I stand waiting past midnight in the parking lot of a downtown hotel. An ambulance wails in the distance and from somewhere near, a dog howls in return, as if mourning the already dead. The gray mist, precariously balanced on the roof of the tallest building, jumps, blotting out the neon signs and the speckled, lit windows. I take one last drag and flick the cigarette butt. The ember arcs and crashes in a flurry of sparks. I exhale and listen, reconstructing the last one hundred days of my life.
Lili and I met on a dating site and fell in love in no time. On coffee breaks, in between meetings, at red lights and whenever possible, we seized the moment and spent it together. We called and texted, and as we became intricately more involved, we advanced to sexting and Skype sex. When I finally had a chance, I broke my chains and came running to her.
The click-clack of heels hammers the pavement. A slim shadow emerges into the cone of light. Lili walks to within an inch of me and stops, impregnating the air with her basic scent. I take a deep breath, almost snorting the freckles off her skin. With the taste of tobacco lingering on my breath, we lock in a feverish first kiss. Once we peel our lips apart, she whispers for me to take her. Now! I grab her arm and dash through the hotel back door. The elevator car is on the sixth floor. The room on the second. We find the staircase and start climbing.
Lili’s wearing black. Silk top, pencil skirt, seamed stockings, stiletto shoes and all. A slit slashes the rear of her skirt, denuding a lavish stretch of legs. The adrenaline rush puts us both on the first landing. A flood of endorphins propels us the rest of the way, leaving a trail of pungent pheromones in our wake. In my mind, I can taste flesh and nylon as I gnaw the garters, sliding them past her knees and calves.
Panting already, I slide the card through the lock. The door swings open and we lurch in. A lamp on the night table bathes the room in a warm glow. The bed’s too far, too decorous. I pick Lili up and lower her onto the desk. Standing between her legs, I pull at her shirt, stretching the fabric, popping the buttons off. I grab one of her breasts and squeeze. Her swollen nipples strain the lucent lace. My other hand drives to higher ground along her thigh. I kiss her earlobe, nibble at her neck. I bite her throat. She moans and bites back, shuddering. Unexpectedly, she clamps my wrist with a grip of steel. My heart pumps faster to divert blood to my brain. I look down and I see it. The knife, concealed in her stocking, is fully unsheathed. It catches a flicker of light in her raised hand before the night turns dark and silent.
Originally posted on the 500 Words Blog, where a small group of talented writers post their short stories.