Prey Read online

  Prey

  By Paulie Celt

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Paulie Celt

  Discover other titles by Paulie Celt on Smashwords at: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/PaulieCelt

  The sky loomed above, pregnant with full, grey clouds, their wet contents already spilling onto the area below and its sparse population. A steady stream of rain glistened through the air, the countless droplets glittering in the unrelenting glare of the street-lights.

  Susan Blakeston stood under a cracked porch which jutted out from a deserted building on the corner. Her fingers shivered, turning a darker shade of blue by the second, as they hugged the remains of a cigarette. She sucked on the filter with great gusto, as if trying to inhale the heat from the fiery tip, itself, into her lungs. Her eyes darted through the rainfall, attracted by what little movement they found, pausing every now and then to watch the bellowing mist of her exhalations rise and dissipate into the cold February night.

  A small red car rounded the corner, slowing as it did so, before straightening out and gaining back its speed. It drove off, a spray of water catapulting from the back wheels with a low, liquid hiss.

  Susan reached up a hand and rolled back the sleeve of her coat to reveal the darkened readout of her digital watch. She pressed a button on the side of the timepiece and sighed as it illuminated. 20:37. Thirty seven minutes and nothing. She turned her body to face down the length of the road and her teeth gripped the back of her bottom lip, as she took in the empty street. I'll give it until nine, and try somewhere else. She leaned her bodyweight back and forth, filling the air with the clickety-click of her high-heeled shoes, and pulled her arms inward to retain what little warmth her body still contained.

  A chorus of voices erupted from a few streets away.

  She froze to the spot, cigarette clenched between her taut lips.

  A man shouted unrecognisable words, and other unknown people laughed in appreciation. They faded within a few seconds and left behind nothing but the slushing and sloshing of rain assaulting the ground.

  She withdrew the cigarette from her lips and flicked the ash off the end, before easing it back to her tongue for the last lungful of carcinogens. Her eyes jolted to the corner of the street on the other side of the road. She swallowed, and the action turned into a gulp.

  A tall, well built man, dressed in a black Puffa jacket, its hood hiding most of his features, and dark, bulk-some trousers, strode over the pavement.

  Susan finished the cigarette, tossed the butt to the ground and with the toe of her shoe she trampled it into an obscene mush on the concrete. The faint scent of damp tobacco tickled her nostrils and they twitched.

  The approaching stranger paused at the edge of the road, looking in both directions before crossing over in a diagonal line. Heading toward Susan.

  She coughed and cleared her throat. Both her hands pulled up toward her hair and her fingers combed through the long, chestnut tresses. She lapped her tongue around the roof of her mouth. Her chest pounded and an uncomfortable flutter surged through her veins.

  He slowed his pace and made eye contact. His lips shot an introductory smile.

  Susan opened her mouth to talk. The words caught in her throat and she retreated into another cough. She lowered her gaze and caught the shake of her hands. They rushed to the safety of her coat pockets and clenched into fists, as if to ward off the weakness. She looked up, refusing to blink. “Can I help you, love?” She widened her shoulders and stood tall.

  “I hope so.” He halted a few feet in front of her and his eyes roamed the surroundings.

  With a long, deep breath to abate the pounding behind her ribs, Susan spoke in a steady tone. “What is it you're after?”

  “What's on offer?” His eyes roamed again.

  “Are you a cop?” Her voice croaked a little towards the end of the question, and she forced her chest forward and chin up, as if to reinforce her nerve. She searched his eyes.

  He chuckled. Catching her stare, he spoke with an air of bemusement. “No. I can assure you I'm not a cop.”

  “Do you have a car?” Susan let her eyes stray to the street facing. The kerb lay barren as far as her gaze reached.

  The man grinned, revealing almost perfect white teeth between his rugged lips and amidst a fresh-shaven face. “Yeah, I'm parked up a few streets back.” He leaned back and nodded his head in the direction. “Can't be too careful.” Another chuckle.

  “Let's go to the car, we can talk there.” Without waiting for an answer, Susan hunched her shoulders together, bracing herself against the cold, and strode past the man in the general direction of the vehicle. The plinking of her heels reverberated on the ground beneath.

  He followed. “So... What's your name?”

  Susan picked up her pace, rushing through the chill of the rain. Her teeth chattered as she moved. She didn't reply.

  The man quickened his step and caught up to walk alongside her.

  She looked across and her eyes widened a little, upon realising the full size of her companion towering over her own sleight frame. She forced a cough. “Where's the car?”

  He reached out a long, thick forefinger and pointed out a lifeless, grey car perched up on the kerb.

  “Does the heating work?”

  “Yeah.” He edged ahead of her and jingled a set of keys in his jacket pocket, approaching the passenger door.

  Susan glanced around the area and a shiver broke her countenance. Not a soul. She slowed her footfalls and watched the car door click open.

  He swung the door ajar and turned to face her. “Ladies first,” he smiled and his eyes sparkled in the luminescence emanating from above the dashboard.

  Her lips attempted to return the smile, but lost heart half way through and froze in an awkward fold. Pushing a hand on top of the car for balance, she helped herself into the passenger seat and straightened her clothing.

  The stranger closed the door and rounded to the driver side. He jumped in and fastened his safety belt. His fingers fiddled with the hood of his jacket and pulled it back to reveal short, salt and pepper toned hair.

  Her vision moved to the windscreen and the many droplets of water which smashed against the glass and formed tiny rivers. A strong waft of aniseed drifted through her nostrils, and perhaps a hint of mint. Her stomach grumbled and the sound muffled under her winter coat. “So what are you looking for?”

  Reaching an outstretched digit to the heating dials, the man annunciated his words. “Like I asked before, what's on offer?” He pushed a button and hot air buzzed into the enclosed space.

  The heat, although welcome against the cold bite of the street, conspired with Susan's racing heart and formed a few droplets of perspiration on her forehead. She rose a hand to her face and with the nail of one finger and scratched at the moist, pale flesh under her hairline. “Depends how much money you have.” The words lingered in her mind and a smile born of bemusement forced its way through her lips.

  “I have the money. Don't worry about that.” He shifted in his seat.

  With imperceptible slowness, Susan turned her head and sneaked her eyes toward the man sat next to her. She sat back a little, upon noticing he now faced her. “Anything you want, then,” she offered. “I guess.”

  A hearty grin spread across his lips and ignited the stark blue of his eyes. “Cool.”

  Her pulse pounded through the thumb on her left hand and, upon looking down, she noticed how tight it pressed into her knee. The tip shone purest white and, with a shuffle in her seat, she released the hold and exhaled long and slow. She rubbed both hands against the leggings which covered her legs, drying off some of the rain.

  A car drove past, breaking the silence. The headlamps illuminated the downpour and disappeared as the vehicle
continued its journey.

  “So... Do you have a place we can go?” Her chest tightened a little, as she spoke, aware of the cloying, warm air inside the car. She inhaled deep, and released it in silent bursts between her parched lips. The thudding behind her ribs slowed, but thumped all the harder.

  Slotting the key into the opening at the side of the steering column, the punter twisted it and the vehicle whirred into life. His legs moved and the engine revved. A flick of a button set the windscreen wipers to moving and he paused to look in the mirrors, while his other hand turned the headlights on, before edging off the kerb and turning the Ford Sierra 180 degrees and cutting through the heavy rainfall.

  “Is it far?” She chuckled under her breath, against her better judgement, realising how the words made her sound like an impatient child going on holiday with her parents.

  “Nah. Maybe five minutes away.” He twisted the wheel and turned a corner.

  Beneath her chair, Susan rubbed her shoes together. Her eyes scanned the dashboard and every now and then she lifted them to stare out through the window. So much rain.

  They left the city and the surroundings turned residential. The inside of the car brimmed with silence as neither of its occupants spoke for long moments.

  Susan picked at her long fingernails, pausing every few seconds to inspect them. She inhaled warm, dry air through her lips and expelled it through her nostrils in ever-slowing streams. She winced for a split second as the beginnings of a headache coursed through her temples. With one hand she reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose, relaxing back into the seat as it eased her sinuses.

  The car pulled into a large driveway and bumped a little as it crackled over gravel. It stopped, and the lights and roar of the engine died, as the punter removed the key.

  Susan sat bold upright, and ran her gaze around the her new surroundings.

  “This is it.” The driver undid his seatbelt and opened the door.

  Susan opened her own door and kicked her legs out over the side of the seat. She pushed herself up and almost lost her balance as her pointy heels dug into the loose stones beneath.

  The driver door slammed shut.

  Susan's hand shot to the side of her coat. She gripped at the handle in her pocket. Her limbs stiffened and her eyes glared.

  The stranger plodded through the gravel and paused at the front door of the house, jingling the set of keys as he fumbled for the right one.

  She eased her fingers from the wooden ridges and paced to the shelter of the doorway.

  “Welcome to my humble abode.” The middle-aged host swung the door open and nodded his younger companion inside the well lit hallway, his features relaxed and accommodating.

  With small, hesitant footsteps, the twenty-three year old entered the building and shook the rain from her hair, before wiping her face and exhaling through loose, reverberating lips. She kept her eyes on her host.

  The door closed and the punter stepped through to open another, entering the new room.

  The young woman's hand slid back into her pocket. Her fingers teased the wooden handle. She eyed the simple décor and somewhat old fashioned furniture. On a small table in the living room, a picture sat in a fancy frame.

  The punter stood smiling on a beach, his arm around a woman of his own age. Both grinned for the photographer.

  Charming, Susan mused, shrugging her lips.

  The man stopped in his tracks and removed his coat, throwing it on the sofa. Without a word he stepped in front of Susan and pushed the photo face down onto the table. “Sorry.” His gaze dropped to floor.

  Susan smirked and scrolled her eyes around the room. Her fingertips tapped on the side of her jacket, finding comfort in the hard outline of the object inside. She opened her lips to talk, the words gargling in her throat and lost in translation. Phlegm gathered on the back of her tongue as she cleared her throat. She swallowed and attempted to speak again. “How much are you spending?”

  The older man chuckled. “This is your first time, isn't it?”

  “No. Of course not.” Her tone nipped through the air. She refused to make eye contact, and shuffled her feet on the carpet.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “OK. OK.” He dropped his arms and walked to the large, flat-screen television in the corner of the room. One finger pushed a button on the top of the unit and a low buzz filled the room, replaced a split second later by muted images, as the set flashed to life. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Susan prodded her heels through the thick carpet and threw herself into the deep cushioning on the armchair nearest the door. Her shoes struggled to touch the floor and, all of a sudden aware of her lack of stature, she snaked her hand back to the outside of the pocket containing the knife. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the live news and her customer.

  “Would you like a drink? Maybe something to eat?”

  She licked at the dry surface of her lips, opening her mouth to voice the nod of her head. Her eyes stretched for a second and she turned stiff. “No. It's OK.” Her fingers edged inside the pocket and stroked the handle. “So, what's the plan and where's the money?”

  The punter reached inside his back pocket and retrieved a bulging, leather wallet. The clip popped open with a short flick of his thumb. His lips moved a little, as if speaking unheard words, as he pulled out a few notes. He slid the money onto the surface of a small table, beside the armchair, next to a few remote controls and an open packet of aniseed sweets.

  Susan reached out and, as her hand fell short, she pushed herself up in the chair, then stretched the few extra inches and pinched the payment between her thumb and forefinger. She slid the notes apart and cracked a smile after a quick mental count. One hundred and twenty. She straightened her features and relaxed back into the furniture, waiting for instructions.

  Scanning the younger woman's body with his anticipative eyes, the host rolled the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip. “I have more if needed.” He paused his gaze over the swell of her breasts and sighed through his flared nostrils. “I'm Simon, by the way. You gonna tell me your name?”

  “Susan. Pleased to meet you.” Her eyes rolled to the top of their sockets, as she folded the money between her fingers and rolled it into her coat pocket. The other coat pocket. Just in case. She returned her hand to the outline of the knife and stroked it through the material of her winter wear.

  Simon placed the wallet on the arm of the sofa and lowered himself to sit next to it. He exhaled long and hard, raising one hand to ruffle the short hairs atop his head. “Are you gonna sit there on your own all night?” He tapped the empty cushion next to where he sat. An eager smile shot across his lips, as the sparkle in his eyes echoed the gesture.

  With a twitch of a cheek, refraining from forming a full scowl, Susan lifted herself from the armchair and slid her shoes across the carpet, before plodding into the opposite end of the sofa. The smell of expensive aftershave scratched at her nostrils and they scrunched up in silent protest.

  Without a word, Simon crept along the sofa and paused a few inches from the prostitute's body.

  She glanced out of the corner of her eye and spotted a growing bulge in his trousers. Her shoulders sagged into the back of the sofa. She pulled her legs tight together, the sole of one shoe lifting and prodding into the top of the other.

  The cash-laden punter reached across and ran one meaty hand over the younger woman's knee, sneaking it higher at an almost unnoticeable pace. The liquescent flop of his lips lapping against each other filled the otherwise silent room. He moved to the inside of her thigh and paused to squeeze the flesh there.

  She retracted by clenching the muscles of her legs.

  Unperturbed, Simon continued to squeeze the fleshy mass of Susan's inner-thigh, his touch sliding higher as the volume of his breathing grew with it. As it reached a rasping crescendo, it cut off in an instant and turned into a phlegmy cough. A few seconds passed before he spoke. “Can you take your coat off, please?” />
  Susan's eyes jolted wide open and her fingers pressed hard against the bump in her pocket. Her pupils jittered as her lips hung agape, searching for the words to utter. “Can I just use the bathroom, first?”, she stammered.

  “Sure. It's the second room on the left.” Simon withdrew his hand and sunk back into the couch.

  Susan left the living room and faced the stairs, her heart raising in tempo. She ascended them with hesitation, taking notice of the mini wall above the top end of the bannister. Enough for someone to hide behind. The thought weighed heavy on her limbs and slowed her advance. Her fingers clutched for the security of the knife. She gripped it tight and focused on the blind-spot, her eyes stinging as they begged to blink.

  A loud rumble raped the quiet.

  Susan jumped out of her skin. She pulled the knife from her pocket and stabbed it out in front of her. The light glinted off the blade in sharp arcs. Her limbs stuck to the spot. Blood surged through her ears and she struggled to listen for the origins of the disturbance. Her breath bottlenecked in her throat as it struggled to feed the building pressure in her veins.

  “Looks like we were just in time,” Simon's voice boomed from the room below. “That's going to be a nasty storm.”

  With a loud and racking gulp, Susan fell against the wall, reaching out an arm for support as her legs turned to jelly. She spat out a lungful of air and closed her eyes. The blade disappeared back inside its hiding place, amidst her trembling grasp. She waited where she stood, hoping her heart wouldn't explode before it had a chance to calm down. It pounded against her ribs like a pneumatic drill.

  Another brattle of thunder sounded from the outside world.

  Still wedged against the wall, Susan inched toward the landing. She bent her neck and snaked her gaze around the bannister. A pocket of air sighed through her teeth as the area on the other side revealed itself as empty. Using one hand to rub her belly through the heavy material of her coat, she shook her head and grunted a half-hearted chuckle. She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  The room gleamed white, not a sign of colour to be found. Even the face cloth in the sink merged with the ivory tone of the porcelain.