The Bitch of Brighton (Prologue)

Are these clothes too skimpy, or not skimpy enough?

How much skin must you show to entice someone to give you their eyes?

I don't know what I should wear to catch the attention of men this late in the night.

It's raining too, maybe that doesn't help. I've been waiting at this corner for hours now to no avail. Maybe I should've started on a night with a clear moon, but I just couldn't wait any longer.

I need this, I need it now, I've needed it before now. If I don't get it, I'm going to give it. This is urgent.

An engine gently encroaches on the street I'm inhabiting. Finally, someone is desperate enough to come looking for me. This is perfect.

The car comes to a stop parallel to the stone steps I sit on. I've been sitting here so long that when I stand up to greet him the raindrops start filling in the dry silhouette I've left for them.

The man rolls down his window, truly, he rolled it down by hand. I wonder if he has any money?

Not that it matters.

The rain obscured his face through the glass, transparent though it was, but now I can get a good look at him.

He's older than me, even though that was a given to start with, it's the first thing I become aware of. He's unkempt but not in a way that suggests he always is. The tie around his shirt is loose, his hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes. You can tell that a few hours ago this guy was pretending he loved his job, probably his wife too.

"You've been waiting there for a while."

He speaks with the coldness of what must constitute a seasoned pro in this sort of game. He won't make the mistake of not being veiled.

"Well, it took a while for someone like you to come along."

I rest my crossed arms on the sliver of the window still standing and lean in slightly. This is what trying to be seductive is in my mind, hopefully, it works.

"Get in I'll find us a hotel."

He reaches out to open the door, but I gently grab his wrist to stop him. He narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"Don't be like that, I just want to be sure you can pay."

"I have plenty of money."

He moves to take out his wallet from his jacket pocket.

"It’s not about that, I don't want your money, but I do want to name my price."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you can do whatever you want to me, in fact, there's one thing you absolutely have to do."

"And what's that?"

His voice is now filled with hesitation. I grab him by his tie and pull him close to me, making sure he can't escape.

"You can do anything you like with my body, but before you're done, I want you to kill me."