Question by Maddy
[Note: Read to whatever point you want to stop]
I don’t remember who found the first dead girl. I think it was one of our regulars, an eighty year old man we coined “King Rolex” for all the fake Rolex’s he wore every single time he came in. Who was he trying to impress in a whore house?
I was downstairs with two of the other girls Dee Violet and Emme White. Those were “Stage names”- first initial, favorite color. I was smoking and bitching about how my last customer wanted me to eat my own puke to get him off or something like it when the old geezer came hobbling down the stairs. At first when we saw him, we thought he wanted a foursome. It wouldn’t be the first time a regular tried to get an extra bang for his buck (literally). He had his pants around his knobby knees and his white chest, so pale it was almost see through, was rising and falling in what we took to be excitement pre-orgasm or post.
Vi Blue was dead. It was a shame. She was one of the cleaner, newer girls here. She was a petite. A Latina, with two little girls to support. I don’t remember what happened to them, it wasn’t any of our business. She was lying on the bed, limbs strung out like a rag doll’s. Her bed had a metal headboard that I once wanted for my own. Her head was pushed right through it, forced through a tiny space between two of the metal spokes.
Her body was grossly deflated, her skin wrinkled to her bones like a raisin. Blood ran from everywhere: her open eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears, from between her legs. And then there, on her face, was a smile. A horrible, open, ecstatic smile that pushed her cheeks out like a mask. Blood stained teeth.
I threw up all over Emme White’s shoes and she backed up and called me a bitch. Dee Violet was nice. She ran to get me toilet paper from the bathroom down the hall. I took the flimsy blue ball she handed me and wiped my mouth before wiping at the puddle on the carpet.
If my last customer was here, he would have made me eat it. What a life.
Answer by Wolf of the Wilds
I don’t remember who found the first dead girl. I think it was one of our regulars, an eighty year old man we coined “King Rolex” for all the fake Rolex’s he wore every single time he came in. Who was he trying to impress in a whore house?
I was downstairs with two of the other girls Dee Violet and Emme White. Those were “Stage names”- first initial, favorite color. I was smoking and bitching about how my last customer wanted me to eat my own puke to get him off or something like it when the old geezer came hobbling down the stairs. At first when we saw him, we thought he wanted a foursome. It wouldn’t be the first time a regular tried to get an extra bang for his buck (literally). He had his pants around his knobby knees and his white chest, so pale it was almost see through, was rising and falling in what we took to be excitement pre-orgasm or post
I read up to that, then my glasses needed cleaning.
Vi Blue was dead. It was a shame. She was one of the cleaner, newer girls here. She was a petite. A Latina, with two little girls to support. I don’t remember what happened to them, it wasn’t any of our business. She was lying on the bed, limbs strung out like a rag doll’s. Her bed had a metal headboard that I once wanted for my own. Her head was pushed right through it, forced through a tiny space between two of the metal spokes.
Her body was grossly deflated, her skin wrinkled to her bones like a raisin. Blood ran from everywhere: her open eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears, from between her legs. And then there, on her face, was a smile. A horrible, open, ecstatic smile that pushed her cheeks out like a mask. Blood stained teeth.
I read up to that, then my mum called me for something.
threw up all over Emme White’s shoes and she backed up and called me a *****. Dee Violet was nice. She ran to get me toilet paper from the bathroom down the hall. I took the flimsy blue ball she handed me and wiped my mouth before wiping at the puddle on the carpet.
If my last customer was here, he would have made me eat it. What a life.
And then I read the rest. Well, if it’s a first draft I give it a 7 or 8 if it’s a fully edited draft I give it a …hmm… 5 or 6 considering how much things change after editing.
Well, that’s a good job nevertheless because I almost never give people above 8. I’m very critisizing.
Answer mine?
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