Short stories

Being screwed

The wind blew dark clouds. The rain would soon begin to fall. The sun had disappeared for a long time due to the arrival of the storm clouds. She squeezed her leather jacket around her body and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering. The street where she stood was completely deserted. There only were dead leaves which dared to walk the street through such a late hour. She cast a glance at her watch. She was a little late. Her last client didn’t want to let her go as fast as the other before. But at least she went there despite the time it was. Eleven thirty. Sighing, she pushed the large glass door.

“Good evening, Miss Martin,” the security guard said, smiling at her.”

“Is he there?”

“He’s waiting for you.”

Rachel Martin gave him a nod before disappearing into the elevator. She went up to the fifth floor and entered the office of Mr. Trevor Crimson. She closed the door behind her before turning to the man sitting behind a large oak desk.

“You’re late,” he quietly said.

“I know, but it’s not my fault.”

“You had another customer before me?”

She nodded, answering he refused to let her go. He raised his eyebrows, amused. He beckoned her to approach, a big smile on his lips. She slowly took off her leather jacket she left on one of the leather armchairs in front of the office. He took a small remote control and set on the sound systems behind him. Then he invited her to get on his desk so she can dance while throwing her clothes away. He increased the volume without looking away. She climbed on the desk and raised her arms. She began to move while the music was playing. Mr. Crimson watched her with a wicked look. She undulated her hips, getting down quietly. She spread her legs a bit, slowly sliding her hands along her thighs. She dropped to her knees in front of her client and unbuttoned her shirt to show off her breasts.

“You are beautiful, Rachel. And you are very sensual.”

She stood up and removed her shirt before throwing it behind her. She began to spin around, making her skirt twirling. Then she took it off, wearing only her bra, her panties, nylon stocking and a garter. The man sat back on his chair, smiling at her naked body. She slid her hands back down on her body, leaning slightly forward.

“I intend to ask you a little extra tonight.”

“And what is it?”

He stood up and held out his hand, inviting her to come down. She slid her hands into his pants before unbuttoning it. She played with it a little before taking it into her mouth to make him moan.

* * * * *

She finished her drink. Her friend Jana joined her, breathless. She hastened to grab her arm for her to follow.

“Why were you looking for me?” Rachel asked, frowning.

Jana shook her head.

“Not me, but the boss Richard. He wants to see you.”

“And you know why?”

“No, but he’s currently with a client. A new one, I think. He may want to introduce you.”

Reluctantly, Rachel let herself be guided by Jana. They walked to the back of the room. The dancers did their work on stage in front of many customers in the main room. When the two women went into the office after knocking, their boss rose, imitated by the man sitting in front of him. Richard motioned for Rachel to enter and close the door behind her.

“Ah! Here’s the one I was talking about!”

The young woman smiled.

“Hi. What can I do for you?”

“Straight to the point! Let me introduce Mr. Carl Warner.”

The latter took a step toward the girl and took her hand to give her a gallant kiss.

“Delighted,” he said with a soft voice.

“He just arrived in town and I thought you might be his escort for the evening.”

She shook her head and sighed.

“I have other clients. I can’t…”

“Mia will take care of it.”

He thought about everything so I can’t refuse. The pain in the ass! She finally accepted his offer, forcing herself to smile. She announced she had to change before leaving. She turned away to go to the backstage. Richard leaned toward his visitor and said in a low voice:

“I want no trace. Is that understood?”

“Why do you want her dead?”

“She knows something she shouldn’t know. You are surely aware the mafia has moved into the city.”

“Of course.”

“Well, she knows who the big head is. According to my sources, her client for the night is an inspector from the drug squad. She wants to sell her information and she must die.”

* * * * *

Rachel pushed the plastic curtain and looked around. She had to talk to Mia, but she couldn’t find her. Jana passed near her.

“Jana,” she said, touching her arm, “can you give this message to Mia?”

“What is it?”

“She’ll know what to do, but it’s a very important message.”

“But what’s going on?”

“I’m doing my last client before I disappear for a while.”

* * * * *

“I’ll call the elevator,” Carl said. “Can you pick up the key at the reception? It’s the room 220.”

Then he walked slowly, his hands in his trouser pockets. She frowned before heading to the reception. A woman in a suit with a tie stood behind the counter. She smiled at the young woman who was approaching.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m seeking the key for the room 220, under Carl Warner’s name.”

The woman looked at her register, dragging her finger on the pages in search for the name she had given her. She eventually found it. She handed her an envelope containing two magnetic cards. She twirled the register and asked for a signature. Rachel signed under Rachel Warner’s name. Then she took the envelope and walked toward the elevator. Carl watched her, a small smile on his lips. They went up to the room. Once inside, he closed the door and put the latch. The young woman took off her jacket.

“Do you have particular tastes, Mr. Warner?”

“You’re not here to be fucked, Miss Martin.”

She whirled around, finding herself face to face with a gun he had just got out of the holster he wore under his jacket. The young woman backed up. She didn’t understand why this man threatened her. She would ask him when suddenly everything became clear: Richard wanted to eliminate her because he knew her secret. She had been betrayed? It was possible. She hoped Mia has succeeded where she seemed to have failed.

“We haven’t been really introduced. My clients call me Blair.”

She closed her eyes.

“Farewell, Rachel Martin.”

The bullet went in the middle of her forehead. She fell on the floor.

THE END