Author : Vankorgan

She’s not too young. Maybe twenty, twenty-one. My type exactly. She’s got a firm body that raises the folds of her sundress in less than innocent ways. I watch as she looks at me across the bar. Giving me the look of a much older woman, the kind that knows exactly what she wants.

The waiter responds to my nod and takes down my order plus what I order for her. She watches me as the man heads to the kitchen. She watches in the four minutes of his absence. She watches me even as the well dressed server hands her a drink. Tequila Sunrise with a twist of lime. It’s a drink that works every time here. Plus it’s the only one I know by heart.

She takes a sip and smiles, never taking her eyes off me. Her body ripples under the innocent dress and she twirls a lock of hair, letting me know the interest is mutual. She is pure unignited sex and I am on fire.

My hand strokes habitually in my pocket. The index finger running down the length of the long blade until I can feel the warmth of my blood against my palm. I imagine the blade against the soft cotton sundress. I imagine the taste of her blood, the warm copper running down my mouth, dripping from my chin and falling on my clean white shirt.

I imagine how I’ll do it. Buy her a few drinks to numb. Ask her to dance. Excuse ourselves to the apartment I’ve rented. Watching her walk up the stairs in front of me while I hold the cold, jumping steel in my pocket. We close the door. We kiss.

And so it goes. But first I have to get her back. I stand, ready to ask her to join me for another drink-



I fish through my pockets for what’s left of my credits. The empty cotton meets my fingertips with a mocking disdain for my intentions. I have to be quick, the machine times out after ten minutes and then everything I’ve spent the last twenty on will be ruined.

I stand and exit the chamber regretfully. The port is busy during the day. Should have no problem. I sit down beside my chamber, take off my hat and throw a credit in to start the whole thing off.

A man walks by. Another. I get a credit from an older guy who I’m sure wants me to spend it on groceries or vitamins or something. Eight minutes. Two girls walk by and I try to appeal to their innocence. You have no idea what I can do to you. Six minutes. A boy with a dog. A conservatively dressed couple tosses in a credit. You don’t want me out there. Four minutes. A woman who looks like the one in the machine walks through the crowded spaceport. She glances at me and I can see pity in her eyes. She reaches in her purse and pulls out a few credits, hesitates and then tosses them into my waiting hat.

All I need.

I open the machine and am relieved to see it hasn’t expired. Back to work.



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