Ad Nauseam

ANGEL LUST



“So, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done on screen?” Chantal sipped her coffee, her bright eyes regarding Liza over the mug.

“I let ten guys cum on my face, one after another. Now that was a mess. Oh yeah, and I f*cked a Great Dane once.” Liza spoke in a loud voice, oblivious to the reactions of the other patrons in the diner. The guy behind the counter shook his head and returned to taking an order, accustomed to the two ex-porn stars and their outrageous conversations. It was after bar rush, when all the college kids fresh from the party and the less desirables mixed together in the diner.

Chantal raised her eyebrows and nodded in appreciation. She’d been getting the wrong kind of attention her whole life, and didn’t give a shit what anyone in a diner thought.

Liza signaled for another cup of coffee. Winking at the waiter as he poured it, she waited until he walked away, chuckling at his look of disapproval.

“What about you?” Liza asked.

Taking another sip, Chantal held the cup with both hands and took a moment to ponder before answering.

“Once I had to shake up a beer bottle and shoot it up another girl’s ass, then drink it as it poured back out.”

“How was that for you?”

“Tasted like shit.” Silence for a second, then both women cracked up, their laughter harsh and throaty from too many years of cigarettes and cheap booze. A young couple stood abruptly to leave, twin looks of horror on their faces. The girls returned their stares until the pair was gone, then laughed until thick mascara streaked down their cheeks.

The two had been friends for over twenty years, ever since co-starring together in several adult videos in the early eighties. Liza’s short-lived career in the adult entertainment industry had fallen prey to an unfortunate drug habit. Chantal had an overzealous boyfriend with hard fists who beat her burgeoning career into the ground, leaving a twisted mess of scar tissue as a constant reminder. They had both been reduced to prostitution.

Chantal smiled at a young man who stared at her from across the diner, laughing as he quickly averted his eyes from the ruined right side of her face. She leaned across the table, looking both ways to ensure no one was within earshot. Liza looked back at her from across the scarred tabletop, her half-lidded eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“Have you ever heard of angel lust?” Chantal whispered, clearly suspicious of being overheard.

“I’ve heard of angel dust.” Liza practically screamed it across the restaurant, causing Chantal to wince and shush her friend.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else.” Reaching into her battered purse, Chantal pulled out some change for the coffee and dropped it on the table, then stood to leave.

“Where we going?” Liza asked.

“Somewhere with less ears. Let’s go to my apartment. I want to show you something.”

Chantal’s apartment was actually a room at one of the cheaper motels in town, the kind that rented them by the hour or the week. Liza lived somewhere similar, but a few blocks over. Since the diner was midway between their subsequent turfs, they usually met there for coffee in the early morning hours when they weren’t having much luck. Tonight was one such night.

Chantal pressed the key into the lock. A yellow plastic disk embossed with the number 12 bounced against the knob. Pushing open the door, she flipped on a switch, bathing the musty room in muted light. Baby-shit yellow shag carpet, mismatched furniture, and tacky wall-hangings completed the mood. Most surfaces in the room were covered with empty food containers, booze bottles, and condom wrappers. The bed was unmade, its tangled sheets dingy and gray. An unpleasant odor of stale sweat, sex, and booze lingered, but Liza didn’t notice it. Her place smelled the same.

“Got any weed?” Liza asked hopefully.

“You know I don’t do that shit, Liza. Why you gotta keep asking? There’s some vodka in the top drawer.”

Liza rummaged through the dresser drawer in search of booze, while Chantal reached under the bed, pulling out a suitcase and retrieving a laptop computer. Pushing a pile of trash off the table top, she set it down and plugged it in. Having found the vodka, Liza wandered over, upended a chair so the garbage fell off and sat it next to Chantal.

“Since when do you have a computer?”

“I’ve got a regular. He gave it to me.” Chantal squinted at the screen as it booted up.

“He pay for the net, too?”

“Nah-I just hacked someone’s wireless; one of my johns showed me how.”

“So, who’s the regular?” Liza tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice.

“Just some guy. Has money. He’s into freaky shit and can’t get anyone else to do it for him.” Chantal negotiated her way through a forum, intent on the screen as she searched for what she was looking for.

“Is he blind?” Liza laughed, but Chantal didn’t.

“Yes.” If Chantal was offended by Liza’s remark, she gave no indication “Here it is! Look at this.”

“You know I’m not great with reading; just tell me what it’s about.” Liza sat in her chair and swigged directly from the bottle, trying hard to focus on her friend.

“Maybe if you weren’t so f*cking high all the time. Never mind. I’ll tell you about it.” Chantal turned her chair so she faced Liza but could still see the computer. “There’s this guy on the internet. He’s always looking for videos and shit. Has some real crazy tastes. Wants videos of bestiality and eating shit and stuff. You know, one of those real sick f*ckers. Always wants to watch some chick drinking cum out of a cup or some shit.”

Liza nodded knowingly, though she looked bored, picking at her badly polished nails.

“Anyways, he’s on here. Always a different last name and email address so no one can find him, but you can tell it’s him from the messages. So I’ve seen him around and apparently everyone says he pays good for what he gets, so he’s on the level.”

Liza rolled her eyes.

“Okay! I’m getting to it. He’s on here yesterday and he says he’ll pay a million dollars for a video of a chick getting it on with a dude who has angel lust.”

“What the hell is angel lust?” The mention of a million dollars instantly cured Liza’s boredom. She leaned forward in her chair, all business now.

“I was wondering the same thing, so I looked it up. I guess sometimes when a guy dies, he gets a boner. Like a permanent boner. The morticians have ways to make it go away so you’re not like staring at uncle Bob in the casket and he’s got a big ol’ hard-on or nothing, but I guess it happens like that.”

“So this dude wants a video of some chick f*cking a dead guy? That’s some messed up shit, Chantal”.

“I know it, but a million bucks? Are you kidding me? I’d f*ck anything for a million bucks.”

“So why are you telling me about this?” Liza’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Cuz I can’t do this by myself. Someone has to tape the shit.”

“What’s in it for me?” Liza still looked uncertain.

“Half.”

“Half?”

“Yeah, that’s five hundred thousand for each of us.” Chantal seemed pleased, but Liza still looked skeptical.

“Would I hafta pay taxes on it?”

Chantal threw up her hands in disgust and stood, grabbing the bottle out of the other woman’s hand and taking a big swallow before she began to pace the room, gesturing angrily.

“I don’t know why I even bother with you, Liza. Sometimes you’re so goddamned dumb I can’t stand it. Of course you don’t gotta pay taxes on it. Do you pay taxes on your f*ck money?”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I didn’t say I wasn’t in. I’m just wondering why you would even wanna share it with me. You could always put a camera on the dresser or something.” Liza said.

“I know I could. But for a million bucks he’s gonna want something good. And besides, you’re my only friend—my best friend—and I thought this thing might help us both get our lives together. Get us out of these piece of shit motels and away from blowing nasty f*cks for food.”

“I don’t mind blowing nasty f*cks so long as they got the money.”

“Never mind. I’ll do it myself. I thought you might want a better life for yourself. We aren’t that young anymore and you can’t turn tricks forever.”

Liza grabbed the bottle back and took a swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The cheap vodka burned its way down her throat, warming her belly and making her flush.

“Drop the drama, Chantal. I’m in. So what we gotta do? I don’t think we can just walk into the morgue and ask to check out all the dead dude’s pricks. It’s not Walmart, I doubt they have a lay-away program.”

“Of course not. We can’t exactly get a mortician to let us f*ck one of his corpses, either. Well, probably not. The way I see it, we’re gonna have to make a case of angel lust.”

“Make a case?” Liza was confused again.

“Yeah. I’ve been looking it up and there’s certain ways to die that make it more likely.”

“Whoa! Now just wait a minute.” Liza held up her hands. “You mean you think we’re gonna go around offing dudes in hopes they die with a goddamned hard-on? Are you crazy?”

“It wouldn’t be so hard to do. There’s plenty of bums around that won’t be missed and we can split town as soon as we get the money.”

“Yeah, right. And the second the pigs find the body, they come get us cuz we both have records and our prints are on file for hooking.”

Chantal shrugged and smiled, “So we wear gloves.”

“I don’t know. F*ckin a dead guy is bad enough, but I don’t know if I can actually kill someone, Chantal. That’s pretty f*ckin heavy.”

“I know it is, Liza. It’s a big deal, but so is half a million dollars. The cops in this town are too busy to put much time into a dead wino or two, and we can be sitting on some beach a gazillion miles away as soon as we get paid. You know, weed is pretty much legal in Jamaica.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Liza worried at a ragged cuticle. She thought about what it would be like to live in a place where she wouldn’t get picked up for drugs. It would be awful sweet.

“Well I’m gonna contact the perv. You take a couple days and think on whether you wanna be rich or not.”

***

Three days later, Liza and Chantal huddled under an unused bridge sharing a cigarette. A gym bag and a coil of nylon rope sat on the ground between them. It took Liza one whole day to decide she wanted to be rich. Chantal figured the fact she had been roughed up by a john that same night had helped her decide. It was raining out, a fine drizzle that made their bones ache and reminded the hookers they were getting too damn old for this life.

Soon we’ll be living on easy street, Chantal thought, discreetly watching a bum stretched out under the bridge. He’d been there for at least forty-five minutes. He seemed to be passed out.

“Okay. What do we do now?” Liza’s hands were shaking, more from nerves than the cold. She appeared sober, miserably so. Chantal had insisted she stay as clean as possible for the task. No use making stupid mistakes because she was loaded.

“See that framework on the underside of the bridge? I’ll climb up the side and toss the rope through, then you wrap it around his neck. I read that hanging causes the angel lust more than anything else.” Chantal held up the noose and Liza looked at it in admiration.

“Where’d you learn to tie a knot like that?”

“My Dad taught me.”

“Didn’t your old man used to f*ck you, too?”

“Yeah. He taught me a lot of things. Now get ready to put it over his head.” Chantal started to step away, but Liza gripped her elbow.

“Hold on!” She whispered. “Why do I have to do the noosing? How about I do the climbing.”

Chantal rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. But you have to be ready to jump down and pull on that sucker with all of your weight if he wakes up. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”

“Okay, but wait!” Liza grabbed her arm a second time, the vibration from her high-strung body making Chantal feel like her teeth were rattling. “What if someone sees us?”

“Look, Liza. We’ve been over this a hundred times. Nobody comes around here this late at night. And if someone was driving by, they can’t see shit that’s happening under the bridge from the road, anyway. Now put on your gloves and let’s do this.”

Liza grabbed her one more time and it took all of Chantal’s control not to punch her square in the nose. Though she wouldn’t admit it, her own nerves weren’t exactly steady, and planning a murder was a whole lot easier than committing one.

“What, Liza?”

“We aren’t gonna—I mean, we won’t actually f*ck him under the bridge, will we?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll figure that out if it works. Now get your skinny ass up there and pass me the rope.”

Liza scrambled up the side of the embankment, her feet skidding more than once on the loose dirt and gravel. When she reached the top, she lost her footing and slid back down on her ass, shredding the dish gloves she wore and cutting her palms in the process. When she reached the top again, she grabbed the metal beam. She hoped there was enough glove left to keep her from leaving a palm print, but the metal gave off a shower of rust flakes and she doubted it was smooth enough, anyway. Feeding the rope over the beam, she held on for dear life, not wanting to slide back down before the noose was around the bum’s neck.

Chantal grabbed the dangling rope and pulled gently, freeing up enough slack to crawl over to where the guy slept in the dirt. She could smell him before she even got close, and pulled her shirt up over her nose. As she made to slip it over his head, he grumbled and rolled over, muttering gibberish in his sleep before resuming his loud and uneven snoring.

Gently easing the noose over his neck, she started when he farted in his sleep and an involuntary giggle erupted from her mouth. The wino flinched and sat up abruptly, then grabbed her sleeve in his dirty hand.

“What the f*ck you doin? You robbin me, bitch?” Chantal pulled back hard, trying to break free of his grip.

“Liza, now!” She scrambled backwards, struggling with the man, who was much stronger than his slender, malnourished body made him appear. He lay on the ground, his filthy hand refusing to relinquish its grip on her shirt.

Liza wrapped the rope around her hand and jumped down, sliding on her ass again and nearly jerking her arm out of its socket when the slack on the rope ended. The noose tightened, and the wino let go of Chantal, his hands flying up to his throat. Wasting no time, Chantal scrambled to her feet and ran to where Liza struggled, gripping the rope in both hands and heaving with all of her might. Both women tugged with all of their weight, lifting the bum until his feet dangled several inches above the ground, kicking and spasming as he made the choking sound over and again.

Chantal lost her grip and fell on her ass, causing Liza to also let go. The man dropped to the ground, still kicking and trying to loosen the rope around his neck.

“Aw shit, grab it!” Chantal jumped to her feet and hauled on the rope again. Liza joined her, and they had him in the air once more. Why’s it taking so long for this heavy bastard to die? Chantal looked around, desperate to find something that would help gain leverage. She spotted a heavy chunk of broken concrete, an iron reinforcement bar protruding from it.

“Liza. Help me pull this rope over there.” She nodded towards the cement chunk. “Maybe we can tie it off.”

Liza said nothing, only grunted and nodded, eyes wide with fear and exertion. The two pulled as hard as they could, leaning back on the rope so their combined weight would drag the bum higher into the air.

Like a fish on a line, he swung and arched, fighting for breath and making those horrible gagging noises. They almost dropped him again before finally making it to the hunk of concrete. Chantal wound the rope around the rebar, anchoring her weight to allow Liza to do the tying. Neither spoke, their faces red and sweaty as they strained to finish the chore. When it was tied, they stepped back with uncertainty, ready for the block to shift, but it held.

“Sweet Jesus Jumping Christ!” Chantal wiped her arm across her brow, still huffing for breath.

“I know, right?” Liza staggered over to the block and plopped down on it. With elbows resting on knees, she put her face in her hands and moaned.

Chantal gave her an awkward pat on the back, then walked over to where the wino still hung. He was no longer putting up a fight; his hands had fallen to his sides where he swung gently from the beam. She walked around to face him, taking a quick step back and covering her mouth with her hands when she saw his face. His eyes bulged from mottled, purple flesh, the rope barely visible where it cut into his swollen neck. A stiff tongue protruded obscenely from his mouth. He smelled like shit, but she wasn’t sure whether he had crapped himself before or after the hanging. He hung about two feet off the ground, his crotch just below eye level. Chantal shuddered.

“Um, Liza?”

“Yeah?”

“I think he’s dead.”

“God, I hope so.” Liza stood and walked over to Chantal, grimacing in distaste when she saw him.

“So when’s this angel lust supposed to happen?” She reached out to touch him, pulling her hand back at the last second.

“I don’t know. I guess probably right away.” Chantal said.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“You gonna check or what?” Liza clasped her hands behind her back, clearly not intending to.

“F*ck. Whatever!” Chantal reached out, roughly grabbed the front of his pants, and pulled the zipper down, struggling with the button on the jeans for a moment before it gave. She pulled them down to his knees, taking his boxers with them.

“No hard-on, but it looks like he had a nasty case of something.” Chantal wiped her hands on her pants in disgust.

“Do you think it’s cuz we dropped him?”

“Christ, I don’t know.”

“So now what do we do? All that and it doesn’t even f*cking work. Nice!”

“We try again tomorrow night, I guess. I’ll look and see what other deaths cause it. I know it has to be violent.”

“Are you shitting me? You want to do this again?”

Chantal looked at the dead man swinging from the beam, his blistered penis limp against his furry thigh. If they were lucky, the cops might think it was a suicide, but she wasn’t too confident in their luck. She looked Liza in the eye, her own gaze cold and determined.

“Might as well go for it. We’re already murderers.”

***

Liza knelt before the man in the dirt, trying hard to ignore his body odor. It was hard to do when he kept shoving her head down and mashing her nose into his matted pubic hair. She gagged as her mouth was assaulted by the taste of his bitter sweat, and he laughed.

“Come on now, girlie. I thought you was a pro?” He laughed again, swigging from a bottle of gin, then grabbed her head and gave her face a big, upward thrust. She tried to pull away, but he still held her by the hair. “Not so fast now. You and your little girlfriend made me some promises.”

“Yes, we did.” Chantal said from behind him, pressing a throw pillow to the back of his head with an ugly- looking revolver jammed against it. The shot was muffled, but it still seemed too loud in the quiet night. The wooded area wasn’t too far from the park where they had found him and lured him in with promises of booze and sex.

I hope no one heard that and called the cops, Chantal thought.

Liza shrieked and crab-walked backwards, having been unable to avoid being splattered with blood and brains. The vomit she had tried to hold back erupted out of her mouth and down her blouse in a surprising torrent. She began to sob, tearing handfuls of grass out and scrubbing her face with it. Spying the bottle of gin still clutched in his hand, she pried it out and wiped the neck of the bottle with a clean spot on her shirt, before turning it up and draining it in one gulp. When she was done, she tossed it into the bushes, earning a glare from Chantal.

“Way to leave behind evidence, you idiot. Go get the damned bottle.”

Liza scowled back, but did as she was told. She grabbed a flashlight and shuffled off to the bushes. Returning with the empty bottle, she shoved it in her knapsack.

“Did it work?” She looked over at the dead guy, barely able to make him out in the dark. Only one streetlight was close enough to the wooded area to provide any light, but its glow barely penetrated the trees. They could see each other, but little else. Liza aimed the flashlight, the beam falling on his ruined face before she jerked it away and turned it on his exposed crotch. He had died with an erection, but as they watched, it faded. Along with their hopes.

Liza felt conflicted, upset it hadn’t worked, but relieved that one of them wouldn’t have to f*ck the man. He was nasty enough before his face looked like grandma’s prize strawberry-rhubarb jam. She also didn’t know how they would’ve dragged his body somewhere remote enough to make their film, while being well-lit enough. The plan had been flawed from the beginning.

Chantal wasn’t taking it so well; she swore and sputtered as she kicked the dead man repeatedly in his flaccid cock.

“Stupid . . . f*cking . . . idiotic . . . no dick . . . piece of shit! Why can’t one of you worthless f*cks stay hard?” She finished up by spitting in his ruined face.

“Say, I’m not very smart, but isn’t that DNA?” Liza flinched when Chantal turned on her, her face a mask of hatred. The scar tissue twisting down one side was red with rage, and Chantal held her fist back, ready to clobber Liza. She stood that way for several seconds before Liza saw her physically struggling to calm herself. When she was under control again, she spoke.

“DNA won’t matter unless we get caught. And we will get caught if we don’t get this right soon and split town with the money.”

“Have you even talked to this guy? How do we know this is real and not some kinda set-up?” Liza felt near hysteria at the thought of getting caught.

“He’s for real, alright. I’ve talked to him.”

“When? How?”

“I answered his ad with email and talked to him on the phone.”

“The phone? This dude just gave you his number? Sounds like a f*ckin cop to me!”

“No, he didn’t just give me his number. Calm down.” Chantal grabbed Liza by the shoulders and pinned her with a level gaze. “ I gave him my address in the e-mail, and the next day, some dude in a real nice suit and black car shows up at my door. I tried to ask him questions, but he just hands me this envelope and drives off. At first I thought I was being served for something, but then I realized I ain’t got nothing to be sued for. So I open the envelope and there’s this cheap cell phone in there, the kind you get at the department stores that you can pay as you go. In the phone was only one number, you know, in the address book. And I call it and it’s him. He says call me again when it’s a done deal.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s a cop?” Liza looked skeptical.

“No I don’t. But there’s gonna be plenty of cops looking for us if we don’t figure it out. We have to do it now. We get the shot, Dan gets his video, and we get paid so we can split.”

“Dan?”

“That’s what he said his name was.” Chantal waved it off as unimportant.

“So how we gonna do it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

Chantal and Liza searched the area for anything they might have left behind that could have fingerprints on it. She gave the orders and Liza obeyed, letting Chantal think she was smarter than she was, and that the other hooker would indeed figure something out.

***

Chantal scowled at the screen, her eyes tired from too much reading. She was getting frustrated at the lack of useful information on the internet. All she could come up with was that angel lust happened to the victims of roughly one in three violent deaths, mostly from hanging, gunshots to the head, or poisoning. Well, they had tried the first two and nothing had happened, but she wasn’t sure she could get her hands on any kind of real poison.

Will the third time be the charm? She thought. What if it’s not? She was starting to lose hope. It had been two days since they offed the guy in the woods and she was fast running out of time to come up with something.

Thunderous pounding on the door interrupted Chantal’s musing, and she hurried to it, peaking out of the eyehole. Liza stood on the other side, her head whipping back and forth, looking everywhere at once. Chantal opened the door and Liza rushed in, closing it behind her, as if someone had followed her.

“Get your camera and come with me.” Liza said.

“What’s going on, Liza?”

“No time. I’ll explain on the way. Grab that cell phone from the rich dude, too. Hurry up!”

Chantal grabbed the stuff and shoved it in her purse, then followed Liza out the door. There was a light drizzle falling, and she wished she had grabbed a coat with a hood, but soon forgot her discomfort as Liza explained what happened that evening. By the time they reached the other woman’s front door, she felt flushed with excitement, and a little fear. Liza’s place looked the same as usual, with the exception of the dead guy sprawled across the bed. He appeared well-kept and clean, his gray hair neatly trimmed.

“Oh my god, Liza! Is it really?”

“Yep.” Liza pulled back the sheet thrown across the lower half of the otherwise naked corpse.

“No shit?” Chantal just stared, her stunned face making Liza giggle. “You did it. You f*cking did it!”

“Yeah, well, this john rolls up and offers me a hundred bucks for some kink and I bring him back here. So we start getting it on and I start looking at the base of the lamp. I notice how heavy it is and I start thinking about how I could hit him with it. So he’s eating my p-ssy and doesn’t even notice that I grab the lamp and I hit him real hard in the back of the head. But it doesn’t kill him, just knocks him out, so I wrap the cord around his neck and start pulling. He was already hard when I hit him, but so was that a*shole in the park, so I waited half an hour before I came to get you, scared that the boner was gonna go away, but it never did.” Liza finished in a rush, her face glowing with happiness.

“You did great! I can’t believe it. It sucks that he’s in your room, but we’ll figure out what to do about that later. Let’s get the camera set up and do this. Which one of us is gonna f*ck him?”

“Wait now, I killed the dude, so I think it’s only fair that you f*ck him.” Liza stuck her chin out, resolute in her logic.

“Okay, I’ll do the f*cking, but you need to make sure you get good angles and stuff. We wanna give Dan his money’s worth so he doesn’t think about stiffin’ us.”

Liza started giggling and Chantal just stared. “What the f*ck’s so funny?”

“Stiffin’!” Liza snorted.

“Oh for Christ’s sakes! Just get the camera!”

It took them fifteen minutes to get the room set up the way they wanted it, and another ten to adjust the lights to amplify the scene and minimize the shadows cast by the furniture. The john had been dead for well over an hour by the time Liza turned the camera on.

Chantal lubed up his erection, straddled the corpse, and slid onto the dead flesh.

“Do you think I should be using a condom?”

“I don’t know, Chantal. It’s not like he’s gonna cum or anything. What does it feel like?”

“It’s really hard but kinda weird. Not cold yet, but not warm either. At least he doesn’t smell like a homeless dude.”

“Crazy.”

“Yeah. Well, let’s do this. Remember to only get the good side of my face, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, I will. Try to act like you like it.”

“I’m trying to, it’s just really weird. Make sure you get some shots of his cock sliding in and out. Close up, like.”

“I am. Real close up. Grab your tits and make a face like you’re moaning. We’ll edit the sound out. Now lean over and brush them up against his tongue since it’s sticking out like that. Go slow and play it up. That’s good. That’s hot. Do it again.”

“What the f*ck? Did he just burp? Aw gross! That smells awful!”

“Try not to push on his stomach like that. I think there’s some shit squirting out when you do.”

“Just get the shots. I don’t know how long I can do this.”

Chantal performed and Liza taped. For over an hour it went on, until Chantal feared she may throw up from the smell of his stomach gases belching out of his mouth and into her face. She maintained her composure, though, thinking of the million dollars awaiting her.

When she felt they had enough, Chantal told Liza to shut the camera off, enduring one more gust of foul wind as she pressed on his chest to climb off of him. What the hell did this guy eat? She didn’t see Liza standing behind her until she turned around and bumped into her.

“What the f*ck, Liza?” Something cold and hard pressed against her bare midriff.

“I’m sorry, Chantal. But I think I’ll be needing the whole million for myself.” Liza pushed the blade of the knife in as far as she could, wrenching and twisting when she met resistance. The shocked look on Chantal’s face was priceless.

Dumb bitch always thought she was so much smarter than me, thought Liza.

Chantal fell to the floor, her hands slippery with her own blood, trying to pull the knife out of her guts.

The blade had gone upward, puncturing a lung and stopping her from drawing a breath to scream. As she lay dying on the floor, she could see Liza where she sat calmly at the table, waiting.

“Sorry. I guess I don’t need a best friend.” Liza watched as the life in Chantal’s eyes faded, then gathered a few belongings into a bag. She packed the camera and grabbed the phone out of Chantal’s purse. “You won’t be needing this.”

Grabbing a heavy coat off the hook on the back of the door, she walked out into the night, leaving Chantal’s body with that of the dead john.

***

Liza paced across the grass, stopping every few seconds to scan the park around her. Things hadn’t gone the way she had hoped when she called Dan. Just thinking about the conversation made her angry.

My deal was with Chantal, not you. I suppose I can work with you, but I’m going to need a little something extra. Dan sounded cold and confident on the phone, and she couldn’t exactly argue with the man. Take it or leave it. It’s not like you can take me to court for breach of contract.

“Where the f*ck are you?” Liza spoke in a low voice. The longer she had to wait, the more antsy she became. It felt like she’d been pacing in the park for hours. Finally, a black sedan pulled up to the curb on a side street. The driver’s window was darkly tinted, the occupant little more than a shadow in the seat. Moving cautiously, she walked over to the vehicle.

When she was a few feet away, the driver’s window slid down several inches without a sound, giving her a partial view of a man’s face from the nose up. From what she could see, he was dark haired, but his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.

“Liza?” The voice was even, emotionless.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m an associate of Dan’s. Get in the car.”

“I was supposed to meet Dan here. I’m not dealing with anyone but Dan.” Liza raised her chin, her eyes narrowed.

“Dan doesn’t do this sort of thing, That’s what he pays me for. Get in or don’t. I’m leaving.” The window started to close as silently as it had opened.

“No, wait.” Cursing under her breath, Liza walked around the front of the car, opened the passenger door and slid onto the leather seat. Once inside, she turned towards the driver as he pulled away from the curb and smoothly accelerated. He was handsome in a brutal way. His suit looked expensive. The dark glasses kept his expression hidden from her when he glanced over.

“So where are you taking me?”

“It’s not far.”

“Are you taking me to Dan? I usually don’t trust guys like you to just take me places.” Liza bit her lip, hating the way she babbled when she was nervous.

“Don’t worry. It’s not far. You have the video?”

“Yeah, but I’m not giving it to anyone but Dan. What’s your name anyways? I don’t like riding with some dude and not knowing who he is.”

“You can call me Mr. White.” For the first time he looked at her and smiled, causing Liza to flinch.

***

“Wake up.”

Mr. White’s voice cut through the fog in her head, and Liza opened one bleary eye. The other was swollen shut and ached with each beat of her heart. The bright lights caused her to squint and intensified the pounding in her head. A glance around and she realized she was still in the same room. Nylon ropes held her upright in a chair and burned the flesh of her wrists and ribs when she tried to move. She was naked and cold.

“Are you awake?” The sound of his voice caused her to flinch. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they walked into the room. Not even during the beating. “Good.”

“What do you want from me?” Liza’s voice was hoarse from screaming, her throat burned when she spoke. Blood dripped from her nose, rolling over her split upper lip and into her mouth. She ran her tongue across the inside of her teeth, encountering an open spot. F*cker knocked out one of my teeth.

“It’s not what I want from you, honey. It’s what Dan wants. I took a look at that video you girls made and I think it’s pretty good. A little editing and it will do just fine.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. When Liza tried to pull away from his touch, Mr. White laughed.

“I figured you’d be glad that you didn’t do all that work for nothing.” Mr. White adjusted one of the two cameras that sat on tripods. They had been pointed at Liza since he’d tied her to the chair, catching every squeal of pain and meaty thud while he beat her for the last many hours.

“Let me go. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything? Interesting prospect, but I don’t think so.”

“I’ll blow ya. I’m real good at it.”

He threw back his head and laughed, his eyes twinkling. “No offense, honey, but I wouldn’t f*ck you if you paid me. If this was about sex, I would’ve just raped you.”

“The money? I’ll split it with you.”

“Split it with me? Are you kidding?”

“Okay.” Liza heard herself whining but was in too much pain to care. “You can have it all. Just let me go.”

Mr. White shook his head and retrieved a briefcase from the floor. He set it on a chair and pushed the buttons, turning it so she could see what the case contained. Harsh light reflected off what seemed like a hundred exotic tools, all shiny metal and very sharp. He presented them proudly, first to the cameras, then to her.

“It’s nothing personal, you know. This’ll be easy. All you have to do is act and react naturally. Piece of cake. Dan was willing to pay one million for an angel lust video.” He picked up a wicked looking meat fork with curved tines, tilting his head as he examined her body, looking for the appropriate place to begin. His smile was gentle but his eyes remained hard as he placed the pointed prongs against Liza’s trembling abdomen. The muscles in his forearm bunched as he applied enough pressure to puncture flesh, earning an agonized wail in return. “But he will pay me five million for a snuff film.”