Skin Trade

by Tonia Brown

  I grabbed the man by the root of his hairy head and snarled right back at him through clenched teeth. “Listen here, I don’t have time to debate the reasons why you grabbed my nether regions. Just tell me if you intend to be a God damned man and carry through with your threat if I set you free.”

  Clint’s snarl curved into a devilish grin. “I see why Dillon likes you. And why Theo kept you on. Sure thing, little missy. You cut me loose, and I’ll do my best to snap that bastard’s neck.”

  “You give me your word you won’t attack me?”

  “I promise.”

  This was my plan of escape? The promise of an infected enemy was all I had to go on? I made haste to undo his bonds, and to my surprise, he kept his word and didn’t attack me. Instead, he got to his unsteady feet, swaying a bit. I offered my arm, but he pushed me away.

  “I’m contagious, girly,” he said. “Unless you want to suffer, back off.” Clint pointed to the far end of the room, opposite the door I’d just barred. “Back through is the entrance to the cells. You’ll find your little boyfriend in there.”

  “Mortimer,” I said, remembering he was down here too. “How do we get past the guards?”

  “We don’t. I’m going after Dillon now, before I get too weak to crack his skull.”

  “Then what should I do?”

  “You’ll have to improvise. Besides, the inside of this place isn’t as heavily guarded as the entrance. Dillon doesn’t care if things go to hell down here, just as long as no one gets out alive. Or undead.”

  “Why do you follow him? He’s the craziest man I’ve ever met.”

  “I don’t know. Made sense at the time, I suppose.” Clint shrugged my question off. “There are two on guard at the cells, but if it’s who I think they are, you shouldn’t have a problem with them. If you can manage to get by them, follow the cells all the way to the end. Your friend is in the last one. If he’s still alive.” His part of the bargain upheld, Clint lurched toward the canvas curtain, after his prey.

  “Thanks for your help,” I said. “And I’m sorry it’s too late for you. If I could have stopped it, I would’ve.”

  “No you wouldn’t have. But I can’t say I blame ya. I’ve been living on borrowed time out here anyway. We all have, for too long. Far too long. It’s about time for this place to see its end.”

  Alone once more, I gathered my pluck and a lantern and set about my task. The tunnel beyond the door appeared empty enough. Turning my lantern to its lowest setting, I slipped into the gloom, moved along, down and down more, until a pair of male voices reached my ears.

  “I hear he’s got a new woman,” one man said.

  “Yeah,” another agreed.

  I crept down the tunnel and paused at a bend, peering around it to find two men, each hefty and well into his forties, sitting on the tunnel floor across from one another. Their weapon belts were tossed aside, as if they didn’t need them or just didn’t care. One was a mere foot or so from my reach.

  “I wonder how long this one will last,” one man said.

  The other sighed. “I hope she lasts a good long while, actually. I’m tired of his tantrums. Maybe she can keep the big baby satisfied.”

  “I got something she can satisfy.”

  The men shared a laugh as I weighed my options. I possessed the element of surprise here. Odds were I could sneak up, slip a pistol away and shoot them before they knew what was happening. But if I fired a weapon in this tight tunnel, the noise would draw every guard in this place straight to me. I needed a different kind of weapon. Clint said I should improvise? Then improvise I would, in the only way I knew. I drew a deep breath, steadied myself, pushed out my bosom and headed into the fray.

  “I’ll bet you have more than enough to satisfy me,” I said as I rounded the corner.

  Both men scrambled to their feet, an amusing sight, to be sure.

  “Who are you?” the one on the left asked.

  “I’m new here,” I said as I set my lamp on the ground. I ran my hands across my dress, pressing my palms to my feminine assets all the way down. “Dillon left me all alone, and I’m bored.”

  “She’s Dillon’s woman,” the one on the right said in a low voice.

  “She sure is,” the one on the left whispered.

  “She’s pretty.”

  “She sure is.”

  “I think she’s coming on to us.”

  “She sure is.”

  “Yes she is,” I said. I started to unbutton the bustier of my dress. “And she’s hungry too. Hungry for attention. Do you know where I can get some attention?”

  “I-I-I reckon I could give y-y-y-you some attention,” Hefty Lefty said.

  “Me too!” the right-hand man shouted.

  “Hey, now.” I stopped unbuttoning just as I reached my cleavage, and put my hands on my hips. “Are you the only two big, strong men down here?”

  “We sure are!” both of the men shouted.

  I stepped closer, biting my lip and giggling. “You wouldn’t lie to little ol’ me. Would you?”

  “No,” they sighed in unison.

  The moment I got within touching distance, I pressed my finger into the leftmost man’s chest. “Why don’t you head on down to the cells and pick us out an empty one. Make sure it’s a comfortable one.” I wrapped my hand around the second man’s forearm. “Me and your friend here will catch up in a minute.”

  The appointed man’s face fell when he realized he was going to get second servings. “Frank? But … but … but I’m his superior.”

  “Shut your pie hole, Bert! We have the same rank, and you know it!”

  “I got seniority. I’ve been here a lot longer. And I’m a lot more hornier than you.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Before the men could devolve into an argument over something I had no intention of giving either of them, I spoke up. “Boys, boys, boys. This isn’t getting us anywhere. And I don’t have a whole lot of time before he realizes I’ve slipped away.”

  The men stopped arguing to look at me.

  “I want her,” Bert whispered.

  “I do too,” Frank said.

  “But if we touch her, Dillon will kill us.”

  “Or change us into revs.”

  “No he won’t,” I assured them, though I was glad they weren’t set to gang up and take me right there. I was playing with fire, but I also knew just how to temper the flames, how to fuel them in my favor. “How’s he gonna know? Who’s gonna tell him? What Dillon doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Right?”

  The men smiled.

  “Besides,” I said with another fake pout. “All this talk is spoiling my mood.”

  Bert changed his tune right away. Second helpings, it seemed, was better than no serving at all. “Don’t fret, ma’am. I was just saying how Frank here deserves to have some alone time with a fine woman like yourself.”

  “You were?” Frank asked. He laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder, a tear rising to his eye. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

  “I’m your pal, right?”

  “Right.”

  “If you two are done making out,” I said, “maybe I could get in on the action?” I grabbed up Frank by the arm and pushed Bert toward the end of the tunnel. “Go on. We won’t be long.”

  Bert nodded, grumbling under his breath something that sounded an awful lot like, “You’re damn tootin’ you won’t be long.”

  I held on to the arm of the remaining guard as we watched his generous friend disappear into the darkness. Once he was gone, I turned to Frank, running my hand across his chest as I let out a moan. “I like big men. Are you a big man, Franklin?” I slipped a hand to his belt, working it open one-handed with all the deftness my years at Mrs. Fathom’s had taught me.

  My years at the bordello taught me many things. Many tricks.

  Frank blushed, turning red from ear to ear as he grinned in the most stupid of ways. “I’m big enough, I reckon.”

  His be
lt now undone, I pushed my hand down the front of his trousers, holding back a retch as I brushed my fingers across what he considered big enough. “Oh yes, I see you are. You’re a big boy, Franklin. A nice big boy.” This flattery and seduction came back to me so easily.

  “Th-th-thank you, m-m-ma’am.”

  “Tell me, have you ever had a poor-man’s special?” I asked, tracing small circles through his private hairs.

  “No,” he gasped.

  “No? Well, then allow me to treat you to one.”

  I lowered my hand, taking him on in full.

  The man’s eyes rolled to whites as he stammered and sputtered, trying to speak but failing in the face of such delightful bliss. I slipped my free hand up the back of his neck, grabbing a handful of hair as I lowered his head to my level. He kissed me fiercely, as if it were both his first and last chance. His balm-slicked upper lip burned my lips and tongue, but I ignored it and kissed him back, trying to keep up the pretense of my interest. Once I was sure he was locked to me, lost in the sensations and drifting into that land of pleasurable dreams, I laid down as much pressure as I could on his matching pair of tender bits, squeezing hard enough to feel something give way under my small hand.

  Frank wailed and flailed his arms, but I had latched on firm, gripping him by the hair of his head and keeping his mouth to mine, muffling his screams. I gave my below-the-belt handful a little twist, and in a matter of seconds, his eyes went to whites again, this time from the excruciating pain of it all. Frank went slack in my arms. I released him and wiped my hands on my dress as he slumped against the wall.

  “Aw,” I said as I stooped over his twitching form. “Poor, poor man.”

  It was a nasty trick, the first one I picked up when I entered the oldest profession in the world. What better way to take care of a customer who expected something for nothing? Ignoring the pitiful groans, I helped myself to his weapon belt as well as Bert’s. The man was in such a rush, he’d just left it behind. I also snagged a canister of that wonderful balm, spreading a fresh batch under my nose where Frank had all but licked mine off me in his passion. Stepping over the shell of Frank sprawled across the tunnel floor, I hurried toward the cells, wondering if I could pull the same trick twice in one night.

  Bert was waiting for me in a wide space at the end of the shaft, making a pallet on the floor of the foremost cell. The ‘cells’ themselves were nothing more than gaps hewn into the living rock, with iron grates bolted to each narrow opening. Few were large enough to hold more than one person, and as far as I could see, all of them were empty. Where had they taken the scientist? The place smelled of waste and funk and unwashed bodies. And the undead, of course.

  My quarry looked up to me as I entered. “Where’s Frank?”

  “He’s taking a moment to collect himself,” I said as I let the weapon belts slither to the floor behind me.

  Bert chuckled. “I see that didn’t take much time.”

  “He must’ve needed the relief.”

  “Well, that and the men don’t call him One-Yank Frank for nothing.”

  I giggled at the name as I sashayed into the cell. “That’s a clever name for him. And what do they call you?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated, as if trying to think of something other than the truth. Grinning wider as an idea came to him, he said, “The men don’t call me nothing, but the ladies call me every night.”

  I had to give it to the man. That was one of the best lines I’d ever heard. “Well, Mr. Every Night, have you ever had a poor-man’s special?”

  Bert shook his head, and I went to work.

  ****

  return to table of contents

  ****

  Chapter Nineteen

  A few moments later, I exited the cell and locked it behind me with Bert’s keys, leaving him inside, writhing on the floor. Normally it took at least a half-hour or more for a man to bounce back from such a crushing blow, so I had no worries there. I was more concerned about someone coming across the fallen body of Frank in the hallway. If I thought I could manage it, I would’ve dragged him into the cell with Bert, but I didn’t want to spend what little energy I had hauling his fat rump around.

  Instead, I slipped the weapon belts over my shoulders, crisscrossed bandolier-style, and turned my attention to the cells and that wily scientist. Raising the lantern to the gratings, I peered into the gloom of each cell. Empty. Empty. Empty. Either Dillon’s form of discipline worked wonders for the town’s crime rate, or they just didn’t keep prisoners for very long. I rushed along to the last holding cell, disappointed to find it empty as well. Maybe they took pity on the scientist after all. Or maybe he was already dead. I gave the small cage one last sweeping glance, stopping when I thought I caught a sign of movement. And movement it was!

  Mortimer lay heaped in one corner, either passed out or fast asleep. I could just make out the rise and fall of his chest as he half-wheezed, half-snored. The man looked dreadful, as gray as the rock face and drenched in sweat. I opened the grating and ducked inside, calling out to him.

  “Mortimer,” I said as I kicked his foot.

  He groaned and rolled over, stirring the scent of vomit as he did.

  “Mortimer,” I said, jostling him harder. “Come on now. It’s time to leave.”

  He groaned again just as his eyes fluttered open. “Please, leave me in my misery.”

  “Not a chance. Let’s get you out of here.”

  He coughed and gasped, pinching his nose after his first full breath. “Dear God in Heaven. That smell again. I can’t take it anymore. It’s killing me.” He turned away to vomit once more, but nothing came forth. His dry heaves echoed through the empty cells.

  Then this was Dillon’s idea of punishment. No wonder the cells were all empty. It wasn’t just the threat of infection that kept folks under his thumb. It was also the threat of spending an evening in the cells, in the midst of the awful smell, without the aid of the miracle balm.

  The balm I’d just so happened to confiscate from my recent romantic interludes.

  “Hold your head up for me,” I said as I retrieved the canister from the belt.

  Mortimer was in no shape to argue, so he held still as I rubbed the concoction across his upper lip. At first, he coughed and gagged even more, for which I couldn’t fault him, considering how strong the balm was. But after the worst of this passed, he drew deep and steady breaths, the color slowly returning to his skin and a small smile flitting across his face.

  “Oh, that is divine,” he said with a sigh. He laughed a bit, then lolled his head toward me and sighed again. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? Come to whisk me away to the arms of our Lord?” He put his hand on mine. “Is this what Heaven smells like? Because, quite frankly, it still reeks.” He laughed some more, giddy on the relative freshness of the balm-filtered breaths.

  “Mortimer,” I said. “It’s me. Sam.”

  All at once, his mood changed. “Sam?” He snapped upright. “Sam, oh thank heavens you’re safe.” He pulled me down to him, hugging me as if we were the best of old friends, or closer. “Wait now.” He held me at arm’s length, narrowing his gaze at the sight of me. “If you’re down here with me, then you aren’t safe at all. What’s going on?”

  “I’m getting you out of here; that’s what’s going on.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Here then, come with me, and we can be confused on the way out.”

  Lantern in hand, I helped Mortimer to his unsteady feet and walked him toward the exit. We were traveling maddeningly slow. I wanted to break into a sprint, but the scientist could barely manage a limp. We made our way past the cells and out into the tunnel.

  “Where are the guards?” he asked.

  As if on cue, there came a series of great booming ricochets all down the length of the corridor, followed by a few strangled screams.

  “What was that?” Mortimer asked in the echoing wake.

  “Sounds like gunshots,” I s
aid. “Must be Clint.”

  “Who?”

  “Our diversion. I don’t think we’ll have trouble with the guards now.”

  Mortimer was just about to inquire further when we came upon the form of Frank lying face-down on the tunnel floor, his belt still undone.

  “Looks like he’s had enough trouble already,” Mortimer said.

  “I’ve been called worse,” I said without thinking about it.

  Mortimer gasped. “You mean you did that-”

  “Not a word.” I couldn’t be sure, but I swore I heard a small snigger from him.

  Oddly enough, it was a pleasant sound, considering how ill he had been, even if the laugh was directed at me in a snide manner.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go before our distraction gets distracted.”

  We moved with utmost slowness up the tunnel and through the infection room, past the canvas curtain and into the long shaft that led to the surface. Along the way, it became apparent that we were alone. And I do mean absolutely alone. The whole of the tunnel, the check-in point, even the doorway of the mines appeared abandoned. There wasn’t a single man, not a fallen sentry, no sign of a struggle, no evidence that Clint fought his way out. Either Clint slipped past the hordes of guards and they then left in pursuit of the wayward man, or …

  “This isn’t right,” I whispered as we drew close to the exit.

  “What was that?” Mortimer asked.

  “This doesn’t seem right. This place was crawling with patrols and staff. Where did they all go?”

  “What about the distraction? Maybe they all got … distracted?”

  I considered this and dismissed it right away. “No. That’s too easy. This has all been far too easy.”

  “Easy or not, let’s just move on.” Mortimer inhaled deeply. “Thank God. I think there’s fresh air ahead.”

  Pulling on Mortimer’s arm, I tried to keep him from lurching ahead of me. “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this.”

  “Stuff your feelings!” Mortimer caught himself and tried to apologize without actually apologizing. “I appreciate your help for getting me out of the bowels of Hell and all, but if I don’t get some fresh air soon, I’m going to die.” He slipped free from my grip and pushed his way past the double doors into the night.