Killer Cop Ch. 3

Her cigarette tasted like bile. She threw it out the window. The thing was, he'd wanted her to do exactly as she'd done. His sobs had held as much gratefulness as humiliation. She'd done something to him he didn't have the guts to do to himself, or even beg for aloud. Was that what being a whore was really about? Intuiting underlying, unspoken sexual needs, and meeting them for people?

She barked a harsh laugh. There should be some kind of handbook, some course she could take. Something to tell her what that little fucker expected her to do next. He'd put her in charge, made her entirely responsible. She gave a mental shrug as she turned into her parking garage. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe what she did to him was less important than how she did it.

She sat in the car for a moment, wondering if the same applied to herself. She had to admit - unwillingly - that part of why she was selling herself was to act out, somehow reverse her rape. But examining that issue required more energy than she had. She drug herself into the elevator, marched tiredly down the hall to her apartment, again flopped on the couch and added another hundred dollars to yesterday's take, still littering the coffee table.

Again she slid her hem upward the few inches required to bare her pantiless pussy. As she stared down at it, still decorated with smeared lipstick, a twinge of the drunken sensation of power returned. Her glistening lips shaped a lewd smile. It was exactly the same sense of strength that'd filled her on the street, playing cop. It didn't matter which side of the game she played. She won both ways.

As the sun came up on Saturday, Lisa fell into bed, her mind numb with fatigue. But plans for the next day were already taking shape in her head, as if her subconscious had an agenda of its own.

To Be Continued...