Welcome to FROST HARROW, my new modern (1990s) gothic horror series! If you’d like to support this and my other work, go to www.CushingHorrors.com and become my patron! You may also enjoy the Scribe Award-Winning MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE – In print, for kindle, and for all e-book formats. And check out my retro-horror-comedy classic CANOE COPS VS. THE MUMMY as well as my other books. Now… On with the show!
THIRTEEN – A BITE FOR LUNCH
Amber Crystal had worked as a freelance prostitute in Frosthaven for the better part of three years. She culled most of her clientele from the numerous bars dotting the city’s prosperous downtown.
Over time, she’d developed a small, discriminating list of repeat clients including businessmen, politicians, prominent citizens, and (for her own protection) ranking police and sheriff’s officials. Nowadays, she rarely engaged in quickies and one-night stands. There just wasn’t enough money in it. Scheduled, regular appointments had become her rule.
Amber maintained a tastefully decorated apartment on the upper west side of town (near the lake front). She also had a standing deal with the Bloch Overnite Motel for more discreet (or risky) rendezvous. Her marketing strategy worked. She’d done very well for herself in the business.
Lately, however, she’d grown tired of the odd hours and sweaty businessmen. She also didn’t like the disdainful looks she got from the town’s matrons. How would they feel, she wondered, if they knew I’d done most of their husbands?
In recent weeks, she’d considered chucking the whole thing, pulling up stakes, and starting over fresh somewhere else, somewhere she could be just Christy Jones rather than Amber Crystal.
Unfortunately, a fondness for cocaine had long ago robbed her bank balance of any substance.
Still, she meant to start putting a little away for her retirement very soon. Maybe next week.
Today, however, she had a full schedule on her calendar. Her lunch-hour client was car salesman Kurt Bond. Kurt worked at Byrd’s Automart and, to hear him tell it anyway, was second only to Byrd himself in prestige and sales.
Amber didn’t give a shit about his position. She only cared that Kurt was a well-heeled man with a hard dick and cold cash. He’d pay Amber enough today for her to get up again for work tomorrow.
Amber checked her watch and pulled the blinds on the motel room windows. Kurt was late again—as usual. Crystal wondered how long she should wait before either calling him up or writing him off. Calling was risky, she knew. At the Automart, someone might recognize her voice and connect the two of them. If she called his home, his wife might answer.
It would serve him right if I did, bastard, she thought. She decided if he kept her waiting again, she’d bring down his whole precious house of cards.
Amber checked her equipment in the room’s full-length mirror. Yes, everything looked just the way Kurt liked it. Her hair up, fake glasses perched on her nose, garters and hose and a black peek-a-boo bra, and nothing else.
She cupped her partially bare breasts in her hands and examined them. Was she sagging a bit more than yesterday? And—Good God!—could that be a stretch mark forming? She really would have to start putting some money aside.
Someone knocked on the door. Shave and a haircut, two bits. Kurt’s idea of a joke—a “secret” knock, just for them.
She threw open the door and stood naked in the doorway, letting the afternoon sunlight chase the shadows from her body.
“Jesus, Amber,” Kurt said, rushing inside and closing the door. “Do you want people to see?”
“I thought danger was part of the fun,” she said in what years of practice told her was an appropriately sultry voice.
“Danger, yes. Stupidity, no,” said Kurt, loosening his tie. “Hurry up. I don’t have much time here.”
You never do, thought Amber.
No, he never does, said another voice in the back of her mind. Never has time for you.
Amber looked around the room to see who’d spoken. She found only shadows.
Kurt gave her a queer look. “What are you waiting for, bitch? Get on your knees and give me some head.”
“Watch your mouth, asshole,” Amber shot back. “Remember, I’m doing you a favor here.”
Kurt propped his hands on his hips. His trousers and boxer shorts lay draped around his ankles. “A favor I could get for half the price from a dozen other hookers,” he said. “Now, you gonna come across, or should I start hiring someone else?”
Amber dropped to her knees and took his pecker in her hands.
He doesn’t care about you, Kurt’s dick said to her. None of them do. They only care about one thing—me.
Amber shook her head to clear it. Some of her hair fell out of the bun.
“Hey, watch the hair,” said Kurt. “You know I like that slutty school teacher look.”
“Shut up, you,” Amber said quietly, though she wasn’t sure if she was speaking to Kurt or his cock. She took a mint flavored condom from where she’d concealed it beneath her breast and rolled it on him with her mouth.
Kurt lolled his head back and sighed. “Ah, that’s better. Can’t give me no lip with your mouth full, can you, sweetheart.”
Look at him, said a voice from somewhere inside her head. Thinks he’s such a big shot when he’s hardly more than a mouthful.
Amber nodded in agreement; Kurt moaned and thrust deeper.
Amber stopped her work. “Watch it!” she said. “You want me to choke?”
Kurt grabbed her hair and pushed her back onto him. “For the money I’m paying you, you’ll choke and like it,” he said.
You know, whispered the voice, it would serve him right if you bit it off.
TO BE CONTINUED…