Amateur Megalomania

Why did it always have to be a seedy motel?

In this case, an abandoned motel, but had it been occupied, I’m sure it would have attracted the standard, sub-standard collection of human debris that seemed to flock to decrepit buildings the way insects came running to a two day old corpse.

I glanced around the suite and catalogued the usual collection of empty food containers, magazines light on words but heavy on glossy pictures, and the expected stains over the walls and ceiling that defied explanation…or at least suggested you didn’t want to think too hard about how various bodily fluids ended up there.

Just once I want a deal to go down in a posh resort.

The scumbag was leering at me in a way that had long ceased to bother me.  Men were men, even if this class of dealer was a man only in the biological sense.  I ignored his stare and made a point to squeeze my crossed arms together, lifting my assets and pushing up some cleavage.  Keep looking at the boobs, mister.  Better that then the off chance he might notice the little bulge under my skirt where the standard issue nine millimeter had slipped a little lower than I would like on my thigh.

“Nice place, Slick.”  He actually used ‘Slick’ as a street name.  I had to fight off a smile every time I uttered it.

“You like it baby?  Maybe we’ll have a little time after our transaction, to try out the furniture?”  He seemed to ooze oil from his clogged pores.

I gave him my man-killing smile and flashed my blue eyes.  Thank God there was no video surveillance on this one.  I didn’t need this looping on the station monitors like the last major operation.  “It depends on how happy you can make me, Slick.  My man needs a hundred gallons a week, and I don’t want to be looking all over town.  Can you brew up that kind of load?”  I stepped into his personal space and brushed my non-armed thigh against the inside of his leg.

I held a placid expression, but I was already mentally scrubbing myself down in a shower.

“Sure, I can do that.”  He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer.  I leaned into his grimy shirt and looked up at him, applying strategic pressure with my thigh.

Soap…and maybe sandpaper.  High grit.

I donned my admiring woman stare.  “You sure?”  I stared at him like he was the center of my universe, which would mean I’d have a biological duty to open my veins in shame.

He smiled, revealing surprisingly good teeth for a scumbag.  “Sure.  I’ve got connections baby.  This whole building is drawing juice from the grid, and my man on the inside keeps the hotel listed on the books as in business.  We got all the power we could ever need.”

There, speak directly into the microphone please.  “You have a utility man on the payroll?”  I shifted my thigh a bit, applying a little more pressure with a circular motion.

“Couldn’t do all this without him, but don’t tell the little shit that.  He’s greedy enough as it is, but it’s worth the price.  Gidman gives me what I need for a set rate.”

He slid his hand over my breast and cupped it.  I leaned my head back slightly and sighed, imagining the satisfaction in stomping his face to a pulp.  He massaged it like he was trying to mold dry clay, and I winced in pain.  “Hold on there, Slick.  I gotta see the goods first.  You gotta make me happy before you make me happy.”  I ran my hand over the front of his filthy jeans once.  “You have the stuff?”

He let me push his hand away from my chest and looked toward the adjacent room in the suite.  “Right this way, baby.”  I followed him.

The empty room was stacked floor to ceiling with five gallon jugs.  “Freshly brewed stuff.  Pure with minimal salt content.  Finest white on the market.”  He grabbed a jug and opened the lid before handing it to me.

I waved my hand over the open jug and sniffed, detecting the acrid, sharp smell that clearly identified the contents.  I tried not to stare at the sheer volume of product in the large room.  This one was going to make tonight’s news.  I smiled at Slick, imaging him doing twenty years with the aforementioned pulped face.

He moved behind me as I pulled out my stick and took a quick sample of the jug.  He wrapped his arms around me from behind and went back to massaging my breasts as I ran the assay.  The unit beeped, indicating 99% purity – enough to secure the conviction we needed.

I capped the jug and dropped it on the floor while Slick began to grind his body against mine.  I took his hands in mine and guided them downward, toward my waist, shifting his weight enough for me to get my hip under his.  A quick yank and twist sent his scrawny frame flying over me, and I made sure to grab his hand as he went over.

I felt the bones in his wrist crack as he slammed to the ground with me landing on his chest.  A strategic elbow drove the breath from his lungs, and I yanked the gun from my thigh.  Laying over him, I pressed the gun against his forehead so he could clearly see it.

“You’re under arrest for violation of the Bleach Containment Act of 2102.  You have the right to remain silent.”

He refused his right when I drove my high heel down on his broken hand.

Next Part

Filed under: Writing