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Little Book 7

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This is what I have been looking at for a week. As many different stories as I have posted and I am suffering from writer’s block on the stupid post content.

Lucky for me we started watching television again. If you haven’t seen it yet, there is a new supernatural/paranormal series out this year. I have watched the first two episodes and I have to say that this looks promising.

We finally have a vampire that is a monster again.

So, in case you haven’t watched it yet, make sure you check out Dracula. This historic fantasy has been very enjoyable so far. I am looking forward to more.

L. E. White

Little Book 7

Joey sat in an over-stuffed chair, his legs extended and his ankles crossed. His arms were folded over his chest and a small, round pillow was tucked behind his neck.

On the table in front of him sat the small ledger.

Claire was in the form of a cat. She rested in the window, enjoying a warm spot of sunlight. She was guarding him, and watching to be sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

After he had showered and slept, Claire had told him about the history of the ledger’s previous owners. Every one of them had died from settling up with the lady except for Morrin. “They all tried to find a way to cheat the lady,” she had said. “And they all failed. Whoever had the book is the boss and they have to pay the debt. It is really simple.”

Joey nodded. There wasn’t anything else he could think to say.

Now, he was doing what every other guy before him had done. He was sitting, trying to think of ways to get out of paying the tab. He was trying to think of a way to cheat this deal with the devil and save his life in the process.

He stretched forward and picked up the book. It had been wiped clean when he had paid up, but there were already two full pages again. He hated it but his boys were efficient.

He flipped back and forth, looking at the strange symbols and numbers that covered the pages in tight, crisp black lines. He looked at Claire, opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it shut again. There was no point in asking, he knew the answer already.

So he put the book back, leaned into his chair and started at the worn leather cover. He stared and waited for inspiration to strike.

*****

Amy grabbed the edge of the table and moaned, she didn’t need to, but she did. The truth was that she could be really quite during sex, but men seemed to like it when she was loud. For some reason they all seemed to think that the louder she was the better they were doing. She could live with faking noise to make them happier.

Especially if the man she was making happy was Joey Carpenter.

He had been sick, the scary little bitch of an assistant had told her as much over the phone, but when she had been allowed up to see him, she had stood with her mouth hanging in shock. He looked horrible. His eyes were sunk in and he had grey hair that she didn’t remember. It was like he had aged in the last two weeks.

But he was horny and ready for her, which meant that she hadn’t been replaced, so the rest didn’t matter. Being Joey’s toy meant she didn’t have to turn tricks or wait tables.

Tonight, he was different. He seemed distracted and depressed. He had kissed her in a listless sort of way but when she tried to get him going, it had almost worked to well. Joey had went from not paying much attention to shoving her over the table and pulling her skirt up with short, frantic moves. He was pounding away like he was afraid he was going to die and that scared her a little.

If something happened to him, she would be on the street again.

He was all over the place, no rhythm or style. Joey had been a good lover, one that she enjoyed, but tonight he reminded her of a first timer trying to experiment with being rough.

He squeezed one breast, and she was guessing that he would leave bruises. He had never left bruises before. He slammed into her, cramming her into the table edge and she was sure there would be a bruise there, the sharp edge of the heavy wood top was biting into her. His other hand was full of her hair, and the way he was pulling she just prayed that he wouldn’t tear it out.

When he slammed forward and let out a sigh, Amy sighed with him. It was over, he was done and she would be able to go to the bathroom and assess the damage. However, instead of pulling away, Joey bent at the waist and rested his head between her shoulders. She put her hand over the one that was still clutching her breast and rubbed it. She felt him shudder and shake as he took a stuttering breath. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing.” Joey pulled away and sat down in one of the chairs.

Amy didn’t move, she stayed bent over the table for a moment as she tried to decide what to do. “Joey, I know something happened. I promise I won’t tell nobody about it.” She stood up without turning around and pulled her skirt back down. She kept her eyes down as she turned, waiting until she was leaning on the table before looking up at him.

Joey was sitting in the chair, pants around his ankles, staring at her with eyes that reminded her of broken windows. He looked so much older and she felt sorry for him.

“I know you wouldn’t tell, but I can’t tell you anything.”

“I think you need to tell someone,” she said. “Everybody needs somebody to talk to. I can be that for you if you want.” Her voice sounded small to her own ears. She was worried about making him mad. She didn’t want to disappear or be replaced.

He smiled at her, but she thought it was just to get her to shut up. “I’ll think about it.”

Amy bit her lip and lowered her eyes. “Maybe you should try talking to a priest? They can’t be made to talk and they never tell anyone.” When she looked back up at him, Joey looked different. He was still smiling, but now it had spread. His eyes looked more alive than when she had come in and his mouth was slightly open.

“That is a very good idea.” He said each word carefully, pausing between them. Something about that had sparked an idea. She didn’t know what, but if he liked it that was all that mattered to her.

“Thank you”

He had never thanked her before, he had never done anything other than use her until tonight, and she was proud of herself for helping.  Amy stood up straight and smoothed her shirt, preparing to head to the bathroom.

“Table,” he said and she thought it sounded like he normally did. He face beamed when she climbed onto the polished wood surface and began to wiggle her hips. As his eyes followed her hands over her body, Amy thought that things might just go back to normal.

Or maybe, just maybe, he would let them go somewhere beyond that.

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Categories: Flash Fiction, Writing
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