Murder in the City

They sit    
as perfect strangers,    
at a train station,    
awaiting their chariot.    
"I can't help but notice    
that your jaw is wired shut"    
she observes out loud.    
She also sees    
that he is reading    
The Bell Jar    
and this pleases her.    
She elegantly spits    
a mouthful of chew    
into a bottle.    
"Bar fight"    
is the boys    
only response.    
She wants to fuck him.    
"Why don't you just    
smoke cigs?"    
he asks.    
She answers,    
"I get away with this easier"    
as their train pulls up    
to the station.    
Neither of them move.    
Time elapses, their train    
moves on, leaving them    
to each other.    
He wants to fuck her.    
"Let me take you out"    
she says smiling to her    
new stranger.    
They walk.    
He can't be older than 21.    
She's going to be 30.    
They look like    
some kind of poetry,    
strolling together.    
"What's your story?"    
The boy asks.    
"I'm a therapist.    
I like Harley's    
and look agreeable    
in every shade    
of red lip stick"    
is her response.    
She takes him    
to the nearest hotel,    
sarcastically stating,    
"Best bar in town."    
They sit in a hotel room,    
staring at each other.    
He can see up her dress.    
She's wearing underwear    
but barely.    
She pulls it to the side,    
so that he'll have to decide    
if he's going to look    
at her deep green eyes    
or her tight slit of a pussy.    
It's a toss up.    
"What's your story?"    
she asks.    
Staring straight between    
her legs,    
in a type of pain    
from his swelling cock    
and mesmerized by the view  
he states,    
"I'm a colorful fuck up    
with grand ambitions    
and multiple drug addictions.    
I don't sleep enough    
and think too much."    
She rubs her clit,    
never taking her eyes off of him    
and hopes,    
she is making him uncomfortable.    
She is not.    
A pent up sigh    
escapes the boys mouth.    
She is getting off    
on the seduction.    
She crosses the room    
and graciously touches    
his jaw line.    
She lowers steadily,    
straddling him snugly.    
She rocks, back and forth,    
sweetly grinding him    
over his clothes.    
"Not this one"    
she thinks.    
She figures that he's not    
going to be able to hurt her,    
the way she wants.    
Too young.    
Too deep thinking and    
For a moment,    
she looks into his face.    
She recognizes    
a type of sadness here.    
Many questions race    
through her mind.    
Where are your parents?    
What the fuck have you survived?    
Why are you so numb?    
Do the drugs sedate the Hamster on your wheel?    
Do I remind you of your Mother?  
As if he could read her mind    
and the questions disturbed him,    
his eyes quickly shifted from  
sadness to monstrous.    
He grabs her by the hair,    
yanking her across the hotel floor.    
She screams. She tries to scramble.  
She is actually caught off guard.  
He pulls her to the door and barks,  
"Open it!"    
She motions to stand up.    
He hits her back to    
where she belongs;    
on the floor.    
"I didn't say get up, bitch!"    
She's trembling a bit    
but soaking wet.    
"Be good and I won't kill you"    
he says.    
Something in his tone,    
makes her sick to her stomach    
but she doesn't know why?    
She opens the door    
and instantaneously    
he picks her up by the    
back of the neck    
and bends her over    
the stair railing.    
His cock is in her,    
before she can figure    
out what's happening.    
With each thrust into her,    
she is sure that she    
is going to cum.    
He hits her in the face.    
This draws blood.    
"I didn't say cum!"    
he enforces.    
He pushes her    
to the ground    
and inserts his    
shaft, completely    
down her mouth    
until he can no longer    
see it.    
He looses    
everything he has,    
down her throat.
She can't breathe.    
She chokes.    
She tries to relax.    
She gags.    
He rips her up by the arm,    
like a child in trouble,    
ushering her    
into the bathroom.    
Slamming both doors    
behind him,    
he scoops her up    
and places her in the tub.    
"Wash up, filthy slut!    
he orders dryly.    
She cries, removing her clothing.    
He peers at her    
with zero sympathy.    
He smiles slightly    
at his display.    
"You're going to fucking die, whore!"    
Again, something about his demeanor    
makes her stomach turn upside down.    
It doesn't feel like role play.    
He asks,    
"You like it when men hurt you?"  
She says nothing.    
She only looks up at him.    
He's holding a bow knife.    
She motions to turn off the water    
and he cuts her arm with    
the reflex of a rattle snake.    
She clinches her teeth    
and is truly terrified.    
He instructs her    
out of the bath    
and into the bed.    
She's still bleeding    
from the laceration    
but doesn't seem to notice.    
He asks again, though shouting,  
"Do you like it when men hurt you,    
Yes or No, you dumb tramp!?!"    
She obediently nods yes,    
her eyes filling with tears again,    
he steps toward her  
and she shuts them tightly.    
She believes    
he will successfully    
murder her, in this city.    
She is reminded of a song    
and convinces herself    
it will be the last one    
she'll ever play in her mind.    
Then, as soft    
and sweet as any man    
has ever touched her,    
he kisses her directly    
on the forehead.    
The gentleness/ contrast,    
hits her so deep,    
she sobs uncontrollably.    
He softly,    
wipes the tears from her face,  
whispering,    
"You're alright sweetheart."    
She is still shaking when    
he pulls his stiff cock out    
and starts to fuck her.    
His dick slides,    
in and out of her.    
He rubs her clit rhythmically.    
"You ok baby?"    
he questions while examining her  
with his hands,    
this time, searching her face.  
The only response she    
can muster up,    
is a pleasure filled moan.    
This makes him smile.    
It takes only a moment    
and she cums from    
the depths of her soul.    
She is positive that    
she has never felt    
anything like this.    
She spasms.    
She spasms.    
She spasms    
and finally relaxes.    
He says nothing.    
She says nothing.    
He zips up his pants    
and leaves the hotel.    
They never say goodbye.    
She remains in bed,    
still dripping;    
water, sweat, cum and blood,    
as he makes his way,    
down some back alley.    
She whispers to herself/ to him,    
"Thank You."