The rain falls like a wall of tiny icicles, stinging like the sense of longing nipping at my heels like a hungry animal. Streetlights provide dim, wavering circles of fluid gold which pierce the night like a knife. Besides the black holes which prove to be puddles as a flashy Mercedes flies past, splattering the already damp sidewalks, there's little to obstruct my path.
It's a perfect night, really. Nothing but the far away cry of sirens disturbs the calm silence. Still the uneasiness which tightens like a cold fist around my gut doesn't relent. There's no sounds, no footsteps behind me, but I know that there's eyes on me, watching my every move. Some call that paranoia; I call it instinct.
I round a corner and pull my Marlboro's from an inside pocket in my coat and slide the cancer stick between my lips. Next comes the lighter, the stubborn thing merely sparking a few times before reluctantly flickering into glowing life. Smoke pours past my cracked lips in a gusty sigh; I always seem to need a cig while on the job.
The chill kiss of a baretta presses against my temple and I swear every muscle in me goes taut. Hot breath whispers across my neck and I feel the press of two hot breasts pressing into my back even through the chill leather. The wariness from earlier returns; the girls of Old Town were usually more dangerous than any hit man if you crossed them.
"Ace... Hello." the exotic purr somehow manages to conjure up every dirty fantasy I've ever harbored about a woman, just like it was meant to.
"Heya, Gail." I'm proud of myself when my voice doesn't waver.
This woman, more than any other, causes almost any man's pulse to jump in equally painful amounts of fear and arousal. Tying a man down and giving him a ride he'll never forget is Gail's speciality. She's fire to my ice, a fire so consuming that it'd burn me alive if I let it. Dwight and I are suckers like that.
"Odd, catching you in this part of town." The gun slides lower, down my throat, to rest on my collar bone.
It happens every time, this calculated seduction. Just the thought of having to cross through the Valkyrie's territory causes the hairs at the back of my neck to stand on end. I doubt that there's anyone at the Amigo who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to be in my shoes; well, except the gay ones.
"Just out for a smoke." I respond, cool and calm, despite the little backflips that my stomach seems to be doing.
"Liar. You're on patrol, aren't you?" There's little use in disputing the point.
As far back as a I care to remember, I've been a dancer for those with more exotic tastes. Leather and stainless steel chains and spikes glow a deep blood red to accentuate the mood. They all know what I dabble in. Usually it adds that extra flare to get the crowd hard and panting; there's blood on these hands, and every one of them knows it.
"Comes with the job, babe." my voice slides into a low rumble which is all business.
Gail shivers behind me, wether from the chill or that dark note which has creapt into my voice, I can't tell. The gun dissapears, along with the sleak heat of her body. Slowly I turn, the steely blue of my eyes as I take her in. Another shiver, this one coarsing through her entire form; from here on, it's the same old game.
I press her back against the ancient bricks of a just as ancient building and she goes without a fight. Our mouths mesh in a passionate battle for dominance, our hands relearning the planes which we've explored time and time again. It's an embrace that is all lust and longing, accented with the taste of semen and cigarette smoke.
We're two hookers in the same town, two leaders which everyone looks up to and counts on to do the right thing. Together we make a pair which practically rule Old Town. Two people who seem magnetically attracted to one another, yet really have interests elsewhere.
She tells me that I'm enough like Dwight that she can close her eyes and pretend my hair is wavy instead of bone straight. Deft fingers can roam over my scarred chest and belly and ignore the risen flesh. the tattoos can dissapear, replaced by unmarred, smooth skin. For just one night she can believe.
I willingly give that to her whenver we meet, and she gives me just as much. Collin comes to life beneath my fingertips and moans at my touch. If I concentrate hard enough, I can pretend her voice is a little deeper, her skin a little firmer.
We fuck there in that cold, dark alley and afterwards Gail straightens her gear and saunters off like the pro she is. We exchange winks, one whore to another, as I zip up my pants and straighten my jacket. I've still got another hour or so on patrol before I can take a trip to Katie's and drink myself stupid.