Tuesday 28 July 2015

The Girl with the Cigarette

For Audio Click here.
Alert Maggie's Milkman is just £1.99 from Amazon and Smashwords, find out more here
and To buy my second novel, Extraordinary Rendition click here
‘Have you got a light?’ 
Her voice was husky, sexy, seductive. She was only asking for a light, but her voice was promising so much more.  

Jimmie slowly pulled out his vintage zippo and waved the flame below her perfectly formed nose. She sucked in, caressing the cigarette with her lips in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. 
Jimmie noted the long eyelashes and perfect skin.He was meant to be on his way to meet Carol, but she could wait. Jimmie had something new on his mind and he hoped something new in his bed. 
The girl with the cigarette blew out the smoke and lent in towards Jimmie.
‘What's your name?’ she said. 
‘Jimmie,’ he whispered, ‘you?’

‘Martha’ the girl breathed. 
It was a perfect name for her raspy voice. Jimmie felt her breath on his chiselled cheek. He cupped his hands and lit his own cigarette. 
He knew if he played his cards right, he'd be going home with this woman and he was holding an ace and a king and the dealer had bust. What could possibly go wrong?
Carol was now a figment of Jimmie's memory. He'd remember her tomorrow when Martha's ship had sailed. They chatted a bit while their bodies got closer and closer, but they still hadn't touched. She lent in, was this the moment they kissed?

‘What does Carol think of your behaviour?’ she said.
He pulled away like her words had electrocuted him; he looked at her, his actions betraying his guilt. There was a hint of a smile on her face; the hunted had become the hunter.
Jimmie had lost his cool. 
He ran his hands through his hair, then he lit a new cigarette trying to regain his composure.
‘Who’s Carol?’ he asked, but he knew it was too late, and it was about to get later.
‘This is,’ Martha said and looked to where a tall blonde emerged from the shadows. Jimmie saw a glint of light in Carol’s hand as she slashed the blade across his chest.
Jimmie clutched at the wound, but no blood poured; there was no pain. Carol had inflicted damage much worse than a flesh wound. Skin could heal, but the leather jacket would never be the same again.

No comments:

Post a Comment