Taboo Unchained(43)
I barely make it down the driveway before Audra Holiday's hideous little Mini Cooper pulls in beside me. I despise the strange sense of elation that titillates my empty soul.
“What on earth, may I ask, do you fucking want?” I only roll down my window a crack. Audra doesn't respond, simply shuts off her vehicle and climbs out. I try my best not to frown as she comes around the hood and climbs into the passenger seat. Despite the early hour, she's wearing a red cocktail dress that's ridiculously short. Paired with her overdone makeup and partially exposed bra, she looks like she's off to a bachelor party – as the entertainment. Never mind the fact that I was on my way to drive by her house, I'm irritated at her sudden initiation into my life.
She doesn't buckle herself in as I jerk out of the driveway with a slam of my foot on the gas. I watch as she rocks around and braces herself with a hand on the door.
“An orgasm,” she says, matter-of-factly, like I'll understand what the hell she's even talking about. I take the next corner fast, enjoying the slithering hiss that escapes between Audra Holiday's red, red lips as she hits the seat back hard. “You are such a sadistic fuck,” she whispers as I speed onto the highway and continue on towards my original destination of the day. If Audra wants to come along, so be it. I just hope she can deal with the consequences. A smile tweaks my lips.
“An orgasm?” I ask as I hit the fast lane and speed around several semis.
“Yeah. You asked what I wanted, so I told you. An orgasm. It's why I'm here.”
“So you pop over to my house midmorning to ask for an orgasm? And you assume I'll just hand you one?” Audra scoffs at me and tugs her dress down her creamy thighs. Personally, I wouldn't mind fucking her again, but it has to be under a client relationship. After some sleep it's become even clearer to me: Audra Holiday is dangerous and these strange feelings I have towards her will only get worse with time if I don't clamp down on them.
“I gave you a good handful yesterday, so I think it's only fair. You said you weren't like other men, that you didn't like to use women.” She raises both red eyebrows at me in question and my hands tighten on the steering wheel, almost imperceptibly but I know she sees it. Miss Holiday seems to notice all the little details, doesn't she?
“If you were a man and I was a woman, how do you think this conversation would sound? You're telling me that I owe you sex?”
“Yeah, well, men tell me that all the time. That my dress is too short or my boobs are too big, so I owe them a fuck. I get where you're coming from, but they're never going to stop doing that, so equality means I get to return the favor, right?”
“You have a strange way of thinking, Miss Holiday, but to be quite frank, the only way we'll be sleeping together is if you pay me.” I punctuate this statement by pulling the car into a tight parking space and slamming my foot on the brake, sending Audra straight into the dash. She manages to catch herself, but gives me a look that should rightfully kill. I ignore her, shutting off the ignition and opening my door. Audra follows after, scrambling out of the car and struggling to adjust her too tight dress and balance on her five inch heels.
“The Farmers' Market?” she asks incredulously, looking over at me in me my ridiculously expensive suit. It's in desperate need of a tailor – I am a much fitter man than Mr. Braxton – but even with a loose jacket, it looks like it cost more than my car. Most likely because it does. “You wore a suit to The Farmers' Market?” I ignore her and start down the sidewalk, towards the red and white sign blocking off vehicle access to the plaza. “What the hell could you possibly be doing at a farmers' market?”
“Do you presume to know me, Audra Holiday? We just met. For all you know, I work here.”
“Not possible,” she says, stumbling up to me and keeping pace on my right. Her pale skin and vibrant hair gleam under the sunshine, giving her a completely different look than she had last night. Even with the over the top makeup and the cheap dress, she looks like a vision. I force my attention forward and shut down those thoughts. Whether or not she's attractive is irrelevant; I have plenty of clients I'd never look twice at otherwise. I'm being paid to assuage the darkness, not have a good time.
“And why's that?” I ask as I pause next to a colorful display of peppers. My tongue tingles and my throat gets tight. If I were still capable of love, I would love fresh produce. As things stand, it merely gives me a hard-on. Audra sees and gives me a strange look that the woman inside the stand doesn't catch; she's too busy offering me a bag of peppers for free. I guess the suit does look good. I smirk and hand her a twenty, extracting a reusable bag that I've folded up tightly in my pocket. It's all part of the game. Serial killers, demons of darkness, men who fuck the Devil for money, they don't use cloth fucking bags. And they don't shop for ingredients to make fresh fajitas on sunny Saturday mornings. It's all a system of checks and balances; keep the weird hidden and flaunt the normal, the average.