Easy Money

DADDY DEAREST

"I've a little favor to ask you Mercedes."

Two months, and still every time he was alone with the bloodsucker he got the skives. Kyle had lived on the street. He knew that look. It was not the way any daughter would want her dad to look at her.

"Sure." Mercedes flung herself on the living room sofa. She was dressed the way Francis liked her dressed – anything revealing and easy to slip out of.

"I'm a complicated man."

Now how many times had Kyle heard that one before?

"With complex needs."

Mercedes used her sex like a bludgeon. She wanted Francis every bit as hot and bothered and unsatisfied as she was.

"Yes Francis?"

"Daddy, please call me, Daddy."

"Yes– Daddy?"

He sat himself down beside her and stared into her face as if he wanted to crush it in his hands. Suddenly he reached out and ran the tip of one gnarled finger along her jawbone.

Kyle flinched, terrified by a hundred pound octogenarian.

"You have such a pretty month, so proud and pouty. What must in be like inside such a mouth?"

"Sweeter than heaven."

Francis dropped his hand, of a sudden unsure of himself. "You're not like you're mother at all. She was so – brittle."

"One of the luxuries of growing up in the gutter, I guess."

"You know I haven't put you in my will as of yet."

Mercedes leaned in close to him, bathing him with her spoor, pressing her breast against his shoulder.

"We'll just have to remedy that won't we?"

"In time. But you know, one hand washes the other."

"I thought it was my mouth that interested you?" Mercedes ran her finger along the fissure of Francis' dry lips, collecting a drop of spittle from one corner.

"All I ask is a little favor..."

"How could I refuse my mother's father?"

With her other hand Mercedes felt for the geriatric's bulge. Remarkably, it was as hard as he was hard of hearing.

"Here?"

"Here." Kyle's whisper was almost drowned out by the loud roar of the man's zipper as he pulled it down.