Snuff/Skin Flick

"I think one of the juniors is having a little joke at our expense," Bob said.

"If it's a snuff film, it's an unintentional one," Frank said.

The snuff-sex films, the fake ones, were all about dominance. The man was always shown on top, in control, his hand around the woman's throat. That was how the pervs liked it. The tattooed man, for all his musculature, was altogether too passive. Not that Frank blamed him, lucky bastard.

"Or they screwed up the labelling," Bob said. "This is just someone's homemade mucky skin flick."

"Maybe he flips out when she asks for the money afterwards," Frank suggested. He still had that itchy feeling, like a storm was building up and about to break.

"Nah, a place like that he'd have already paid before entering the room," Bob countered. "I bet's it's one of those assholes in the trafficking task force playing silly buggers. You know what they're like."

Frank did. He put his feelings of foreboding down to his mind playing tricks on him.

On screen the girl was building up to a climax. They hadn't switched positions. She seemed happy enough to ride him until he came, which didn't look like it would take long.

Frank saw the man mouth, "coming." A warning to the girl to let him pull out. The girl didn't heed his warning. Either she hadn't heard him, or had and didn't care. She sat down in his crotch, drawing him all the way up inside her and wriggled erotically.

She wanted his climax inside her it seemed. Or maybe a little bouncing bundle of joy she could use to screw child support out of the gormless twonk for the next two decades.

Frank noticed his hand had strayed down to his lap. She really was a hot number. Frank's imagination had been a little over-stimulated. He fancied he could feel her rising up and down in his lap. Yep, he'd definitely need a toilet break after this.

The girl reached crescendo at the same time as the man underneath her. She pressed her pelvis down against the man's bucking hips. Both their heads went back as a shuddering climax rattled through the couple.

The skin ripped off the man's body and was sucked up into her vagina in one shockingly smooth motion. It just tore away, like tissue paper, revealing the glistening red meat underneath, and was drawn up into the girl's body as if she was an industrial vacuum.

A half-chewed morsel of kebab fell out of Bob's mouth.

Fuck! What had he just seen? Frank thought.

The girl held her pose as if basking in the afterglow of orgasm. Beneath her was a horrid red-raw thing in the shape of a man. Eyes bulged in uncovered sockets. Exposed teeth clicked together and then fell open in a final shocked sigh. The pitiable flayed thing trembled weakly before lying back down and becoming still.

The girl, her eyes now abyssal black pits, stared up at the camera.

Hurriedly, Frank reached over and switched off the film. Both men sat in silence in the darkness. Neither wanted to talk about what they'd just seen. The next day they both put in for transfers. The disc was put in a plain brown envelope and hidden in the back of a filing cabinet.

She knew the camera was there, had known it was there all the time and didn't care. Why should she, domestic authorities might as well be ants to her kind. Frank knew this because she hadn't been looking up at the camera, she'd been looking out of the screen. At them.

Her black eyes had bored right out of the screen and watched them as they watched her. She knew they were there. She knew they were watching. She even knew Frank had come in that final moment and was sitting there feeling the dampness of his ejaculate cool against his skin.

Frank prayed he'd been quick enough. As he'd lurched over to flick the switch he'd seen her nostrils dilate just as the screen blinked into darkness.

He prayed he'd been quick enough... before she'd had time to pick up his scent.