Her fluid motions moved like quick waves from the sea, her pretentious yet sensuous voice urging the person below her to climax, and her lower body thrust and recovered with a mechanical efficiency. The person below her was awed by the professionalism she displayed as soon as he took his trousers and underwear off before being laid down the bed, her proceedings were a routinised performance. An uninterruptible schedule that wished not to be interrupted; A clairvoyance of flesh wished to be revealed more.
“You can call me Laura.”, the woman with the dark skin-tone and brunette hair had said before they started.
“Hello, Laura.”, Cay attempted to smile, but only revealed more tension than he had been hiding since entering through the glass door.
“And 50 euros upfront, please.”, she said without much enthusiasm of what would come next.
“Oh. Here it is.”, he produced a note of the adequate amount and handed it over to her.
She placed the 50-euro note into the drawer and took out an unwrapped condom (Durex, if Cay did not mistake for its’ font and blue-colored appearance), all the while gestured Cay to lay on the bed with her free hand. It looked slender and fragile, just how a typical female’s limb appeared to be. He wanted to touch it, to feel the tenderness of a woman’s outer surface and to caress it with his fingers. Strange but familiar memories came back to him like a rising of water but not enough to reach the top, his feeling for the woman in front of him were much of an inhibited affection towards a pretty lady rather than a vain respect towards a person with an unusual profession
Her gestures and tone had been reserved so far, or rather inhibitive. It was only natural for a prostitute like her to be reluctant to give away too much information so far, professionally or personally, for fear of any harm would arrive at her own home’s doorstep one day or anything that would jeopardize her already delicate work. Cay only knew that much, his uncle worked as a journalist a few decades ago, he explained to the teenage Cay about reasons why prostitutes felt the need to withhold themselves from their clients.
“She may have given her body to random people, but that isn’t the reason she should give out her lips and soul.”, answered Cay’s uncle during a conversation with his nephew a few years ago.
Reaching the end of the session with Laura, Cay knew he could not last longer as he could feel her hip squeezing whatever muscles it had to pin him on his bed. It was savagery, with the client being pleasured with such force and coldness while connected to the other’s body, albeit he or she knew it was only what could be obtained from a monetary transaction. It was strictly just business.
As Cay’s breath grew from breathlessness to an unrhythmic grasp for more air, her face pretty from his angle. Shallow sweat glistering on the top of her forehead, Her brunette hair barely to stay on her back as she occasionally caress and put the loose strands back into their position, and her legs spread out in a secluded way but intimate at that moment. She could sense her client’s endurance reaching to his limit and all she had to do is to coax him in a gentle but effective manner. Her lower half had been occupying part of him so far that it had been near impossible to let him go any time soon.
“Cum, baby, cum.”
As Cay gave out his last pathetic sound of a wheeze, her hip tightened from the motorized motion to a squeezing standstill. Cay could feel part of his life gave out due to Laura, but the intensity had been too great and too much to let go of. He felt a relief of amazement under the inviting weight of the woman on top of him
*
“let’s hit that store near pub street, tonight.”
It was a cold Saturday evening when Boy A said it, the group of children could barely hear when the harsh wind blew pass them, muffling any voice that were unable to rival it’s calm ferocity.
“You sure, mate? The lot of them people are usually there at night.”, Boy C responded, unsure of himself.
“It’s not a problem. They got alleyways there, we could just run for them in anything goes down the shit.”, he reassured loudly so that anyone could hear him.
“Bot shit, mate. My dad usually drive pass that area filled with those homeless fucks and drunk ones with them knockers hanging out.”. Boy B said, and everyone laughed.
“Alright, alright. Keep your gobs shut and listen. We’ve been rambling about this for weeks.”, Boy A paused for a few seconds, feeling the dramatic sequence that would follow.
“But are you sure, Jake? Tim is right, you know. We’ll probably get caught by just someone on the street.”, the girl interrupted suddenly before Boy A could speak again, which annoyed the later.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be pussies.”, feeling a mixture of anger and pride, he taunted the girl and Boy C.
“We’re doing this and we’re doing it tonight. Got it?”, he later added, while eyeing at Boy C but felt too embarrassed to look into the girl’s eyes.
Everyone nodded and went back to their separate homes, away from the coldness of the evening-to-come and had concluded their plans for that night.
After a few hours, a commotion broke out in a small convenience store on Upper Bannister Street, there was an unusual silence within the store before several people saw four people running frantically through the door. A pedestrian saw a person, probably the store owner, on the phone just after they vacated the store, speaking wearily and with a frantic set of eyes darting at the door and back at the till. Nobody had the time to react, they could only make out the height of the four runners, three with the height of an average teenager and another taller and bulkier than the rest. As soon as they could identify their outlines, they made a turn into Bedford Place, crossed the usually busy road, and disappeared.
The group of kids managed to acquire the money hidden within the till and took a few items from the store before making their run. They were high from the adrenaline rush and drugs they took as instructed by Boy A just before they executed their plan, the two fueled their legs as they ran in a pack, oblivious of what might be lurking around the corner of the alleyways.
It happened just in a flash as Boy A was leading ahead as the group moved with seemingly inexhaustible energy, he crashed onto something or someone when they we’re about to make a turn. The force sent him falling onto his back and the other person bracing the side of the wall with a loud “thump”. As the two boys from the group helped him up, Boy A was furious at the interruption.
“For fuck’s sake, mate. Why the fuck are you in our way?”, he shouted towards the man.
“Why are you bloody kids running so fast around here?”, the man said after he recovered from the impact on the wall, a woman came running from the blind spot of their eyes towards the man.
She spoke a few words, probably to insure that the man was not hurt, and immediately turned towards them. She eyed at the kids, their features masked by the dark and unrecognizable by the dim streetlights but froze when she saw an unusual number of pound notes scattered near them. The clash between Boy A and the man must had somehow thrust the money out from the boy’s pockets, the group did not notice until they followed her gaze. A mixture of astonishment and anger arose from the group.
“What are you kids doing at this time?”, The woman demanded.
The voice sounded familiar but not to Boy A’s concern, he kept his anguish towards their perpetrators. His head did not seem to move at present time, and it made him furious. No one was supposed to foil his plans for the night, he thought, no one. He responded, not to the woman but to his group of friends.
“Boys, stick ‘em.”, he picked up what seemed to be a pocket knife as the two other boys followed and reached for their pockets. The girl stood behind them, unsure what to do or too afraid of how the next would turn out. The razors exposed when they pushed the mechanism with their thumbs, the rough metal surfaces flicker with the reflection from the dim lights.
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