In-Call

The buzzer always made an ugly sound that screamed through the whole apartment.

Becca checked the mirror. Red lips. Sharp eyes. The face of a killer. She pulled the knot of her silk robe tighter.

-Showtime, she whispered.

She hit the intercom.

-Come up.

He trotted up the stairs and knocked hard on the door.

She opened it.

Art filled the frame. Expensive suit. Dead eyes. He held a yellow envelope.

-Hey, babe, Becca purred. What did you bring me?

Art walked past her, into the room, tossing the envelope on the cheap Ikea table. It landed with a slap.

-A fat wad of cash, babe.

Becca stared at the envelope. The thickness of it made her mouth water. She swallowed her greed. It tasted like bile. She walked over to him and the money.

-Just how I like it, fat.

She reached out. Her fingers brushed his hand. His skin was cold. Dry. Like paper.

-Let me see what you've got there, baby.

She plucked the envelope up. She opened the flap slowly.

A brick of hundred. Clean and crisp.

Her eyes widened with hunger.

-Mmm, she purred. Very impressive. Looks like you mean serious business.

She pulled the blue stack out. Fanned it. She let the edges brush against the swell of her cleavage before tucking it into her black lace bra.

Art moved. Fast.

His hand shot out, snatching the brick back from her warmth.

-Uh uh, he said. It's pay as you go, doll.

Becca blinked. The cold spot on her chest ached where the money had been. She forced a laugh.

-Oh, oh. Playing hardball already, are we, baby boy?

She stepped into his space. Traced a nail down the lapel of his jacket.

-I like a man who knows what he wants.

Art stared down at her

-I'll give you a hundred dollars, he said. To rip my pants off. And suck me until I get hard.

Becca froze at his tone, then smiled.

-Standard rates apply, Daddy. But for you? Maybe I'll make an exception.

She dropped to her knees and sunk her teeth into his pants.