Read Online Blood Sacrifice by By Rick R. Reed - Free Book Online Page A

hasn’t really walked on the wild side all that much. She knows all about bondage, whips, cigarette burning, tit torture, and all the rest, but she’s a vanilla kind of prostitute. Straight-up sex. She can manage a little water sports here and there, or maybe even getting a little rough, but the more extreme end of the spectrum she leaves to her sisters. And yet, she can feel the stiff crispness of the currency between her breasts. She wants the money. But going this far could be leading her into a realm where it will be hard to escape. Suddenly, she finds herself wishing for a scared Loyola boy who just wants to get sucked off in an alley.
    The stranger’s touch on her shoulder is cool, but insistent. “Do you have a place where we might get more comfortable or not?”
    Elise breathes in, deep. The time for decisions is now. She takes the man’s hand, meets his gaze, and smiles, the curtain rising on her show. “This way. It isn’t far.” She leads him east, toward Greenview and the place she calls home. She pulls him along, hurrying him, the click of her heels insistent on the hot pavement. She wants to get him home, get him done, and get it over with.
    “My name’s Terence.” His grip on her hand is firm and cool. He has no trouble keeping up.
    She hopes she will have no trouble keeping up with
him
.
    “Mine’s Midnight,” Elise murmurs, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Wondering, will this be the time she regrets breaking her own rule and letting a john into her own home? Will this be her Mr. Goodbar, with strangling hands or a switchblade in his pocket? In spite of her earlier cavalier attitude toward her own murder, there is still a compulsion to live, a will to survive. Feeling threatened makes her realize that, no matter how desperate an existence she has, she still wants to keep it. It is her own.
    She squeezes his hand and slows a little. “So, we haven’t really talked about it.”
    “Yes?”
    “What are you into?”
    “I just like plain old sucking and fucking. I trust that doesn’t disappoint you.”
    “Not at all.”
    And Elise picks up the pace once more. His response is small comfort.
    Once back in her studio, she doesn’t want to turn on any lights. Spare as it is, it’s still her home. It holds memories (once upon a time, things were different: it was brighter, crowded, not exactly happy, but still there were happy times…early on). It holds her art, and grim as that has become, it’s still a piece of herself, a substantial piece that she doesn’t want to share with a trick. She doesn’t want to share this world with anyone, not yet, not in any personal capacity anyway. Perhaps one day things will change and she will spend her evenings at gallery shows of her art, appropriately modest and dressed in black, but those dreams of glory hardly seem within her reach. Not now, with a horny trick at her back.
    The moonlight streams in, making the short passage across the room easier. The moon gives everything a grayish cast, making of the easels, drawing board, and few pieces of furniture nothing more than dark shapes. As they move across the room, she is stepping out of her dress, kicking off her heels. She sits on the bed and pulls off her stockings in one fluid motion; she’s had practice. Naked, she leans back on the bed, draws in air, and lets out a slow, quivering breath.
Never let them see you’re afraid; never let them feel your anxiety. If you do, they sometimes pounce, smelling your weakness
. Recklessly, she tosses her hair back and puts on her most alluring smile, hoping its bravado isn’t lost in the shadows. She parts her legs and touches herself. The move is calculated to look like she can’t help herself; in reality, she hopes the digital stimulation will get the juices flowing.
    She touches, flicks a tongue out of the corner of her mouth, stares. Provocatively, she hopes; she’s learned that the whore’s first rule is to get ’em excited, get ’em