, and
throw down a pair of singles. Whether it was the whiskey in his
belly or the scent of pussy in the air, Jerry automatically put her
on the list of candidates for the next open slot in the
take-all-you-can-until-you-die-or-I-get-sick-of-looking-at-you
reality show filmed right in his very own basement. She’d have to
take a number and get in line of course. The DJ faded his usual
dance music-bullshit into some classic Ozzy Osbourne and Jerry felt
right at home.

Jerry sat through another two dancers before
his girl took the stage. Red had to be the youngest of them all,
probably not even eighteen, but fit to dance and damned if she
didn’t. He wished her hair was streaked with blood and pulled
taught in his fist. Her eyes were wide and surrounded by dark,
thick eyeliner that almost appeared to be streaked by nervous
tears. Dance, bitch, he said to himself. Dance for daddy. Let’s see
what you can do today. The DJ was back into his dance
music-bullshit but Jerry didn’t care. The heavy bass synced
perfectly to his throbbing member and the rhythmic thrusts of her
hips. It looked like she was fucking the air beneath her. She shed
the top of her dirty little red riding hood outfit, exposing her
supple natural breasts. Her nipples were standing erect and he
longed to tear them off with his teeth and taste her warm blood. He
figured it tasted like honey, how could it not? He watched in a
daze as she bounced and bucked, stripped off the rest of her outfit
and fucked the pole. She worked it up and down, extending one leg
as high as her head and then spinning around with the other. She
was magnificent, a real talent, a natural. The things he would make
her do.

She came around like she always did; a soft
whisper in the ear, a sensual rub of the shoulder, and a kiss on
the neck. Her scent alone made his dick ache. He didn’t need any
convincing, but he loved the approach. He adored the ritual. He
knew something of ritual and longed to show her his own. Soon, he
thought, very soon.

Twenty bucks bought him two minutes, but
since they all knew him and knew he’d be back they let it go for
twice that. She took it slow, cause that’s how he liked it. Too
fast and he’d be asking for a hand job the first time around. The
place was dead, there were four other old guys swooning over the
dancer of the minute and the bouncer didn’t think twice about
Jerry. They’d gotten to know each other and Jerry had yet to cause
a scene, and even if he did, he was a regular, so it didn’t really
matter. Frequency was as much a currency as cold hard cash.

She rode him hard, burying his face into her
sweet-smelling tits, rubbing glitter all over him. He licked her
sweaty breasts and ribs and even though that was frowned upon Red
was too dumb to care and no one else was watching.

“Red,” he gasped, “want to make some real
money?”

She moaned, turning away from him and riding
his cock with her ass, “of course. You know I love real money,” she
giggled.

“Good girl, that’s what I thought. You and me
after hours…I’ll make it worth your time. Name your price,” he
said, knowing he’d never have to pay up.

“Price depends on what you want, sweetheart,”
she said, sucking her finger.

“Let’s just say everything,” he smiled.

“A grand for the night, and you supply all
the drinks and candy I can handle,” she rode him harder.

“Done, and done,” he said.

“I’m off Thursday, and don’t have to be in
till late on Friday, and don’t say a word of this to anyone. I
don’t want any of your friends coming in here asking for the whore
of all whores, you get me?”

“I got you,” he smiled, grabbing her hips,
“and don’t worry, no one will ever know.”

Time was up. He paid. She smiled. And they
left the private corner as if they were a couple. She walked him
back to his seat and she went to the back to refresh for round two.
He stuck around for a few more dances and another lap dance from a
different girl then split. He was eager to get back home and the
put the piggy to rest. He wanted the place nice and fresh for his
little red cock-riding bitch.

When he got back home he noticed she was
downstairs again, playing with the piggy. Damn it, he thought,
can’t she ever listen? He went down the stairs, his feet hit the
steps heavy and served as a warning that he was not pleased.

“Kate, what the fuck are you doing down here?
I thought I told you not to come down here unless I say so?”

“You did, but he got his tape loose. He freed
his hand and ripped off the tape from his mouth--see, look, there’s
the rat. He spit it out and I heard him moving around, trying to
get out the window. So, I stopped him.”

“That’s good sweetheart. Real good, I thought
I was going to have to hurt you real bad this time. And you know I
don’t want that. I hate to see you hurt.”

“I know,” Kate said.

“But we got to put this piggy to sleep now,
and clean up the place. We’re gonna have a new piggy soon, a really
pretty piggy,”

“Prettier than me?”

“You know that’s not possible,
sweetheart.”

“Let’s see what this son of a bitch can take,
now,” he grinned.

She looked excited. They left the man alone
in the basement for a day with the rat without hurting him. They
wanted him to heal up a bit. To heal for this…

Jerry grabbed a screwdriver, and Kate grabbed
a box cutter. They poked and prodded the man, who writhed along the
cold basement ground. He knew he was a dead man, so he prayed
through muffled mouth and asked God to watch over his family. To be
there for his little girl and to watch over her, because he
wouldn’t be able to do so anymore. He wanted to tell his wife how
much he loved her, how much he loved their life and how he wanted
to start trying for a son again. But instead he felt the dull pain
of a screwdriver pierce his shoulder and strike bone, sending
rockets of pain shooting through his body. Then she began to slash
him across his face with the box cutter, cutting his lip, his eye,
and his ear. He squirmed in agony. She kicked him. He spat on him.
They laughed.

“This is great,” she said.

He didn’t respond. His eyes were wild and he
was beginning to drool. This wasn’t great; it was the best, better
than all the women and drugs in the world. He was death incarnate.
He plunged the screwdriver into the man’s throat, twisting it as if
tightening a screw. He bled out and Jerry left her to clean up the
mess. He needed a nap.

Though she was able to clean up the mess, the
body was too heavy for her to move and Jerry would have to do that.
She didn’t want to bother him till he was done with his nap, so she
just sat there in the man’s blood, petting him like a stuffed
animal. His blood was sticky to the touch and before too long she
tired of its feel on her fingers.

By the time Thursday rolled around the
basement looked as clean as it ever did. Jerry walked around as
happy as could be, not a care in the world. He shaved, brushed his
teeth, and even took a shower. Which was something he didn’t do
unless he had to. Kate went off to school and would be back long
before it was time for him to party so, he took advantage of the
solitude. He strutted around naked, sang terribly out of tune, and
even gave way to bouts of laughter. He called a guy he knew that
could score him some coke. He knew he needed a lot, strippers
tended hit the stuff pretty heavy, and he wanted to make sure
things went smoothly…at least for the first few hours, until he
revealed to her his true self.

When Kate came home from school Jerry was
asleep on the couch. He had a few empty beer cans scattered on the
ground and she stepped on them until he woke up from the tinny,
crinkly noise.

“Home so soon, sweetie?”

“Duh, Daddy, school’s over, now,” she
said.

“I guess so. Don’t you have any friends to
hang out with?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to make
friends?”

“That’s right, but when do you ever listen to
me?”

“All the time, don’t be silly,” she walked
away.

“Go do your homework.”

“Where do you think I’m going?”

“To the basement if you keep giving me
lip.”

She didn’t respond and went upstairs to her
room to do her homework. Jerry closed his eyes and went back to
sleep.

Hours later, Kate woke him up once again.
“Get up, it’s late. You’ve been sleeping all day,” she whined.

“I’m up…just resting my eyes,” he said,
lifting his head up.

“When are you bringing home my new
mommy?”

“Soon. But you can’t play with her till
tomorrow when you get home from school, understood?”

“But that’s not fair!”

“Life ain’t fair, but that’s how it is. Daddy
has to have his time alone first, then you can play.”

“Whatever. Can we keep her if she likes
us?”

“Sure. But I don’t think she’s going to like
us.”

“You always say that.”

“And Daddy’s always right, ain’t he?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Whatever.”

Jerry pulled himself up off the couch and
patted her on the head. He yawned and stretched and his back
cracked and he grumbled about it. He grabbed his keys and headed
for the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Make sure you’re
upstairs with the door locked and your ass in bed. And don’t leave
any of your shit lying around, okay?”

“Whatever!”

Red agreed to meet him in the parking lot of
the Food-town nearest Club 18. She’d leave her car there and he’d
take her back to his place. She thought it was odd, but went along
with it anyway. He was paying enough to not give a shit and she
didn’t plan on doing any driving once the party started. She was a
stripper with a heavy coke habit who fucked on the side for cash,
looking just barely eighteen years old, but driving under the
influence was a no go for her.

When he pulled up, he was disappointed that
she wasn’t wearing her usual costume, but smiled when she pulled
out a picnic basket from the trunk of her car with the red cloak
dangling out. She looked great aside from that, not oily like she
did on stage, but dry and pretty like she could live next door and
not be a whore. But she was what she was and that was what he
wanted. He wanted a whore tonight, and he wanted to break her in
every which way.

Jerry gleefully drove back to his home. She
ran her fingers up and down his leg, stroked his neck and spoke to
him in such a soft voice that it almost made him forget he wished
her harm. It was euphoric. He was enchanted, aroused, and eager to
please her. He pressed down harder on the gas.