Hard Return Read Online Free PDF

things to do.
    He smiled. “You busy?” he asked.
    “Honey, I’m always busy.”
    “Does that mean you’re too busy for me?”
    “No way, hon. I love big strong men.”
    Her delivery was perfect. Believable. He almost found himself believing it, she was that good.
    It was important to him that she was a pro. He motioned her over to stand by him. “Don’t be a stranger.”
    She came up to the line and stood with him. He asked her if she had kids and she said two. He told her he had a daughter. He asked her if she liked the life and she said it paid the bills. That was pretty much the extent of the conversation. She shifted from one high-heeled foot to another and her eyes roved the crowd, already picking out the next john. When he checked in, he made sure to look embarrassed. Tried for the family dog who pissed on the carpet and didn’t think it was such a big infraction, but felt he should at least look chastened. He had a dog like that once when he was a kid. Frodo wasn’t supposed to be on the furniture, but many times, when Landry got up in the night, he heard a thump and a jingle. The dog jumping off the couch, even though no one could see him in the dark.
    Frodo always gave away the farm.
    So in this story, Landry was the dog. He felt guilty, but he was going to do it anyway.
    No embarrassment on her part, though. He could hear her snap her gum. He thought she was putting on a show, but why call her on it?
    The young man at the desk was trying not to be harried. It was very busy. This suited Landry, and the prostitute, who went by the name Laurella (had to be a made-up name), who hung on his arm and kept brushing his chest with her long hair.
    It was funny. Both of them had hair extensions.

    The room was over-the-top—Landry counted three phones, two fountains, a writing table, a suite of high-backed brocade chairs, and tapestries fit for the queen of England—everything done in burgundy and gold. The king-sized bed had the crispest, whitest sheets he’d ever seen, with rich-looking coverlets and bolsters as big around as punching bags. One of the fountains was an element of feng shui in the room—a waterfall over polished stones spilling over a narrow lip into another pool filled with lily pads. The bathroom fixtures were all gold plated—at least they looked that way. A rich mahogany cabinet held a wide-screen TV. The carpet was the color of tree bark with a repeating crown design. If he looked at it for too long, his vision blurred. The air-conditioning was turned up high but the room still smelled a bit stale, despite the grandeur.
    The hooker was standing there, like a stork, trying to pull the strap on one of her shoes.
    “That’s okay,” he said.
    “Oh, you want me to wear them. I getcha.”
    “Go ahead and leave your clothes on.”
    She looked confused.
    “How much?” he asked.
    “Two hundred.”
    He reached into his wallet and pulled out two hundreds and a fifty.
    She watched as the money crossed her palm. “Hey . . .” She drifted off. She didn’t want to spoil anything.
    “Do you know how the term ‘tip’ originated?”
    She just stared at him. He believed her expression would be described as “bemused.”
    “It means, ‘to insure promptness. ’ ”
    “Oh. That’s nice.” She sat down on the bed and started picking at the strap of her shoe again. He noticed that she made herself look as sexy as possible. Shoving her butt backward and her chest forward, reaching down languorously to work the buckle, flipping her hair a little as she did so.
    She sensed him staring at her.
    “Prompt is the way we’re going to go,” he said.
    She must have realized it was a different stare than she was used to. She stiffened, like a deer suddenly smelling something dangerous. “What?”
    “You can go.”
    She stared at him. Her mouth slightly open. “What? Look, I can do all sorts of stuff that’ll make you go insane, I guarantee you’ll love—”
    “That’s okay. I’m not