Grave Situation Read Online Free PDF

see?” the hooker
asked with a smile.
    Herb didn’t seem to hear. He
caressed her there and she let out a sigh through her white even
teeth. One, then two seeking fingers found her warm wetness. The
hooker closed her eyes. Her hips convulsed upwards in powerful
thrusts.
    He wondered if she was enjoying the
foreplay. To him, her movements seemed to lack passion, unlike the
women he had been with in the past, a rehearsed act used only to
encourage him, to make him feel at ease. He cupped her breasts and
could feel her nipples rise under his palms. She wrapped her arms
around him, pulling him close, kissing him on the forehead, on the
cheek, on the side of his mouth.
    “Are you ready? ” she whispered,
her breath hot on his ear.
    Tentative, he swallowed.
“Yes.”
    The hooker reached for her purse.
From inside it, she produced a foil packet. She handed it to him.
He fumbled as he tore open the packet and touched the oily condom
inside. Staring at her, he hesitated. His thoughts became a chaotic
mixture of lust and restraint. One last remnant of self-control
reminded him of the job he had to do.
    “I don’t know if I can go through
with this,” he said.
    “Why not?” The hooker glanced down
at the bulbous head of his penis jutting out of his pants. “Looks
to me like you’re willing and able.”
    He lowered his eyes. “I feel
guilty.”
    “A man who
feels guilt? ” The
woman snorted. “Jesus, now that’s original.”
    “You don’t understand.”
    When she rested a hand on his, he
privately cringed.
    “I think I do,” she said in a
soothing tone.
    His eyes rose to her face. The
hooker’s expression was sympathetic, guileless, but he couldn’t
tell whether or not it was genuine. Perhaps she was only an actress
playing a role for her money. Life had taught him one hard
lesson—trust no one.
    You could never
understand, he thought sadly, what you just stumbled into.
    The cab of the pickup had grown
warm. His skin tingled from the sweat.
    “I never made love to a woman I
never knew first,” he lied.
    For a moment, the hooker was still,
thoughtful. She smiled.
    “Honey, relax,” she said. “We’ll
make love when we get to know each other. Right now, let’s
fuck.”
    He saw the rest move forward in
pieces—the hooker taking the condom from him, skillfully sliding it
over the stiff thickness of his penis, her fingers turning up the
radio, her moist lips on his, her arms pulling him down on top of
her, her hands guiding him into her, working her muscles with each
push he made, the warmth of her body beneath his, the hard tips of
her nipples pressing into his chest, and the reeking cigarettes on
her breath.
    Ever so slowly, he reached under
the passenger seat and grabbed hold of the tire iron he had put
there earlier.
    Honey, looks like you’re already
fucked.
    Abruptly, he rose off the woman,
holding her down with his free hand. Beneath him, he felt her
tense, saw her eyes balloon as she caught a glimpse of the object
in his other hand, but by then, it was too late. There was a
sickening crack of metal against bone and he could feel the
vibration work through his forearm. A small whimper came from the
hooker’s lips.
    Trembling, he watched her slump
against the door, head tilted at an irregular angle, eyes closed. A
red gash near her temple began to bleed.
    The tire iron clunked on the floor
as he dropped it. He stepped outside and cautiously checked the
street, the boardwalk nearby. Nothing moved. The streets and
sidewalks were bare with only the blinking traffic lights,
throbbing like a heartbeat. Holding his breath, he listened for
sounds—nothing but the soft murmur of the harbor water and the
creak of the tugs as they scraped against the sides of their
slips.
    He retrieved his duffel bag from
the storage box and then walked around the pickup with a brisk
pace. As he opened the passenger door, the hooker’s head fell out
toward him, face up. Her neck hung over the seat, hair
dangling.
    Inhaling a