Re: Fairfax Underground After Dark
Posted by:
Rumorornot?
()
Date: June 21, 2011 11:46PM
Harry drove over to Chinatown, where he parked in an alley behind I Street. Miz, a heroin addict who worked the alley, appeared like a phantom, and Harry handed him a five to look after his car. Then he went in a back door next to a dumpster, down a hall where he passed a kitchen and several closed doors, and through a beaded entranceway into a small dining area where dulcimer music played softly. He took a deuce and ordered some hot-and-sour soup and Singapore-style noodles from an older woman who called him by his name. He washed the lunch down with a Tsingtao.
"Everything okay?" Madame Alias inquired.
"Yes, mama, it was good. Bring me my check."
"You want?" she said, her eyes moving to the beaded curtain leading to the hall. "Your friend here."
Harry nodded.
He paid cash and went down the hall to a door opposite the kitchen. He went through the door and closed it behind him. He was in a white-walled room lit by scented votive candles. The music from the dining area played in the room. A padded table was in the center of the room, with a small cart set beside it holding lotions, towels, and a washbasin.
He hung his clothing on a coat tree, and wrapped a towel around his waist. Then he lay facedown on the padded table. Soon he heard a door open and saw light spear into the room. The light slipped away as the door was closed.
"Hello, Hawwy."
"Hello, Conie."
Harry heard the squirt of an applicator and next felt the woman's warm, slick hands. She kneaded the lotion, some sweet-smelling stuff, into his shoulder muscles and his lats. He felt her nipples graze his back as she bent in to whisper in his ear.
"You have good day today?"
"Uh-huh."
She hummed to the music as she massaged his back. The sound of her voice and the sensation of her touch aroused him. He turned over, the towel falling open. She massaged his chest, his calves, his upper thighs, working her way up. Harry swallowed.
"You like?"
"Yeah, that's good right there."
She applied more lotion to her hands. Her movement was slow. Harry opened his eyes. The woman was in her forties, with carelessly applied lipstick and eyes like black olive pits. She wore red lace panties and nothing else. Her arms and shoulders were boney, her breasts flat and floppy. He brushed his fingers across one nipple until it was pebble hard, and when the fire rose up in his loins he pinched her there until she moaned. He didn't care if it was all fake.
"Go now," he said, and she moved faster.
His body shuddered, and Harry groaned. “Yeah, bitch.”
"You need” said Conie, chuckling under her breath.
Dressed again, he dropped forty dollars into a porcelain bowl set by the door. Conie gave him a look of disappointment and made a clucking sound with her tongue. But Harry was unmoved; he knew that forty was the price.
Out in the alley, he handed Miz another five on the way to his car.
“All right,” said Miz, clutching the bill. “All right.”