Forgive any probable typos...my editor is on sick leave! Also, forgive what you're about to read. A couple of people requested Gramber smut. .

"I thought we had a deal. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Graverobber turned around slowly. Amber was disheveled looking, despite still being in her pencil skirt and finely cut blazer. This mad glint was in her eye, an exhausted kind of insanity he'd never noticed before.

"What are you talking about?"

They met in the middle, under a low hanging roof that dripped rusty water onto the cracked dumpster. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like Amber's heels on the pavement. It grated on Graverobber's nerves, like they were cheese. He'd just wanted to be alone.

"Once upon a time," Amber spat, "you worked for me. And now I see you escorting that…that criminal around, like a matrade?"

She pointed her finger at him, ridiculously. He grabbed her wrist in his and only squeezed harder when she hissed.

"Listen to me, Ms. Sweet. The only reason you're alive is because I haven't decide that I want you dead yet. Understand? One- I work for no one. Two- neither of us are one to talk about criminals. And three…"

Graverobber yanked Amber practically off her feet, until she landed against his chest with a soft thud. It had been a long time since he'd smelled that strong perfume, the sweat that seemed uniquely Amber- leather, dirty silk, chemicals. She tried to pull away from him, and that too was signature Amber, their recently abandoned game of cat and mouse.

"Three…you sound stupid trying to say things in French."

He spun her around, pinned her against the dumpster. Amber clawed at his chest in an attempt to escape. Graverobber allowed himself a small laugh before releasing her now-red wrists, using his free hands to push the pencil skirt up her thighs. They were bigger than he'd remembered.

"Putting on some weight, Amber?"

"Shut the fuck up," she snarled, slapping Graverobber and pulling him down for a kiss with a swift yank of his hair. The pencil skirt fell into the dirty puddle at their feet, and Graverobber sunk his fingers into Amber's hip. He liked the added weight. Was it his earlier encounter with Shilo or the gap since his last one with Amber that made him so damn horny? How ironic- the only women that could really turn him on where enemies.

Graverobber felt that Amber wasn't wearing underwear. He pulled off her jacket after dropping his own, and unclasped the black bra from the front. It hung on her shoulders like a dead snake skin. Graverobber nipped at Amber's breasts as she freed the boner from his pants.

For a while there was only the moans, the panting for breath. Their theme song. And then, just as Graverobber knew she would, Amber began to talk.

"I don't know…which I want more," she said, squeezing her knees tighter around Graverobber's hips so it was easier to push herself up and down. "To succeed, or to fail."

"What are you talking around," he asked against her neck.

"If I don't try, if I finish what Daddy started, then I haven't proved anythin-ah."

Graverobber flipped Amber around and drug his teeth down her shoulder blade, his hands protecting her chest from the cold metal. Her skin was slick with sweat against his own.

"If I were you…" Graverobber began, thinking about Shilo's quiet indignation. He tasted the sweat on Amber's back, a little piece of him marveling at how no matter the person, everyone is made up of pretty much the same shit. "If I were you I'd be nervous."

"Shilo! What the hell?"

The tears blurred every tacky color in Blue's closet to a sort of sticky looking rainbow swirl. Shilo had torn off her get-up and tossed the pieces against the squished hangers, not making much of an impact, and now stood shivering in her underwear. Blue was part of the wet blur of color now, but Shilo didn't care anymore. She sat down on the floor and sobbed.

"Shi, baby…"

Shilo fell against Blue's chest, slowly calmed by the steady stroke of hand to hair.

"I'm really stupid," she finally sniffed. "Really, really stupid."

Blue squeezed her tightly. "Where's Graverobber?"

Silence.

"Ah." Blue gently lifted Shilo from her chest, and stared at her makeup-smeared face. "Did you do what I'm thinkin' you did?"

Shilo stared at her hands in embarrassment.

"I thought he'd…like the outfit. Or something." She shuddered with one last, repressed sob. "I've never been kissed before. And I…I wanted him to, I guess."

It was funny; Blue was her friend, first and only. But the girl had experienced things that Shilo had only seen on late night television, or in her own mind. Shilo felt incredibly young, and that only heightened her shame.

"Fuck," Shilo whispered. It made her feel a little better.

Blue chuckled softly and cupped Shilo's chin, raising her face.

"Darlin', you are worth much more than that dirty, smuggling, son of a bitch. Than anyone in this place. So don't worry about it."

And then, to Shilo's immense surprise, Blue kissed her.

"Where the hell have you been lately?"

Demetri shrugged.

"I've found some different jobs, Roger. Just let me in, will ya? Vials two for one."

The old man grunted, but swung his door open to let Demetri in. The place seemed worse than he remembered, or had it simply been that he hadn't seen it for a week…two weeks? Three days? He was losing track of time, and that bothered him.

"About all I got are some fish sticks and a bag of Raisinets."

Demetri shrugged. He wasn't hungry, but the chocolate sounded good.

"Just the Raisinets. Here."

Roger grunted again, and threw Demetri the box. It fell short and he bent to pick it up, noticing as he did a dead rat in the corner. He all of a sudden felt nauseous for no real reason, and found himself intently examining his customer. The old man's eyes had a jaundiced tint, and his skin looked about ready to slip from the creaking bones. Roger's liver-spotted hand trembled as he poised the needle over his arm. Demetri swallowed, and looked away. When this man with his age, what had he dreamt of? Fame, maybe. Wealth. Love. An escape from this shit hole they'd had the misfortune to be born into. Roger had went to school once, had parents. Maybe siblings. Maybe they were all loving. Maybe they had thrown him out on his ass. Maybe he'd just picked up and left himself.

"I've got to go, Roger."

The man's droopy eyes were closed as he swayed with the drug-induced euphoria, and he didn't seem to notice Demetri leave.

Shilo lay in the darkness, thankful to have Blue snoring softly beside her. Their earlier kiss had made Shilo feel uncomfortable, but not terribly disgusted, and apparently nothing was awkward for Blue. The girl had just patted Shilo's cheek and left for a few moments, returning with a half empty carton of freezer burned ice-cream and an old Western movie. They had laughed together, calling the other names in exaggerated accents and corny insults. Before the movie was over Blue had opted for sleep; as she had no customers, she wanted to rest.

It was a sobering thought for Shilo- the realization of what her friend had to do, the many nameless men who'd slept in this spot before her. Or not slept. Panted, caught their breath, and left. None of them had taken the time to watch Blue sleep. Shilo rolled over and brushed a dreadlock away from her friend's face. All of these girls were the same unconscious. Broken people. Shilo wondered what Blue was dreaming about. Each night she'd been scared to close her own eyes, because then the nightmares came.

Shilo sighed and settled more comfortably into the bed. Not tonight. She would sleep, but she refused to dream. In the soft darkness Shilo began to plan, until finally exhaustion closed her mind with soft, ancient hands.

A block away Demetri was rubbing his own tired eyes. He thought fondly of the bordello, and of a semi-warm, partially clean place to sleep. So preoccupied was Demetri that he didn't hear them come. A scratchy burlap sack was pulled over his face. He tripped over someone's feet, fell hard against a brick wall, and slipped into silent unconciousness.