Grave Situation Read Online Free PDF Page A

her tone became a bit playful. “I have no
problem with other women.”
    He stared back at
her with a kind of fascination. “Really? ”
    Another wink, a pucker of her lips,
answered him.
    It was funny, he thought. Two
different people, submerged in separate lives, all of a sudden
connected. It would be almost a shame to kill this
woman.
    “How’d you ever end up doing this
type of work?” he asked.
    “What are you, a priest? Do you
want me to profess my sins?”
    “Stupid question, huh?”
    The hooker smiled a little. “I love
the sex.”
    He raised his
eyebrows. “Really? ”
    She laughed
aloud, tossing her head. “No, not really. To tell you the truth, it
bores the shit out of me. I meet some strange people in this business.
Some real losers. Lucky for me, most of them come pretty quickly. I
do this for the money, honey. Speaking of which.” She held out her
palm, tone impatient now. “What is it you want? To talk? To fuck? Either
way, I get paid. Understand?”
    Abruptly, his eyes
narrowed.
    Sharp-mouthed bitch.
    He saw her other hand on the door
handle. She was going to bail soon, he realized. He knew he
couldn’t let her do that. Not being this close. Tugging his wallet
from a back pocket, he opened it, and then paused.
    “I never did get your fees,” he
said.
    “Depends what you want. It’s forty
a blow. Sixty a lay. Or one-twenty an hour.”
    The clock in the dash read 4:16. An
hour should be more than enough time. He thumbed through some bills
and handed the woman six twenties.
    “I’ll have an hour,” he
said.
    He felt the bills being slipped
from his fingers.
    “Generous,” the hooker remarked,
counting.
    She stuffed the money into her
purse. Then she told him to drive.
    Down the street a few late-night
stragglers wandered the sidewalks. A small coterie of teenagers
hung around a pimped-out car parked at the curb. Some of them
glanced his way. Eyes averted, he continued to roll down
Barrington. He saw a bearded man in an overcoat leaning against the
side of a building with his arms folded and his head down as if
asleep. Further along, a young man in a hooded sweatshirt and faded
jeans rummaged through a garbage can. By his side sat a cart half
full of his night’s yields
    He passed the Old Burying Ground
and then the stone facade of Government House.
    “Take a right up here on Salter,”
the hooker told him, pointing.
    The street itself was deserted, no
one in sight. They coasted downhill toward the waterfront. At the
corner of Salter and Lower Water Street, the hooker told him to
take another right. Slowly, they passed the Brewery
Market.
    “See that parking lot across the
street,” the hooker said.
    He looked. “Yes.”
    “Turn in there.”
    As he did, he saw the lot was
empty. He drove to the far end and parked before shutting off the
engine. He flipped the key to auxiliary so the radio would still
play.
    Beyond the windshield lay the
glittering water of the Halifax Harbor. He peered out at a buoy
rocking with the waves. Off to his left was a tugboat wharf. Two
tugs were neatly moored at the dock.
    A perfect location.
    Beside him, the woman removed her
jacket and spread it out on the dash. Then she raised the tank top
over her head. She wore no bra. Her breasts were full with big
round areolas. A gold ring hung from one nipple.
    Watching, his mouth felt dry.
Something stirred in his pants. Instinctively, he drew down the
zipper of his fly.
    The hooker leaned back against the
door and pulled her mini-skirt up around her hips. Underneath, she
wore a black thong. That she did not remove it herself suggested a
silent offering. He imagined her waiting for him. Desire now
coursed through his brain. He reached out for the elastic band of
the thong and worked it slowly off one leg and then the
other.
    The hooker opened her knees for
him. Her genitalia were shaved bare. Another gold ring pierced the
folds of her labia.
    He stared, transfixed. Sweat
trickled down his sides.
    “Like what you