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I stared at her. Her wrinkly aging skin, a pound of makeup, and weight under her sparkly bra forced me to keep my mouth shut. This lady couldn’t make more than between twenty and fifty dollars a night.
Quinn got out of the car, his hair slicked back and his calloused hands flipping through a wad of bills from his fancy black wallet. Shoving well over five hundred dollars at the old hag, he grabbed my arm and hauled me back to the car.
I started protesting. Saying she didn’t deserve that at all, but he put his finger to my lips, halting any other argument.
“Quiet, Ella. It’s for her silence,” he said
“Now,” he continued, staring up at the car. “Let’s go find us, The Butcher.”
Ismiled at the man. His name was John or something like that. He was a nice enough lay, I guess, but the credit card I neatly stuck in my boot was better. It got me all the way to the beach.
I didn’t often resort to stealing from attractive civilians, but lately, I had to keep a low profile. Killing five dealers in one night set a scattering effect. Meaning that if I wasn’t careful, I knew that anyone left would leave.
Sighing, I kicked at a shell on the beach with my foot. I was a good-ways out of the city. Lake Erie had a nice little beach that didn’t have a ton of people on it, and there were enough small islands near the bank that I found a lot of ground untouched by anyone else.
It was how I had found that beach cop. Admittedly, I had a thing for men in uniform, and the thrill of knowing my own little secret had me buzzing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get that fuckhead out of my mind. Lucius Vasiliev. That bastard had given me lady blue balls. Now, anyone else who tried to touch me could do nothing. I couldn’t get off at all with Mister Popo. All I managed to do was chafe my skin with scratchy sand and collect a ton of questionable water where it didn’t belong.
My anger was growing, so I got up and dusted off my white bikini. Trying to shake the sand off my ass, I decided taking a dip in the water would be the more effective. Going outside the normal beach area, past a small sandy island, I stopped at a palm tree someone clearly had planted a long time ago. Surprised it actually grew, I patted the trunk.
“We both don’t belong here, do we?” I mused aloud.
Feeling annoyed at how itchy I felt, I peeked around the little shrubbery and a few trees. Only seeing people way off in the distance, I shimmied out of the crunchy bathers and smacked them against the palm tree, using all my irritation at what that asshole took from me. Why couldn’t I just orgasm once with a perfectly acceptable dude?
Glaring a hole in the tiny white crotchet suit, I gave up, dropping it and wading myself into the chilled waters.
Doing a makeshift wash and feeling more like I was using those soaps from nail salons instead, I finally resorted to just floating on the top of the water. Enjoying the sunshine on my skin, I closed my eyes and breathed a peaceful sigh.
Sure enough, my peace dissipated when I heard shuffling from behind the foliage.
Squinting, trying to see past the lush green of the big bushes and small trees, I yelled, “Hey, get out of my shit, you rodent!”
Stupid trash pandas were notorious around here because the sandbar was right on the water. Also, the bar got a ton of traction, including some of the nosiest woodland critters.
Despite this dumb town calling me Snow White, I couldn’t sing a note or communicate with animals. Hell, I tried to sing as a kid since Dad always called me his princess, but my valiant efforts always ended with me having to get a tetanus immunoglobin injection.
No thanks.
The bushes continued to move, the sound of that wood-cracking scuffle amping my annoyance even more. So, I swam back to shore, not needing some skunk to spray my stuff or a squirrel to run off with it.
When I arrived on the little island, I felt a strange sense creep up my neck. There was a sour taste caught in the current, and I knew by now what that was. Precisely as predicted, a body lay crumpled up at an awkward angle, beaten, bloody, and missing a few things.
Gagging, I realized this lump of meat used to be a male…and now, among his male parts, he was also missing his hands, the whole section of his jaw and tongue, and a whole random pattern skinned off his thighs, stomach, chest, and forearms.
Squinting to focus, I suddenly recognized that this was the cop I had been with last night. His entire body was nearly unrecognizable. The skinned-off areas were the places that had touched me. Searching for what may have done this, I was in awe at the artistry of precision in how the body was mastered.
It was sad. This guy was just a cop who, as far as I knew, didn’t do anything to deserve this slice-and-dice death. Plus, I could tell by the way the blood had pooled and coated him that he hadn’t been dead before the flaying was done.
I didn’t see anyone around, but what caught my eye was something sticking up from the sand. Walking over to it, I leaned down and saw the cop’s two dismembered hands. Gasping in outrage, I cursed. Carved in the palms of the flesh and neatly printed were the words “Miss” and “Me.”
* * *
Steam was practically rolling off of me in waves. That fucking asshole thought he could torture some sad sack and leave me a message? Ha! No.
I wasn’t playing his game or giving him the satisfaction of ruining my ‘sexcation.’
I stalked back to the beach, leaving the body right where he’d left it. Finding four random good-looking guys lazily lounging on the beach, I pulled one to me.
I planted a sloppy, ungracious kiss on his lips. Grabbing the next one’s hand, I sucked on his finger. Finally, I ran my fingertips down his chest to his dick. The last one, I didn’t touch. He just watched the encounter with lust-fueled eyes.
