; ; He wasn’t alone. Resting by lamp posts, or in the doorways of ; shuttered shops, or in the shadow of hedges, could be seen the ; occasional silhouette of women, dressed provocatively, frequently ; smoking, and eyeing him with rather less reserve than that which he ; eyed them. Martin shivered. Did he have to? he wondered. But then, of ; course, why else would anyone choose to come out to this part of town?
; ; In the nearly fifty years of his life, the usual pleasures of marriage ; or children had somehow eluded him. He had tried. God! He’d tried! ; But it just hadn’t been his destiny. Women just didn’t take to ; him somehow. And the chances were getting fewer, as his hair thinned, ; his paunch grew larger and his future shrank ahead of him. And it ; wasn’t just romance that had eluded him. In everything he did, he ; knew that he had under-achieved. He wasn’t one of life’s ; winners. He’d never got the promotions he’d wanted. At least not ; until so late it was a recognition of his seniority and patience than ; any native ability. Time and time again, he’d seen younger men ; leapfrog ahead of him. For them advancement, romance, marriage and ; respect just came naturally.
; ; But not to him. He had no exciting past to reflect on, no youthful ; excesses to regret, nothing in his life which he could positively ; identify as an achievement for which he could be the envy of ; others. But he was a man. And he had needs the same as any other ; man. And if they weren’t to come to him effortlessly through the ; exercise of his charm and personality, then they would have to come to ; him the only other way. And that was by the exchange of dollars and ; cents.
; ; Prostitutes had become his release. In fact, they almost become his ; chief hobby. The main source of pleasure in his life. Something he ; would plan in advance and savour the prospect. Something to reflect on ; after the event and inevitably about which to feel some degree of ; shame. But always something ultimately more satisfying and more ; exciting than downloading images off the Internet, poring through ; glossy magazines or watching women in improbable ecstasy on DVDs. The ; feel of real warm flesh against his own skin, his penis tugged and ; pulled and sucked, and then sometimes the pleasure of penetration ; (always a little more expensive and that much more to be cherished) as ; his prick was eased into the condom the girls always thoughtfully ; supplied and then into the warm liquid embrace of the two fleshy lower ; lips. He only regretted that he so rarely tasted the lips on the ; girls’ mouths. But that was an intimacy they always denied him.
; ; Martin strode along, his eyes darting nervously about as he evaluated ; the women on display. Part of him actually felt quite sorry for the ; girls. It couldn’t be much fun for them to be standing around in ; the evening drizzle, waiting for cars to slow down and pick them ; up. And they really weren’t dressed for the weather. The skirts ; were so very short, the tops just so very brief, the heels so ; tottering and precipitous. And the faces. Sometimes so thick with ; make-up that it was difficult to imagine what the actual features ; underneath might be like.
; ; And then Martin saw her. And he felt a slight tightening of the throat ; and a thump in his chest as the excitement of encounter came ; closer. The girl he’d had so many times before that he was almost a ; regular. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world. But none of ; them were really. She was skinny, with large broad feet, and a twisted ; mouth on a face with a sharp chin and a long pointed nose. There she ; was (and of course Martin had no idea what she might be called), in ; her long pale tights, smoking her cigarette on the street corner, her ; heels so high that Martin could see right through them to the pavement ; edge.
; ; And then she wasn’t there. A dark brown Mondeo slowed down, and in ; a trice she was gone. Martin sighed as her tight, if rather fatty, bum ; disappeared through the car door, and the last she saw of her was a ; glimpse of her bleached, tied-back hair through the streaks of drizzle ; on the passenger window. So nearly and yet not nearly enough.
; ; Disappointed, Martin paused in his steps. He almost felt like ; abandoning his quest altogether. He pushed his hands into the pockets ; of his overcoat and continued striding on. He couldn’t come this ; far and just turn back. Even though he knew of a nearby bar where he ; could at least drown his sorrows.
; ; “Are you looking for something?” he suddenly heard a woman’s ; voice break into his reverie. He turned his head to see the dark ; shadowy figure of a thin woman, dressed in black with long unkempt ; black hair, just by a telephone pole.
; ; He smiled more from politeness than anything else. “Yes,” he ; heard himself mouth as he looked at her pale emaciated face. She ; didn’t look like she’d eaten for a long time. She had virtually ; no fat obscuring her high cheek-bones and her perpetually startled ; gaze. “How much?”
; ; The girl hesitated. “Twenty dollars,” she announced at length.
; ; “For what?”
; ; She shrugged her shoulders. “A fuck,” she decided ; noncommittally.
; ; A fuck! That was cheap. What was the catch? He studied her face. It ; was so ill-looking. She must be a junky, Martin decided. Out for a ; fix. She must be desperate. But twenty dollars! He couldn’t turn ; down an offer like that.
; ; “Yeah! That sounds fine!” he decided. “Where?”
; ; “My place,” she said, emerging from the shadows in black tights ; which emphasised the bony knees which punctuated her slim legs, and ; the tiny skirt beneath the flimsy high-collared black blouse. She ; obviously didn’t feel the cold. “Follow me.”
; ; Martin obeyed her command, and followed her along some ill-lit lanes ; toward a large dilapidated apartment block, which she entered. His ; steps followed her steps as she ascended the stairs in the flickering ; bulb-light, taking the advantage to examine the girl’s strangely ; old-fashioned black high-heeled shoes and the bony contours of her ; arse. She finally arrived at a door on whatever floor Martin had lost ; count, opened it with a key and let him in.
; ; Martin had been in girls’ flats before, and he was used to their ; spartan functionality. But this one was almost too minimal in ; content. In the single room of the apartment there was nothing except ; a mattress, bare of even sheets, on the stained bare dark floor-boards ; illuminated by the inadequate aura of a single low wattage ; light-bulb. Thick dark curtains hid all evidence of the street ; outside.
; ; And they weren’t alone. Slumped in the corner, staring vacantly in ; front of her, was another girl, and one, despite the chill in the air ; in an apartment that didn’t even have the luxury of heating, who ; wore no clothes at all. Fuck! These junkies! They have no standards or ; decorum at all. And like the girl who’d picked him up, she was ; painfully thin and pale. In fact there seemed to be an unhealthy blue ; pallour about her. Her scrawny breasts hung on her stomachless chest, ; and her feet were stretched in front of her, not attempting to obscure ; the long dark hairs of her crotch.
; ; There was no ceremony, but that was usual. Martin removed his clothes ; to reveal his paunchy waist, his slim arms and legs, and stood in the ; room in just his socks and spectacles. At least there was no mirror by ; which Martin could compare his ageing frame with his fondly held ; self-image of a somewhat younger man. With even less ceremony, the ; girl pulled off her own clothes, leaving them in a black heap on the ; bare floorboards. Without her clothes, she was exactly like her ; slumped friend. Pale, thin and ill-looking. Her large black eyes shone ; darkly from beneath her brow, not appearing to care about or even ; recognise Martin’s existence.
; ; And then she lay down on the bare mattress, buttocks sinking into its ; worn springs, her legs wide open and a shocking black crotch which ; Martin knew was soon to be all his. “Now?” he asked uncertainly.
; ; She nodded, with a fixed stare expressing neither emotion nor ; meaning. Not exactly the warmest welcome that Martin had ever had. But ; at twenty dollars. Well, you couldn’t complain.
; ; He bent his knees down onto the dark-stained mattress, feeling the ; well-worn springs flag under the weight of his hairy knees. At least ; his penis was awake. It wasn’t always so well-behaved. Sometimes it ; needed a bit of coaxing. Sometimes a lot of coaxing. There were the ; occasions when even after an embarrassed ten minutes of fellatio, ; he’d had to admit defeat, but still be as much out of pocket as if ; it had been fully erect. But today it was fully erect, a full five ; inches of fat, throbbing flesh, its glans pushed beyond the confines ; of the foreskin, ready to take possession of the pale girl’s cunt.
; ; And then he was on top of her, his hands around her white angular ; shoulders, his chin in her hair and the hairs of his chest brushing ; onto the small empty breasts, with their long dark pink nipples. Her ; skin was so cold. Colder than he believed flesh and blood could ever ; be. The drugs these girls take. What do they do to you! He carefully ; eased his penis into the condom he’d brought. Uncharacteristically, ; this girl didn’t seem to care for her health even in that ; department. But Martin was cautious. He had no intention of catching ; anything. And he’d heard that junkies were the ones most likely to ; carry all sorts of sexually transmitted diseases. Even the dreaded ; AIDS. That was one illness he could do well without.
; ; The condom was all that kept his prick warm as it thrust deep into the ; girl’s cunt, who continued to stare blankly at the ceiling as he ; thrust away, not even pretending to enjoy his passion. But in a ; strange way, this lack of emotional attachment was quite arousing in ; him, as his fleshy stomach pounded against the girl’s sharp hips ; and the hairs of her vagina tangled in the hairs of his ; groin. In. Out. Back. Forth. Push. Push.
; ; And then, unexpectedly, a cold hand on his shoulder. He turned round ; to see that the other girl was there, not smiling, but quite clearly ; with intent. She ran her cold fingers down his chest, and then ; impulsively grabbed his prick. She pulled it out of the first ; girl’s cunt, and manoeuvred it towards her own. And then, it was ; inside her, as she lay by the side of her friend, who at last came to ; life. The two girls wrapped their arms around each other, brushing ; their heads together, while Martin’s bursting erect penis ; transferred its attention inside the second girl’s cunt, thrusting ; with an excitement he’d hardly ever experienced before. Two girls! ; And only twenty dollars. He didn’t care whether he had to pay ; more. He’d so often masturbated over the fantasy of having sex with ; more than one woman at the same time. And now it was happening!
; ; The first girl eased the condom off his erect prick and took it ; between her pale lips, her sharp teeth closing gently onto its base, ; while the other girl nuzzled around his neck. Fuck! This was paradise.
; ; And then a sudden sharp pain. And a hiss. What the fuck! And a warm ; liquid on his face. And it wasn’t semen. He grimaced in horror as ; he realised that it was blood. And his horror sharpened as he realised ; it was his own. And then a sharp agonising pain in his prick as the ; first girl tightened her bite. And it was the horror of seeing his ; penis pulled from his groin and gripped in the long fang-like canines ; of the girl he’d met less than half an hour before in the street ; that caused the blood to rush from his face and his consciousness to ; slip.
; ; In his last few moments, he was vaguely aware of two sharp-toothed ; women, blood streaming from the corners of their lips, take chunks of ; flesh out from his stomach, his face, his neck, while what blood ; wasn’t taken into their mouths to feed their addiction sprayed onto ; the floor and mattress to join the congealed scabs of previous ; victims. ; ;