Audra drops Mark on my lawn. On my front fucking lawn, with neighbors all around us, right smack dab in the middle of suburbia.
“You say you're not a whore, fine. Fine. I'll believe your darkness bullshit, but listen to me when I tell you that I'm no whore either.” I pretend as if her lack of care and attention to the matter isn't pissing me the fuck off, and drag Mark the last few feet to the trunk. It takes a good bend at the knees and an excruciating tightening of my stomach muscles, but I manage to haul Mark up and shove him unceremoniously into my trunk. My eyes flutter closed for a moment.
“I wasn't talking sex, Miss Holiday. Money. Cash, check, credit, fucking PayPal. I don't give a crap, but you will pay me for this.” I open my eyes and watch Audra panting on the grass, still wearing her heels, still gorgeous as sin. Her skin is practically glowing in the moonlight, so pale she truly lives up to the definition of white. But she isn't pasty, Miss Holiday looks like a vampire from a black and white movie. Her face is sculpted to please the eye, perfectly symmetrical, and well-balanced. Her large eyes make up for the generous swell of her lips, and her pert nose plays into the overall composure of her features. Like a painting. Like a sculpture. Like an arrogant bitch with an attitude problem. My dick reassures me that Audra is a good choice, that if her mouth felt that good then her tight, little cunt will feel so much better. “And then you'll call me after. Maybe not tomorrow but soon. In a week or two. You'll beg me to come and show you things you've only dreamed of.”
“I've been to some BDSM clubs in my day. You'd be hard-pressed to shock me.” Audra crosses her arms over her ample chest as I slam the trunk closed and brush my gloved hands off on my slacks. No amount of wet wipes will be able to make me feel clean, not until this corpse is gone and the danger of being discovered has passed. I still have to bury the damn thing, and then I have to deal with Mrs. Braxton. I'm going to need a dozen scalding showers to recover from this. How I hate being fucking dirty. Well, physically anyway.
“Bondage? Dominance? Sadomasochism? Please. The taboo isn't just about the act; it's not about chains or whips or spankings.” I move across the lawn quickly, sweeping my arm around Audra's waist and drawing her throat to my lips. She resists but only just so there's a front of refusal. When my teeth meet her flesh, she goes limp in my arms. I don't bite hard – not yet. I require all of my clients to be tested – regularly. Before any blood is exchanged between us, I'll have her results and she'll have mine. It's only fair. I intend to die someday, but not by disease. I'm too stubborn to go out that way.
“Then what is it?” Audra whispers as I graze her flesh, move up to her ear and allow my breath to wend its way into her brain. Her red hair tickles my face and draws my darkness to the surface, like a monster summoned from the depths of the Loch Ness. Only this beast isn't just a fable; he is oh so real and twice as deadly. “What is it about?” I feel Audra's hands on my chest, pushing me back. I oblige but only because we have other things to do. That, and I'm standing on my front lawn, on my turf, a place I haven't ever brought a single client or woman. Oh yes, I'm the typical bad boy. So naughty – no girls at home. Not until I find “The One”. I try my best not to scoff. The simple fact here is that my neighbors are early to bed, early to rise kind of folks. Soon enough, Mr. Kadege will be jogging past my front window. I want Audra – and most especially Mark – out of here before then.
I glance over my shoulder.
Besides, you never know who might be looking. Robbie's house is dark enough now, but what happens when she wakes up, starts to get ready for school? I shiver and push her from my thoughts. She's a simple nuisance and nothing more. Nothing fucking more.
I look back at Audra Holiday. She's standing there with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her chest, hugging herself like it'll chase the monster away. It doesn't. Trust me, I've tried. I sigh and let some of the tension in my chest out, feel the tightness of my muscles, the rigid line of my dick straining against my pants. He's an insatiable bastard.
“Let's get in the car, shall we? We can talk then.” I move over to the passenger's side of my Chrysler 300, opening the door for Audra, like a true gentleman. I'm not exactly a 'nice guy', so I may as well be polite. She narrows her green eyes at me, a look of distrust flashing across her perfect features. Audra Holiday isn't used to men being nice to her. How sad.
I close the door gently, trying to minimize the amount of noise. With one last glance over at Robbie Carrell's house, I move back to the driver's side and climb in.