She pulled close enough to me that I could smell the heavy scent of Opium perfume. Her voice dropped half an octave lower.
'I can do anything you want. I can take it anywhere you want to give it to me.'
'Can you take it out of here and bring it back when you've grown up?' I resumed my walk. She kept up with me, two steps to one, trotting alongside me like an unwelcome puppy.
'I give really good head.'
'Good.' I pointed. 'Head in that direction and get lost.'
She stopped and glowered. 'You're supposed to want me!'
'Says who?'
'They
want me!' Her eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. Her face scrunched up like a bulldog's.
I felt a tremble inside me, as if the cancer were eating deeper. I looked at her. She wasn't wearing a satin dress anymore. An image appeared to me of how she would look naked except for stockings and high heels. She squatted astride me, her hands on my chest. Moving slowly, with an expert's skill.
We both looked ludicrous. Hideous.
I fought to shake the picture from my mind and regain my bearings. I glared at her. 'Someone ought to give you a spanking.'
'You can,' she said with a smile. 'Let's talk price.'
I clammed up, figuring her to be hopeless. With a muttered curse, I muscled my way through the crowd toward the casino.
She practically yelped in shock. Her gaze shot daggers into my back. That satisfied me just fine.
The interlude distracted me so much that I followed a crowd of noise and people into the wrong casino.
Or maybe the right one.
3 The Contract
I stepped into the Casino Grande, realized my mistake, and turned to go. At the edge of my field of view shimmered silver and gold surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. A gasp of amazement escaped from them.
The lady was at the craps table of the Grande tonight.
I wandered over to watch her for a few moments in her deep concentration. She laid down her chips. In a blur of action the rest of the players faded the bets. The dice rattled in her hand for an instant, then scampered across the felt.
Seven.
She let the money lie. It took a little longer for the crowd to cover her bets, but newcomers arrived every few seconds to add to the crush of gawkers and gamblers. She rolled again. The red cubes knocked along the table to stop at six and four.
'Ten,' the croupier announced, sliding the dice back to her.
She rolled again. Ten. Several frustrated bettors left the table, looking at her as though she'd robbed their babies of pabulum. She ignored them and scooped up some of her winnings. I scanned the table, found a bet of hers that wouldn't wipe me out, and faded it.
She rattled the dice carelessly in her slender hand and let them loose. Boxcars.
'Twelve,' the croupier said with relief, raking in the dice to give to someone else.
Blondie looked directly at me as if it were my fault. One of the boys handed her a tray with her pile of chips. She tipped heavily and left the table.
I picked up my share and sauntered to the bar.
