Teaser Tales (Short Stories)

Welcome to Manhattan (Mature)

He smelled bad. She could've gotten past everything else. The lack of hair on his head; which had travelled south to lay refuge on the obese man's back, the rough and calloused fingers used to scratch at her soft skin, even the whole "cheating on his wife with a prostitute" thing. But it was the smell that really got to her. His long, fat arm was draped along her nude chest, and his head was rested behind her neck. The man's breath was damp, and smelled of hot Coors. Coors being from the cheap liquor store next to the New World Motel.

The man rolled over, removing her from the prison of arm fat that she was trapped in. She slowly leaned over and grabbed her bra. As she was putting it on, she noticed the man; in a heavily drunken state, had broken one clips on the front of her bra, trying to remove the article. The woman groaned softly, and cursed under her breath at the fat bastard who dared to break her property.

Kicking her left leg over the edge of the mattress, she stood up. The floor was carpeted and she tried not to look at it. Imagining the countless of uncleansed 'spills' that has been made the night before, or any other night for that matter, sickened her. The woman noticed another article of clothing she was still wearing; her stockings, which had been ripped in the crotch due to the misguided attempt at being sexy on the mans side.

The air was cold, and she bent down, rushing to find some sort of warmth in her clothes.

That was incorrect.

The leather dress she had been wearing the previous evening was even colder from lying by the cracked window. She noticed a lump of black fabric on the floor; her underwear. She picked them up, and immediately threw them in the garbage. She shivered, remembering what had been done to them.

Her boots were stood by the door, leaning against the cracking wall. She pushed her back against the wall, and shoved her feet into the bottoms. The soft, leather insoles wrapped around her foot and ankles, while the rest of the boot comfortably zipped up to her knees. The woman stood up, gaining about two inches.

She once stood at 5'10", but now was standing at a sturdy 6"0'.

The woman took hold of the metal doorknob, when she remembered a crucial fact.

She had not been paid.

The woman did not want to wake the man. That was just unwanted conversation from a hungover, middle aged asshole. Deciding against that, she noticed his suit jacket draped over the desk chair in the back corner of the room. She never understood why people put desks in motels. 'It's not a hotel' she thought to herself. 'Most people here are either fucking or are too poor to go anywhere else. No use for a desk'.

The woman furtively strutted across the room, as to not wake the man. She snatched the coat from the arm of the chair, and dug through the pockets. During this, she noticed the tag on the collar of the jacket. It read, "Jays Suits".

"A rental?" She quietly asked herself. She put the pieces together in her head, and was furious. The words the man used played through her mind.

"Wealthy" "Important" and "Here on business" were just a few. She had been slightly buzzed, but not drunk enough to be tricked by some poor bastard tourist just looking for a good fuck. He had promised her $4000, and had even showed her the money. It was a money clip, with hundreds on each side. The woman counted at least 30 bills when he flipped through it, so she assumed it was all there. She opened the clip, and there it was; two one hundred dollar bills and 38 one dollar ones. She should have looked, she should have been sure, but she didn't. She let her guard down and had sex with that motherfucker for a mere $238.

The woman was fuming, and in a fit of hysteria, and punched the cracking wall, making a rather large 'thud' and a dent in the molding structure. The man awoke with a groan.

"What's your issue?" He asked her, sitting up and holding his head. The woman spun around; still holding the clip, and made eye contact with the man.

"Four.......thousand..." She seethed. The man saw the rage in her eyes, and became slightly scared. "You promised me four fucking thousand dollars," she took a step forward, reaching into the small pocket she mad made in the padding of her bra, "and you're gonna give it to me," she pulled out a small knife and pounced on the man's torso "or you're gonna lose something." Her voice was raspy, and dropped a few octaves in anger. She tore off the blanket and placed her knee on the man's chest, shoving him back onto the yellow sheeted mattress, and hitting his head on the bedframe. Her right hand held the knife, and her left hand slipped under the man's underwear and held the man's package. She placed the blade gently against the side and leaned in close to the man's face. Clenching her teeth, she asked him, "What's it gonna be?"

The man began to sweat, eyes darting from her face to his situation. "I don't have it. I'm sorry!" He cried out. "I can get it for you...just like...gimme a day or two!" He begged, but the woman wasn't buying it.

"Rented suit and cheap booze..." She started, "you won't be able to get four thousand in two days. You'll barely get one thousand if you're lucky." She stated, kneeling harder into his chest. The man coughed, and she lightened the pressure. Her eyes looked the man up and down, almost in pity for the fool. In the commotion, the sun had risen, and a faded beam of light was peeking through the curtain. This was when the woman noticed something gleam from the opposite table. Her eyes darted towards it, and noticed something the man probably removed before the sex the previous evening; a gold watch, resting next to 3 half empty bottles of the Coors she smelled earlier.

She grinned and pulled her knife away from the man. The woman chuckled and removed her knee from the man's chest. She stood up and walked over to the watch, lightly picking it up with her pointer finger and thumb. She made eye contact with the man again.

"This is pretty." She stated, swaying the watch side to side. She took the band of the watch and bit down lightly with her canines. Pulling away, she could see a small dent in the chain. She smirked. "Real gold, huh?"

"Yes. That was my grandfathers." The man said, with some easily detectable pride.

"Well, its mine now." The woman informed, grabbing her black bag off the doorknob and hiding away the watch. "It can be your payment."

"You fucking bitch. That's theft you know. I'll have you arrested!" The man fumed, and stood up, taking swift steps towards the woman. The woman sucked her teeth, and inhaled. She swiftly grabbed a bottle from the table, raised her arm, and smashed the bottle against the side of the man's head. He bent over in pain, and the woman took the opportunity to give him two swift kicks; one in the stomach, and one in the jaw as he fell.

The woman took her bag, and threw it under her arm. She opened the door, wincing slightly at the light she was unprepared for. As her eyes adjusted, she pulled out a small compact mirror from her bag. She frowned at her appearance. Her black lipstick was smeared down the sides of her mouth, and her eyes were black and smudged down her cheeks. She sighed, and looked back at the man in the room, still on the floor, groaning. She took out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one with a match from her bag. She took a long, slow breath, and exhaled the smoke into the room. Placing the cigarette in her other hand, she grabbed the door handle, and briefly made eye contact with the man on the floor. She smiled at him, and he just scowled. The woman took a final breath of the addictive devil, before dropping it in the room and ashing it on the carpet. Exhaling into the cool air, she shivered slightly, and spoke again, shutting the door.

"Welcome to Manhattan."

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Rin Amane

Female

Aged 29

Prostitute

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