The room was dark, like a pitch black void that seemed to suck all the happiness out of the area. The smell of sex hung heavily in the air like a canopy, permeating the atmosphere. Underneath the canopy was a tall, white-haired man pulling on his pants. Across from him, a pale girl with cherry red lips and wavy, chocolate brown hair was reclining in a large bed with white sheets, taking long drags of a Marlboro.
"Dante, come have a cigarette with me," drawled Vanessa in her sultry alto.
Dante snorted in contempt. "You know I don't smoke."
"Something I've never quite understood," laughed Vanessa lightly. "You're practically immortal, but you still worry about things like lung cancer."
"I'm not immortal. You've known me for years. You've seen me age just like everybody else."
"Everyone else doesn't take a sword to the jugular and live to tell the tale."
Dante ignored the lazily smiling brunette and threw on his boots. "Besides, it's not like I have money to throw away on cigarettes."
"…But you have money to throw away on alcohol."
"My life is hard. I need a drink every once in a while."
Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Yes, 'every once in a while.' Whatever. Just come back to bed."
"No. What's the point?"
Vanessa laughed knowingly at Dante's blunt refusal. She had known him long enough not to be intimidated by him anymore. "It's because I'm a prostitute?"
"It's because you annoy me."
"I'm your friend."
"Hardly."
"The only one you ever had," Vanessa continued, undaunted.
"Your opinion."
"You didn't seem to think I was so annoying when you had your dick inside me."
"I never said your vagina was annoying."
Vanessa sighed, reluctantly pulling herself out of bed and slipping on her little black dress. "You know what, Dante? You're a dick." She strolled over to the now dressed man and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "But I want you to know that I still love you." A mock frown then crossed her lips. "That said, it pains me that I have to charge you extra tonight."
This time it was Dante's turn to laugh. "What, you charge an asshole tax or something?"
"Prostitutes are for sex, not verbal abuse. Now pay up."
Dante's grin quickly dissolved into a scowl. He grudgingly removed his wallet from his pants pocket, grumbling as he did so. "How much do I owe you?"
"For you? Fifty bucks."
Dante raised an eyebrow as he took out two twenties and a ten. "How much do you normally charge assholes?"
"Fifty bucks."
Dante sighed. "You know, this would be easier on my wallet if you would just agree to be fuck buddies."
"And lose my best customer? Not a chance." Vanessa smirked playfully with her tongue between her teeth and snatched the bills out of Dante's fingers. "Prostitutes need to eat too." Dante opened his mouth to speak, but Vanessa was quick to interrupt. "Do not make a joke," she said hastily. "I don't need to hear any more puns about 'meat' today."
"Yeah, well… I think it's about time you left."
Vanessa looked hard at Dante's apathetic features for a few moments before putting her cigarette back between her lips. A suspicious feeling tugged at her, but she said nothing. 'He must just be tired,' she thought.
"Seeya later, D," she said as she passed Dante, smacking him lightly on the butt on her way out. She made her way down the flight of stairs, and then she was gone.
Dante fell back onto the bed, hearing the door shut behind Vanessa. He stared ahead into space, allowing the post-coital haze to wash over him.
…The after-sex happy was missing. This time, he felt just as empty as before Vanessa had arrived.
"Fuck…" he swore miserably.
Suddenly, a knocking sound reverberated throughout the office. Someone was at the door.
Someone he was not in the mood to see.
Dante exhaled, his form sinking into the sofa. Half-heartedly, he pushed his heavy limbs from the fabric and trudged towards the door, readying himself for another bout of awkwardness he knew he would surely feel.
"…This is becoming a problem."
