9 of 34

Write now Article Tools

There was nothing like an excruciatingly slow night. I stifled a yawn and shifted my weight to my left foot. The dull click of stilettos on the cracked pavement was testament to the lack of business, and the girls were becoming restless. As was I. Not to mention chilly since the brief halter and micro-skirt were designed for business and not warmth. Speaking of which. My trained eye spotted him from a hundred yards off. He was slowly making his way up the street, causing a stir among the ladies as they all moved in to ply their trade. He flirted with some of them, and even laughed at their propositions, but he never once stopped his careless amble. Focusing all of my attention on him, I pushed my already abundant buxom out even further. I had not had a client all evening and I certainly wasn't about to let this one pass. As he approached I moved directly into his path in one smooth motion, my barely clothed 5'8'' frame forcing him to stop. His eyes roved over my body, stopping predictably on my cleavage. Satisfied that I had his attention I moved in closer and drawled, "You look like you be in need of a real woman, sugar." Suddenly, he lifted his gaze and I gasped as his startling blue eyes held mine captive and an amazingly familiar voice murmured "And I think I've just found her."

Michael. More appropriately, he was referred to as Detective Michael C Hunter. My heart stopped beating and for an instant I was transported back in time. I had first met Michael on a street very similar to this one. He had been working undercover to expose a huge drug ring headed by my boss. Michael. Memories of days of love and nights of forbidden passion swirled throughout my system, making me strangely lightheaded. He had sought me out to assist him in his investigations having learnt of my background and my association with his prime suspect. When he discovered me I was a sorry shell of a human being, addicted to more drugs than I can remember and a mere hairbreadth away from a fatal overdose. He had taken me in and nursed me back to health, supporting me through my withdrawal periods and giving me a reason to live again. I stared at his motionless figure, my own muscles frozen as my mind screamed to reach out to him but my body refused to obey. I had helped him, until everything went horribly wrong and his cover was blown. I could almost hear the gunshots again, Michael's pleading voice begging me to come with him, my own stifling fear holding me back. He had been shot

• 1
• 2
• 3
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Murder in the city?
We want to hear your view. Write now!