Erotic Writings(c)poet50 1996

She stood beneath the street lamp waiting. It was one of those dark, stormy nights that nightmares are created in. The only light on the street came from the lamp overhead and that just about encircled her. A steady drizzle pelted down on her London Fog, forming rivulets in the creases. It ran across the wide brim of her fedora and dripped down the back of her neck causing more chills than she had before. Did the cold or the mission she was on chill her? She couldn’t tell.

She leaned back against the lamppost and exhaled heavily. Hands in pockets, hiding from the chill and rain, her fingers caressed the cold dark steel of the 9 mm. Baretta in her pocket. She ran her fingers across its length, like a lover caressing her partner’s private parts. The only equalizer between her and the denizens of the street she stood on. This was not the part of town a pretty white girl traveled alone, especially at night. Even the alley cats didn’t venture out here after dark. The South Side had a way of swallowing people up and never spitting them out. Except for the occasional body parts found in so many trash dumpsters in the morning.

She shifted her legs slightly. Her feet were getting cold. Hell of a night for stiletto heels. Her shapely thin legs peeked out the front of the raincoat for a second then quickly darted back in to the dryness inside. "What the Hell was she doing here on a night like this?" She thought. All along knowing why she’d risk her life and limb. It was life that she was after: hers.

She had become accustomed to a better than average lifestyle and she liked it. When her money ran out she was forced to do a few "odd jobs" for an acquaintance. Up till now, it had been a little party here and there. Keep the big spenders satisfied and happy. No prostitution, mind you, just a little tickle and feel in the back of a limo. Show a little tit; fend off the fat slobs that tried to get too friendly. What the hell! It helped her keep what she had.

But, things were getting harder to maintain and her tastes had exceeded her ability to pay off. She was in big and needed a big way out. So, when "Lenny the Rat" proposed a little different business, she jumped at it. It she had only realized what it would take, she would have blown this town and taken her chances.

Basically, she was a collector. People owed Lenny money, she collected. Most of the time it was easy. Lenny’s reputation proceeded her. Most didn’t mess around; they paid up and shut up. If she couldn’t collect, he sent around two apes that made their living crushing guys in the trunks of old cars and pumping a few dozen rounds into them. Then, just for effect, the wreck wound up in a compress. Man and machine really becoming one.

This time there was a very big difference. She had been told to collect $50,000.00, the largest amount she had ever been sent out on. She was also told to "handle things herself". Which meant if the guy didn’t have it, "off him". That’s why she was were she was at this particular hour of the evening. Lenny figured somebody getting "bumped" at this hour in this particular part of the city wouldn’t arouse anyone’s curiosity. It happened down here regularly and no one ever asked. The problem was, could she do it? She had told Lenny it was no problem but she had never done this kind of thing before. She leaned her head back a little farther and let the chilling rain soak her face and run through her short-cropped hair. "Oh well", she mused, "it’s either what I want or his life. I know what’s important to me. I hope he realizes the same". Her stomach churned and she felt like lunch was about to visit the cement at her feet. She held it down.

She turned quickly as she heard footsteps coming towards her. Her pits became as wet as the weather around her but she quickly regained her composure. "It’s show time," she thought.

He walked slowly in her direction. There was no doubt he was coming to her spot. Slowly, with a rhythm, the footstep came straight to her. She couldn’t see him until he stepped into the light of the street lamp. Just a shadowed figure of a man. As he moved closer she could make out features. Not a big man but not small either. He stood just a few inches taller than she did. The leather jacket he wore was open, revealing a shirt stretched tight across a fairly broad chest. Tan pants covered what appeared to be fairly muscular legs and a slim waist. The tips of what appeared to be cowboy boots covered his feet and accounted for why she had heard him coming half way up the block. He apparently wasn’t afraid of calling attention to himself. That fact, along with the wide brimmed Acubra he wore, made him stick out like a Klanner at a Southern Baptist Sunday social.

His face was somewhat hidden under the hat, the brim cutting off the light from the street lamp. It seemed to be an angular face and the jaw was set. The face of a no nonsense kind of guy. She thought she could see a moustache in the shadows under the hat, but the eyes were completely dark, yet she could feel his stare and his eyes moving up her body and right under the raincoat.

"Does Lenny usually send ladies to do his dirty work?" The voice was low and resonate. She could feel the words tickle her in parts she shouldn’t even being thinking about, considering the circumstances.

She ignored the question and asked one of her own. Her voice was sounding deeper and throatier than she had anticipated. "Have you got the money?" Her hand slipped a little tighter around the Baretta still hiding within the pocket of her raincoat.

His hands slipped slowly out of his pockets like two cobras readying for a strike. Her finger began to pressure down on the trigger as she began to slip the weapon out of the pocket. But, instead of the hands going for her, one rested on his hip as the other tipped back the hat to expose his eyes. "Yeah," he exhaled, "I’ve got it"

She stared into those eyes. They were small and intense, wrinkled around the edges, like a man whose spent a lot of time squinting into the sun. But for all the intensity, they were soft. The light danced in their color and they seemed to have a sense of humor all their own. Her stare fell away from his. She didn’t want to give herself away. She suddenly had a strong desire to pee. It was then that she caught a glint of light near his belt. The hand on hip had exposed something else besides a trim waist. She could see the bone handle of what appeared to be a very large knife resting in his belt. He caught her gaze and looked down at the handle. "Hell, does this bother you?" he drawled, "I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me." A small tight smile came to his face.

She looked into his eyes again. They were laughing. She really felt he meant her no harm. She blinked a bit in confusion and to clear her head. "Never mind that," she said sharply, "just give me the cash and we can both get out of this snake pit."

He looked at her for a long minute. She felt his eyes scanning her again. They seemed to take a longer than necessary time considering her legs. It distracted her. It excited her.

"Well, Darl’in, I’m not accustomed to carrying that kind of money around". He looked around at their surroundings. "Especially in a dung heap like this. Come on," he gestured, "it’s over at my apartment, not too far from here."

She began to slip the Baretta from her pocket and let him know she meant business when another voice came from behind her and an arm reached around her, up under the raincoat, as a large clammy hand clasped firmly to her breast. "Nobody’s goin anywhere till we do some business right here. Now, Podner, hand over your wallet before I muss up this fine lady on you."

The voice belonged to a street kid. Tall, dark, nasty. This was his turf and they were intruders. He was going to extract payment for their intrusion. He squeezed her breast roughly and smiled at the cowboy. A smile like a hungry shark ready for feeding. She felt his stinking breath on the side of her face. It smelled of cheap wine and cigarettes. He pulled her tightly against him and from the bulge in his pants she could tell that the wallet wasn’t the only thing he would want.

"Hold on there, Hoss" the cowboy said putting his hands out in front of him, partially to show he wasn’t a threat, partially to hide the knife that would be seen as a threat. "You want a little piece of the lady?"

She looked at him as if he was crazy! Was he going to give her up to this slime to save his own ass? Was he going to leave her there with this animal and take his chances with Lenny’s thugs? She moved her hand in her pocket and although her arm was pinned to her side by the boy’s arm, she could still reach the trigger of the pistol.

The street shark felt her movement and quickly got his hand into her pocket. Before she realized it, he had squeezed the gun out of her hand and pulled it from her pocket. "Well, well, look what we got here!" he brought the gun to her face. "Little Missy’s got a friend." He leered at the cowboy. "Looks like this isn’t your night, Lone Ranger."

The cowboy moved a bit closer. She noticed his knees bent slightly. Like the cobra ready to strike. He never took his eyes off the youth. "Come on, Hoss, you want a little piece of the lady, don’t you. I promise, it’s much better than what I got in my wallet. She’s a real wild cat. Moves her ass like a jack hammer and has the kick of a mule"

These last two statements were accentuated, and as he said them, he looked her straight in the eyes and winked. A little smile parting his lips. She instinctively understood what he meant. Before the youth could answer, she threw her buttocks into his groin. At the same time, lifting her leg as high as she could, she planted a spiked heel deep into his foot and swung herself out of the way. The youth screamed out in pain, "You Mutha Fuckin Ho! I’ll blow your nasty little ass away!" he raised the pistol to fire.

The cowboy moved quickly. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out the largest knife she had ever seen. It was a full 18" long, thicker in the center then at the shank. It had to be at least 4" thick at it width and serrated near the point. It was a very large knife! Highly polished it, glistened in the rain and gleamed in the light of the street lamp. A very formidable weapon, not carried by one that was not trained in it’s use. "This is the lady I had in mind, Pardner, you feel lucky?"

"Shut the fuck up, you Crocodile Dundee Mutha Fucker!" I’m going to off you, then take care of business with the lady." he brought the barrel of the gun around. Before he could squeeze off a shot, the knife had left the cowboy’s hand and was on it way to its target. The great blade slipped through its victim’s ribs like passing through melted butter. There was hardly a sound until the knife’s handle stopped its forward momentum and buried itself deep into the assailant's chest. The gun dropped from his hand as he stared down in disbelief. She began to feel sick and her knees tuned to jelly as she saw the blade sticking out of the back of his shirt.

The youth fell to his knees. His eyes wide with disbelief. The knife had found its mark, burying itself through the left lung, eviscerating the heart and most of the major blood vessels in the man’s chest. He was dead before he hit the pavement.

His head fell near her feet. The eyes, even in death, not believing he was dead. The cowboy bent over the body. He picked up the Baretta and handed it to her. "I prefer this old lady here to a gun. Much more elegant and a lot less noisy." He grabbed the handle and pulled the long blade out with a quick jerk, wiping off the blade on their assailant’s shirt. "You about ready to go?" He said almost casually, as if they were going home from a dinner party.

She stood motionless, still trying to absorb what had just transpired, the pistol hanging limp in her hand. He gently grabbed her wrist and led her away. "Come on now" he said in almost a soothing manner, "I’ll make you a cup of coffee when we get to my place. Look at you, your nearly soaked." he continued, almost scolding, "Your gonna catch your death out here in those wet things. I’ll get you home where you can get those wet things off and get comfortable. Don’t worry, I’ll give you Lenny’s money." He stopped and gave her a sheepish grin. "You can take it to him in the morning. When you leave."

They walked off together in the chilling night rain.

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