Talia

Talia woke up with hair in her mouth. Her head was foggy and the dream she was having left her feeling disoriented. Fear gripped her heart, a claustrophobic panic as she sat up expecting to hit the lid of a casket.

Her eyes flew open, heart racing as she realized she was in her apartment.

The sun was bright and high in the sky. She’d slept into the early afternoon and still felt like she could go even longer. She pulled the strands of spitty hair from her mouth, yawned and stretched. Her shoulder was sore and she didn’t know why.

The whip.

The thought flashed through her mind; the metal whip, the flayed skin, the talk with Simone, the phone, the knock on Simone’s door…

Talia got out of bed, rotating her arm to try and make her sore muscles feel better. Even though she had a great body, she was woefully out of shape. The sun lit her small living and kitchen area as she headed to the phone. It was nearly noon and she needed to call Simone to make sure she was ok. Something about her friend’s voice the night before didn’t sit well with her.

Talia grabbed a glass from the drying rack and filled it with tap water. That was something that took her a while to get used to. In her hometown, the water was from a well and tasted of the earth. In the Big Apple, the water tasted like shit and chemicals.

Her thirst slaked; Talia reached over to grab the phone.

It rang, making her jump and nearly drop the glass. She considered letting the answering machine get it, but it might have been Simone.

She picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she said, cradling the glass.

“Movie tonight, girl on girl, be there at 10,” was all the voice said before hanging up.

Talia looked at the phone as if it were going to do something else. It did; it made a shrill sound from being off the hook. She set it down in the cradle, finished her water and picked it back up.

Simone’s line rang and rang and rang. She didn’t have an answering machine, so the phone would ring indefinitely. After a minute of listening to the monotonous sound, Talia hung up.

“She probably just went to bed,” Talia said aloud, opening the fridge for something to eat. “Nothing to worry about,” this was to reassure her, her friend was fine, but it didn’t feel fine. Something felt fucked up and she knew it. Talia made some breakfast, trying to keep herself from thinking about Simone. She told herself everything was fine; Simone would come down off her bender and they’d see each other later in the night.

She hoped.

✽✽✽

Talia stepped out of Sally’s car in front of the warehouse just before 10pm. It was a chilly night, so she wore jeans, a long-sleeve blouse and light jacket.

Her heels clicked as she walked into the dark building, the pools of light guiding her as she neared Mike’s office.

The door opened and he stood there, a big grin on his face. “Talia,” he said, walking toward her with outstretched arms. “Come here, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Talia paused, taken aback. Usually she walked in, went to her dressing room, put on whatever ridiculous costume they’d laid out and read a script, if there was one.

“Oh, hi Mike,” she said, allowing him to hug her. After the initial blow job, Mike hadn’t really bothered Talia for sex. There was the occasional quick fuck, but he could feel her resistance, the subtle disgust for him. She was never wet for him and needed to be lubed up. He couldn’t deal with that shot to the ego, rather he’d just fuck other whores who’d at least fake it.

Mike sniffed her hair and let go. “Right this way,” he pointed to his office.

Talia entered and saw a large woman sitting on Mike’s couch.

The woman was big, but far from fat. Even sitting, her size was impressive, with wide shoulders, thick legs and muscular arms. Her blond hair was natural looking and pulled back into a tight, eye-stretching ponytail. Her eyes were like chips of ice, a rare, vibrant blue.

“Talia,” Mike said, pointing to the woman on the couch, “meet Ingrid.”

Ingrid stood and her size seemed to amplify. She was well over 6 feet tall and looked like an Amazon warrior. Her sweater was stretched tight against an ample chest.

“Pleasure,” Talia said, stepping forward to shake the woman’s massive hand.

Ingrid took her hand, kissing it, never breaking eye contact. She smiled at Talia, her teeth the size of piano keys. “Michael, your description of her beauty is nothing compared to the real thing,” Ingrid said. For such a large woman, she had a rather petite voice. “Me and her are going to have some fun.” Ingrid looked her up and down.

Talia was flattered, but confused. Of course she’d worked with other women before, but her and Simone had been partners for a while. They were comfortable and knew the other’s habits. Talia knew nothing about the giantess in front of her.

“What about Simone?” Talia asked, looking at Mike.

He turned away from her and walked over to a small bar. He set out three glasses and poured some clear liquor over ice.

“Simone,” Mike looked up as if in thought, “is a little under the weather.” He handed Talia a glass.

Drinking was the last thing on her mind, but she didn’t want to be rude. Besides, she’d need to loosen up a little for a scene with a new woman.

“Oh?” Talia asked, sipping and playing coy about the phone call the night before.

“Yeah,” Mike sipped, grimaced and sipped again, “she called me last night. She was upset about the scene we did.”

“I saw your film,” Ingrid said, touching Talia’s shoulder, “great work. You’re a natural.”

“Oh, ah, thanks,” Talia sipped, breaking eye contact with Ingrid. She didn’t feel like a natural. In fact, that scene still bothered her and would for a while. She looked back at Mike. “So, what’s that mean? Did she quit?”

Mike drained his glass and refilled it. “I’m afraid so,” he swirled the ice around. “This business isn’t for everyone and right now certain movies are in. Sure, the traditional fetish shit will always be around, but the art we made yesterday and the film you two are going to make…” He left it open, looking up, smiling. “Anyway,” he snapped out of his reverie, “Simone and I amicably severed ties. I even paid for a plane ticket and gave her her cut from the movie, even though she didn’t finish.” He drained his glass again. “It’s all part of the business. Sometimes things get messy, but with her it packed up nice and tight.” He splashed a little more liquor in his glass. “No bad feelings between us.”

Talia wanted to believe him, she really did, but couldn’t. Yes, her and Simone were co-workers, but they were friends. In their industry it wasn’t easy meeting people, especially with the odd hours. Oh and the fact the work they did was considered taboo and on the fringe stuff. Regular porn stars were looked down upon, let alone ones that shit, pissed and violated people. Simone might have been done, but she wouldn’t have left without saying anything to her.

Mike sat on the edge of his desk, sipping from his glass.

“So, I brought Ingrid in to be in the scene with you tonight.” Mike smiled, fake teeth glittering in the overhead lights. “I think you two will work well together.” He looked at his watch. “Ok, ladies, go change and I’ll meet you in the studio in 20 minutes.”

Ingrid put her hand on Talia’s shoulders and began walking her out of the room. Slowly, she put her hand on Talia’s ass.

“Oh my, that’s firm,” Ingrid said, looking down on the smaller woman.

Talia looked up at her and smiled. She hoped there was no scene where Ingrid was on top; the big woman might crush her.

“Thanks,” Talia said, as Ingrid’s hand covered her whole butt-cheek and then some. “You look pretty fit too,” she looked at the massive set of breasts that were eye level with her.

Ingrid opened the door, letting Talia out first. “Thank you. I try to keep tight, but age…” She shrugged, leaving it at that. Ingrid stopped and grabbed Talia’s cheeks. She bent down and kissed her, hard.

Talia felt odd. This wasn’t a scene and she wasn’t gay. The woman’s tongue even felt massive, pushing against her slightly yielding lips. Ingrid’s mouth tasted like liquor as they swapped spit. Talia couldn’t imagine what that big tongue would feel like inside of her. Well, she’d soon find out.

“I’ll see you in there,” Ingrid said, pulling her tongue back. She smiled and walked away.

Talia entered her dressing room and put her stuff in the locker. She looked on the costume rack, but didn’t see anything; just a white robe. She looked through the old things, wondering if she was supposed to pick something. She didn’t think so. Her movie attire was always hung in the front rack and the robe was the only thing there.

“Right down to it,” she said to herself, stripping nude. She wrapped herself in the warm robe, tying it around her waist. Her hair was down, but she threw it up in a messy bun, leaving a few strands down around her face. She didn’t know what kind of scene she was about to do, besides girl-on-girl, so she applied a little makeup. Not that she really needed it, but some color to her cheeks and lips couldn’t hurt. Talia blew a kiss to the mirror and left.

Ingrid stood outside the dressing room, wearing a similar robe, which didn’t even reach her knees. She smiled at Talia.

“Do you know what we’re shooting?” Ingrid asked.

Talia didn’t realize it earlier, but the large woman had a slight accent. Where, she didn’t know, but it sounded European.

Talia shook her head, “No, Mike never really lets us in on it. He likes,” she put up her fingers for air quotes, “natural reactions.”

Ingrid smirked, but not a funny smirk, more of a questioning, sad smirk. The kind you used to tell your kid his dog was crushed by a car.

“Ok,” she said, putting her paw on Talia’s shoulder. “I’ve done this type before. Listen to me and it will be ok.” That grin never wavered.

Talia’s heart was thumping. The grin was bothering her, but then again, this whole shoot felt off.

“Tell me,” Talia said. She didn’t ask, she demanded. If only her voice portrayed any sense of right or authority.

The door to the studio opened and Mike poked his head out.

“You ready?” he asked.

Ingrid spoke, “Yes, just a little girl talk. We’ll be right in.”

Mike tapped his watch and closed the door.

“Just relax and enjoy,” Ingrid said, her big hands rubbing the back of Talia’s neck. “I’ll take care of you.”

Talia looked into Ingrid’s ice blue eyes and saw…nothing. It was like looking into the blue version of Sally’s eyes. The smile, words, everything was fake. Talia could feel herself starting to panic, fighting to hold it together. Somehow, she nodded.

“Great. Let’s get this show going,” Ingrid said, leading Talia into the studio.

Talia saw Mike behind the camera, Sally at his side. There was no one else, just Mike and Sally. The camera was aimed at a blue, kiddie pool in the middle of the floor, but that was it. Something else did stick out to Talia; a strange kind of harness above the pool. Her eyes followed the wire holding it, leading to a crank on the wall by Sally.

Mike checked everything on the camera and said, “Ok, robes off ladies.”

Ingrid took hers off, holding her hand out to Talia.

Talia took in the nude woman whom she’d be soon having sex with.

Ingrid’s breasts were massive, which Talia knew going in. They hung low, resting on the top of her stomach. Light pink areolas the size of tea saucers capped the entire end of her vein-lined breasts. Her stomach wasn’t round, but it was far from tone, lined with stretch marks. If Talia didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn Ingrid had given birth. A jarring shock of black pubic hair covered her entire vagina, a contrast to the blond hair on her head.

Do the curtains match the carpet? Hell no!

Her thighs were wide, touching just under her vagina, and pocked with cellulite.

Talia didn’t consider herself vain, but she wondered why this woman was picked to co-star with her. Simone was her age, bubbly, young and had a tight body. Ingrid looked like a headmistress at a sadistic reform school.

Talia realized Ingrid was waiting for her to give up her robe. She took it off, her nudity once again on display.

“Ok, girls. I want a little making out, some fingering, tit play for a little while and then into the pool, Ok?” Mike asked from behind the camera.

Talia was still confused, but so far it seemed like a normal girl on girl scene.

“Action,” Mike said.

“You like these big titties?” Ingrid asked, grabbing and lifting one heavy breast.

Talia, seduction in her eyes, slinked forward. “You know I do,” she cooed, taking the thumb sized nipple into her mouth.

“Mmm,” Ingrid moaned, her hands reaching down to find Talia’s breasts. She plucked at her nipple piercings, feeling Talia gasp as she pulled harder.

Ingrid grabbed Talia’s hair, yanking her off her tit.

Talia looked up at Ingrid, smiling, getting into her role.

Ingrid dropped to her knees. She was the perfect height where her face was at Talia’s chest level. She wrapped her hands around Talia’s back, grabbing her ass, and buried her face in her tits.

“Ahh,” Talia moaned, showing her pleasure for the camera. Her fingers played in Ingrid’s hair.

Ingrid, with her hands still on Talia’s ass, reached underneath, spreading her moist lips.

“Mmm,” Talia began to relax as large, soft fingers probed her opening, using her natural wetness on her clit.

“I need to taste you,” Ingrid breathed into her chest, her big tongue flicking between breasts.

Talia began to lay on the cold floor.

“No,” Ingrid stopped her. “In the pool.” She smiled up at her. “We’re going to get wet.”

Talia knew it. Another piss scene, but this time she was receiving. It wasn’t her first, but she hoped it was her last.

Talia sauntered over to the pool, wiggling her tight ass for the camera.

Ingrid, on all fours, followed her like a dog. She would’ve put her nose right into Talia’s asshole and cunt if she were closer.

Talia laid in the pool and opened her legs. She was freshly groomed and it showed. The slight bit of moisture Ingrid had worked up kept her slit closed for just a second, before it opened. Her pinkness was on display and the unblinking eye of the camera drank her in.

Ingrid crawled in front of her, grabbing Talia’s thighs. She pulled her forward, lifting Talia’s ass onto the edge of the pool. Without tact, warm-up or grace, Ingrid plunged her tongue into Talia.

Talia clenched up, the large organ probing her aggressively. Ingrid ate pussy like a fucking amateur and was nothing compared to the light touches of Simone. Either way, Talia was still getting eaten out, so that was a plus.

She watched Sally disappear out of the door on the other side of the studio. She thought it odd, but was focused on the scene and keeping it going.

Ingrid was finally hitting her groove and not just tongue fucking her anymore.

Talia felt herself starting to relax. She didn’t think she’d cum, but it still felt great.

The door opened and three men walked in. Two wore panty hose over their faces and each held an arm of the handcuffed man in the middle of them. The man in the middle looked like shit.

His face was bloodied and swollen. He was nude and walked with a limp, his right knee red and swollen.

Talia, forgetting the scene tried to sit up and look.

Ingrid put a hand on her chest, pinning her down. She looked up from between Talia’s legs, her blue eyes piercing her, holding her in place.

The handcuffed man wasn’t gagged, but he didn’t speak. A thin line of blood ran down his chin. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but closed it again.

In that instance, Talia could see the remnants of his shattered and missing teeth.

One of the masked men grabbed the strange harness above them and pulled it down. The pulley clicked as line was let out. He put the harness on the ground away from the pool and pointed.

“Lay down and get in the fucking harness,” the masked man holding the hostage said.

Talia watched the scene as Ingrid continued to lap her twat like a dog.

“Listen,” the masked man had his nylon-shroud lips to the hostage’s ear. “This is happening, either with more pain or less pain.”

Talia watched the injured man weep, his red eyes sprouting fresh tears. Finally, he laid down, allowing them to strap him into the harness.

The pulley clicked as the man was hoisted into the air, dangling above the pool.

Ingrid stopped licking Talia and looked above as if just noticing the man hanging there.

“Who the fuck is this?” she yelled, her accent more pronounced.

Talia looked at her, realizing the scene was still going. “I-ah,” she stammered, still in the pool. The masked men walked away, leaving the hostage strung up.

Ingrid was angry, looking at the man hanging in front of her. “Oh, you don’t fucking know?” she asked, walking away toward Mike and Sally.

For a moment, Talia thought the big woman was having a breakdown and the scene was going to end, until she saw Sally hand her something.

Ingrid turned and opened the straight razor. It wasn’t Sally’s but looked similar. She stalked back to the man.

He tried to spin, to get a better look at the approaching woman.

“You don’t know?” she asked Talia again.

Talia was frozen, watching the scene spiral out of control. She didn’t know what to do, so she shook her head.

Ingrid circled the man, blade open, poised to strike. “Liar!” she yelled, slicing the man. The razor bit deep into the man’s flank, cutting his love handle open.

“Ahh!” he screamed through his damaged mouth.

Talia lay frozen in the pool, blood dripping down on her. She made a motion to get out.

“No!” Ingrid yelled, pointing the bloody blade at her. “You stay put.” Ingrid flicked the blade out again, nicking his flesh, taking a bloody chunk.

“Fuck!” he yelled, thrashing against the restraints. Blood dripped with his movement.

Ingrid sliced again, this one at his face.

The blade cut through his cheek, hitting his broken teeth and taking a chunk of his tongue off.

He opened his mouth to scream, blood flowing from the ruined orifice.

Talia lay watching, trying to fight back her tears. Not only for the man, but for Simone. She knew what her friend had felt the night before when it had been Talia with the whip.

Ingrid slashed, each one flaying flesh, striking bone. Blood flowed freely and the thrashing was slowing. It was time.

Ingrid lowered herself back into the pool, grabbing Talia again. She began licking the blood from Talia’s body, her tongue cleaning the other woman. “Finish him,” Ingrid said, handing the blade to Talia.

Talia looked at it like it was a viper. A talisman of death. Her gorge was rising, along with her tears.

Ingrid shook the blade, drops of blood splashing onto Talia’s already bloodied body. “Take it,” Ingrid stared at her, as if the coldness in her eyes possessed physical powers.

Talia looked at Ingrid, the hanging man and Mike. Sally stood by his boss, but was secreted in the shadows, only a faint outline could be seen. She reached up and took the razor. For a second Talia thought about slitting Ingrid’s throat and making a run for it. She knew that was an impossibility; her choices were limited.

The sound of the pulley clicking brought Talia out of her trance. The wounded man was lowered closer to them.

Ingrid was over top of Talia, nearly face to face. “Finish it,” she said, willing Talia to slit the man’s throat. “Cut him and we will fuck in his blood. It will keep us young forever.”

Talia’s hand rose, guiding the blade to the man’s protruding Adam’s apple. She felt his pulse through the steel, the pressure behind those veins and arteries waiting to unleash their gory payload.

“Fucking do it,” Ingrid hissed. This wasn’t meant for the camera or movie, no, this was meant for Talia alone. “Do it, you spoiled cunt,” Ingrid said, staring into Talia’s teary eyes.

She couldn’t. This wasn’t a beating. This wasn’t consensual. There was no back-alley doctor to stitch up a slit throat. This was fucking murder. Cold blooded murder that she was supposed to enjoy and have sex during. Slowly, she began to lower the blade.

Ingrid reached up, crushing Talia’s hand around the handle of the razor. In one motion, she used Talia’s hand to pull the blade across the man’s neck.

Talia was shocked and repulsed at how easy the blade severed flesh and cartilage. There was almost no resistance and if she wasn’t showered in hot blood, she never would’ve known he was cut.

Ingrid slapped the blade from Talia’s hand, it skittered across the floor and descended on her. Her hungry mouth sucked blood from Talia’s breasts, making its way back to her pussy. Ingrid’s tongue, using blood for lube, fucked Talia.

“My turn now,” Ingrid said, rising from between Talia’s legs, her mouth red with blood. Her blond hair was matted to her scalp with gore as she straddled her way up Talia’s body.

Talia was helpless as Ingrid lowered her hairy, bloody sex onto her face.

Blood still leaked, but the spray was over. Drips ran over the two women.

Talia’s nose was filled with the heady scent of piss, blood and pussy juice. She never minded going down on a woman, but this was the exception. Ingrid had a musk about her that reminded Talia of a barn.

“Eat me, bitch,” Ingrid said as she ground her cunt into Talia’s face. She reached up, fingers probing the severed throat. She put her bloody fingers in her mouth and ran them down her neck and breasts, leaving twin trails of crimson.

Talia was suffocating on pussy. She felt her nose creek as the woman rode her face. If she didn’t do something, she’d pass out. Talia stuck her tongue out and into Ingrid.

“Mmm, atta girl,” Ingrid moaned, going back up for more blood. As if there wasn’t enough in the pool.

Blood sloshed around beneath them, clots already forming.

Talia was going to be sick. The sour taste of Ingrid mixed with blood was too much. Ingrid rose just enough and Talia slid from underneath her. She leaned over the side of the pool and vomited. Before anyone could stop her, she ran from the studio, bloody footprints in her wake.

Ingrid didn’t say a word. She was a professional. She went over and picked up the razor and walked over to a set of cabinets. Her ass jiggled as she sauntered, blood that had pooled in her cellulite cascaded out. “Ah,” she said, opening it to reveal an arsenal of sex toys. She grabbed a thick dildo and walked back to the hanging corpse. Using surgical precision and deft hands, she sliced the torso of the man and sat under him.

Loops of intestines fell on her like snakes. She rolled the dildo in the standing pool of blood and went to work.

✽✽✽

Talia stood in the small shower and cried. The hot water was scalding, but not hot enough to burn away what just happened. The fires of Hell couldn’t purify that. Blood, still fresh and wet in most spots, ran down her body. She watched through blurry eyes as it swirled down the drain.

The large bathroom was meant for all the workers who used to inhabit the warehouse. It was industrial, with stalls and urinals set up along one of the walls. Another smaller room was the locker room. It had ancient, peeling gray lockers and a handful of showers. When the warehouse was functional, these were rarely used, but since Mike’s boss had taken over, they’d seen some action.

Talia stifled a cry, willing her tears away as she heard the door open. Footsteps padded across the tile floor, but they sounded like bare feet. They stopped outside of her shower stall. Talia cupped her hands in the water, letting it pool and splashed her face.

“Talia,” Ingrid said from the other side of the curtain.

Talia steeled herself, gently clearing her throat. “Yeah,” she said, grabbing a bottle of cheap shampoo. She put a generous amount in her hands and lathered it into her black hair.

Ingrid peeled the curtain back, looking at the naked and sudsy woman.

Talia could feel those ice-chip eyes on her, but did her best to pretend they didn’t exist. She continued to lather her hair; eyes closed to avoid getting any in there.

“Are you ok?” Ingrid asked.

‘No, I not fucking ok. We just murdered a man and had sex in his fucking blood,’ Talia thought, rinsing her hair. She slicked her hair back and stepped away from the water.

“I’m fine,” she told Ingrid and grabbed a fresh bar of soap and washcloth. She smiled at the big woman, knowing it was bullshit. She was far from fine and she didn’t know where to go from there. Maybe Simone had been right to get out, if that’s even what happened. At first it had been fun and adventurous, having sex with attractive guys and girls, stretching her sexual boundaries and above all, getting paid. It was no longer fun. Within the last two days, Talia had horrifically scarred a man (consensually) and now been involved in a murder. She couldn’t go on like this.

Ingrid looked her up and down, as the washcloth cleansed her of gore. Ingrid hadn’t taken a shower yet. Her face and hair were still a mess; both brown and red like she was wearing war paint.

“Ok, that’s good to hear. I’m going to clean up and then Mike and Sally are going to take us home.”

Talia attacked a stubborn bloodstain on her arm, ignoring Ingrid.

“Talia,” Ingrid growled, her impatience clear, “did you hear me?”

She looked up at the blood-masked woman. “Yeah, loud and clear.”

Ingrid closed the curtain. “See you in a few,” she said, her big feet slapping the tiles as she walked to her own shower stall.

Talia listened to the water turn on.

Ingrid hummed a happy tune while she bathed.

✽✽✽

Talia sat in her dressing room. She was clothed, clean and dry, but still felt filthy. The images kept flashing into her mind whenever she closed her eyes.

-flayed cheeks-

-broken teeth-

-severed tongue-

-the gaping slit throat-

She knew she’d need some kind of chemical aid to get her to sleep. There was a bottle of vodka in her cupboard, almost full. That would have to do.

There was a light knock at her door.

‘Simone,’ she thought, remembering her friend wasn’t there.

“Come in.” The door swung open. Ingrid stood there dressed and ready to go. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, her hands in her jacket pockets.

Talia stood up from her chair. “Yup, just let me grab my coat,” she turned to the small rack, taking her coat down. She heard something land on her makeup table behind her. She turned; the razor was laying on the table. It was clean, not a drop of blood on it, but she knew it was the one.

“What’s this?” she asked, looking at the razor.

Ingrid laughed, “What does it look like. That’s yours. A way to remember your first real movie.”

Talia looked at the folded razor like it was evil, because it was. That blade wasn’t created to shave a stubborn beard, no, it was created to kill.

“Listen,” Ingrid said, “I’ve done a few of these movies around the world, with different directors, actors, actresses and so on. You did fine,” she chuckled, as if thinking, “actually, you did better than most.” She slid the razor closer to Talia. “There’s money in this, big money.” Ingrid met Talia’s gaze, holding it. “Well, it’ll be here if you change your mind. Let’s go, before those two get impatient. You know how men can be.” Ingrid turned and walked out.

Talia reached over and killed the lights around the makeup table. With just the dim overhead light, the razor looked alive, like a sentient being. Gently, she touched the cool scales on the handle. It didn’t feel gross and repulsive like she’d pictured; it was warm and welcoming. Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed it, stuffing it into her right coat pocket and walked out.

“Did you take it?” Ingrid asked.

Talia shook her head, “No, I’m just going to leave in the room for now.”

Ingrid smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Good idea. Take it when you’re ready.” She draped a meaty arm over Talia’s shoulders, weighing her down. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

✽✽✽

Mike and Sally watched the women on the surveillance cameras. They’d been watching Talia the entire time, even in the shower. It was amazing what could be done with money and time. The two women exited Talia’s dressing room and started toward the front of the warehouse where the office was.

Mike looked at Sally and nodded.

Sally’s mouth twitched, creasing into a smile.

✽✽✽

Talia sat in the back of the car with Ingrid. Rain fell, giving everything a blurred look through the window. Lights streaked by, the wipers hummed and puddles splashed. She rested her head against the glass, peering out. Not many people were out, but there were some. Some were homeless, others midnight workers, maybe legally or illegally. Talia saw and didn’t see all of them. The whole thing was a blur and she was finally happy the night was coming to an end.

Mike and Sally sat in the front seats, talking about a baseball game or something. 

“Hey, you girls hungry?” Mike asked from the passenger seat, not bothering to turn around.

Talia was far from hungry. In fact, she didn’t know if she’d ever eat again after the night she had. She knew steak or any kind of meat was going to be off the table for a while.

“Oh, yes, I’m famished,” Ingrid said. “Are you?” she asked, looking over at Talia.

Talia didn’t want to be rude, but at this point she didn’t care. She just wanted to get home, have a massive drink and pass out.

“Not really,” she said, hoping this didn’t cause a confrontation. There weren’t many spots to eat by her apartment, so they had to double back to find a late-night spot. Most people didn’t know how late some restaurants were open; you just had to know where to look.

“Ok, no worries,” Mike said. “We’ll drop you off and go get some grub after.” He pointed to the street up ahead.

Sally turned, taking them deeper into the city.

Talia, happy the questions were out of the way, stared out the window again. 

The rain was letting up, but a fine mist still fell. The streetlights and storefronts were less and less. It took a moment, but she had no idea where they were…or where they were going. She hadn’t lived in the city for long, but she knew the route taken to and from her apartment. The car passed a street sign and then a closed deli. They were nowhere near her place, in fact, they were going away.

“Hey, are you going to eat first and then drop me off?” Talia asked, sitting up. Her breath left the window foggy. No one answered her and she could feel Ingrid staring.

Sally held the wheel tight, both hands wrapped around the leather. 

“Yeah, sorry I should’ve told you,” Mike said. “You don’t have to eat, but we’re starved.”

His voice sounded off, stressed slightly. Talia recognized it from years of acting. She looked at Ingrid from the corner of her eye.

They were driving through a dark part of the city. A part an expensive car had no business being in. Talia’s heart raced. Something was wrong. 

Ingrid looked forward, her eyes meeting Mike’s in the rearview.

Talia saw him nod.

Ingrid reached out grabbing Talia’s left arm with a vice-like grip. An icepick, long and deadly was in her hand.

Talia felt a sting and burn, liked she’d just had a shot. And then another and another.

“Enough,” Mike said. “I don’t want fucking blood all over the car.”

Talia was bleeding, she could feel it running down her side. Her ribs were on fire and she struggled to catch a breath.

‘This fucking bitch popped my lung,’ she thought, as she pulled against Ingrid’s grip.

“Mike, what the fuck?” Talia screamed, trying to fight against the big woman. Breathing was becoming a chore, not only from the deflated lung, but sheer sense of panic.

“Sorry, dear. Cost of doing business,” he said from the front seat. He didn’t even have the decency to turn and look at her. “I know all about Simone and her little confession to you. I know about your breakdown in the shower. You two just became too much of a liability and had to go. Now, stop your whining and we’ll take care of this in a professional and dignified manner.” Mike had a crew waiting for them at an off-set location. Talia’s snuff film was going to be glorious, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Ingrid, please,” Talia whispered to the woman next to her.

Ingrid smiled, not an ounce of regret or remorse on her doughy face.

“Fuck!” Mike said, as Sally jerked the wheel. An old vagrant and mangy black dog stepped out of the shadows right in front of the car. 

Talia knew this was her only chance. She dug into her jacket pocket and grabbed the razor.

In the dim light of the night, it barely shone, but it was enough for Ingrid to see it.

Talia slashed Ingrid’s forearm, the blade still sharp. Steel made short work of clothing and flesh, skidding off bone. 

“You cunt!” Ingrid spat, releasing her grip on Talia’s forearm.

The car was picking up speed again, but this was the only chance Talia had. She opened the back door, feeling the damp air fighting to push it closed.

“Hey, fucking grab her,” Mike said, finally turning around. He saw Ingrid trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from her arm and Talia, rolling out of the car. “Stop!” he yelled to Sally, who locked up the brakes.

Talia hit the asphalt and felt her arm break immediately. Her natural reaction to brace herself overtook any sense of self-preservation. The skin on her palm disappeared, leaving a greasy slick of gore. She tumbled, feeling ribs crack. Her next tumble shattered her ankle as it whipped into the hard ground.

The car came to a stop and Mike and Sally were out immediately, guns in hand. Talia was rolling down a filthy embankment as they opened fire.

At first Talia didn’t know she was being shot at. She thought the sound was in her head, or the sound of more bones breaking. A slug hit her in the small of her back, punching a clean hole in a kidney. She realized she was rolling down a hill as more bullets kicked up garbage and dirt around her. Another hit her in the chest, tearing through the already collapsed lung. The shooting stopped just as she came to a rest. Tires squealed above her and then silence.

✽✽✽

“Did we get her?” Mike asked, putting his hot gun into the glove box. The barrel and slide were burning and he didn’t want it back on his body right then. Besides, he needed more ammo.

Sally wrung his hands hard on the wheel. His nostrils flared and teeth gritted under his lips. He took a reserved, yet deep breath and spoke.

“I’m not sure, but even if we didn’t, she’s as good as dead.”

Mike nodded. They were in a part of the city where few were brave enough to tread. Homeless, crazies, and the deranged called the area Talia was lying, home. The embankment was the beginning to a massive underpass for one of the many bridges in the city. For years, homeless people from around the area would flock there, making their own little village. It was a place of no rules and cops didn’t bother. If a homeless junkie wound up dead, what did it matter? Often the cops wouldn’t even be called. The dead body was dragged out to the fringes of the ‘settlement’ and left.

“Those fucking bums will eat her alive,” Sally said. He was planning on taking a few bites out of her too, but after she’d been good and dead. He liked his girls cold. Ever since seeing her, he’d waited for the day. The day she’d fuck up and feel his blade. He lusted for her corpse. The cold, tightness of a dead cunt was exhilarating. Her glassed over eyes staring up at him and if they were closed, he’d cut the lids right off. The texture and feeling of a cold breast in his mouth was heavenly. A dead nipple was like a piece of tough steak, but tasted divine. He gripped the wheel tighter, angered about opportunities lost.

“I need a doctor,” Ingrid said, her arm still bleeding.

Mike looked back at the blood on his seats. “Motherfucker!” He looked at his watch. “Take her to the doc’s house.” His stomach grumbled. “I fucking hope he has something in the fridge.”

✽✽✽

Talia lay there, battered, broken, stabbed and shot. Warm blood leaked from her and coldness was seeping in. Her face had taken some damage, but she didn’t care. That was only a distant concern to the other injuries. 

She looked around through the tall weeds and garbage where she lay. In the distance she saw fires flicker and shadows move around them.

‘Am I in Hell?’ she thought. She knew she’d committed some heinous acts, but considered herself a good person. Apparently, she wasn’t good enough. Silently, and alone, she began to cry. She was weakening, her body dying. But she wasn’t alone.

“You are not in Hell,” a deep voice said.

Talia used every bit of strength she had to move her head, trying to find the owner of the smooth voice. A smell, the smell of wet dog, hit her nostrils. It was strong enough to overpower the stench of garbage and urea. A pair of dirty boots were in front of her face and she looked up.

An older black man stood near her. He wasn’t there when he’d spoken and she didn’t notice him moving, but he was there now. Sitting at his left side, under his left hand, was a black dog.

The dog, a mutt, looked like every other stray; wiry fur, battle-scarred face, a chunk missing from its ear. But there was something else. Something almost sinister in its eyes…that looked human.

The old man, wearing a long rain coat and dirty clothes, crouched in front of her face.

He stunk like burned matches and shit, but Talia was too far gone to care. She just hoped he didn’t rape her before she died. She couldn’t bear that final indignity. 

He looked her twisted and broken body over, as if he were a surgeon. The dog sat where he’d left it.

“Not terrible,” he said, running his hand over her body, but not making contact with her.

The rain began to fall, turning from mist to actual fat drops.

Talia was delirious, her mind warping the images in front of her. She was dying and beginning to hallucinate. When the man moved his head, he seemed to shimmer, like a hologram from a movie. For a moment, he was a beast, a horned devil with skin cracked and bleeding. His nose was a snout, elongated and full of protruding teeth. The image, only visible to Talia’s damaged brain for an instant, flickered away.

“I can fix this,” he told her, his eyes boring into her soul. “But for a price.”

Talia didn’t have a lot of money, but if she did, she would’ve given him everything. She was too weak to talk, but did her best to nod. She looked into his eyes, seeing them flash crimson as if they were on fire. She knew the price and accepted. In the last moments before she died, Talia nodded.

The old man smiled and stood. He raised his arms to the sky and opened his mouth, flames dancing on his lips. The fire crawled over him like an insect, spreading down his chest and making its way over his body toward Talia.

Before Talia slipped away to blackness, the fire covered her. 

It was warm. It felt like coming home.