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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1703299
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Dark · #1703299
Some business meetings end with more than just a handshake.
* Warning: The following work of fiction is graphic - if you are sensitive, do not read further *



         Cigarette smoke drifted in the hotel bar, a heavy haze that coiled between us on invisible currents like a live thing. Across from me, Olivia gesticulated wildly in tandem with her rambling speech, gold-painted nails cutting through the smog. The slender black stick wedged firmly between her pouty lips had burned down to nothingness, ignored.

And I was ignoring her slurring words - her tits in that zip-front halter dress were far more interesting than anything coming out of her mouth. Besides, I had elaborate plans for that particular part of Olivia's anatomy, along with the rest of them. Fantasy and lust spiked through my bloodstream, setting a fire in my brain that spread fast to my groin and drew a slow smile on my own lips... It was going to be an unforgettable night.

She was not as young as she wanted me to think. Too many years spent in tanning beds had marred the flesh, toughening it into premature age. Still, she was beautiful, slim and sexy. Her black satin dress was just tight enough to advertise a promise most men could not afford. Salon-blond hair was perfectly styled, an intentionally messy jumble of highlighted locks serving as her crown. Since this was our third 'date', I was a regular by her 'professional' standards. She felt at ease enough to talk about her life, as if any of it could matter to me.

"What do you think, Mr. Ellery?" She purred my name, the toe of her stiletto trailing along my thigh on its way to circle rhythmically against my arousal. That jerked me back into reality!

Except I had no idea what she was asking about.

"Oh, you're right, Olivia," Best to fake it, to say what she wanted to hear. Wasn't that what all women wanted?

Her blue eyes widened, glossy lips parting to send the spent clove cigarette tumbling into her lap, where she absently slapped it away. To my annoyance her foot halted its sensual rubbing under the table, her gaze riveted on mine.

         "You do? Oh god, it's happening again?”

         Ah, now I understood. Olivia had been going on about the serial killings last year. Once a month, for nine months straight, a high-end call girl would be found torn to pieces in an classy hotel room.Then, as abruptly as they had begun, the killings simply stopped. With no leads, no viable suspects, and no conclusive evidence, the police had never solved the crimes.

         Then four weeks ago, one of Olivia's 'coworkers' had been found dismembered in a suite at the Hilton, causing a panic in her 'community'. With false identities used to rent the room and girl, there was nothing for the detectives to go on – they were powerless.

         Anonymity was the greatest thrill and the biggest risk in her profession – and I knew first hand how anonymous these liaisons could be. Her name was not really Olivia, mine was not really Mr. Ellery, those were just name tags to make the charade seem more real. She was merely an expensive whore, and I had bought her for the night. The drinks, the dinner, the conversation, all a pretty show to dress up the ugly truth, like silk sheets on a dirty mattress.

         Standing, I offered Olivia my hand, the image of a gentleman soliciting the illusion of a lady. Almost nothing in this world is ever as it seems. "Shall we retire upstairs, my dear?"

         She returned the smile confidently, placing her hand in mine.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


         Morning sun sliced through the gap in the velveteen curtains, waking me up gradually. I stretched and groaned, enjoying the delicious ache from the previous evening's rigorous activity.

         "Mmm... Good morning, Olivia," I mumbled contentedly, brushing my fingertips over the fall of golden hair splayed across my shoulder.

         No answer.

         I laughed and sat up, feeling energized. A year overseas with investment bankers had been dull and torturous. I had yearned to be back here, doing the only thing I loved more than money. The girls - and their yielding flesh!

         "Well Olivia, you were right!"

         I surveyed the scarlet bedclothes tangled around me, their edges dragging on the floor. Oh, and the floor was an absolute mess. Come to think of it, so was I!

         A thorough shower was definitely in order, but first a little wake-me-up to start the day off right. Humming merrily, my thumb delicately grazed her limp pout as I pulled her severed head into my lap.









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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1703299