Piper gasped…sort of.
Most of her gasps and moans were for the benefit of the john involved, and rarely a reflection of how she felt.
Mitchell, the hairy man on top of her, liked the missionary position. He liked it so much that his half-hour sessions were missionary, from start to finish. He would rarely, if ever, climax and that was never an issue for him. Even knowing this, he always brought his own condom and put it on without urging.
Piper assumed it was a control thing. With the large man on top of her, it was not as though she had much control over anything.
The hair on his back and chest was heavier, and darker, than the fringe left on his head. His beer belly sloshed against her as his tiny penis barely penetrated her, if at all.
Compared to other guys, this was barely a fuck at all for Piper. A momentary realization that she had never had that tiny penis in her mouth caused her mind to slow with a question. As usual, however, the questions vanished as she took Tina Turner’s advice and just focused on the money. With his being a regular, a known quantity, she was often able to slip into subspace.
…and her mind did wander…
“Carla!” the voice called from the window. “Come in for dinner!”
Six-year-old red hair flew out behind her swinging jet stream as she flew through the air supported by nothing other than two chains supporting a plastic seat from the metal frame above. “Yes, mommy!” she yelled back. Her light pink coat and blue jeans protected her from the rustling fall wind that had already brought colour to the leaves.
Fall was upon Western New York, and winter had the city of Rochester dead in her sights. The snow assault would begin soon.
Dragging her feet in, Carla slowed her swing. A dry day meant the dirt tracks that once were grass were dry and, at least, she would not be covered in mud when she went in. The final move off the swing was to jump, land on two feet, and raise both hands straight up just like Shannon Miller. After watching Shannon at the Atlanta Summer Olympics, Carla already had her own eyes set upon 2008.
The little girl never imagined that by her eleventh birthday in 2001, she would be living alone in one of the 2008 Olympic bidding cities…a failed bid, but a bidder, nonetheless.
The grass crunched under her feet as she ran from the swing set and along the side of the house to the “backdoor”.
Carla had once told her mother that they had a side door, not a backdoor, but mommy still insisted. Pulling the screen door open, she turned the knob hard and shouldered through into the warmth of the small house.
Yvonniva Sokolof stood at the kitchen counter, elbows deep in sudsy water and back to the door.
The kitchen lights were still off, but with the natural light beginning to lose strength they would soon be needed.
“Mommy!” Carla exclaimed kicking her sneakers off before intending to run and hug Yvonniva. There was further delay, however, as she attempted to shrug her coat to the ground and got her arms twisted and caught in the sleeves. She growled her frustration.
The front door slammed.
Carla pulled the coat back on and prepared to make a second attempt. “Daddy’s home early?” she asked quietly with a smile. It was rare she would see daddy after school as he worked an evening shift driving a big truck. Her eyes returned to the back of her mother and, though not understanding why, she felt fear.
Yvonniva remained silent. Her hands slowly pulled from the dishwater and her head turned left towards the kitchen entrance from the front of the house. The look on her mother’s face drove the nail of fear further into Carla.
The voice of Markus Sokolof was deep in its Russian accent. “Dey fuggin’ fired me.”
Still, there were no words from Yvonniva.
Carla could not see her father from her vantage point. She imagined him standing there with his usual grin under a pencil-moustache. His eyes were always half-closed and bloodshot as he would help her get ready for school.
Usually Yvonniva would be long gone to her work cleaning apartments before Clara would wake, so it was always Markus there in the mornings.
She did, however, see something unexpected. Later she would learn that the flash would have come before the pop, but they seemed to be at the same time.
Yvonniva’s eyes widened before her head snapped back. Red bloomed on her forehead and she began to collapse on the kitchen tiles. Her body landed with her wide, now lifeless eyes staring at Carla.
Carla wanted to scream, but the fear had drained her.
The second loud pop offered no flash, but was followed by the second thump of a body. This one, however, was muffled by the front hall carpet.
… Piper snapped back to reality and hugged Mitchell hard with both arms and legs. Her heart rocketed in her chest and breath came in bursts.
“Nice,” he growled in her ear and attempted to fuck her harder. As humdrum and boring as Mitchell normally was, he was a comfort to her now.
Curling her head into his shoulder, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax further.
He did orgasm. After he dribbled his cum out, Mitchell sat pulling his socks on. “I don’t know, but you really warmed up today.”
“Thanks,” she grinned, kicking her bare feet out from the bed in an attempt to hide that she was still shaking.
He stood and dropped two extra twenties on the bed as a tip. “I’ll be back.”
She ushered him out and returned to the bed. With no other scheduled johns, she was in no rush. Curling up, she laid with her eyes closed and focusing her mind on a warm beach.
Thoughts, however, of her smiling father drifted into her mind…the man who had shot her mother and then eaten the business end of his own gun.
Piper had often wondered if things would have been different had Markus known his daughter, little six-year-old Carla had been watching. Or, a more frightening question, would he have killed her too?
The mobile phone in the side table drawer buzzed to announce a new booking.
Eyes opened again, and she pulled it out.
The words on the text screen were simple and to the point. “New return customer. Wolf, 4-5pm.”
Seeing these words, and remembering her first time with Wolf, Piper felt her strength and calm returning. Some confusion followed as to why, but she embraced it and got to work stripping the bed. After the sheets were in the laundry, she picked up the mobile again and responded to the text with one word, “Accepted”.