9 comments/ 48821 views/ 14 favorites Streetwalker By: slyc_willie (This is an official entry into the 2008 Halloween story contest. I hope you enjoy this little tale. Don't forget to vote, and please, read all the other contest entries.) ***** Stacy eased herself onto the bus stop bench, nervously glancing up and down the darkened street. This Halloween night was cool, wet, sticky; rains had recently fallen, making the street shine and glisten. The cars that passed by ripped through the thin film of water upon the asphalt, leaving misty spray in their wake which coasted along on a gentle breeze. The glowing neon within the windows of small dive bars advertised various domestic brews even as the dull, muted music from within advertised desperation, depression, and a dulled hope for something better. Stacy could sympathize. She held her cell phone like a devoted believer clutched a cross, staring at the tiny dark window. After a few moments, the window came alive with light and a chime filtered through the humid air. Quickly, she called up the new text message. "Looking forward to tonight. See you soon." Stacy closed the phone with a heavy sigh and pushed it into the front pocket of her loose jeans. She rubbed her hands together, keeping a wary eye on the street. On the corner, a pudgy Hispanic girl in clothes two sizes too small gave her a challenging look as she pushed out her barely-constrained breasts. Stacy looked away. Across the street, a lean young black man paused as he walked with overconfidence, smoking a blunt and giving her a speculative look. Stacy tore her eyes from him as well. She lit a cigarette, exhaled harsh smoke from her lungs. She really didn't like smoking; she hated the way it clung to her hair and soaked into her clothes. Reverting to her former habit was both a defense mechanism and a way to pass the time. At least she was doing something. "Hey, got another one?" Stacy glanced up from her innocuous study of the cracked sidewalk. The querying voice belonged to a slender young blonde, late teens, clad in the tiniest denim cutoffs imaginable and a tight sweater top. Her skin was pale, almost alabaster, earned from too much time spent indoors during the day and only venturing outside at night, yet still, she was pretty. Almost innocently pretty, in fact. Her face was smooth, drawn, with a narrow mouth and pink lips, dark eyes magnified by adroitly-applied mascara. "Sure," Stacy said, taking out her pack. The blonde leaned over, providing a choice view of her barely-covered derrière to the passing motorists as she tucked the cigarette between soft lips and allowed Stacy to light her. Straightening, the blonde breathed out slowly, expelling a cloud which drifted through her as much as around her. "New around here?" Stacy nodded. "Yeah." The blonde smiled cynically and sat upon the bench. "What'cha gonna do, right?" she asked philosophically. "Life beats the fuck outta ya, and you got about three seconds to figure out what to do. Ain't too hard to decide, really. Live in a shelter and get raped by the 'Good Samaritans,' or make a little money sucking dick and tell yourself you're doing all right." Stacy stared at the girl in profile, nodding slowly. "Is that how it is for you?" The blonde turned her head, seeming so much older than her features should allow. "I been to the shelters," she said grimly. Stacy averted her gaze. "I'm sorry." The blonde laughed. "Don't fucking feel sorry for me, chick. I don't know you, and you don't know me." She pulled on her cigarette and exhaled again. "'Sides, ain't like it don't happen all over the place. I ain't never known a chick that's never been raped. That's life, you know? Guess that's how we're supposed to be strong or something." Stacy frowned empathetically. "Maybe." The two women fell into silence, casting greyish smoke into the air which quickly disappeared. On the other side of the street, a maroon sedan slowed, the driver's face barely visible through a rolled-down window. His gaze panned across the pair seated at the bus stop bench, and he seemed to make a decision. The sedan continued along the street for a moment or two before it made a U-turn and rolled up along the curb before the bus stop. The blonde cast a weary look to Stacy. "You want him?" Stacy fidgeted. "Um . . . ." The other girl smiled disarmingly. "You really are new at this, huh?" she asked rhetorically, then continued. "Don't sweat it. I'll take him." She stood, approaching the edge of the street as the car came to a stop. Stacy watched as the lithe blonde leaned upon the passenger-side door, speaking briefly with the man inside. After only a few seconds, she opened the door and slipped inside. Briefly, the blonde cast a look back to Stacy, an enigmatic smile decorating her face. Then the car was gone, peeling away on sticky wet streets. Stacy watched after until the faint glow of the tail lights vanished around a corner. ***** "So, uh, what's your name?" asked the pudgy man behind the wheel of the maroon sedan. "Kylie," the blonde girl answered. He smiled, giving her an appraising look. Kylie smiled back and casually unzipped her sweater top. Her breasts were small but firm, almost perfectly spherical and capped with light-toned pink nipples. Flicking her fingers across them, Kylie grinned as the rubbery protrusions swelled and hardened. The man behind the wheel licked his lips in arousal, dropping a hand to his crotch and rubbing. "Need help with that?" Kylie asked demurely. The man laughed nervously. "Uh, sure." Kylie massaged her breasts more wantonly, giving the man a sultry look. "Tell me what you want, baby." The man returned his attention to the road before him as he navigated dark neighborhood streets. "Well, um . . . I really just want a b-bl . . ." He sighed in frustration. "A b--" "Blowjob?" asked Kylie. The man's face flushed. "Yeah." Kylie slid closer, leaning across the console between the seats. She brought her face close to the man's ear, flickering her tongue out to tickle it. "Want me to suck your cock, baby?" He shuddered. "Yeah." Kylie smiled. ***** Bobbing her head rhythmically in his lap, Kylie massaged the stiff tube of flesh with talented lips and tongue, tasting the seepage of pungent, tell-tale fluid upon her tongue. The pudgy man writhed in the seat, legs parted as wide as the confines of the car would allow, his hands spread across the back of Kylie's neck and her shoulders. "Oh, fuck, you're good at that," he muttered, opening his eyes and looking down upon ethereal blonde hair which glowed beneath the stark lights of the grocery store parking lot. The wet sucking and slurping sounds made by her eager, tugging mouth only enhanced his pleasure, giving him the impression that the girl sucking his cock truly enjoyed what she was doing. Kylie's only response was a muffled and apparently agreeable moan. Her hand deftly manipulated his balls, rolling the fleshy sacks in her slender fingers. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" In short order, he began pumping his hips up and down, careless of the streetwalker's comfort, wanting only to get off. His cock tingled electrically in the hooker's mouth, swelling to the limit of stiffness before erupting. He gasped and spasmed, moaning loudly and shaking as the talented prostitute sucked every last drop of essence from his straining dick, laving the head of his cock with massaging swirls of her tongue. She finally lifted up, lips pursed closed and decorated with a slimy film of semen. She smiled upon her client, who returned the look with dreamy satisfaction. He laughed euphorically. Kylie merely straightened, languidly removing her hand from the man's wilted cock. She licked her lips, swallowed, breathed out, then licked her sticky lips again. "Got a cigarette?" she asked. ***** Stacy was still seated upon the bus stop bench when Kylie returned, holding a cigarette which trailed a wispy line of smoke behind her. She gave the brunette an amused look as she sat once more. "No takers?" Stacy blushed and smiled in embarrassment. "A couple offers," she admitted. Kylie shifted, facing the newcomer directly. "I know what you're thinking," she said. "'How the fuck can I do this? How fucking pathetic do I have to be to sell myself?' But it ain't like that." Stacy met the other girl's gaze. "It's not?" Kylie shook her head vehemently. "Think about it. You've fucked before, right? Sucked dick before. The only difference now is that you're giving it up to some guy you don't know. But that really ain't that important, when you think about it." Stacy frowned. "Isn't it?" Kylie scoffed. "Look, the way guys think, all chicks are whores. Buy you dinner, bring you flowers, all that shit, and all they're thinking is that you're gonna be so fucking gracious that you'll at least suck 'em off." Stacy was quiet, thinking back to her senior year in high school, then her undergraduate days. Thinking about all the men and boys she had dated, and all the sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars, in movie theater seats, in the bedroom of her first apartment. And then she thought about Bruce, patient, kind, and mature Bruce. "Not all guys are like that," Stacy said at last. Kylie shrugged, looking out at the wet road and smoking her cigarette. "No, probably not," she agreed. "But it's like, when you pick a card from the deck, how often are you gonna get the king?" Stacy managed a laugh. "Not too often," she said. Kylie turned back to the brunette with a comradely smile. "You want a little advice?" "Sure." "Okay, this is how it is," the blonde said. "Don't think about it, except when you're doing it. These guys don't give a shit about you, and you don't care about them." Stacy nodded. "Okay." "Use every trick you got, and get 'em off fast. But be nice about it, 'cause you don't know when some asshole's gonna pull a knife or gun or some shit." Stacy swallowed nervously. "Got it." "And, seriously, don't fuck without a glove. You can't trust nobody. I mean, nobody. And . . ." she paused, eyes cast down. Her lips worked silently, face clouding with painful memory. "And?" Kylie lifted her gaze, boring into Stacy's soul. "I'm just saying, it's gonna happen. Some guy's gonna get rough, or you're gonna get cornered by some pimp or something . . ." she drifted off momentarily, then forced a smile. "It's like any job, you know. There's gonna be parts about it you don't like. But you're gonna do it, 'cause that's the job." "Is that how it happened for you?" Stacy asked bravely. Kylie cast a wan look to the fresh-faced brunette. "Honey, that's how it happens for every bitch who walks the streets. Just a matter of time." ***** It was a big white truck that pulled up before the bus stop bench the second time, the kind with a crew cab. Kylie stood and approached the rolled-down passenger window and spoke with the man inside. After just a few words, she looked back to Stacy with a catty smile. "He wants us both," she said. Stacy felt a sharp, hot stab of anxiety course through her. "Both?" Kylie chuckled and held out her hand. "Sink or swim, honey," she said. "Come on, it's cool. I'll be with you." Reluctantly, Stacy stood and stepped to the truck as Kylie opened the door. The blonde slid in, sidling close to the driver, and Stacy followed, settling upon the bench seat and closing the door. The driver of the truck was a skinny, gangly man who looked to be in his thirties. The cab of the vehicle smelled of spilled beer and cheap cologne. "Damn, you babes are pretty hot," he remarked, looking over both Kylie and Stacy appreciatively. "Guess it's my lucky night." "Lucky for the right price," Kylie said meaningfully. The driver laughed dryly. "Don't worry 'bout that shit," he said. "I got the cash." ***** His name was Darren, and he stared at Stacy as she unsnapped the simple peasant blouse she wore. Kylie snuggled against him in the back seat of the truck as it sat along the edge of a city park, running her hand up and down his narrow body. "Yeah, baby, lemme see those tits," Darren growled, eyes glowing in the dim light. Stacy managed a smile, pulling the garment away and allowing her naked breasts to meet the cool night air. Her nipples puckered and stiffened instantly, though she was unsure if that was only because of the cold. Part of her, she realized, found the entire scene arousing. "God damn," muttered Darren, his gaze falling lustily upon Stacy's partial nudity. "Damn things gotta be D-cups." The brunette's eyes met Kylie's, seeking encouragement. The blonde smiled back while her hands wandered to the top of Darren's jeans, pulling gently at the fabric. She motioned for Stacy to join her, and the busty girl did, pressing herself to Darren's right side. Tentatively, she ran her hand up the skinny man's thigh, awkwardly cupping his genitals through the denim. The outline of the man's bulge was prominent. "Yeah, that's it. Take it out, ladies. I wanna see you fight over it." The girls exchanged a wan look, rolling their eyes, but together, they moved down the man's body toward his crotch. Kylie pulled on the zipper as Stacy separated the fabric, revealing the distinctive, musky smell of a man's groin. Stacy wrinkled her nose at first, figuring Darren had been wearing his jeans all day. But it wasn't her place to comment on his hygiene. Two pairs of hands extracted a relatively long, stiff cock from the fly of Darren's jeans. The tip of the pink head was already glistening with moisture. Darren sighed in pleasure at the fluttering contact of two different sets of feminine fingers. Stacy felt a jolt of naughty excitement, glancing around briefly. Never had she thought she would ever take money in exchange for sex, and in the back of a truck beside a city park, no less. The scene was deliciously depraved, further enhanced by Kylie's presence. "I want first taste," the blonde declared, settling her hand upon Darren's hairy balls. Stacy said nothing as she wrapped her own hand around the hard, warm shaft of the man's cock, watching with interest as Kylie slipped out her tongue, sliding it wetly around the sensitive head. Darren groaned, his hands wandering over the backs of the two girls. "Suck it, baby," he commanded, pushing slightly on the back of Kylie's head. "Take it as deep as you can." Kylie tilted her head, looking up at Darren while continuing to lave his cock with attention. Giving the john a predatory look, she spread her lips around the head, steadily pushing down, engulfing him whole. Stacy watched in amazement as her fellow prostitute's lips easily snuggled the base of the man's penis. She massaged Darren's legs as the man trembled, enjoying the bliss of having his cock massaged by rippling throat muscles. "Fuck yeah, baby," he moaned. "Swallow that fucking dick." Taken out of context, Stacy thought, the man's words would have been laughable, even comical. But at the moment, they were true praise, albeit in a less than genteel way. Kylie bobbed up and down, making Darren's penis shine in the dim light, taking him into her throat now and then and making the lucky man shiver each time she did so. His hands continued to roam, finding one of Stacy's heavy breasts and seeking the blonde's own cleavage beneath her sweater top. Stacy fought against the automatic urge to recoil from the man's calloused touch, reminding herself that she was supposed to allow his advances. She was getting paid, after all. After a minute, Kylie slipped her mouth from Darren's cock, stroking it slowly with her hand. "Your turn," she said to Stacy with a wink, sitting up and unzipping her top. Stacy took a breath, staring at the wet eye of the penis before her. She had never gone down on a stranger before. Sex before had always been something that occurred after a few dates. But that life was gone. Settling her mind into the pure mechanical mode of what she was doing, she took the cock into her mouth, feeling it throb against her lips and tongue. Kylie had sucked away most of the musky flavor, leaving only the bland, familiar essence of flesh. The hand caressing her right breast suddenly squeezed, pinching the nipple. Stacy flinched slightly, hearing Darren's ragged breathing and figuring she was doing all right. His manhandling of her breast, however, was becoming rough and painful. She shifted, moving from the seat to the floor between Darren's legs, looking up upon him and Kylie. He grinned, reaching for her hair. "Yeah, that's it. I wanna watch you suck me." Beside him, Kylie had a small smile on her face. Her breasts were exposed, small round mounds with pink nipples which stuck out aggressively. Stacy noticed that Darren's other hand had curled beneath the blonde, pressing fingers up against the denim covering her pussy. "Why don't you take off the shorts, baby, while she blows me," Darren suggested to Kylie. Without a word, Kylie nodded and lifted up in the seat, shimmying the ragged denim down her lean thighs. Stacy resumed her ministrations on the man's cock, bobbing up and down rhythmically. She found herself watching Kylie, admiring her taut body. As the blonde dropped her shorts to the floor and sat back, unabashedly spreading her legs, Stacy could not help but eye the girl's lightly-stubbled sex. For the first time in her life, she found another woman sexually attractive. "Whoa, baby, don't get me off just yet," Darren warned, settling his hand upon Stacy's head, stopping her. She looked back to him curiously, then understood and slid his cock out of her mouth. "Sorry." Darren chuckled. "Hey, I don't mind the enthusiasm," he said, then scooted up. Stacy had a condom in her hand, tearing open the wrapper as Stacy's stroking hand kept Darren ready. With a sultry look, Kylie lifted up and extended one leg over Darren's lap, straddling him and facing Stacy. Deftly, she rolled the condom down Darren's cock, then rubbed the head against her moist slit. Stacy watched from her advantageous viewpoint as stiff penis met slick pussy and was slowly engulfed. "Oh, fuck, that's tight, baby," the man moaned, pushing up with his hips. Kylie responded with only a soft moan, though it sounded practiced. She kept her eyes on Stacy's as she bottomed out, working her hips and squeezing Darren inside her with her inner muscles. Mutely, she guided Stacy's head with her hands toward their conjoined sexes. Stacy's heart fluttered with excitement, inhaling the rich aroma of the blonde's pussy. Her tongue slipped out first to tickle Darren's balls, but quickly moved up toward Kylie's protruding clitoris, peeking from beneath it's pink hood. Kylie sighed, easing back, lifting her legs to plant her feet on either side of Darren. Slowly, she began riding up and down the stiff column of flesh. Darren's hands crept up around her, cupping her barely-bouncing breasts. Stacy watched from between the lovers' thighs, keeping her tongue outstretched to taste Kylie's essence trickling down Darren's cock. Each time Kylie descended, Stacy suckled her clit like a baby lamb, savoring the flavor of another woman. If nothing else about the situation turned her on, the act of licking another woman's pussy for the first time in her life had her own juices running. Darren began groaning and gasping after only a handful of minutes, signaling the onset of his orgasm. Almost rudely, however, he grabbed Kylie by the waist and lifted her off him, making his near-to-bursting cock slide free of the blonde's swollen tunnel. "Not yet," he gasped, giving Stacy a speculative look. Kylie wiped her brow, looking momentarily annoyed, but she understood and accepted the man's intent. She nodded to Stacy, who once more looked nervous. Don't think about it, Stace, the brunette told herself. Just do it. Get it over with. Streetwalker Kylie lay down on the broad back seat of the truck, invitingly spreading her thighs and smiling up at Stacy as she urged the brunette to get atop her in a sixty-nine. Stacy trembled, anticipating this new sensation, not even minding the lecherous presence of the man who was paying them for the privilege of enjoying their bodies. Shucking her shorts and getting into position, Stacy sighed at the contact of a tongue against her clit, eagerly pressing her mouth against the blonde's nearly-smooth pussy. "That's fucking hot," Darren muttered, lining up his cock with Stacy's pussy. With a steady push, he invaded the busty woman, gripping her hips. Stacy grunted at the invasion, but Kylie's flickering tongue kept her aroused and wet, making Darren's progress easier. She sucked and licked all around Kylie's sex, panting against the hot, wet folds. The blonde squirmed under her, licking as avidly as Stacy at the brunette's distended clit, and cupping the heavy breasts which brushed her abdomen. Abruptly, however, Darren jerked his cock free with a grunt, hastily tearing off the condom with an audible snap. As the young women writhed beneath him, he masturbated furiously, staring at the full round ass before him and the flushed face of the blonde beneath. Watching the two girls so avidly pleasuring each other heightened the intensity of his orgasm. He shook and groaned loudly, showering Stacy's upturned ass with thick streaks and drops of cum. Some of it splashed against the brunette's pussy, dripping down toward Kylie's thrashing tongue. He sagged back against the door of the cab, watching as the women finished each off amid gasps and moans and satisfied sighs. He told himself he would have to pick them up again. ***** A quick trip into the bathroom of a convenience store to freshen up, and Stacy and Kylie were back at the bus stop with three new twenty-dollar bills in their pockets each. Stacy felt a strange sort of detached amusement about what had transpired just half an hour before. I'm a prostitute now, she thought wonderingly. They sat together on the bench, watching a few cars roll by. A police sedan passed, the officer within narrowing his eyes as he beheld the provocatively-dressed girls. Kylie gave him an exaggerated wave and smile. "They can't do nothing unless they actually catch us," she told Stacy. "To be honest, most of them don't really care. They're mainly looking for dealers, not walkers." Stacy nodded, saying nothing. Her mind was still on the scene in the truck, fucking a stranger while enjoying her first girl-on-girl experience. Now that the orgasmic high had faded, she felt . . . cheap. "What's wrong?" Kylie asked. Stacy glanced to the blonde – it was hard to think of her as a friend – with a sheepish smile. "Don't you ever wonder about . . ." She paused, formulating the words in her head but failing. "I don't know. Maybe it's that Catholic upbringing." Kylie scoffed. "You too, huh?" She eased forward, elbows on her knees, subconsciously, she scratched at her left wrist beneath the sleeve that covered it. "Hell, that's probably half the reason I ended up like this." "What do you mean?" The blonde inhaled deeply, staring out across the street. "My folks were pretty religious," she revealed. "We all had to read the Bible during breakfast, and prayers every night before bed. My dad beat the values of pure fucking morality into us with a belt if we ever did the slightest fucking thing wrong. And if that didn't work . . . ." She trailed off, working her hands together, then forced out a smile. "Did you run away?" Stacy asked gingerly. "Fuck yeah, I did. Soon as I could. I had to get outta there. Mom knew what the fuck he did to us, but she never did or said nothing." She scratched again along the inside of her wrist, this time pushing up the sleeve. Stacy caught a brief view of a long, red scar running the inside of the blonde's forearm. "You said 'us,'" Stacy prompted. Kylie nodded, staring at nothing. "I got a kid sister. Been trying to find her, actually." Stacy looked around. "You think she's here?" The blonde's shoulders sagged and she huffed in exasperation. "Why not? She's as fucked up as I am. I just feel so bad about leaving her. But I knew if I stayed, Dad was gonna kill me sooner or later." So how is this better? Stacy wondered, but she didn't voice her question. "Hey, enough of this shit," Kylie said abruptly, pushing to her feet. "I know a place we can score some booze. I feel like getting drunk." ***** A vintage convertible rolled past, half a dozen costumed partiers inside yelling and laughing on their way to the downtown clubs. Stacy watched them with a sad, nostalgic smile, thinking she should be the one heading to a party, she should be gaudily dressed in some sexy costume, she should be thinking of nothing but having fun. It was Halloween, after all. Instead, I'm sitting on a bus bench, encouraging guys to offer me money to fuck them, she lamented. How the hell did I get into this? She took out her cell phone, sourly staring at the blank screen. A press of a button, and the screen lit up. She wrinkled her nose as she read the time, taking a tentative sip from the half-pint bottle of cheap whisky. 11:43. Seventeen minutes till midnight, she thought heavily. The green sports car pulled up at the corner, and before it came to a full stop the passenger door was already opening. Kylie stepped out quickly, an annoyed look on her pretty face. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, giving Stacy a wan look as she approached. "What happened?" Stacy asked worriedly. Kylie shrugged, remaining standing. She took out her cigarettes and lit up. "You know, I don't fucking care why guys wanna get their dick sucked," she said rudely. "The last thing I wanna hear is some long, pathetic explanation about how some dude's wife doesn't give it up anymore. So go divorce the bitch, if you ain't happy." She puffed smoke, pacing back and forth. Stacy relaxed somewhat. "I guess some guys want to make themselves feel better about picking up a girl like this." "Sure. Fine!" Kylie exclaimed. "But don't fucking waste my time telling me about it! Fuck, I was with that guy for almost a whole fucking hour, and the goddamn blowjob only lasted like, ten fucking minutes!" She scratched at the scar again, this time pushing up the sleeve. Stacy watched the agitated girl. "What happened?" Kylie looked annoyed. "Didn't I just fucking tell you--" she began, then stopped, seeing where the brunette's attention was focused. She looked to the scar, and her anger faded visibly. Tiredly, the blonde sagged back onto the bench, digging her own bottle of whisky from the pocket of the sweater. "Look, it ain't no big deal." "Why'd you do it?" "'Cause life sucks, that's why," the blonde shot back acidly. Her features softened in an instant, however, as if she wanted to take the words back. She studied Stacy's face. "Why you wanna be my friend, anyway? None of the other girls even try to talk to me anymore. It's like I don't exist to them." Stacy shrugged. "They probably don't see you like I can. 'Sides, shouldn't we girls stick together?" Kylie laughed softly and sipped again from the bottle. Although half the contents had already been drained, she looked unaffected by it. "Yeah, well, I ain't gonna stick around too long. Soon as I find Jenny, we're taking off." "You ever think about looking somewhere else for her?" Stacy suggested. Kylie snorted derisively. "Like where?" She gestured around her. "This is the world, hon! If I ain't gonna find her here, I ain't gonna find her anywhere!" "There's a lot more than just this street, Kylie," Stacy said firmly. "Yeah. Whatever." She tilted the bottle back, guzzling the remainder of its contents. Casually, she tossed the bottle to the curb, watching it shatter. "Fuck. I ain't even buzzed. Must'a watered that shit down." Stacy was about to speak when her cell phone chimed. She glanced down, noting the time. Midnight. Right on the dot. She sighed. Her eyes drifted down the street, spying an oncoming black SUV. "Look, all I'm saying is that Jenny might be somewhere else. Maybe even someplace nice." Kylie cast a sidelong look to the brunette. "This world ain't never been nice to me or Jenny," she declared. "No, she's gotta be here." The black SUV approached, coming to a stop at the curb before the two women. Kylie regarded it for a moment, but made no effort to rise. She glanced to Stacy with a thin smile. "Your turn?" Stacy nodded, her expression inscrutable. "Yeah, actually," she said, sounding almost sad. She stood hesitantly, only peripherally recognizing the figure through the SUV's tinted windows. "Cool," muttered the blonde, getting to her feet as well. "I'm gonna take off. Maybe I'll find Jenny tomorrow." Stacy swallowed dryly. "Maybe." "See you around," Kylie called, effecting an exaggerated smile as she walked backward along the street. "I'm here every night." She turned about and thrust her hands into her pockets, hips swaying as she walked. With every step, she faded away until eventually, she vanished into the cool, misty air. I know, Stacy thought heavily, then reached for the door of the SUV. The man behind the wheel was older, distinguished, with salt and pepper hair and a short, grey beard. He said nothing as Stacy climbed in the passenger side, although his nose wrinkled slightly at the aroma of sweat and sex which wafted from her. The driver pulled away from the curb, aiming the broad front end of the vehicle down the street and away from the seedier side of town. Stacy watched the rear-view mirror, hoping for a glimpse of the young woman about whom she worried. "Some spirits aren't ready to leave just yet," the older man finally said, his voice deep and fatherly. "I know, Walter," Stacy admitted. "It's just so sad. She thinks she can actually find her sister. How long is she going to keep wandering, before she realizes Jennifer has already passed on to the other side?" "As long as it takes," Walter responded. "Although I suspect, when Kylie realizes she's dead, that will facilitate things." Stacy stared at the ceiling of the SUV as amber swathes of streetlight passed across her. "Is it always like this?" "You mean, depressing, worrisome, frustrating?" "Yeah." Walter smirked as he navigated the city streets. "I told you when you started, Stacy, that the world of the paranormal is not about finding answers." Stacy pursed her lips, thinking. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this." "I would disagree," Walter said. "You already have the gift of seeing the dead. You just have to remember, the spirits of the deceased are not complete people. They are like scratchy old records, spinning round and round, saying the same thing over and over. Kylie may have seemed like a real person tonight, but she wasn't." Silently, Stacy nodded, watching the world go by and wondering, over and over: I wonder if I'll know when I'm dead . . . . -finis- (Thank you for reading, and Happy Halloween. I encourage you to read all the other contest submissions, and feel free to vote and leave a comment below.) Streetwalking with a Succubus Cold night. Misty. Steven Shearsmith's breath fogged the air in front of him. He heard the blood pounding through his ears as he pressed close to the rough brick wall on the corner of the street and spied on the scantily-clad girl. She wore a short jacket of stripy brown fur that seemed two sizes too small for her. It didn't even reach her midriff and couldn't have provided much benefit against the chill night air. That wasn't really the point. The jacket was open at the front and the shiny orange material of her bra—all she wore underneath—was stretched taut over the curves of her large breasts. Steven liked big boobs. The girl wore a short skirt of the same shiny orange material. It gleamed in the orange glow of the streetlight above her and clung tightly to the lush curves of her behind. It was so short it failed to adequately cover the pink cheeks of her buttocks. Steven liked a perfect peach of an ass. She was clearly a streetwalker. The only people that walked these misty streets and dark alleyways after the sun went down were prostitutes and their clients. And killers. Steven tightened his hand around the object he had in his pocket, careful not to prick his finger on the point. She was alone. The cold and the fear had driven the others away. Fear, because five girls had vanished from this area in the past five months. Their bodies had yet to be discovered. A wolf stalked these streets. The girl didn't seem to be bothered by either this or the cold. Other than the elaborate tattoos spiralling over her pale skin she didn't look much like the other working girls Steven was used to seeing. She was a lot more attractive for starters. Classy. Chic. Aloof. Along with her short fur jacket and tight orange miniskirt, she wore long orange gloves and stylish boots that were laced up to her knees. Her black hair was medium length and cut in a fashionable style. As she posed against the lamppost Steven thought she looked more like an actress or model than a woman of the night. He wondered what she was doing here. His heart fluttered momentarily at her beauty and he stamped down on it. He had work to do. No distractions. The one weird thing about her was her sunglasses. It was the middle of the night. There was no sun. Why was she wearing sunglasses? And such a large pair too. A light bulb dinged in Steven's head. A black eye. She was hiding a black eye. Someone—a customer, pimp—had clocked her a good one and left a bruise. That's why she was on the streets, and why Steven hadn't seen her before. She wouldn't be able to see her usual clients—rich business types, probably—like that, but the punters here wouldn't care. Steven was so proud of his deductive prowess he stopped paying close attention to his surroundings. His foot nudged against a discarded beer bottle and knocked it over with a clatter that sounded—to Steven—as loud as a siren. "Who's there?" The girl turned and stared in his direction. Steven ducked back behind the corner and pressed his back flat against the wall. He squeezed his hand around the narrow object in his pocket. He held his breath. Even though his heart sounded like a drum to him, he knew only he could hear it. Wait. Be quiet. Give it a few moments and the girl would put it down to her imagination playing tricks on her. "Come out. I know you're there." No, she didn't. She was bluffing, trying to sound bold to mask her fear. In a few moments she'd put it down to her imagination and go back to waiting beneath the streetlight. "We can play hide and seek all night . . . if you're willing to pay," the girl said, her voice mischievous and seductive. Steven couldn't place her accent. Polish, or maybe Russian. Exotic. Sexy. Stay put. Stay quiet. She'd realise it was only her imagination. Steven waited for a while, long enough for his thudding heart to subside from somewhere around his throat to back in his chest where it belonged. No more challenges came from the girl. She must have decided it was a cat or rat and put it out of her mind. Steven leaned around the corner for a peek . . . . . . and saw a flat black pair of sunglasses staring back at him. The girl leant casually against the lamppost and stared directly at him. Her bee-stung red lips turned up in a smile. "There you are," she said. Crap. Steven froze, uncertain of what to do. "Come over here, so I can see you," the girl said. Steven shuffled out of the darkness. The girl wasn't intimidated by his appearance at all. Even though five girls had vanished without a trace from these streets over the past month, she wasn't frightened of him in the slightest, instead looking at him with an amused little half-smile on her lips. Steven was used to that. No one ever took him seriously. He tightened his grip on the object in his pocket. "What are you doing here?" the girl asked. "You don't look like you're here for sex or companionship." Her wraparound shades hid her eyes completely. Steven couldn't read her expression at all, but he had the queer feeling her gaze was boring right through him like X-Rays. "I-I-I . . ." he stammered. He started to pull out the object in his pocket. A car pulled up out of the gloom, stopping right under the streetlight the girl leant against. At the sight of its headlights Steven bolted like a startled deer. * * * * Reece Pemberton opened the passenger door and let the girl in off the street. He was surprised at how attractive she was. She'd looked fine when he'd glimpsed her through the windscreen, but up close she looked even better. Beneath her fur coat her petite figure was curvy in all the right places and slim in all the others. Her medium-length black hair was cut in the style of a chic starlet. She looked like Hollywood's idea of a streetwalker and—in Pemberton's experience—Hollywood was usually way off when it came to these things. "Are you okay?" he asked. The girl turned to him and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Ah that explains it, Steven thought, seeing the large pair of sunglasses she was wearing, even though it was pushing on to midnight outside. "I saw that fellow and thought you might be in trouble." "Why would you think I might be in trouble?" the girl asked. "Don't you follow the news?" "No," the girl said. She looked every inch the insouciant starlet. "Far too dreary and depressing." "There's a killer on the loose. The press have dubbed him the Wolf of Whitechurch. Five girls have gone missing over the last few months." The girl's lips parted in an open-mouthed expression of shock. She glanced out of the window. The ferrety-looking man with greasy ginger hair had already disappeared back into the darkness. "I thought it was quiet," she said. "Lucky for you I happened to be driving by on my way home from the clinic," Pemberton said. "Clinic? Are you a doctor?" "Yes," Pemberton replied. "Dr Reece Pemberton. I work at the sex clinic a couple of streets back. It's a charity thing. We hand out contraceptives, give the girls regular checks for STDs, that kind of thing. If we can't keep them off the streets we at least try to make it safer for them. I don't think I've seen you around before." "I don't normally work here," the girl said. "It's a temporary thing." And had something to do with those sunglasses, no doubt, Steven thought. He glanced down the full length of the girl's body. She had a phenomenal figure. It was rare to see such a pair of firm, round breasts on a slim frame like hers without the aid of a surgeon's knife. It was a shame she'd chosen to despoil her lovely body with tattoos. The youngsters didn't seem to appreciate what they had nowadays. "Um," the girl said. "Thanks for helping, but can you drop me off at that corner up there." . . . so I can find a real paying customer. She was too polite to say it but Pemberton knew she was thinking it. "Actually, I have a teensy little confession to make," Pemberton said. He reached across and placed a hand on her thigh, let it slide inwards. "I wasn't just driving home through these streets." "Really," the girl said. One warm hand settled over Pemberton's wandering hand while her other crawled across the gap into the doctor's lap. "Does the good doctor like to take his work home?" she breathed in a sultry voice. "Don't think bad of me," Pemberton said with a cheeky smile. "I have needs like every other man." "I don't think bad of you at all," the girl said. "You're my knight. I could be dead right now if it wasn't for you. It's only fair I reward you." Her hand brushed against Pemberton's crotch. "Do you mind if we go to my home?" he asked. "It's not far from here and I prefer to be in more comfortable surroundings. I'll pay a little extra." "Sure," the girl said. "What's your name?" Pemberton asked. "Nicole," the girl replied. Beneath her opaque black shades her lush red lips turned up in a suggestive smile. * * * * Steven fumbled with his pockets. Why did they have to make them so damn tight? R419 JTW He had to remember that. R419 JTW He'd read the characters off the number plate of the silver-grey BMW the girl had climbed into. R419 J2W . . . No. No. It was already starting to slip away. He gripped the object in his pocket and tried to pull it out. The point of the pencil was caught under a fold. R419 J2W . . . He got the pencil out. He rummaged in his other pocket and found a crumpled up page of notepaper. He stood in the orange glow of one of the streetlights. R419 J2W, R419 J2U . . . R419 J2U, A419 JTU . . . Was it R419 J2W or A419 JTU? Steven couldn't remember. It was gone, slipped out of his thoughts like every number seemed to. He slumped down. Why did he have such a poor memory? Why couldn't his stupid brain remember numbers? * * * * The girl lounged on the big bed in the main bedroom of Dr Pemberton's spacious home, a converted farmhouse a little way out from the hustle and bustle of the town centre. The doctor appeared in the doorway. A smile was on his lips and a strange light sparkled in his eyes. "I have another confession to make," he said. His smile widened, became a rictus grin, like that of a skull . . . like death. Light glinted off the scalpel he held in his right hand. "I'm the wolf," he said. "I'm the killer. I killed all those girls. The power of life and death, it's the greatest drug of all." Pemberton leant casually against the door, the only exit from the second storey bedroom. "You can scream all you like. There's no one around for miles." Strangely, the girl didn't show any intention of screaming. In fact, she seemed completely unfazed. "Aren't you afraid?" Pemberton asked. "I'm the wolf. The streets whisper my name; the papers write about my deeds; the TV screens scream of my crimes. I'm death." The girl looked back at him without a flicker of fear. "I see nothing more than an arrogant little human," she said. "Another pathetic little speck of blood and meat puffed up with delusions of their own importance. You all think you're playing the starring role in one of the grand tales of existence." Nicole smiled. "You're not." She took off her shades. "This was never your story." Pemberton dropped the scalpel. His face twisted into a mask of fear. Too late he realised even wolves fear tigers. * * * * Steven's eyes were drooping shut when he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder. He jolted in alarm, scattering crumpled up balls of notepaper. "What are you still doing out?" He turned and saw it was the same girl he'd seen earlier—the really sexy one with big tits and a fur jacket. She was still wearing those big black shades, even though it must be around two in the morning. "You're okay." His shock gave way to relief. "I was worried that c-c-car . . . might have been . . . the k-k-killer." "Oh him," the girl said. "He was nothing, nobody at all." She watched as Steven leant down and picked up the paper he'd dropped. "What are those?" she asked. "N-n-notes," Steven said. He held up one of the crumpled and dog-eared bits of paper. Strings of letters and numbers were scrawled across it in haphazard fashion. The girl tilted her head and her red lips drew together in a puzzled pout as she tried to decipher Steven's cryptic markings. "N-n-number plates," Steven explained. "I hide and write down the number plates of the cars the girls get into. That way if they . . ." his lips turned down ". . . if they don't come back I can tell the p-p-police and they'll know who the k-k-killer is." The girl looked at him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking behind those shades. "And you do this every night?" she asked. "When I can," Steven said. He puffed his chest out. "I haven't got him yet . . ." his chest deflated ". . . but I will." The girl smiled. Steven thought she'd picked up a little more colour than when he'd seen her earlier. Her skin was still very pale—like milk—but there was a glow about her she hadn't had before. She looked less like a ghost. "That's so sweet," she said. "You're like a guardian angel to the girls on this street. I bet they must really like you." Steven looked at the floor. The girl frowned. "They don't?" Steven shook his head. "They don't like me being around. They call me b-b-bad things," he said. "C-c-creep. R-r-retarded." "That's not very nice," the girl said, "to treat you like that when you're looking out for them." She put a slender finger to her bright red lips. The long nail was painted black, Steven noticed. "Oh. They think you're going to frighten away legitimate customers," she said. Steven nodded. "And still you come out here?" the girl asked. Steven nodded. "Someone has to stop him." The girl stepped forwards. She was standing very close to him. She turned her head up and down, from side to side. The nostrils of her perky little nose dilated. Steven thought she might be sniffing him. He didn't smell bad, did he? He sniffed his arm pits to make sure and instead caught a blast of the girl's perfume instead. It smelt nice and . . . exciting. "You smell nice," the girl said. "I shower every morning," Steven said. Proud. His mother had been very clear on the importance of good personal hygiene. "You smell nice too," he said. The other working girls wore perfume, but it was often so strong it made him feel a little queasy if he got too close. This girl's perfume wasn't like that. It didn't leave an aftertaste like rotten old tyres in the back of his mouth. Instead it slithered up into his brain and massaged the parts that made him feel good. The girl smiled. She glanced coyly away. "I'm Nicole," the girl said. "I didn't get your name earlier." "St-st-steven," Steven said. "Mmm, Steven." Nicole took another half step forwards. Steven felt a little uncomfortable at how close she was. She was practically standing right on top of him. He shuffled backwards to create a little more space. Nicole ducked her head into the gap and moved it from side to side with her nose stuck out. She was sniffing him again! "You're not on d-d-drugs, are you?" Steven asked. "My mother said I should keep away from people on drugs." Nicole lifted her head back up and smiled at Steven. "No, I'm not on drugs." She slid forwards again. Steven shuffled back to make more space. "Do you like looking at the other girls?" she asked. Steven nodded. "They're sexy," he said. "Am I sexy?" Nicole asked. Steven blushed. He nodded again. "Would you like to have sex with me?" she asked. Her red lips turned up in a mischievous smile. Steven's mouth dropped open. His face went bright red. Nicole shrugged off her fur jacket to reveal a tight orange latex bra underneath. Steven's eyes boggled. She was very big . . . around the chest. The material of her bra was stretched so tight it looked like it might burst. Beautiful. Steven's lips parted in a wide smile. Then it fell away into abject sadness. "I c-c-can't," he said. He fumbled in his pocket and came up with a few coins. "I don't have enough money. I spent the last of my d-d-disability allowance on groceries yesterday." Nicole bobbed her head down and looked at the sorry collection of coins in Steven's palm. She put a finger to her lips. "Hmm, let me see. You've been out here all night looking out for me. I think that entitles you to a bodyguard discount. Now if we subtract that from my usual rate that leaves us with . . . yes, I think this should be sufficient." Nicole plucked a copper two-pence coin from Steven's palm. The next moment the rest of the coins were pinging off the tarmac pavement as Nicole gave Steven a suggestive smile before placing both hands against his chest and shoving him back into the dark alley and up against a wall. Her arms wrapped around him and she crushed her soft lips against Steven's. His initial shock melted into warm pleasantness as Nicole kissed him. Her hot breath filled his mouth and ignited fires in his veins. She rubbed her crotch against him and her hands roamed up and down his back. Steven felt the soft mounds of her breasts press against his chest as she hugged him tightly. The kiss went on and on, fanning the flames within Steven until it felt like steam was rushing out of him. Nicole sucked on his mouth, drawing the heat from him and letting it mingle with the inferno raging in her own body. Steven didn't want it to end. When Nicole broke off the kiss it felt like a physical snap, as if a single object had been broken into two. Steven reeled as if he'd been hit. He felt oddly wobbly and weak-kneed, even though that was the kind of thing that only happened in the silly romances his mother liked to watch. Nicole gave a sultry sigh of contentment. She ran a tongue around her mouth. Steven thought he saw little white wisps twirling between her lips. She inhaled and drew them into her body. "Mmm, that's much better," Nicole said. "There was a really bad taste in my mouth I wanted to get rid of." She pressed forward and her dextrous hands started working on his clothes—getting under his hoodie and untucking his T-shirt from his trousers. Steven shivered as her warm hands came into contact with his skin. Each touch left a pleasant little tingle behind it. Her hands slid up his chest, taking his top with them. Steven lifted his arms and let her peel his T-shirt and hoodie up over his head. His naked flesh was exposed to the clammy night air, but Steven didn't mind one bit. Still smiling, Nicole took a step back and wriggled her hips in a teasing dance. She reached behind her and unhooked her orange latex bra. Steven's eyes widened as her large, round breasts bounced free. They looked so soft and inviting. His hands were in front of him and reaching out before he even realised. Before Steven could get his errant hands back under control, Nicole's hands darted out and closed around his wrists like manacles. He didn't resist as she pulled his hands forwards until they rested on the soft swell of her breasts. Ooh. Soft. Nice. Steven gently squeezed the pillowy flesh beneath his fingers. There were black markings all over her pale pink skin—tattoos of strange symbols and pictures. They didn't affect the smoothness Steven felt beneath his fingers. Her skin was how Steven imagined soft silk to feel like. He ran his fingers over the soft little nubs of her nipples. Nicole leaned forward and lightly kissed him on his left nipple. A warm little tingle rippled out from where her moist lips had touched his skin. Nicole's hands moved down to his trousers. She popped out the button and started to unzip his fly. Was this a dream? He'd dreamt of some of the other girls on the street, the nicer ones, but none of them had ever looked as beautiful as Nicole. No dream had ever felt as solid as this. Streetwalking with a Succubus His hands left her breasts. He moved his arms, wanting to wrap them around her and hug her naked body close to his. Nicole batted them away. "Ah ah," she said in warning. Steven pushed out his fleshy lower lip. She wasn't teasing him, was she? Some of the other girls teased him. They got him all hot and wound up, but then, laughing cruelly, left him like that, left him so he had to go home and take care of it. Nicole wasn't like that, was she? Nicole tilted her head back up. Her eyes were hidden by her wraparound shades. "I'm going to give you a reward, something nice, but—" she held up a slender forefinger "—only if you're a good boy and do exactly as you're told. Can you do that?" Steven nodded. "Good," Nicole said. "Now put your arms back against your sides." Steven did as she said and let his arms rest against his sides. Nicole finished unbuttoning his trousers and dropped both them and his underpants to the floor. "Now lean back and don't move. Not at all," Nicole ordered. Steven leant back against the cold brick wall behind him. "And relax," Nicole said, her red lips forming a naughty smile. "You're going to enjoy this." She jumped up and wrapped her lithe legs around him. She wasn't wearing any underwear beneath her short little skirt. As her waist fell, Steven felt his cock push against the entrance to and then slip inside her warm tunnel of soft flesh. He gave a gasp and Nicole caught his breath as her moist lips wrapped around his in another kiss. She sank down on him until his erect cock was all the way inside her. He felt the slippery and muscular walls of her vagina squeeze and undulate around his throbbing erection. He was having sex with her. Real sex. Nicole wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight enough to mash the soft pillows of her breasts against his chest. Her body was clasped tightly against him. Her heat surrounded him in a pleasant glow. Nicole twisted her head from side to side as she sucked on Steven's tongue and lips in frenzied passion. She braced her knees against the wall behind him and bobbed her hips against him with fluid bounces. Steven was a good boy. He did exactly as she said and didn't move. He didn't have to. Nicole was so supple and her pussy so tight she was able to generate exhilarating friction with only those short little bouncing thrusts. Steven closed his eyes in pleasure as he felt his cock slide back and forth in the snug clutch of her vagina. Nicole writhed and wriggled and rubbed her swollen boobs against his naked chest. Her heat seeped into him and trickled down into his balls. The damp chill of the night air was already long forgotten. Nicole found a rhythm that set Steven's knees trembling uncontrollably. Inside her, it felt like the swollen head of his dick was pushing between soft bands of muscle that stimulated him with pleasurable little squeezes. "Coming," Steven warned. As much as Steven wanted to release within her warm flesh, he knew that wasn't right. This was where he was supposed to give a warning and pull out. He thought. His experience at these things was very limited. Nicole didn't heed him. If anything she wrapped her body around him tighter, as if she wanted to prevent his escape. She gripped his waist with surprisingly strong thighs and pressed all the way down until the lips of her pussy were kissing his crotch. His whole length was all the way inside her moist heat. The soft walls of her vagina pulsed and throbbed up against his shaft. It felt like her whole sex was sucking on him. "Coming," Steven grunted. He couldn't hold it back for much longer. She had to let him pull out. "Release it," Nicole whispered in his ear. Her words slithered down his earhole and gently massaged the folds of his brain. Her pussy throbbed around him like the great low beat of a heart. Muscular walls squeezed against the head of his cock in a hot sticky kiss. Steven let go with a gasp. He felt his cock swell up against the soft pressure of her vagina and spurt his load of semen right into her moist heart. His cock continued to throb, pulsing with bright bursts of pleasure as he released gouts and gouts of his seed inside her. Nicole went wild on top of him. She slithered and writhed against his body like an electric eel. She rocked her hips back and forth, stimulating his orgasm on and on as her moist flesh rubbed against his dick. Her sex convulsed around him. He felt her hot juices bubble out and dribble down onto his balls and inner thighs, sending tingling fireworks crackling across his skin as they ran down his legs. His head was wrapped in suffocating clouds of her musk. Her perfume formed a solid mass around his face. Each breath he took fanned the fires burning inside him. Steven couldn't resist or deny her. His hips twitched as he continued to fire load after load of cum into the quivering centre of her sex. She gulped it all down and sucked on his dick for more. How long could this go on for? It felt like her pussy was milking him—milking pints and pints of cum from his body. Steven slid down the wall. There was no strength in his legs at all. He felt weak all over . . . weak and giddy with pleasure. Nicole rained burning hot kisses down on his lips, cheeks, jaw and neck. Her fingers gripped the side of his head and ruffled through his hair. Her fingernails felt strangely sharp—like claws. Still her vagina continued to suck on his dick, slurping up his cum as if it was ice cream. Steven felt every throbbing release as a white burst of bliss. He sank further down the wall. The cold hard bricks against his back didn't register at all. He felt only Nicole's hot body wrapped around him, the moist warmth of her sex wrapped around him and milking him with gentle pulses. Another smell mingled with Nicole's exotic perfume—something nasty, like rotten eggs. Steven felt a little skew-whiffy inside. There was a weird feeling in his guts—empty, cold. He ignored it. Nothing mattered so long as he was enfolded in Nicole's warmth. Nicole tossed her head back with a sigh. "You're so moreish I could slurp you all up," she said, her cheeks flushed red, "but that's enough." She unwrapped her arms and legs from Steven and stood up. His penis came out of the snug grasp of her vagina. It pulsed once, twice, little white dribbles oozing down the shaft, and then fell quiet in a mournful sulk. Aww, was it over? Steven thought. Nicole's sunglasses had been slightly dislodged by her passion, the right side riding up on her forehead, and for a brief instant Steven saw her eye, or rather the space where her eye should be. Had she lost it? Steven thought he saw an empty pit, or maybe a pool of blackest oil, then Nicole pushed her shades back down and it was once again hidden. She bent down and retrieved her bra and fur top. Aww, Steven thought as her wonderful big, tattooed boobs went back behind their covers. "Are you okay?" Nicole asked with an amused smile. Steven blinked. A big goofy smile was plastered across his face. "Let me help you up." He was on the floor? Steven blinked as he realised he was sitting with his naked ass against the cold tarmac pavement and his back slouched against the brick wall. What was he doing down here? Laughing, Nicole took his hand and pulled him back onto his feet. Steven tottered unsteadily as he reached down to draw his trousers back up. His legs felt like spaghetti, but overall he felt like he was wrapped in a nice warm glow. He knew he was grinning like an idiot and he knew his mother had told him not to do that as it gave the nasty types an excuse to be unkind to him, but he felt so good he just couldn't help himself. Not totally good. There was a groily feeling in his stomach and he felt tired, really tired. "I think we need to get you home and into bed," Nicole said. Bed, yes that would be nice. No! He couldn't. Steven shook his head. "I can't," he said. He held out his crumpled up pieces of notepaper. "The wolf. Someone has to catch the wolf." "I wouldn't worry about him," Nicole said. "I have a feeling we won't hear from him ever again." "But that never happens," Steven said. "They keep killing and killing until someone stops them. Well, apart from Jack the Ripper . . ." Something in Nicole's enigmatic little smile gave Steven pause. ". . . but no one knows why he stopped," he finished. "Yes, very strange that," Nicole said. She blew Steven a kiss and walked away into the early morning mists. Steven must have been more tired than he realised because—for a split second—he thought he saw horns on Nicole's head . . . and wings, great black bat wings folded up behind her . . . and a tail—sleek, black, slender like a whip and forked at the end like a devil's—swinging behind her legs. Just a glimpse, and then she was gone, vanished into the darkness with only the sultry traces of her perfume left behind to remind Steven she'd ever been there at all.