Lady of the Evening

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man drives around late one night, searching for someone who will help him get rid of his primitive urges. He finds such a person in a prostitute.

Submitted: February 23, 2008

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Submitted: February 23, 2008



He drove slowly down the streets. To most people, it would have been late, but for him, the night was still young. His eyes silently scanned the sidewalks, hunting for a lady of the evening, any common whore who would be a decent victim. Sadly, the police had been cracking down on prostitution of late, so the selection was rather… dismal. Then, he saw her. She was perfect. Not too beautiful that his thoughts would be distracted from his plan, but not so ugly that he would be unable to feel any pleasure from the act. He slowed down the car, already picturing how she would look after. He rolled down the window, and beckoned to her. “Get in.” He said coldly. The woman sauntered up to the window, obviously trying to show off her wares. She gently opened the car door, and slid in, her miniskirt gently lifting up, but not enough to give him a peek at her undergarments. Closing the car door, she looked directly into his eyes.
“What can I do for you, stud?” She asked, carefully placing her small purse on her lap.
“Oh, you’ll see when we get there.” The man said quietly. He began to drive off. The two sat in silence for a few moments as they moved away from the center of the city, heading towards the poorer districts.
“Uh, where are we going?” The woman asked.
“Shut up. You’ll see!” The woman brushed off the man’s angry words. She was used to this kind of man, the kind that wanted to dominate a poor defenseless woman. After a few more minutes, they pulled up to an enormous warehouse. “Get out of the car.” The woman complied, nervous about what the man was doing. She stood outside of the car, holding nothing but her purse. What if he tried something? Could she fight him off? She watched apprehensively as the man got out of the car. Acting naturally, she began to dig through her purse.
“What are you looking for?” The man asked, walking over to her. She glanced up. His hands were just in his pockets. He held nothing dangerous.
“A... a cigarette. I need one.” She muttered. The man smiled slightly.
“I probably have one in the car.” He said. He turned back, opening the car door. She watched as he dug around on the floor of the car. She continued to dig in her purse, but then she found what she really was looking for. As the man turned around, he had no idea what she had. Even as he raised the knife to stab her, he did not see the gun until it was too late.
As the man lay there dying, the prostitute kneeled down beside him. “I am sick of men taking advantage of us women. You should have realized by now that women are not defenseless.”
“You bitch!” The man gasped out as he slowly bled. The woman chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s what the other six said.”

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