Diane’s red heels scraped against his bare chest as she laid back on the squeaky bed at the motel on 32nd street. Her arms stretched over her head gripping the sheets dramatically. His muscles were flexed, his blue eyes were engrossed, and she did not even know his name.
She moaned, throwing her bra towards her other clothes that were strung across the room. Only her black laced panties remained. His pants were unbuttoned, bulging. The lights in the room were dim. The door was unlocked.
Diane ignored the humming streetlamp outside and the rumble of passing traffic on the broken blacktop. Her comfort zone was on top of the sex-stained white sheets in the motel of whores. In this room, she was in control.
Diane pulled the stranger down to kiss his lips, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her eyes darted to the end table where a stack of twenties were piled. If she was going to get a good tip, she needed to keep his attention. He grunted with his tongue hungrily searching her mouth. He had a nice body for an older man but was definitely a terrible kisser. Maybe that’s why he didn’t get laid by his wife at home.
She did not object to his sloppy embrace. Her rent was due tomorrow. She could have taken the night off, but instead had bought the heels. Diane did look good in heals.
“Take me,” she whispered.
The stranger nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
He was a forty-something gentleman with a southern accent. Yet, his age did not stop him from pulling his pants off in a single throw. Diane forced herself to squeal excitedly in approval of his nude body. A naked man was never attractive.
Diane motioned to the drawer on the nightstand, “Condom is in there unless you got one.”
“Do I have to?” the stranger tried to put on his charm, “Don’t you want this raw?”
“Sorry,” Diane shrugged, sitting up, “No condom, no sex.”
“I paid for sex, baby,” the gentleman swooned, “And the room.”
“You paid for sex with a condom.”
“How much to leave it in the drawer,” the stranger grabbed his jeans off the ground, and pulled his wallet from the back pocket. Green lined the inside.
Diane gleamed, “Another hundred, sweetie.”
The stranger pulled out a Benjamin and slapped it down on top the twenties. He dropped his wallet next to the stack and moved back towards the bed.
“That’s better,” Diane crooned, tilting her head. She scooted back on the bed and got up on her knees to kiss the stranger again. She hated kissing men.
The man grabbed her by the waist while she cupped his face. Their tongues interlocked and she groaned loudly in satisfaction. The stranger matched her tone.
Diane and the stranger did not hear the door to their room creak. A blade slashed across the stranger’s neck. Blood spilled onto the sheets, the floor, and Diane.
“Jesus!” Diane shouted, pushing the man to the carpet in a heap. He gurgled and choked for only a moment. The stranger was dead, naked on the floor.
“Go clean yourself up!”
Diane glared at the red-haired woman, “Elizabeth! You seriously had to do it while I was kissing him?”
Elizabeth smirked, “He was distracted, wasn’t he?”
Diane grabbed the sheet, wrapping it around herself with a smirk, “Yeah, but –
Elizabeth muttered, waving her hand at Diane, “Let’s go!”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “Another day, another dollar.” She needed another line of work.