The woman smiled at him. Her yellow teeth shone in the black night. No sounds, not even from the regulars.
Easy now, she whispered. The man was only too happy to oblige.
He started moving his hips to the sound of her moans. They were getting louder and louder...
He moaned and jammed his appendage deep inside her. She bucked her slender body and gave a moan that was almost a shriek.
She was bored. Tonight was the first time she had so few clients. This job doesn't pay well enough to have me sitting around, she thought. This was her 1st client for the night, and it was fast approaching 3 in the morning. Briefly she considered a new, less illegal line of work. Who am I kidding, she thought. This paid too good for that.
She snapped back to attention. Her partner was starting to grunt.
"Do it! Do it! Deep inside me!" she shrieked.
The man grunted and thrust his instrument deep inside of her flower. It was time.
He put his soul into it, forced his sadness and shame away, and it felt like the world was falling away, and...
Morning. He woke up groggy. It had taken longer than last time. Perhaps he was getting old, he thought. He regarded the body on the bed. Her face. Her hair. Her breasts. He smiled, a sad one, feeling sorry for her, the top whore in the house. What did that mean in the long run?
Nothing, he reasoned. Yet he still felt the guilt.
He had paid the receptionist in advance. A rat, that one. Probably would drug you to squeeze more out of you.
No matter. The deed was done, his demons satisfied. He fingered his ring, glowing brighter than ever before. It always did, after a night like that.
Clean up, he reminded himself.
Quickly, with the efficiency of a well oiled machine, he removed all traces of himself from the room. For this, he always carried a bag with him. Magical, it was, always having just a little more space. His thoughts wandered to the logistics of that...
It was finished. He slung the bag over his shoulder. It weighed quite a bit more than what he thought it would, but he was perfectly capable of carrying it. He left, at the seventh hour of his stay.
The man in the front knocked irritably on her door. More clients, he shouted. No response. More banging. No answer. The door was visibly caved in.
The door was knocked down. The receptionist sweeped his gaze across the room. She was nowhere to be found.
