The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 11

The actions she was about to undertake were more dangerous than anything the three UN veterans in the Big Apple had ever faced. Her future, her life, was hanging by a thread, twisting over a ferociously hot fire, and the man who held the string was a sadistic beast.

Susan had met Irene, and she'd been introduced to her mother. Susan's greatest first fear had been in finding a responsible person, someone having nothing to do either directly or indirectly with her problem. Someone she could trust to take care of her baby. She'd found what she needed; it also afforded her sanctuary in the event things went south, and she had to flee for her life.

At the moment she was seated in a long black limousine headed for her first conference with Camulos and the cabal of his fellow hoodlums. She was attired in a dark red dress. It was tight, and the hem was a vulgar four inches above her knees.

A sleeveless wrap around, it revealed far too much cleavage; but she knew it was what Camulos was looking for, something to distract his colleagues and competitors. She'd had to put extras padding in the tight brassiere fearful of leakage.

The dress wasn't the only difference. The high heels, garish open toed black patent leather things with a high narrow three inch heel were companioned by equally dark black nylons accoutered with garters. She wore black panties that finished off what she considered a lurid below the waist ensemble.

Tonight she applied more make up than was customary; cheeks redder than normal, extra dark eye liner, vivid red lipstick with a high powered gloss, and dark red fingernail polish. The extra make up, especially the eye liner, gave her an exotic feline trashy sort of look.

Her hair she continued to wear in her traditional tight bun, but this time instead of just a tight braid she allowed it to fall loosely in a ponytail. She affixed several strands of thin red ribbon in the tail.

Before leaving she remembered staring at the mirror in her small apartment. Tonight she felt the way she looked, whorish. But if dressing like a tramp was part of the price, then that was part of the price. She had a man and a baby to think of, to take care of.

The jewelry she chose was expensive, but tasteless. She wore a thick black gold tennis bracelet, and long dangling black earrings. The only piece of apparel she held back on was her necklace. Riding in the back of the long Cadillac she clung tightly to the small gold pendant hanging from her neck. She prayed, 'Please let me get through this.'

She was determined to survive this awful night; she was equally determined she was going to survive with her dignity, among other things, in tact. She might look like trash, she might feel like trash, but no one was going to treat her like trash.

The vehicle pulled in front of that same hotel; the one with its horrid hidden office complex. As she stepped out to the curb she noticed the chauffeur eying her up and down. She wondered; is this what it felt like to be a whore?

Then she told herself, 'This in no time to be afraid; this is no time for self pity. I'm no whore. I'm a lioness protecting her pride. Camulos and his slavering hyenas had better watch out!'

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Susan is in great danger! On her own, out of her element, not knowing what to expect, or what is expected of her.

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An addendum: This story has rightly received criticism for its first chapter. I am reworking chapter one, and will put into place when all the other chapters are finished.