Her boss sat on the posh seat facing the bed. His face had gone paler than Michael Jackson’s as he tried drinking from the glass of scotch in his trembling hand.
Linda lay comfortably on the bed wearing nothing but underwear and her stiletto heels. She slowly sipped her red wine and licked her lips, seductively. Usually she flaunted her sex for tips, not intimidation; turns out she liked how both made her feel.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done this,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I am faithful to my wife and my morals.”
Linda laughed, deeply. “Spare me.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked, fear crossing his already downtrodden face.
Linda took a moment, pretending to think. She already knew what she was going to ask for. The pause was purely to increase the tension in the room. After a few years of prostituting, she knew how to keep men emotionally unbalance (it’s not that hard).
“I’m not too greedy. You keep paying me my full salary with full benefits, only I never actually have to go to work.”
“How am I supposed to that?” he asked incredulously. “We have all sorts of audits, lawyers and government paperwork to deal with?”
“I’m sure you can figure something out. Or you can figure out what to tell your wife and the gossip columnist when they hear you take delight in afternoon rendezvous with hookers.” Linda broke her controlled demeanor for just a moment as she dropped that last zinger, flashing a self-satisfied, shit-eating grin.
What happened next, Linda only remembered as a blur. Her madam always warned her that this line of work could get violent. Linda assumed that was an exaggeration. After all, high-end clientele like hers had too much at stake to get into violent altercations with hookers, right?
Linda found herself unable to breath, as her boss pinned her to the bed and wrapped his hands around her throat. She pounded her fists again his chest, to no avail. In desperation or a moment of quick thinking — take your pick — she managed to dig her heels deep into his crotch. He howled in pain and momentarily released his grip. Linda used all her strength to heave him off of her.
As he flew off of Linda and crash to the floor, his neck slammed into the corner of the nightstand with the full force of his momentum.
Linda rolled off the bed and prepared herself for another attack. Only then did she realize there wasn’t going to be one. As she leaned over to look at his still body, the horribly twisted angle of his head killed any illusions she had of him being merely unconscious.
“Well, shit,” she thought to herself.
To be concluded.
Read Part 1: Like a Woman Who is Only a Prostitute During Her Lunch Hour
Part 3: Hooray for Hollywood