Buff…..

Buff

Buff….

That’s how she described him. He certainly fitted the description. Washboard stomach,deep chest,not too deep,mind. Small firm rear end. Broad,but not too broad shoulders,just the way she liked them. Add to that,that smouldering look he could give her,that thrilled her to her toes.
        The mop of slickly combed back dark hair,the little bit of stubble,and sunken cheeks,indicating his physical fitness. If this was heaven,she was certainly in it now,and didn’t want it to end. But she knew it would soon be over. He was just one in a long line of customers. Soon he would leave,and head back to his wife,or family,she was unsure which. She never probed into her customer’s lives. That’s why they keep coming back. She was providing a service,and it was a good service. She prided herself on her work,and keeping her customers satisfied.
             Was she happy,who knows,who cares. They didn’t really care about her happiness,or welfare. Some did treat her right. Some were kind,others off hand and at times brutal. But she had to see them all,that was the game. He left the swanky apartment,after putting the payment in an envelope and leaving it on the marble and glass covered dresser. She knew she could trust him,not to cheat her,there was no need to check the contents like she would have to with some of her other customers.
               He bent down to where she lay on the cream coloured silk sheets,and gently kissed her on the cheek. She wanted so much more from him,but doubted it would ever be. What was she nothing more than a…..no,she couldn’t bring herself to say,let alone think those thoughts. Those ugly,disparaging words that would conjure up images she could not bear to entertain,not even for a moment.

She was a lady,like some others,who from time to time,helped men with there relationships. That’s as far as she would allow herself to be described. After he left,she got up from the bed,and walked to the large expanse of glass,overlooking the sparkling lights of the city. Isolated from the sounds. In the subdued lighting of the expensive apartment,the glass cruelly reflected back to her what she was,standing in her beige silken nightgown.Cigarette in one hand,the ever present glass of wine in the other. She dared not even look into her own eyes. She knew what she was,and what she had become. Sickened and disgusted with herself,she threw the half filled glass of wine hard against the glass,and watched as it disintegrated and fell to the black and grey marble floor. The white wine slowly flowing down the pristine windows.
                       She knew where to find it if she wanted. But didn’t really want to go down that track.It offered solace and sustenance,an escape from a life not wanted. But it had its costs,in terms of finance,of danger,health risks,of associating with less than honest,and upfront people. He had left some in the drawer,inviting her to partake of its warm enveloping glow,of security and happiness,but she had refused. Always refused,until now.Was tonight’s the night when she was to be drawn into that world. It was the loud ringing of the phone that woke her from her thoughts.

                      ‘Well’,he demanded,’where is it ? it better be there when I call tonite’.

She hated him,the sound of his voice,his look,his accent. She hated everything and anything about him. She threw the phone down in disgust. But she knew he would soon be calling,as he did every few days to collect the takings. Then their would be the forced,unwanted love making,which she pretended to enjoy,to save herself another beating,and glorify his manhood.
             Trapped was just about covered her situation. No way out that was clear to her. She was like so many other of her countrywomen drawn in by tales of wealth and freedom. All it required was to deliver one little package. That’s all that was needed. She didn’t ask about the contents. She did not need to ask.  Poverty,and a desire to look after her daughter’s welfare,are what drove her to take the steps she took.
          Now she dreamed of a better life. A life filled with genuine love,happiness,and most of all freedom. She lay back on the bed and once again considered her options,as she had many times before. The thought of carrying on like this forever more,none too appealing. 

Suicide off the agenda. She had to be there for her growing daughter. She was indebted to him,any escape planned by her would lead to repercussions for her family and young daughter all those thousands of miles away,in the city of her birth. But escape was what she was going to do,one way or the other. Her sleep was broken and intermittent. As her mind considered her limited options. The incessant,non stop ringing of the apartment bell was what awoke her. Her stomach jumped,as the butterflies were released in her body. Her legs shook slightly. The familiar feelings of fear. She knew by such actions who it was,and the mood was going to be less than good. She walked to the intercom and let him in,and prepared herself for the un- pleasant interaction she was about to have. Thinking of her daughter,she painted on a broad smile,and opened the cream coloured front door,awaiting his arrival.

He swaggered into the apartment,fully fitting the description of the young,cocky South American criminal on the make,and determined to make it big. The light white suit,sunglasses in the top pocket. The blue silk shirt,slightly open,of course,and the tan alligator skin shoes. The swirling of the overhead fan the only noise in the apartment. She studied his face,the dark plump features,under the mop of curly hair. At first glance,he could have being mistaken for a kind man,but his cold,empty and calculating eyes gave his intentions away.
             Sleazy,a slime ball was how she silently described him,in her own mind. He brushed past her to the drinks cabinet,and poured himself a large whisky. Drank it down with speed,and rapidly refilled the glass. Turning his attention to her,he grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly towards the bedroom,no words being said. He was of course nothing more than an ignorant brute. Devoid of compassion and gentleness. An empty,loveless physical coming together followed. It was totally meaningless. She felt more as a woman,with her paying clients. When the ordeal was over,she moved away from the bed,while he slept,exhausted and drained by his laughable attempts at lovemaking,and the large amount of alcohol he had ingested.
            She was well aware of his increasing consumption of the magical white powder,and had seen the effects it had on his already volatile character. Given time,she prayed,if he took enough,hopefully it might be the end of him,and a road to freedom for her. But she didn’t want to wait for life to work the way she wished.
     She reached for her small handbag,she opened and withdrew the syringe she had been saving. Walked to the dresser that contained the bags of white powder,she opened one. Her breathing was rapid,and she tried to keep it silent. Least she wake the beast. Her hands shook slightly,and her fingers struggled to open the bag,but without the finesse she had practiced with,when alone. She glanced back at the bed,to ensure he was still sleeping,and satisfied that he was,she continued. Pouring water into the glass tumbler,she added the white powder and mixed it swiftly together with her fingers. Dipped the needle of the syringe into the glass,and retrieved the syringe when it was overflowing with the deadly concoction.
          It would be easy enough to explain. Possibly believable to others,the cause of his forthcoming death. Just another drug using South American criminal,overdosing on his own produce. Simple,right …..In the semi darkness of the lavishly appointed bedroom,she watched his tanned stout belly rise and fall. Sickened by his ugly grunting and snorting as he slept uneasily,much like an unattractive farmyard animal. Well this was it,the time was now. Her heart softened as she thought of her young daughter and how she loved her. The taste of freedom within her reach. Freedom from men she did not like,nor care for. Freedom from being used,from any who had the means to pay for it. Freedom from feelings of filth and self hate she become so accustomed to.
                            Holding the deadly syringe she moved quietly across the plush cream coloured carpet,stood  by the side of the double bed. Examined his bare chest,and studied her target,just below his heart,is he had one, would be. Her head dizzy with excitement and fear,her own heart beating loud,hard and rapidly in her chest.Her body in overdrive,adrenaline,fear,victory.excitement surging through every vein and organ she possessed,freedom within her grasp,and then……nothing.

The silence. The hot burning sensation in her chest. Her breathing slowing down. The unpleasant gurgling sound of the open wound,struggling for air. The damp red liquid,beginning to seep through her silk nightgown. She fell forward onto the bed,he roughly pushed her off,and onto the floor. He put the gun down on the bedside cabinet,the silencer masking it’s deadly deed. He was if nothing else a practiced criminal,and he never slept without it,never. It had saved his skin on more times than he could remember. Between that and never trusting anybody,ever,well……he would live to see another day.

As for her,laying on the plush carpet,life energy slowly leaving her body. Her soul preparing for its final journey. She thought of her daughter all those miles away,and once again her thoughts softened. She glanced out the large expanse of glass overlooking the shimmering lights of the city. At last she would soon be free.

Written in response to the Daily Prompt : Buff.

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