by C. W. LaSart
“No I don’t. But there’s gonna be plenty of cops looking for us if we don’t figure it out. We have to do it now. We get the shot, Dan gets his video, and we get paid so we can split.”
“Dan?”
“That’s what he said his name was.” Chantal waved it off as unimportant.
“So how we gonna do it?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”
Chantal and Liza searched the area for anything they might have left behind that could have fingerprints on it. She gave the orders and Liza obeyed, letting Chantal think she was smarter than she was, and that the other hooker would indeed figure something out.
***
Chantal scowled at the screen, her eyes tired from too much reading. She was getting frustrated at the lack of useful information on the internet. All she could come up with was that angel lust happened to the victims of roughly one in three violent deaths, mostly from hanging, gunshots to the head, or poisoning. Well, they had tried the first two and nothing had happened, but she wasn’t sure she could get her hands on any kind of real poison.
Will the third time be the charm? She thought. What if it’s not? She was starting to lose hope. It had been two days since they offed the guy in the woods and she was fast running out of time to come up with something.
Thunderous pounding on the door interrupted Chantal’s musing, and she hurried to it, peaking out of the eyehole. Liza stood on the other side, her head whipping back and forth, looking everywhere at once. Chantal opened the door and Liza rushed in, closing it behind her, as if someone had followed her.
“Get your camera and come with me.” Liza said.
“What’s going on, Liza?”
“No time. I’ll explain on the way. Grab that cell phone from the rich dude, too. Hurry up!”
Chantal grabbed the stuff and shoved it in her purse, then followed Liza out the door. There was a light drizzle falling, and she wished she had grabbed a coat with a hood, but soon forgot her discomfort as Liza explained what happened that evening. By the time they reached the other woman’s front door, she felt flushed with excitement, and a little fear. Liza’s place looked the same as usual, with the exception of the dead guy sprawled across the bed. He appeared well-kept and clean, his gray hair neatly trimmed.
“Oh my god, Liza! Is it really?”
“Yep.” Liza pulled back the sheet thrown across the lower half of the otherwise naked corpse.
“No shit?” Chantal just stared, her stunned face making Liza giggle. “You did it. You fucking did it!”
“Yeah, well, this john rolls up and offers me a hundred bucks for some kink and I bring him back here. So we start getting it on and I start looking at the base of the lamp. I notice how heavy it is and I start thinking about how I could hit him with it. So he’s eating my pussy and doesn’t even notice that I grab the lamp and I hit him real hard in the back of the head. But it doesn’t kill him, just knocks him out, so I wrap the cord around his neck and start pulling. He was already hard when I hit him, but so was that asshole in the park, so I waited half an hour before I came to get you, scared that the boner was gonna go away, but it never did.” Liza finished in a rush, her face glowing with happiness.
“You did great! I can’t believe it. It sucks that he’s in your room, but we’ll figure out what to do about that later. Let’s get the camera set up and do this. Which one of us is gonna fuck him?”
“Wait now, I killed the dude, so I think it’s only fair that you fuck him.” Liza stuck her chin out, resolute in her logic.
“Okay, I’ll do the fucking, but you need to make sure you get good angles and stuff. We wanna give Dan his money’s worth so he doesn’t think about stiffin’ us.”
Liza started giggling and Chantal just stared. “What the fuck’s so funny?”
“Stiffin’!” Liza snorted.
“Oh for Christ’s sakes! Just get the camera!”
It took them fifteen minutes to get the room set up the way they wanted it, and another ten to adjust the lights to amplify the scene and minimize the shadows cast by the furniture. The john had been dead for well over an hour by the time Liza turned the camera on.
Chantal lubed up his erection, straddled the corpse, and slid onto the dead flesh.
“Do you think I should be using a condom?”
“I don’t know, Chantal. It’s not like he’s gonna cum or anything. What does it feel like?”
“It’s really hard but kinda weird. Not cold yet, but not warm either. At least he doesn’t smell like a homeless dude.”
“Crazy.”
“Yeah. Well, let’s do this. Remember to only get the good side of my face, okay?”
“Okay. Yeah, I will. Try to act like you like it.”
“I’m trying to, it’s just really weird. Make sure you get some shots of his cock sliding in and out. Close up, like.”
“I am. Real close up. Grab your tits and make a face like you’re moaning. We’ll edit the sound out. Now lean over and brush them up against his tongue since it’s sticking out like that. Go slow and play it up. That’s good. That’s hot. Do it again.”
“What the fuck? Did he just burp? Aw gross! That smells awful!”
“Try not to push on his stomach like that. I think there’s some shit squirting out when you do.”
“Just get the shots. I don’t know how long I can do this.”
Chantal performed and Liza taped. For over an hour it went on, until Chantal feared she may throw up from the smell of his stomach gases belching out of his mouth and into her face. She maintained her composure, though, thinking of the million dollars awaiting her.
When she felt they had enough, Chantal told Liza to shut the camera off, enduring one more gust of foul wind as she pressed on his chest to climb off of him. What the hell did this guy eat? She didn’t see Liza standing behind her until she turned around and bumped into her.
“What the fuck, Liza?” Something cold and hard pressed against her bare midriff.
“I’m sorry, Chantal. But I think I’ll be needing the whole million for myself.” Liza pushed the blade of the knife in as far as she could, wrenching and twisting when she met resistance. The shocked look on Chantal’s face was priceless.
Dumb bitch always thought she was so much smarter than me, thought Liza.
Chantal fell to the floor, her hands slippery with her own blood, trying to pull the knife out of her guts.
The blade had gone upward, puncturing a lung and stopping her from drawing a breath to scream. As she lay dying on the floor, she could see Liza where she sat calmly at the table, waiting.
“Sorry. I guess I don’t need a best friend.” Liza watched as the life in Chantal’s eyes faded, then gathered a few belongings into a bag. She packed the camera and grabbed the phone out of Chantal’s purse. “You won’t be needing this.”
Grabbing a heavy coat off the hook on the back of the door, she walked out into the night, leaving Chantal’s body with that of the dead john.
***
Liza paced across the grass, stopping every few seconds to scan the park around her. Things hadn’t gone the way she had hoped when she called Dan. Just thinking about the conversation made her angry.
My deal was with Chantal, not you. I suppose I can work with you, but I’m going to need a little something extra. Dan sounded cold and confident on the phone, and she couldn’t exactly argue with the man. Take it or leave it. It’s not like you can take me to court for breach of contract.
“Where the fuck are you?” Liza spoke in a low voice. The longer she had to wait, the more antsy she became. It felt like she’d been pacing in the park for hours. Finally, a black sedan pulled up to the curb on a side street. The driver’s window was darkly tinted, the occupant little more than a shadow in the seat. Moving cautiously, she walked over to the vehicle.
When she was a few feet away, the driver’s window slid down several inches without a sound, giving her a partial view of a man’s face from the nose up. From what she could see,
he was dark haired, but his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.
“Liza?” The voice was even, emotionless.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m an associate of Dan’s. Get in the car.”
“I was supposed to meet Dan here. I’m not dealing with anyone but Dan.” Liza raised her chin, her eyes narrowed.
“Dan doesn’t do this sort of thing, That’s what he pays me for. Get in or don’t. I’m leaving.” The window started to close as silently as it had opened.
“No, wait.” Cursing under her breath, Liza walked around the front of the car, opened the passenger door and slid onto the leather seat. Once inside, she turned towards the driver as he pulled away from the curb and smoothly accelerated. He was handsome in a brutal way. His suit looked expensive. The dark glasses kept his expression hidden from her when he glanced over.
“So where are you taking me?”
“It’s not far.”
“Are you taking me to Dan? I usually don’t trust guys like you to just take me places.” Liza bit her lip, hating the way she babbled when she was nervous.
“Don’t worry. It’s not far. You have the video?”
“Yeah, but I’m not giving it to anyone but Dan. What’s your name anyways? I don’t like riding with some dude and not knowing who he is.”
“You can call me Mr. White.” For the first time he looked at her and smiled, causing Liza to flinch.
***
“Wake up.”
Mr. White’s voice cut through the fog in her head, and Liza opened one bleary eye. The other was swollen shut and ached with each beat of her heart. The bright lights caused her to squint and intensified the pounding in her head. A glance around and she realized she was still in the same room. Nylon ropes held her upright in a chair and burned the flesh of her wrists and ribs when she tried to move. She was naked and cold.
“Are you awake?” The sound of his voice caused her to flinch. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they walked into the room. Not even during the beating. “Good.”
“What do you want from me?” Liza’s voice was hoarse from screaming, her throat burned when she spoke. Blood dripped from her nose, rolling over her split upper lip and into her mouth. She ran her tongue across the inside of her teeth, encountering an open spot. Fucker knocked out one of my teeth.
“It’s not what I want from you, honey. It’s what Dan wants. I took a look at that video you girls made and I think it’s pretty good. A little editing and it will do just fine.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. When Liza tried to pull away from his touch, Mr. White laughed.
“I figured you’d be glad that you didn’t do all that work for nothing.” Mr. White adjusted one of the two cameras that sat on tripods. They had been pointed at Liza since he’d tied her to the chair, catching every squeal of pain and meaty thud while he beat her for the last many hours.
“Let me go. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”
“Anything? Interesting prospect, but I don’t think so.”
“I’ll blow ya. I’m real good at it.”
He threw back his head and laughed, his eyes twinkling. “No offense, honey, but I wouldn’t fuck you if you paid me. If this was about sex, I would’ve just raped you.”
“The money? I’ll split it with you.”
“Split it with me? Are you kidding?”
“Okay.” Liza heard herself whining but was in too much pain to care. “You can have it all. Just let me go.”
Mr. White shook his head and retrieved a briefcase from the floor. He set it on a chair and pushed the buttons, turning it so she could see what the case contained. Harsh light reflected off what seemed like a hundred exotic tools, all shiny metal and very sharp. He presented them proudly, first to the cameras, then to her.
“It’s nothing personal, you know. This’ll be easy. All you have to do is act and react naturally. Piece of cake. Dan was willing to pay one million for an angel lust video.” He picked up a wicked looking meat fork with curved tines, tilting his head as he examined her body, looking for the appropriate place to begin. His smile was gentle but his eyes remained hard as he placed the pointed prongs against Liza’s trembling abdomen. The muscles in his forearm bunched as he applied enough pressure to puncture flesh, earning an agonized wail in return. “But he will pay me five million for a snuff film.”
RETIREMENT WOES
William had never been a cruel person before the squirrel moved onto his roof.
Two weeks into summer vacation, fourteen long days after he had bid his students farewell for the last time, William sat at the kitchen table in his boxers and white t-shirt under a tattered blue robe. A bowl of oatmeal sat untouched on the table next to the unread newspaper spread out before him.
Staring at the clock on the wall, he watched the minutes tick past and wondered what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life.
“William, will you please mow that lawn today?” His wife, Kristi, walked through the kitchen and into the dining room, a cloud of soft, floral perfume left floating in her wake. Smartly dressed in a peach blazer and skirt with her gray hair perfectly coiffed atop her head in a twist, she was ready for her day as a personal banker, the job she’d held since their kids had all started school.
“Hmmph.” William grunted, glancing at his wife, then returning his eyes to the clock.
“Oh William, really. Are you going to mope around here forever? How are you going to handle retirement if you can’t even find something to do for the summer? You’re used to having summers off.” Kristi pulled out a chair and perched lightly on the edge, grabbing his hand in her own and frowning. “Have you been taking those pills the doctor gave you?”
“I’m not depressed.” William also frowned, but it felt diluted in comparison to his wife’s stern countenance. Everything about her personality had always been more forceful, more vibrant. He had no delusions about who ran their household. “I’m just bored.”
“You know what you need, William?” Kristi’s favorite pastime had always been telling William what he needed. “You need a hobby. Rachel’s husband builds model cars and Ralph across the street does all that woodworking.”
“Those are old man hobbies.”
“We aren’t getting any younger, dear.” She patted his hand affectionately, but he pulled his own back.
“I’m not that old.” The whiny tone in his voice made him feel like a petulant child.
“Really, William? So what is this? Sitting around in your shorts all day feeling sorry for yourself? I swear, the least you can do is go out and get rid of that damned squirrel.”
“Squirrel?”
“Yeah. The squirrel that’s on the roof making Devon bark. Can’t you hear him? Or are you going deaf too?” Kristi stood and retrieved her purse, her back stiff and her chin raised in anger. With her hand on the doorknob she turned slightly, her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “You need to do something with yourself, William. I will not spend the next thirty years watching you give up and rot in that chair.”
William watched the door slam behind her. Standing to take a shower, he paused when he heard Devon begin to bay in the backyard.
He does sound upset about something, he thought, opting to forego the shower and just get dressed so he could investigate.
On his way to the door, William tripped over something, nearly falling on his face. He heard things go flying, and to his dismay, realized he had knocked over Kristi’s massive sewing kit, spilling about a hundred spools of thread.
Even when she’s not here she is making my life hell! Why does one woman need that much thread, anyways? Gathering together the spools, Devon’s baying continued, now louder and longer.
Devon wagged his tail in greeting and William rubbed the hound dog’s graying muzzle.
“Just you and me now, old boy. Two old hounds with nothing to do.” William went to the garage and got the dog’s food bowl, filling it from a bag on the shelf. There was a time when he just left the bowl ou
t, feeding Devon whenever it ran empty, but the vet said he was getting fat. The weight wasn’t good for his heart.
William’s doctor had said the same thing about him.
Leaving Devon to his meal, William went back into the garage to get the lawnmower. It was still clean and shiny, a self-propelled model that his three grown children had pitched in for an early Father’s Day gift. The old mower had worked just fine, but they worried he was getting too old to push the heavy thing around the yard.
I’m not old, he thought, never been sick a day in my life. I’m still useful.
William was halfway through mowing before Devon began to bark again, sitting on his haunches under the eave that jutted above the back porch. Usually the dog was timid around the lawnmower, but he refused to budge when William came near, forcing him to kill the mower. Devon’s attention remained on the roof, his bark sounding vicious and the hair standing up on his back.
“What is it, pal? What are you barking at?” William shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up. Devon barked again, and he gently placed his other hand on the dog’s head to quiet him. After a moment of mostly silence, filled only with the annoying buzz of cicadas in the trees, he heard it. The high-pitched, distant chittering of a squirrel. A fuzzy red plume of tail appeared, zigzagging across the roof.
“Hey squirrel!” William didn’t actually expect the rodent to respond and he laughed in surprise when it peeked over the edge, fixing him with beady black eyes. Devon let loose with a whiny growl as the critter balanced on the gutter, his front half hanging over the edge. The squirrel screeched his indignation as his tiny paws balled up into fists that shook with rage. William nearly doubled over with laughter at the sight.
“Okay little guy. I understand how you feel, but how about you move on so my wife doesn’t make me get rid of you?” William felt an unexpected affection for the irate trespasser, an admiration for his bravery and stubbornness when facing a larger opponent. Still, he wasn’t about to listen to Kristi bitch about the squirrel all summer. Devon woofed in agreement.
Grabbing the industrial pooper scooper he had bought at the farm-and-fleet store last fall, William set about the unpleasant task of cleaning up Devon’s mounds of poo. The dog usually sat by the fence and watched with a suitably apologetic look on his old face, but today he didn’t bother. Remaining seated, the hound continued to growl low in his throat, his eyes never leaving the roof where the squirrel balanced on the gutter, still shaking his tiny fists and squawking.