My father had been beaten to death, having died before even reaching the hospital. I witnessed it all, and now I was stuck in a room with Officer Fuller of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Is this going to take long?” I asked, chipping the neon pink polish off my fingernails.
The officer only smiled. He was a middle-aged man with a kind face and the most beautiful blue eyes. “What’s your name kid?” He looked at the paperwork on his desk. “Tiana Running-Elk?” He nodded at the sight of my name.
To be fair I had only been in his office for five minutes. The previous two hours were spent giving my statement and getting my mug-shot.
“I go by Tia. And I’m not a kid I’m nineteen.” First nation girls were notoriously short and I was no exception. At just 155 centimeters (or five-foot-one, for any Americans) I barely passed for a high school student. This made it difficult at times to find clients willing to pick me up for anything more than a blowjob. But lucky me, that was the reason I wasn’t in a holding cell.
I had a record of misdemeanors, and the fact that I was blowing a guy when I witnessed the two bikers attacking my father warranted me getting in-processed. But according to the arresting on-scene cop, it would be up to Officer Fuller (the on-duty desk jockey with the highest seniority) to press charges or just let me go, like they usually do. Because no one gives a fuck about a First Nation girl giving blowjobs for a living.
Officer Fuller sighed as he placed my file upon his desk. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know. She works the streets somewhere in the city.”
“Saskatoon?”
I giggled. Saskatchewan’s largest city was Saskatoon, a word I thought was absolutely hilarious. Just a reminder of how badly I wanted to move someplace classy like New York, or Seattle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sorry, Sir. My mom lives in Regina. I think.”
“You think?”
“She did as of the last time we spoke.” Which was nearly two years ago when she kicked me out. But the nice officer didn’t need to know that. “You have a beautiful family,” I said motioning to the photo on his desk.
The blonde woman was holding two little girls in her arms, one who looked about five, while the other seemed ten, maybe eleven. Too old to be cute but still young enough to be her father’s little princess.
“Thank you,” he said with an awkward, professional nod.
“What does your wife do? Is she a cop like you? Or a stay-at-home mom?”
“Actually, my wife passed away.” There was an awkward silence.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He picked up my paperwork and glanced at it one last time. “You’re free to go, someone from my squad will contact you if we have any more questions regarding your witness statement.”
“Ok thanks,” I said, feeling like absolute crap.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Um, can you get me my smokes back? The arresting officer took them with the rest of my shit.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you to the front.” He motioned for me to get up and true to his word he walked me to the front and signed out a baggie of my belongings.
“One pack of cigarettes, one lighter, one wallet, one late-model smartphone, and one leather necklace with a flower pendant.” He paused on the pendant. On the back was my father’s initials. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about this.”
“I figured I’d see it again someday.” I made sure to take out the necklace and put it on. “Thank you, Officer. This really means a lot.”
The cop nodded. “I want you to take my card,” he said as he wrote a phone number on the back of a business card. “This is my personal cell. Just call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I repeated. He knew what I did for a living, and how I would need to toss it asap. But I didn’t toss it. For whatever reason, the feel of the embossed lettering made for a good fidget toy. I left the station to smoke at my favorite spot under the nearby overpass.
‘Near-by,’ of course, was a relative term.
My secret spot was a good forty-minute walk into the backwoods of Indian territory.
I checked in with my pimp, via my cell phone. Cathy was an old Indian who once worked the streets alongside my mother. She was pretty understanding since I’d spent the better part of the night at a police station but I had to pull in some money or I’d forfeit my room at her long-term motel.
I walked along the lower path, allowing the trees to shelter me from the internal cold of Canadian snow. I was about to light a cigarette when I saw what looked like a man was standing on the ledge of an overpass.
As I came closer, I swore I could see a gun in his hand. I ducked into the shadows, contemplating my next move. Should I call the police? Would they even get here on time? Then I remembered the card.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number. In the dead silence of night, I heard what sounded like a ringtone coming from the ledge. “No way.” Was Officer Fuller up there? Or just his phone? “Pick up, come on…”
After a few rings, I heard the sound of someone picking up. “Hello?” The voice was male, but it sounded like the caller was holding the phone a good two feet away from his mouth.
“Officer Fuller?”
“Yes?” his voice got louder as if he was moving the phone closer to his head.
“Hi, Officer Fuller? It’s me, Tiana Running-Elk. You gave me your card earlier.” I had to get up there but I had no idea how I could make it in time.
“Hello, it’s nice to hear from you. What can I help you with?”
Looking around I could see a tree, with a long, bent branch that could act as a bridge straight to the man’s location. I just needed to keep him on the line. “I’m kind of in a bad place. I really just needed someone to talk to.” I started to climb the tree, which was easier said than done, holding my phone.
“Um, sure. What do you want to talk about? Are you having thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m mean I’m not sure.” When I was high enough to see his location, I was thankful he had already put down the gun, and took a step backward, away from the ledge.
“Well, what’s on your mind?”
“Do you think I’ll need to testify against the men who killed my dad? I kind of want to.” I could see him leaning against his car.
“If that’s what you want, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”
“Thanks,” I said as I climbed along the bridge shaped branch, coming into view of the crying policeman. “That means a lot.”
When his gaze met mine there was a moment of silence. His lips cracked a smile. “Are you some kind of supernatural bird creature?” He reached out his hand, getting me safely on to the ledge.
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s what I get for going into Indian territory.”
“You get to meet all kinds of characters,” I said, leaning against his car, as I lit up a much-deserved cigarette.
“Just so you know I wasn’t planning on jumping.” Officer Fuller leaned back looking up at the sky. “I can’t even fire a fucking gun.”
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but his hands trembled. I’d seen the by-product of gang torture; fingers were broken with a hammer (or the butt of a gun, or whatever the attacker could find.) This usually resulted in significant nerve damage. “Who did that to you?”
Jay pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just another memory.”
I felt around in my pocket for the card, the name read, Officer Jayden Fuller. “Can I call you Jayden?”
“I prefer Jay.”
I wanted to ask why he was at this particular spot, if not to kill himself, but that felt like an even worse topic of conversation. “Okay, Jay, how about we go someplace a little less Canadian.”
Jay seemed confused. “Are you talking about the snow? You know It snows in places other than Canada, right?”
“Not like Canadian snow. Our snow is like a sentient alien fungus, it just stays here and grows. My dad used to tell me that Canadian snowflakes were little cities, working their way north to meet up with the mother ship up in the arctic.”
“Your dad sounds pretty cool.”
“He was, for a junkie. You’re off duty, right? I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“Yeah, I’m off duty.” He looked off into the distance. “Can I take you somewhere, like an all-night diner or something?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Do you know a place? this is actually my first time in this neck of the woods.”
That answered my previous question. He’d come here to die. “There’s a decent all-night diner a few miles up. It’s pretty popular with ice road truckers.” I reached for his hand, stroking my gloved fingers over his bare knuckles.
Jay turned and nodded. “Well, that sounds just perfect.”
I got into his car without hesitation. It was a small, late-model truck, the kind popular for driving to and from work. In the darkness I couldn’t make out a brand; Nissan maybe Ford. My daddy knew about cars, he was a mechanic (at least that was the job he paid taxes on.) So I knew just enough to be able to be helpful.
I looked out the window, gazing upon the Canadian wilderness. “It’s just off the next exit, the place with the weird flower logo.” I didn’t know the name of the diner, only that it had a Hawaiian-tropical motif, with decor from the seventies or eighties. There was a massive parking lot, to accommodate long haul truckers, (and the diner shared it’s truck stop location with a gas station, bringing even more business.)
Jay easily found a space. Given the late hour, we went inside and got a table by the window to enjoy the view.
The waitress, a native woman who was a friend of Cathy’s recognized me and I can only assume she thought Jay was a client. “Do you need a menu, Tia? or just the usual?
“The usual?” Jay asked.
“Whenever I bring guys here or just come in after my shift, I always get coffee and apple pie.”
“The usual it is then.” Jay lit up a cigarette taking a long drag.
Over six cups of coffee and several slices of nearly expired grocery store-brand pie, we talked about the past. He grew up in Vancouver, the son of an American father and a Canadian mother. They moved to the north when he was a child, for the peace and quiet of the countryside.
“Peace and quiet?” I asked. “More like boredom.”
He nodded. “I kind of got stuck here after highschool. I always wanted to move back to the big city or even the states, but…”
“Do you have dual citizenship?”
“One of the few blessings I was able to hang on to.” He put out his cigarette on a teacup, before taking a sip of coffee. “A real blessing for my kids. They always dreamed big, too big for Northern Canada.”
“And your wife?”
“I lost my wife, Lisa, just a little over six years ago.” Jay’s hands trembled so badly he had to put down the coffee cup. “Six fucked up years.” Jay reached for another cigarette. He tried to work his lighter but was shaking too badly to get a flame.
“Here, let me.” I stroked the button, inciting a light.
Jay nodded thanks as he leaned in close. He took a few drags to calm himself before continuing.
“I tried to be strong for my girls. Eve and Lucy. But they needed their mother, so eventually, I just had to let them move on.”
“Move on? Where are they now?”
“Moving on with their lives, that’s what I mean. Eve is fourteen, just started high school in New York.”
“Wow, New York?”
“She got into some kind of art school, on a partial scholarship.” He chuckled, likely due to the look of shock on my face. “She’s happy, so I try to leave her be.”
“That’s cool at least she knows you love her. And your other daughter?”
Jay’s smile crumbled. “My oldest, Lucy went to college in California. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I think she blames me for her mother’s death.”
That was when I realized I never asked how his wife died. I’d assumed the answer was something simple like, ‘cancer’ or even the flu. People died of the flu all the time. “How did you lose your wife?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.” I bit my lip, quickly realizing how badly I overstepped. We were not close enough friends.
Jay squinted his eyes, he seemed annoyed, offended. “I should probably drive you home.”
“Jay, wait!”
Before I could apologize he got up, tracked down the waitress, and paid our tab. Then he sat in the car, lighting up a new cigarette.
I knew I had to go with him, otherwise, I had an hour’s walk, in the freezing cold of the night. But I wanted to make him wait, staring him down through the window. A widow or not, I was not about to let this cop disrespect me. After just a few seconds he started to honk.
The waitress, the one who knew the kind of girl I was, probably assumed I was trying to back out of a job, told me to get out or she was calling Cathy.
“Fine, I’m going.” I walked out into the cold and proceeded to sit on the hood of Jay’s truck like a park bench.
He continued laying on the horn. “Get inside before you freeze to death.”
“Blow job is twenty!” I shouted over the annoying honking. “If you want to go back to my motel room it’s a hundred, but I’ll throw in the blow job for free.”
“Get in the damn car,” he said, in a softer, calmer tone. It was clear he was not trying to make a scene and get recognized as a cop soliciting a prostitute.
“Show me the money,” I replied.
The waitress came out along with one of the cooks. “The dude has money. Do your job and get home to your mother!”
Did she really think Cathy was my mother? “I’m going!” I got in the passenger side, immediately leaning my head onto Jay’s lap.
“What are you doing?”
“The only thing First Nation girls are good for.” Even from the angle, I was at I could see a few truckers were watching from their cabs. “You can drive away if you want.”
“How am I supposed to drive?” Jay muttered, his eyes staring forward. “I don’t know the way to your fucking hotel.”
The fact that he called it a ‘fucking hotel’ when my home was literally a hotel for sex workers, caused me to laugh. “Have you ever seen the movie Ratatouille?”
“Yes,” he said with a groan.
“The one about the rat who controls the guy by pulling his hair.” I re-positioned myself to sit on Jay’s lap, running my fingers through his hair. I ended with a light tug of his blond locks, that evolved into a scalp massage, as I kissed his lips.
Jay gripped the back of my neck, the frustration clear in his face. “Tell me the name of your hotel and I will tell you the story of how my wife died.”
I pressed my lips to his ear, “You first, Officer.”
Jay nodded and pursed his lips. I could feel his body tense, as he mentally prepared to reveal his darkest truth. “A gang of First Nation fuckers broke into my house, in exchange for letting my family live, they were going to rob me, torture me.” Jay’s crippled hand balled into a fist. “They started by handcuffing me to a chair with tape over my mouth. They just said if I let them take what they wanted…” Jay’s voice trailed off as tears welled up in his eyes.
“These men killed your wife?”
Jay nodded, “I remember I had a really bad pain in my chest like my heart wanted to jump out of my throat. Before I knew it, I’d just blacked out. You can call me a coward if you want. All that mattered was that Lucy and Eve got away.”
Wow, just wow. “Field of Roses motel,” I said softly, as I wiped tears from his eyes. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jay motioned for me to sit back in the passenger seat. “Put your head down.”
I did as he asked, placing my head on his lap as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.
After about five minutes on the road, I was about to sit up when he gripped my neck, forcing my face to his crotch. “What the fuck?”
“You wanted to suck my cock, you’re going to suck my damn cock.” He slammed my neck hard as we sped down the highway. I had no idea if we were even going in the right direction.
I knew I had fucked up, provoking a cop’s PTSD. But I had one card to play: I just needed to locate his gun. Stalling for time, I undid his belt, kissing his stomach. Jay’s body had tight, strong abs, under a soft, sweaty layer of body hair.
I kissed him just enough to make him moan.
I bit my tongue.
Logically, the gun had to be in the glove box, but I needed to be sure. There was no lock, so I nudged it with my foot, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice.
I waited until he pulled off the highway when I could feel the vehicle slowing down, before making my move. I sat up, hitting him square in the jaw. In the few seconds, it took for him to grab his mouth in pain, I got the glove box open, reaching for the gun. I had held a gun before but this one felt heavier, loaded.
Jay smirked. “You even know how to handle that, little girl?”
Now I was pissed. I struck him in the face over and over, until blood ran down his cheek. And then I cocked the gun. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the bullet shift into place.
“Just do it,” Jay growled through gritted teeth. “Just fucking do it!”
I could have. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Instead, I held the gun to his back. “Get out of the car.”
“Put down the gun.”
“I’ll lower the gun if you get out of the car.”
Jay sighed and finally did as I asked, all while calling me a few choice words.
I led him around the back, to my room on the second floor of the open-air motel. “Up the stairs, room 203.” Once I got him inside, I shut and locked the door.
“Now what?”
“Now you take your clothes off.” I held the gun at my side. For a moment I felt truly powerful.
“What?” Jay chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”
I narrowed my eyes, to show just how serious I, in fact, was. “Now, please.”
Jay took off his jacket, a brown suede coat that had seen better days. Next his white t-shirt, revealing a body full of scars.
“I know you.” I walked closer, inspecting the marks on his body. Something about him seemed familiar.
Jay had been shot no less than five times. One bullet hitting dangerously close to his spine. the wound required surgery resulting in massive scars. “I had a feeling you did. When I saw your last name. Did your father brag about what he did to me?”
“He told me stories.” I walked my fingers down his chest, to a massive scar on his stomach. “My father was the one who broke your hand.”
Jay silently nodded, avoiding my gaze.
“I know he was one of the men who robbed your house and murdered your wife. And he did that because his cousin was locked up for drug charges. I heard the story so many times. My father was actually proud of how much pain he caused the judge, the district attorney, and the investigating detective. But you got demoted to an officer, why?”
Jay blinked tears from his eyes. “No longer fit for duty.”
“Did you have my father killed?” I pressed the barrel of the gun, to his chest, only because it felt good to do so.
“No, a friend of mine did,” Jay replied.
I already knew Jay wanted to die, holding the gun to his chest meant nothing. Knowing that, I carefully lowered it to the ground. “Did my father rape your wife?”
“No, his DNA was not found on her body. He was just the one who made me watch.”
“Did you mean to kill him?”
“His death was an accident. I wanted your father to face justice. The plan was to bring him to the station bruised and bloody, just a little payback.”
“But he had underlying health conditions.” I knew my father took medication for his heart, kidneys, and liver, all while still drinking like a fish and shooting up heroin every night. I could imagine my father lost consciousness, during the attack and then just never woke up. Tears filled my eyes. My father was a real bastard but he was the only friend I had. And now, knowing that his attackers were cops (or at least hired by cops) they would never see the inside of a courtroom.
Jay cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his rough fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I forced myself to look him in the eyes. “So, you lied to me. I’ll never get to testify.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. Jay fell to his knees, reaching for the gun. He slowly guided the barrel to his chin.
“Please don’t,” I said placing my hand upon his. Yeah, apparently, he had lied about that as well, his crippled limb had more than enough dexterity to hold and fire a weapon. “There’s no maid service here and cleaning blood out of the carpet is a real bitch.”
“Fuck, sorry.” Jay tossed the gun to the floor, letting it slide towards the door. “I should go. I’ve already done enough.”
I shook my head. “Stay the night. It’s the least you can do.”
“You want me here?”
“Just take a shower first, please.”
“Sure,” Jay said with a laugh. “I got nowhere better to be.” He walked towards my small hotel room bathroom. Where there were plenty of hand towels and cheap bar soap.
I watched as Jay kicked off his boots. He next took off his dirt-encrusted pants and then his plaid boxers. Only after standing naked before me did he touch the door frame. “Your bathroom has no door?”
“Nope.” I got undressed, changing into clean underwear and an oversize t-shirt that once belonged to my father. I laid in bed, facing the opposite wall, to give him a feeling of privacy. But I was unable to sleep. I listened to the sound of the shower, unable to see my alarm clock. But I could feel when Jay took a seat on my bed. I turned to see if he was naked. He was, his waist wrapped in my only full-sized towel. “Will you hold me?” I asked.
“I’m not too comfortable with that,” he replied in a nervous breath.
“Because I’m a whore or because I’m the same age as your oldest daughter?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Can I hold you?” I requested while pulling the covers over my body so that there was a barrier between us.
“I guess.” Jay nodded and laid comfortably, letting me spoon his back.
I kissed his shoulder, stroking my fingers down his chest. “You feel cold.”
“I’ve been cold for a while now.”
“Let me make you warm.” I put my arms around his broad, slender shoulders. I could feel Jay reach for my hand, moving it to his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body, his soul.
Jay was breathing hard, clearly very emotional. “You have a beautiful heart.”
This was not my first rodeo. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him he could cry in my arms without judgment. “You’re a good man.”
Jay released my hand and rolled over to face me. “And you’re a good girl. Too good to be living like this.”
I stroked his face, tracing my fingers along his jaw. “What would happen if I kissed you?”
Jay chuckled. “I’d be honored.”
I touched my lips to his, once and then twice.
Jay was smiling as he closed his eyes. He cupped his hand to my cheek and kissed me again.
As a veteran sex worker, I knew what was happening. He was picturing his wife. It was a pretty common thing for clients to do, especially widows.
I just wish I knew how to speak like his wife did. But at least I knew how to touch him the way his wife would’ve.
I reached my hand around from under the blanket, keeping the fabric between us as I groped his leg, giving his upper thigh a firm squeeze. The towel fell to the floor.
I rubbed him between his legs, even through the blanket I could feel how big he was. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been with a woman since his wife’s death. Kicking off the blanket, I moved his hand to my thigh.
I was directing him to my underwear but it was up to him if he wanted to go further. And he did.
We kicked the blanket off the bed. Jay kissed me passionately, forcing his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like black coffee; deep, sensual, and masculine. With two fingers he slipped my panties down my thighs, just low enough to rub his cock to my clit, lubing himself with my juices. “You like that?”
I knew better than to respond out loud. Instead, I maneuvered my underwear off, kicking it to the foot of the bed. I wanted him inside me.
With his eyes still closed, Jay put two fingers in his mouth getting them wet with his spit before rubbing my hairless pussy. He started with my labia, spreading me open. “You’re so tight.” I could feel him insert two fingers, massaging my g-spot with intense pressure. It was all I could do not to cry out, as he fingered me to orgasm, playing my body like an instrument.
I kissed his neck; sucking, biting. My whole body was quivering as my juices ran down my thighs like a faucet. I wanted him so bad; to have him, to know him, to love him.
Jay slowly removed his fingers, licking them in turn. I couldn’t help but wonder, did I taste like her? My hand had been gripping his ass, digging my nails into his skin. I scratched him along his hips, until I was where I wanted to be.
Jay moved on top of me, cupping my face for a kiss. His breath was hot, intense as he found his pace.
My face buried against his shoulder, I could feel him grip the headboard for leverage as his power only increased.
He fucked me for what felt like forever, giving me orgasm after orgasm. Then, with a masculine, carnal, grunt he blew his load, kissing me one last time before opening his eyes.
The look he gave me was one of horror. I clearly was not his wife, I was a First Nation slut who probably looked a lot like the men who destroyed his life.
I was expecting him to leave, or yell or at least move but, no. Jay was frozen in place, like a catatonic statue, as he blinked tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so sorry, Tia.”
“It’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I spoke soft and slow, hoping to take the edge off. “Just let me hold you.” I put my arms around him, directing his head to my shoulder.
“It’s not okay, nothing is okay.” Jay rested his body in my arms, clearly sobbing.
This was not my first time comforting an emotional client. “Would you like some vodka, or scotch? I even have some NyQuil.”
“NyQuil, yeah,” he muttered with a nod. “That would be nice.”
I held him for a few more seconds, making sure he was comfortable before I left the bed.
I returned with a large dark bottle, with its little measuring cup cap. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Jay drank a dose of NyQuil and went to sleep within a few minutes.
Since he was facing me, I stroked Jay’s rough jawline as he slept. Tracing the stubble on his face; he looked so peaceful, so strong.
Like my dad.
The next day I awoke around noon, to find Officer Fuller already gone. This was not surprising since he had a real job to get to. On the pillow he left me a hundred dollars in twenties and a note. “Dear Tia,” that was all it said. I’d really hoped he would have written more but the fact that he didn’t add ‘don’t contact me ever again,’ let me with a sense of hope.
I walked down to the main office to give the money to Cathy. She was at her desk, sipping a can of off-brand cola. “Here you go,” I said handing her the stack of twenties. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Your blond-haired cop friend was a real cheap-ass.”
How did she know Jay was a cop? “Did you see him leave?”
“Yeah, he looked hungover as fuck, but I’m sure he’ll be back.”
“I kinda hope so,” I said with a smile.
“Good luck with that, Cinderella.”
“Excuse me?” I knew Cathy liked to joke, but that was a little uncalled for.
“Girls like us don’t get a happily ever after, we don’t get to ride off with the handsome blue-eyed prince.”
“Says you.” I left the hotel, to sit outside in the cold afternoon air. I was tempted to try to find Jay if only to see if he was alright. Because that’s what friends do.
I started walking in the direction of the police station. There was a bench across the street, just close enough for me to loiter with a cup of coffee and smoke my cigarettes until I caught sight of him.
It was around three, and he was leaving with a few other people; men women, people of higher social standing than me. I don’t know why I felt the need to wave to him.
But it was one of his friends who spotted me first. The female officer shook her head with a look of disgust. “Really? Turning tricks across the street from a police station?” she already had her handcuffs out.
“I’m not soliciting I was just here to speak to Officer Fuller.”
The woman laughed. “Yo, Jay, you know this piece of trash?”
“She’s a witness in an ongoing investigation.” Jay approached, gripping me by the arm.
A male member of his group snickered. “So, does this mean you’re not going to hang out with us?”
The female returned to her co-worker’s side. “Nah, it looks like he’s got better things to do.”
The entire group seemed to be laughing at Jay.
“Let me give you some money. You can buy a bus ticket and go see your mom.”
“No. I don’t want your money!” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I wanted so badly to hit him, but considering the cops were still watching, I knew that was not a smart idea.
“So what do you want?”
“Tell me to leave you alone and I’ll leave you alone.”
“What happened last night was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why.” Jay cupped my face brushed the tears from my cheeks. “But I’m not going to tell you to leave. You’ve had enough people leave you.”
His words made me cry even harder. I missed my dad. I knew that he would be put in pauper’s grave since there was no way I could afford to give him a proper burial or cremation. “I miss my dad but I can’t afford to send the body to a funeral home. What’s going to happen to him? Did they already get rid of the body?”
“I’ll pay for the release for your father’s remains. I’ll get him to you, I promise. But you have to promise to leave this place.”
“Canada?”
Jay nodded. He kissed my forehead, holding the warmth of his lips for a good five seconds. “You are worth so much more than a hundred dollars a night. Now go home.”
“Ok,” I replied with a nod. But I couldn’t exactly go back to the hotel without a payday. “Can you give me a ride?”
Jay looked at his friends who had already started to leave in their respective vehicles. “Sure.”
Apparently it would not take him long to have the body cremated and when that was take care of, he could bring the remains to me in a metal urn. “Just until you decide what you want to do. Maybe you can spread his ashes someplace like California.”
Jay dropped me off, but the moment his truck was out of sight, I took a walk to the biker bar where I was greeted by well-wishers. Person after person, saying how sorry they were about the loss of my father. I took their free drinks and listened to stories of how much of a bad-ass my dad was.
I gave a few blowjobs, pulling in a good amount of money. At around midnight, I walked to a gas station to buy myself some dinner. It took the form of a cup of stale coffee and a packaged cupcake. I ate my meal, leaning against the door of the women’s restroom looking out at the starry night sky. I lit up a cigarette and considered hitchhiking. But to where? Not sure, just someplace different.
“Hey!” shouted a male voice. “You working?”
“Who’s asking?” I replied before looking in his direction.
It was a tall, grey-haired man, speaking to me from the open driver’s side window of his Semi. “Just a stranger with some candy.”
I knew what that meant. I walked to his passenger side door and got in. “What do you got?” I looked around the cab of the truck to see if there was an ID posted. “Randell Fish.” He had his license posted, that meant he was safe, or as safe as a driver of an unlabeled truck could be.
He handed me a small tin from his glove box. It was a kit, with a pipe, lighter, and what appeared to be crack. “You can get started on that if you like. We’ll be on the road for a while.”
A while? He was taking me miles away into the frozen north. I’d have to hitchhike back to civilization. Oh well, nothing I hadn’t done before.
I filled the crack pipe and hit it with the lighter, taking a long drag. “Woah, that feels nice.” My mind felt clear, calm, even a little happy.
“My special recipe,” Randell murmured, rolling down my window while locking the doors.
Even with the cool breeze caressing my face, I felt dizzy. My vision was fading in and out, as the smoke-filled my lungs. My body felt electric. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you going to fuck me up?” I turned my head to Randell to see a red-faced demon with glowing eyes. “Yeah, this shit was laced with meth.”
That was the last thing I remember. I awoke naked, tied to a bed by my wrists. Looking around the room, it appeared to be a trashed basement with no natural lighting. My body hurt all over. I tried to scream, but there was duct-tape over my mouth.
Above me, I could hear the sounds of police, gunshots. “Kitchen- clear! Bathroom- clear! I’m going to check the basement!” Would the police find me? Am I even in a basement?
An officer came down the stairs in full riot gear. He cut my wrist restraints, wrapped my body in a blanket, and carried me out. “Thank you, Jay. I love you.”
At least, that’s what I wished happened.
Maybe someday, someone will find my body. From what I can tell, it’s near a river, not too far from my father’s old shop. My eyes are swollen shut and I can see a distinct bruise on my neck from where I was strangled to death.
It’s actually kind of nice here. But I know I can’t stay. My soul deserves better.
Since I don’t appear to be headed towards any kind of white light, I’m going to try to find my dad. “Peace out, earth body.”
I suddenly felt darkness, a pain. I guess I wasn’t going anywhere.
I saw a car pull up, then three. The same people who killed me emerged, laughing at the fact that my body was exactly where they left me.
The first man removed his belt. I turned away, fully aware of what was going to happen next. My body was still fuckable and at least now they didn’t have to pay me.
For the next few hours, the men seemed to be taking turns with my dead body. And drinking, and snorting cocaine. But this wasn’t a sick party, no they were waiting.
Under the cover of night, a final car arrived. Jay’s Truck.
This was bad.
A Canadian Tale ch2My father had been beaten to death, having died before even reaching the hospital. I witnessed it all, and now I was stuck in a room with Officer Fuller of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Is this going to take long?” I asked, chipping the neon pink polish off my fingernails.
The officer only smiled. He was a middle-aged man with a kind face and the most beautiful blue eyes. “What’s your name kid?” He looked at the paperwork on his desk. “Tiana Running-Elk?” He nodded at the sight of my name.
To be fair I had only been in his office for five minutes. The previous two hours were spent giving my statement and getting my mug-shot.
“I go by Tia. And I’m not a kid I’m nineteen.” First nation girls were notoriously short and I was no exception. At just 155 centimeters (or five-foot-one, for any Americans) I barely passed for a high school student. This made it difficult at times to find clients willing to pick me up for anything more than a blowjob. But lucky me, that was the reason I wasn’t in a holding cell.
I had a record of misdemeanors, and the fact that I was blowing a guy when I witnessed the two bikers attacking my father warranted me getting in-processed. But according to the arresting on-scene cop, it would be up to Officer Fuller (the on-duty desk jockey with the highest seniority) to press charges or just let me go, like they usually do. Because no one gives a fuck about a First Nation girl giving blowjobs for a living.
Officer Fuller sighed as he placed my file upon his desk. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know. She works the streets somewhere in the city.”
“Saskatoon?”
I giggled. Saskatchewan’s largest city was Saskatoon, a word I thought was absolutely hilarious. Just a reminder of how badly I wanted to move someplace classy like New York, or Seattle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sorry, Sir. My mom lives in Regina. I think.”
“You think?”
“She did as of the last time we spoke.” Which was nearly two years ago when she kicked me out. But the nice officer didn’t need to know that. “You have a beautiful family,” I said motioning to the photo on his desk.
The blonde woman was holding two little girls in her arms, one who looked about five, while the other seemed ten, maybe eleven. Too old to be cute but still young enough to be her father’s little princess.
“Thank you,” he said with an awkward, professional nod.
“What does your wife do? Is she a cop like you? Or a stay-at-home mom?”
“Actually, my wife passed away.” There was an awkward silence.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He picked up my paperwork and glanced at it one last time. “You’re free to go, someone from my squad will contact you if we have any more questions regarding your witness statement.”
“Ok thanks,” I said, feeling like absolute crap.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Um, can you get me my smokes back? The arresting officer took them with the rest of my shit.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you to the front.” He motioned for me to get up and true to his word he walked me to the front and signed out a baggie of my belongings.
“One pack of cigarettes, one lighter, one wallet, one late-model smartphone, and one leather necklace with a flower pendant.” He paused on the pendant. On the back was my father’s initials. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about this.”
“I figured I’d see it again someday.” I made sure to take out the necklace and put it on. “Thank you, Officer. This really means a lot.”
The cop nodded. “I want you to take my card,” he said as he wrote a phone number on the back of a business card. “This is my personal cell. Just call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I repeated. He knew what I did for a living, and how I would need to toss it asap. But I didn’t toss it. For whatever reason, the feel of the embossed lettering made for a good fidget toy. I left the station to smoke at my favorite spot under the nearby overpass.
‘Near-by,’ of course, was a relative term.
My secret spot was a good forty-minute walk into the backwoods of Indian territory.
I checked in with my pimp, via my cell phone. Cathy was an old Indian who once worked the streets alongside my mother. She was pretty understanding since I’d spent the better part of the night at a police station but I had to pull in some money or I’d forfeit my room at her long-term motel.
I walked along the lower path, allowing the trees to shelter me from the internal cold of Canadian snow. I was about to light a cigarette when I saw what looked like a man was standing on the ledge of an overpass.
As I came closer, I swore I could see a gun in his hand. I ducked into the shadows, contemplating my next move. Should I call the police? Would they even get here on time? Then I remembered the card.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number. In the dead silence of night, I heard what sounded like a ringtone coming from the ledge. “No way.” Was Officer Fuller up there? Or just his phone? “Pick up, come on…”
After a few rings, I heard the sound of someone picking up. “Hello?” The voice was male, but it sounded like the caller was holding the phone a good two feet away from his mouth.
“Officer Fuller?”
“Yes?” his voice got louder as if he was moving the phone closer to his head.
“Hi, Officer Fuller? It’s me, Tiana Running-Elk. You gave me your card earlier.” I had to get up there but I had no idea how I could make it in time.
“Hello, it’s nice to hear from you. What can I help you with?”
Looking around I could see a tree, with a long, bent branch that could act as a bridge straight to the man’s location. I just needed to keep him on the line. “I’m kind of in a bad place. I really just needed someone to talk to.” I started to climb the tree, which was easier said than done, holding my phone.
“Um, sure. What do you want to talk about? Are you having thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m mean I’m not sure.” When I was high enough to see his location, I was thankful he had already put down the gun, and took a step backward, away from the ledge.
“Well, what’s on your mind?”
“Do you think I’ll need to testify against the men who killed my dad? I kind of want to.” I could see him leaning against his car.
“If that’s what you want, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”
“Thanks,” I said as I climbed along the bridge shaped branch, coming into view of the crying policeman. “That means a lot.”
When his gaze met mine there was a moment of silence. His lips cracked a smile. “Are you some kind of supernatural bird creature?” He reached out his hand, getting me safely on to the ledge.
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s what I get for going into Indian territory.”
“You get to meet all kinds of characters,” I said, leaning against his car, as I lit up a much-deserved cigarette.
“Just so you know I wasn’t planning on jumping.” Officer Fuller leaned back looking up at the sky. “I can’t even fire a fucking gun.”
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but his hands trembled. I’d seen the by-product of gang torture; fingers were broken with a hammer (or the butt of a gun, or whatever the attacker could find.) This usually resulted in significant nerve damage. “Who did that to you?”
Jay pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just another memory.”
I felt around in my pocket for the card, the name read, Officer Jayden Fuller. “Can I call you Jayden?”
“I prefer Jay.”
I wanted to ask why he was at this particular spot, if not to kill himself, but that felt like an even worse topic of conversation. “Okay, Jay, how about we go someplace a little less Canadian.”
Jay seemed confused. “Are you talking about the snow? You know It snows in places other than Canada, right?”
“Not like Canadian snow. Our snow is like a sentient alien fungus, it just stays here and grows. My dad used to tell me that Canadian snowflakes were little cities, working their way north to meet up with the mother ship up in the arctic.”
“Your dad sounds pretty cool.”
“He was, for a junkie. You’re off duty, right? I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“Yeah, I’m off duty.” He looked off into the distance. “Can I take you somewhere, like an all-night diner or something?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Do you know a place? this is actually my first time in this neck of the woods.”
That answered my previous question. He’d come here to die. “There’s a decent all-night diner a few miles up. It’s pretty popular with ice road truckers.” I reached for his hand, stroking my gloved fingers over his bare knuckles.
Jay turned and nodded. “Well, that sounds just perfect.”
I got into his car without hesitation. It was a small, late-model truck, the kind popular for driving to and from work. In the darkness I couldn’t make out a brand; Nissan maybe Ford. My daddy knew about cars, he was a mechanic (at least that was the job he paid taxes on.) So I knew just enough to be able to be helpful.
I looked out the window, gazing upon the Canadian wilderness. “It’s just off the next exit, the place with the weird flower logo.” I didn’t know the name of the diner, only that it had a Hawaiian-tropical motif, with decor from the seventies or eighties. There was a massive parking lot, to accommodate long haul truckers, (and the diner shared it’s truck stop location with a gas station, bringing even more business.)
Jay easily found a space. Given the late hour, we went inside and got a table by the window to enjoy the view.
The waitress, a native woman who was a friend of Cathy’s recognized me and I can only assume she thought Jay was a client. “Do you need a menu, Tia? or just the usual?
“The usual?” Jay asked.
“Whenever I bring guys here or just come in after my shift, I always get coffee and apple pie.”
“The usual it is then.” Jay lit up a cigarette taking a long drag.
Over six cups of coffee and several slices of nearly expired grocery store-brand pie, we talked about the past. He grew up in Vancouver, the son of an American father and a Canadian mother. They moved to the north when he was a child, for the peace and quiet of the countryside.
“Peace and quiet?” I asked. “More like boredom.”
He nodded. “I kind of got stuck here after highschool. I always wanted to move back to the big city or even the states, but…”
“Do you have dual citizenship?”
“One of the few blessings I was able to hang on to.” He put out his cigarette on a teacup, before taking a sip of coffee. “A real blessing for my kids. They always dreamed big, too big for Northern Canada.”
“And your wife?”
“I lost my wife, Lisa, just a little over six years ago.” Jay’s hands trembled so badly he had to put down the coffee cup. “Six fucked up years.” Jay reached for another cigarette. He tried to work his lighter but was shaking too badly to get a flame.
“Here, let me.” I stroked the button, inciting a light.
Jay nodded thanks as he leaned in close. He took a few drags to calm himself before continuing.
“I tried to be strong for my girls. Eve and Lucy. But they needed their mother, so eventually, I just had to let them move on.”
“Move on? Where are they now?”
“Moving on with their lives, that’s what I mean. Eve is fourteen, just started high school in New York.”
“Wow, New York?”
“She got into some kind of art school, on a partial scholarship.” He chuckled, likely due to the look of shock on my face. “She’s happy, so I try to leave her be.”
“That’s cool at least she knows you love her. And your other daughter?”
Jay’s smile crumbled. “My oldest, Lucy went to college in California. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I think she blames me for her mother’s death.”
That was when I realized I never asked how his wife died. I’d assumed the answer was something simple like, ‘cancer’ or even the flu. People died of the flu all the time. “How did you lose your wife?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.” I bit my lip, quickly realizing how badly I overstepped. We were not close enough friends.
Jay squinted his eyes, he seemed annoyed, offended. “I should probably drive you home.”
“Jay, wait!”
Before I could apologize he got up, tracked down the waitress, and paid our tab. Then he sat in the car, lighting up a new cigarette.
I knew I had to go with him, otherwise, I had an hour’s walk, in the freezing cold of the night. But I wanted to make him wait, staring him down through the window. A widow or not, I was not about to let this cop disrespect me. After just a few seconds he started to honk.
The waitress, the one who knew the kind of girl I was, probably assumed I was trying to back out of a job, told me to get out or she was calling Cathy.
“Fine, I’m going.” I walked out into the cold and proceeded to sit on the hood of Jay’s truck like a park bench.
He continued laying on the horn. “Get inside before you freeze to death.”
“Blow job is twenty!” I shouted over the annoying honking. “If you want to go back to my motel room it’s a hundred, but I’ll throw in the blow job for free.”
“Get in the damn car,” he said, in a softer, calmer tone. It was clear he was not trying to make a scene and get recognized as a cop soliciting a prostitute.
“Show me the money,” I replied.
The waitress came out along with one of the cooks. “The dude has money. Do your job and get home to your mother!”
Did she really think Cathy was my mother? “I’m going!” I got in the passenger side, immediately leaning my head onto Jay’s lap.
“What are you doing?”
“The only thing First Nation girls are good for.” Even from the angle, I was at I could see a few truckers were watching from their cabs. “You can drive away if you want.”
“How am I supposed to drive?” Jay muttered, his eyes staring forward. “I don’t know the way to your fucking hotel.”
The fact that he called it a ‘fucking hotel’ when my home was literally a hotel for sex workers, caused me to laugh. “Have you ever seen the movie Ratatouille?”
“Yes,” he said with a groan.
“The one about the rat who controls the guy by pulling his hair.” I re-positioned myself to sit on Jay’s lap, running my fingers through his hair. I ended with a light tug of his blond locks, that evolved into a scalp massage, as I kissed his lips.
Jay gripped the back of my neck, the frustration clear in his face. “Tell me the name of your hotel and I will tell you the story of how my wife died.”
I pressed my lips to his ear, “You first, Officer.”
Jay nodded and pursed his lips. I could feel his body tense, as he mentally prepared to reveal his darkest truth. “A gang of First Nation fuckers broke into my house, in exchange for letting my family live, they were going to rob me, torture me.” Jay’s crippled hand balled into a fist. “They started by handcuffing me to a chair with tape over my mouth. They just said if I let them take what they wanted…” Jay’s voice trailed off as tears welled up in his eyes.
“These men killed your wife?”
Jay nodded, “I remember I had a really bad pain in my chest like my heart wanted to jump out of my throat. Before I knew it, I’d just blacked out. You can call me a coward if you want. All that mattered was that Lucy and Eve got away.”
Wow, just wow. “Field of Roses motel,” I said softly, as I wiped tears from his eyes. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jay motioned for me to sit back in the passenger seat. “Put your head down.”
I did as he asked, placing my head on his lap as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.
After about five minutes on the road, I was about to sit up when he gripped my neck, forcing my face to his crotch. “What the fuck?”
“You wanted to suck my cock, you’re going to suck my damn cock.” He slammed my neck hard as we sped down the highway. I had no idea if we were even going in the right direction.
I knew I had fucked up, provoking a cop’s PTSD. But I had one card to play: I just needed to locate his gun. Stalling for time, I undid his belt, kissing his stomach. Jay’s body had tight, strong abs, under a soft, sweaty layer of body hair.
I kissed him just enough to make him moan.
I bit my tongue.
Logically, the gun had to be in the glove box, but I needed to be sure. There was no lock, so I nudged it with my foot, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice.
I waited until he pulled off the highway when I could feel the vehicle slowing down, before making my move. I sat up, hitting him square in the jaw. In the few seconds, it took for him to grab his mouth in pain, I got the glove box open, reaching for the gun. I had held a gun before but this one felt heavier, loaded.
Jay smirked. “You even know how to handle that, little girl?”
Now I was pissed. I struck him in the face over and over, until blood ran down his cheek. And then I cocked the gun. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the bullet shift into place.
“Just do it,” Jay growled through gritted teeth. “Just fucking do it!”
I could have. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Instead, I held the gun to his back. “Get out of the car.”
“Put down the gun.”
“I’ll lower the gun if you get out of the car.”
Jay sighed and finally did as I asked, all while calling me a few choice words.
I led him around the back, to my room on the second floor of the open-air motel. “Up the stairs, room 203.” Once I got him inside, I shut and locked the door.
“Now what?”
“Now you take your clothes off.” I held the gun at my side. For a moment I felt truly powerful.
“What?” Jay chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”
I narrowed my eyes, to show just how serious I, in fact, was. “Now, please.”
Jay took off his jacket, a brown suede coat that had seen better days. Next his white t-shirt, revealing a body full of scars.
“I know you.” I walked closer, inspecting the marks on his body. Something about him seemed familiar.
Jay had been shot no less than five times. One bullet hitting dangerously close to his spine. the wound required surgery resulting in massive scars. “I had a feeling you did. When I saw your last name. Did your father brag about what he did to me?”
“He told me stories.” I walked my fingers down his chest, to a massive scar on his stomach. “My father was the one who broke your hand.”
Jay silently nodded, avoiding my gaze.
“I know he was one of the men who robbed your house and murdered your wife. And he did that because his cousin was locked up for drug charges. I heard the story so many times. My father was actually proud of how much pain he caused the judge, the district attorney, and the investigating detective. But you got demoted to an officer, why?”
Jay blinked tears from his eyes. “No longer fit for duty.”
“Did you have my father killed?” I pressed the barrel of the gun, to his chest, only because it felt good to do so.
“No, a friend of mine did,” Jay replied.
I already knew Jay wanted to die, holding the gun to his chest meant nothing. Knowing that, I carefully lowered it to the ground. “Did my father rape your wife?”
“No, his DNA was not found on her body. He was just the one who made me watch.”
“Did you mean to kill him?”
“His death was an accident. I wanted your father to face justice. The plan was to bring him to the station bruised and bloody, just a little payback.”
“But he had underlying health conditions.” I knew my father took medication for his heart, kidneys, and liver, all while still drinking like a fish and shooting up heroin every night. I could imagine my father lost consciousness, during the attack and then just never woke up. Tears filled my eyes. My father was a real bastard but he was the only friend I had. And now, knowing that his attackers were cops (or at least hired by cops) they would never see the inside of a courtroom.
Jay cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his rough fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I forced myself to look him in the eyes. “So, you lied to me. I’ll never get to testify.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. Jay fell to his knees, reaching for the gun. He slowly guided the barrel to his chin.
“Please don’t,” I said placing my hand upon his. Yeah, apparently, he had lied about that as well, his crippled limb had more than enough dexterity to hold and fire a weapon. “There’s no maid service here and cleaning blood out of the carpet is a real bitch.”
“Fuck, sorry.” Jay tossed the gun to the floor, letting it slide towards the door. “I should go. I’ve already done enough.”
I shook my head. “Stay the night. It’s the least you can do.”
“You want me here?”
“Just take a shower first, please.”
“Sure,” Jay said with a laugh. “I got nowhere better to be.” He walked towards my small hotel room bathroom. Where there were plenty of hand towels and cheap bar soap.
I watched as Jay kicked off his boots. He next took off his dirt-encrusted pants and then his plaid boxers. Only after standing naked before me did he touch the door frame. “Your bathroom has no door?”
“Nope.” I got undressed, changing into clean underwear and an oversize t-shirt that once belonged to my father. I laid in bed, facing the opposite wall, to give him a feeling of privacy. But I was unable to sleep. I listened to the sound of the shower, unable to see my alarm clock. But I could feel when Jay took a seat on my bed. I turned to see if he was naked. He was, his waist wrapped in my only full-sized towel. “Will you hold me?” I asked.
“I’m not too comfortable with that,” he replied in a nervous breath.
“Because I’m a whore or because I’m the same age as your oldest daughter?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Can I hold you?” I requested while pulling the covers over my body so that there was a barrier between us.
“I guess.” Jay nodded and laid comfortably, letting me spoon his back.
I kissed his shoulder, stroking my fingers down his chest. “You feel cold.”
“I’ve been cold for a while now.”
“Let me make you warm.” I put my arms around his broad, slender shoulders. I could feel Jay reach for my hand, moving it to his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body, his soul.
Jay was breathing hard, clearly very emotional. “You have a beautiful heart.”
This was not my first rodeo. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him he could cry in my arms without judgment. “You’re a good man.”
Jay released my hand and rolled over to face me. “And you’re a good girl. Too good to be living like this.”
I stroked his face, tracing my fingers along his jaw. “What would happen if I kissed you?”
Jay chuckled. “I’d be honored.”
I touched my lips to his, once and then twice.
Jay was smiling as he closed his eyes. He cupped his hand to my cheek and kissed me again.
As a veteran sex worker, I knew what was happening. He was picturing his wife. It was a pretty common thing for clients to do, especially widows.
I just wish I knew how to speak like his wife did. But at least I knew how to touch him the way his wife would’ve.
I reached my hand around from under the blanket, keeping the fabric between us as I groped his leg, giving his upper thigh a firm squeeze. The towel fell to the floor.
I rubbed him between his legs, even through the blanket I could feel how big he was. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been with a woman since his wife’s death. Kicking off the blanket, I moved his hand to my thigh.
I was directing him to my underwear but it was up to him if he wanted to go further. And he did.
We kicked the blanket off the bed. Jay kissed me passionately, forcing his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like black coffee; deep, sensual, and masculine. With two fingers he slipped my panties down my thighs, just low enough to rub his cock to my clit, lubing himself with my juices. “You like that?”
I knew better than to respond out loud. Instead, I maneuvered my underwear off, kicking it to the foot of the bed. I wanted him inside me.
With his eyes still closed, Jay put two fingers in his mouth getting them wet with his spit before rubbing my hairless pussy. He started with my labia, spreading me open. “You’re so tight.” I could feel him insert two fingers, massaging my g-spot with intense pressure. It was all I could do not to cry out, as he fingered me to orgasm, playing my body like an instrument.
I kissed his neck; sucking, biting. My whole body was quivering as my juices ran down my thighs like a faucet. I wanted him so bad; to have him, to know him, to love him.
Jay slowly removed his fingers, licking them in turn. I couldn’t help but wonder, did I taste like her? My hand had been gripping his ass, digging my nails into his skin. I scratched him along his hips, until I was where I wanted to be.
Jay moved on top of me, cupping my face for a kiss. His breath was hot, intense as he found his pace.
My face buried against his shoulder, I could feel him grip the headboard for leverage as his power only increased.
He fucked me for what felt like forever, giving me orgasm after orgasm. Then, with a masculine, carnal, grunt he blew his load, kissing me one last time before opening his eyes.
The look he gave me was one of horror. I clearly was not his wife, I was a First Nation slut who probably looked a lot like the men who destroyed his life.
I was expecting him to leave, or yell or at least move but, no. Jay was frozen in place, like a catatonic statue, as he blinked tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so sorry, Tia.”
“It’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I spoke soft and slow, hoping to take the edge off. “Just let me hold you.” I put my arms around him, directing his head to my shoulder.
“It’s not okay, nothing is okay.” Jay rested his body in my arms, clearly sobbing.
This was not my first time comforting an emotional client. “Would you like some vodka, or scotch? I even have some NyQuil.”
“NyQuil, yeah,” he muttered with a nod. “That would be nice.”
I held him for a few more seconds, making sure he was comfortable before I left the bed.
I returned with a large dark bottle, with its little measuring cup cap. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Jay drank a dose of NyQuil and went to sleep within a few minutes.
Since he was facing me, I stroked Jay’s rough jawline as he slept. Tracing the stubble on his face; he looked so peaceful, so strong.
Like my dad.
The next day I awoke around noon, to find Officer Fuller already gone. This was not surprising since he had a real job to get to. On the pillow he left me a hundred dollars in twenties and a note. “Dear Tia,” that was all it said. I’d really hoped he would have written more but the fact that he didn’t add ‘don’t contact me ever again,’ let me with a sense of hope.
I walked down to the main office to give the money to Cathy. She was at her desk, sipping a can of off-brand cola. “Here you go,” I said handing her the stack of twenties. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Your blond-haired cop friend was a real cheap-ass.”
How did she know Jay was a cop? “Did you see him leave?”
“Yeah, he looked hungover as fuck, but I’m sure he’ll be back.”
“I kinda hope so,” I said with a smile.
“Good luck with that, Cinderella.”
“Excuse me?” I knew Cathy liked to joke, but that was a little uncalled for.
“Girls like us don’t get a happily ever after, we don’t get to ride off with the handsome blue-eyed prince.”
“Says you.” I left the hotel, to sit outside in the cold afternoon air. I was tempted to try to find Jay if only to see if he was alright. Because that’s what friends do.
I started walking in the direction of the police station. There was a bench across the street, just close enough for me to loiter with a cup of coffee and smoke my cigarettes until I caught sight of him.
It was around three, and he was leaving with a few other people; men women, people of higher social standing than me. I don’t know why I felt the need to wave to him.
But it was one of his friends who spotted me first. The female officer shook her head with a look of disgust. “Really? Turning tricks across the street from a police station?” she already had her handcuffs out.
“I’m not soliciting I was just here to speak to Officer Fuller.”
The woman laughed. “Yo, Jay, you know this piece of trash?”
“She’s a witness in an ongoing investigation.” Jay approached, gripping me by the arm.
A male member of his group snickered. “So, does this mean you’re not going to hang out with us?”
The female returned to her co-worker’s side. “Nah, it looks like he’s got better things to do.”
The entire group seemed to be laughing at Jay.
“Let me give you some money. You can buy a bus ticket and go see your mom.”
“No. I don’t want your money!” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I wanted so badly to hit him, but considering the cops were still watching, I knew that was not a smart idea.
“So what do you want?”
“Tell me to leave you alone and I’ll leave you alone.”
“What happened last night was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why.” Jay cupped my face brushed the tears from my cheeks. “But I’m not going to tell you to leave. You’ve had enough people leave you.”
His words made me cry even harder. I missed my dad. I knew that he would be put in pauper’s grave since there was no way I could afford to give him a proper burial or cremation. “I miss my dad but I can’t afford to send the body to a funeral home. What’s going to happen to him? Did they already get rid of the body?”
“I’ll pay for the release for your father’s remains. I’ll get him to you, I promise. But you have to promise to leave this place.”
“Canada?”
Jay nodded. He kissed my forehead, holding the warmth of his lips for a good five seconds. “You are worth so much more than a hundred dollars a night. Now go home.”
“Ok,” I replied with a nod. But I couldn’t exactly go back to the hotel without a payday. “Can you give me a ride?”
Jay looked at his friends who had already started to leave in their respective vehicles. “Sure.”
Apparently it would not take him long to have the body cremated and when that was take care of, he could bring the remains to me in a metal urn. “Just until you decide what you want to do. Maybe you can spread his ashes someplace like California.”
Jay dropped me off, but the moment his truck was out of sight, I took a walk to the biker bar where I was greeted by well-wishers. Person after person, saying how sorry they were about the loss of my father. I took their free drinks and listened to stories of how much of a bad-ass my dad was.
I gave a few blowjobs, pulling in a good amount of money. At around midnight, I walked to a gas station to buy myself some dinner. It took the form of a cup of stale coffee and a packaged cupcake. I ate my meal, leaning against the door of the women’s restroom looking out at the starry night sky. I lit up a cigarette and considered hitchhiking. But to where? Not sure, just someplace different.
“Hey!” shouted a male voice. “You working?”
“Who’s asking?” I replied before looking in his direction.
It was a tall, grey-haired man, speaking to me from the open driver’s side window of his Semi. “Just a stranger with some candy.”
I knew what that meant. I walked to his passenger side door and got in. “What do you got?” I looked around the cab of the truck to see if there was an ID posted. “Randell Fish.” He had his license posted, that meant he was safe, or as safe as a driver of an unlabeled truck could be.
He handed me a small tin from his glove box. It was a kit, with a pipe, lighter, and what appeared to be crack. “You can get started on that if you like. We’ll be on the road for a while.”
A while? He was taking me miles away into the frozen north. I’d have to hitchhike back to civilization. Oh well, nothing I hadn’t done before.
I filled the crack pipe and hit it with the lighter, taking a long drag. “Woah, that feels nice.” My mind felt clear, calm, even a little happy.
“My special recipe,” Randell murmured, rolling down my window while locking the doors.
Even with the cool breeze caressing my face, I felt dizzy. My vision was fading in and out, as the smoke-filled my lungs. My body felt electric. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you going to fuck me up?” I turned my head to Randell to see a red-faced demon with glowing eyes. “Yeah, this shit was laced with meth.”
That was the last thing I remember. I awoke naked, tied to a bed by my wrists. Looking around the room, it appeared to be a trashed basement with no natural lighting. My body hurt all over. I tried to scream, but there was duct-tape over my mouth.
Above me, I could hear the sounds of police, gunshots. “Kitchen- clear! Bathroom- clear! I’m going to check the basement!” Would the police find me? Am I even in a basement?
An officer came down the stairs in full riot gear. He cut my wrist restraints, wrapped my body in a blanket, and carried me out. “Thank you, Jay. I love you.”
At least, that’s what I wished happened.
Maybe someday, someone will find my body. From what I can tell, it’s near a river, not too far from my father’s old shop. My eyes are swollen shut and I can see a distinct bruise on my neck from where I was strangled to death.
It’s actually kind of nice here. But I know I can’t stay. My soul deserves better.
Since I don’t appear to be headed towards any kind of white light, I’m going to try to find my dad. “Peace out, earth body.”
I suddenly felt darkness, a pain. I guess I wasn’t going anywhere.
I saw a car pull up, then three. The same people who killed me emerged, laughing at the fact that my body was exactly where they left me.
The first man removed his belt. I turned away, fully aware of what was going to happen next. My body was still fuckable and at least now they didn’t have to pay me.
For the next few hours, the men seemed to be taking turns with my dead body. And drinking, and snorting cocaine. But this wasn’t a sick party, no they were waiting.
Under the cover of night, a final car arrived. Jay’s Truck.
This was bad.
A Canadian Tale ch2My father had been beaten to death, having died before even reaching the hospital. I witnessed it all, and now I was stuck in a room with Officer Fuller of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Is this going to take long?” I asked, chipping the neon pink polish off my fingernails.
The officer only smiled. He was a middle-aged man with a kind face and the most beautiful blue eyes. “What’s your name kid?” He looked at the paperwork on his desk. “Tiana Running-Elk?” He nodded at the sight of my name.
To be fair I had only been in his office for five minutes. The previous two hours were spent giving my statement and getting my mug-shot.
“I go by Tia. And I’m not a kid I’m nineteen.” First nation girls were notoriously short and I was no exception. At just 155 centimeters (or five-foot-one, for any Americans) I barely passed for a high school student. This made it difficult at times to find clients willing to pick me up for anything more than a blowjob. But lucky me, that was the reason I wasn’t in a holding cell.
I had a record of misdemeanors, and the fact that I was blowing a guy when I witnessed the two bikers attacking my father warranted me getting in-processed. But according to the arresting on-scene cop, it would be up to Officer Fuller (the on-duty desk jockey with the highest seniority) to press charges or just let me go, like they usually do. Because no one gives a fuck about a First Nation girl giving blowjobs for a living.
Officer Fuller sighed as he placed my file upon his desk. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know. She works the streets somewhere in the city.”
“Saskatoon?”
I giggled. Saskatchewan’s largest city was Saskatoon, a word I thought was absolutely hilarious. Just a reminder of how badly I wanted to move someplace classy like New York, or Seattle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sorry, Sir. My mom lives in Regina. I think.”
“You think?”
“She did as of the last time we spoke.” Which was nearly two years ago when she kicked me out. But the nice officer didn’t need to know that. “You have a beautiful family,” I said motioning to the photo on his desk.
The blonde woman was holding two little girls in her arms, one who looked about five, while the other seemed ten, maybe eleven. Too old to be cute but still young enough to be her father’s little princess.
“Thank you,” he said with an awkward, professional nod.
“What does your wife do? Is she a cop like you? Or a stay-at-home mom?”
“Actually, my wife passed away.” There was an awkward silence.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He picked up my paperwork and glanced at it one last time. “You’re free to go, someone from my squad will contact you if we have any more questions regarding your witness statement.”
“Ok thanks,” I said, feeling like absolute crap.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Um, can you get me my smokes back? The arresting officer took them with the rest of my shit.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you to the front.” He motioned for me to get up and true to his word he walked me to the front and signed out a baggie of my belongings.
“One pack of cigarettes, one lighter, one wallet, one late-model smartphone, and one leather necklace with a flower pendant.” He paused on the pendant. On the back was my father’s initials. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about this.”
“I figured I’d see it again someday.” I made sure to take out the necklace and put it on. “Thank you, Officer. This really means a lot.”
The cop nodded. “I want you to take my card,” he said as he wrote a phone number on the back of a business card. “This is my personal cell. Just call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I repeated. He knew what I did for a living, and how I would need to toss it asap. But I didn’t toss it. For whatever reason, the feel of the embossed lettering made for a good fidget toy. I left the station to smoke at my favorite spot under the nearby overpass.
‘Near-by,’ of course, was a relative term.
My secret spot was a good forty-minute walk into the backwoods of Indian territory.
I checked in with my pimp, via my cell phone. Cathy was an old Indian who once worked the streets alongside my mother. She was pretty understanding since I’d spent the better part of the night at a police station but I had to pull in some money or I’d forfeit my room at her long-term motel.
I walked along the lower path, allowing the trees to shelter me from the internal cold of Canadian snow. I was about to light a cigarette when I saw what looked like a man was standing on the ledge of an overpass.
As I came closer, I swore I could see a gun in his hand. I ducked into the shadows, contemplating my next move. Should I call the police? Would they even get here on time? Then I remembered the card.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number. In the dead silence of night, I heard what sounded like a ringtone coming from the ledge. “No way.” Was Officer Fuller up there? Or just his phone? “Pick up, come on…”
After a few rings, I heard the sound of someone picking up. “Hello?” The voice was male, but it sounded like the caller was holding the phone a good two feet away from his mouth.
“Officer Fuller?”
“Yes?” his voice got louder as if he was moving the phone closer to his head.
“Hi, Officer Fuller? It’s me, Tiana Running-Elk. You gave me your card earlier.” I had to get up there but I had no idea how I could make it in time.
“Hello, it’s nice to hear from you. What can I help you with?”
Looking around I could see a tree, with a long, bent branch that could act as a bridge straight to the man’s location. I just needed to keep him on the line. “I’m kind of in a bad place. I really just needed someone to talk to.” I started to climb the tree, which was easier said than done, holding my phone.
“Um, sure. What do you want to talk about? Are you having thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m mean I’m not sure.” When I was high enough to see his location, I was thankful he had already put down the gun, and took a step backward, away from the ledge.
“Well, what’s on your mind?”
“Do you think I’ll need to testify against the men who killed my dad? I kind of want to.” I could see him leaning against his car.
“If that’s what you want, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”
“Thanks,” I said as I climbed along the bridge shaped branch, coming into view of the crying policeman. “That means a lot.”
When his gaze met mine there was a moment of silence. His lips cracked a smile. “Are you some kind of supernatural bird creature?” He reached out his hand, getting me safely on to the ledge.
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s what I get for going into Indian territory.”
“You get to meet all kinds of characters,” I said, leaning against his car, as I lit up a much-deserved cigarette.
“Just so you know I wasn’t planning on jumping.” Officer Fuller leaned back looking up at the sky. “I can’t even fire a fucking gun.”
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but his hands trembled. I’d seen the by-product of gang torture; fingers were broken with a hammer (or the butt of a gun, or whatever the attacker could find.) This usually resulted in significant nerve damage. “Who did that to you?”
Jay pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just another memory.”
I felt around in my pocket for the card, the name read, Officer Jayden Fuller. “Can I call you Jayden?”
“I prefer Jay.”
I wanted to ask why he was at this particular spot, if not to kill himself, but that felt like an even worse topic of conversation. “Okay, Jay, how about we go someplace a little less Canadian.”
Jay seemed confused. “Are you talking about the snow? You know It snows in places other than Canada, right?”
“Not like Canadian snow. Our snow is like a sentient alien fungus, it just stays here and grows. My dad used to tell me that Canadian snowflakes were little cities, working their way north to meet up with the mother ship up in the arctic.”
“Your dad sounds pretty cool.”
“He was, for a junkie. You’re off duty, right? I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“Yeah, I’m off duty.” He looked off into the distance. “Can I take you somewhere, like an all-night diner or something?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Do you know a place? this is actually my first time in this neck of the woods.”
That answered my previous question. He’d come here to die. “There’s a decent all-night diner a few miles up. It’s pretty popular with ice road truckers.” I reached for his hand, stroking my gloved fingers over his bare knuckles.
Jay turned and nodded. “Well, that sounds just perfect.”
I got into his car without hesitation. It was a small, late-model truck, the kind popular for driving to and from work. In the darkness I couldn’t make out a brand; Nissan maybe Ford. My daddy knew about cars, he was a mechanic (at least that was the job he paid taxes on.) So I knew just enough to be able to be helpful.
I looked out the window, gazing upon the Canadian wilderness. “It’s just off the next exit, the place with the weird flower logo.” I didn’t know the name of the diner, only that it had a Hawaiian-tropical motif, with decor from the seventies or eighties. There was a massive parking lot, to accommodate long haul truckers, (and the diner shared it’s truck stop location with a gas station, bringing even more business.)
Jay easily found a space. Given the late hour, we went inside and got a table by the window to enjoy the view.
The waitress, a native woman who was a friend of Cathy’s recognized me and I can only assume she thought Jay was a client. “Do you need a menu, Tia? or just the usual?
“The usual?” Jay asked.
“Whenever I bring guys here or just come in after my shift, I always get coffee and apple pie.”
“The usual it is then.” Jay lit up a cigarette taking a long drag.
Over six cups of coffee and several slices of nearly expired grocery store-brand pie, we talked about the past. He grew up in Vancouver, the son of an American father and a Canadian mother. They moved to the north when he was a child, for the peace and quiet of the countryside.
“Peace and quiet?” I asked. “More like boredom.”
He nodded. “I kind of got stuck here after highschool. I always wanted to move back to the big city or even the states, but…”
“Do you have dual citizenship?”
“One of the few blessings I was able to hang on to.” He put out his cigarette on a teacup, before taking a sip of coffee. “A real blessing for my kids. They always dreamed big, too big for Northern Canada.”
“And your wife?”
“I lost my wife, Lisa, just a little over six years ago.” Jay’s hands trembled so badly he had to put down the coffee cup. “Six fucked up years.” Jay reached for another cigarette. He tried to work his lighter but was shaking too badly to get a flame.
“Here, let me.” I stroked the button, inciting a light.
Jay nodded thanks as he leaned in close. He took a few drags to calm himself before continuing.
“I tried to be strong for my girls. Eve and Lucy. But they needed their mother, so eventually, I just had to let them move on.”
“Move on? Where are they now?”
“Moving on with their lives, that’s what I mean. Eve is fourteen, just started high school in New York.”
“Wow, New York?”
“She got into some kind of art school, on a partial scholarship.” He chuckled, likely due to the look of shock on my face. “She’s happy, so I try to leave her be.”
“That’s cool at least she knows you love her. And your other daughter?”
Jay’s smile crumbled. “My oldest, Lucy went to college in California. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I think she blames me for her mother’s death.”
That was when I realized I never asked how his wife died. I’d assumed the answer was something simple like, ‘cancer’ or even the flu. People died of the flu all the time. “How did you lose your wife?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.” I bit my lip, quickly realizing how badly I overstepped. We were not close enough friends.
Jay squinted his eyes, he seemed annoyed, offended. “I should probably drive you home.”
“Jay, wait!”
Before I could apologize he got up, tracked down the waitress, and paid our tab. Then he sat in the car, lighting up a new cigarette.
I knew I had to go with him, otherwise, I had an hour’s walk, in the freezing cold of the night. But I wanted to make him wait, staring him down through the window. A widow or not, I was not about to let this cop disrespect me. After just a few seconds he started to honk.
The waitress, the one who knew the kind of girl I was, probably assumed I was trying to back out of a job, told me to get out or she was calling Cathy.
“Fine, I’m going.” I walked out into the cold and proceeded to sit on the hood of Jay’s truck like a park bench.
He continued laying on the horn. “Get inside before you freeze to death.”
“Blow job is twenty!” I shouted over the annoying honking. “If you want to go back to my motel room it’s a hundred, but I’ll throw in the blow job for free.”
“Get in the damn car,” he said, in a softer, calmer tone. It was clear he was not trying to make a scene and get recognized as a cop soliciting a prostitute.
“Show me the money,” I replied.
The waitress came out along with one of the cooks. “The dude has money. Do your job and get home to your mother!”
Did she really think Cathy was my mother? “I’m going!” I got in the passenger side, immediately leaning my head onto Jay’s lap.
“What are you doing?”
“The only thing First Nation girls are good for.” Even from the angle, I was at I could see a few truckers were watching from their cabs. “You can drive away if you want.”
“How am I supposed to drive?” Jay muttered, his eyes staring forward. “I don’t know the way to your fucking hotel.”
The fact that he called it a ‘fucking hotel’ when my home was literally a hotel for sex workers, caused me to laugh. “Have you ever seen the movie Ratatouille?”
“Yes,” he said with a groan.
“The one about the rat who controls the guy by pulling his hair.” I re-positioned myself to sit on Jay’s lap, running my fingers through his hair. I ended with a light tug of his blond locks, that evolved into a scalp massage, as I kissed his lips.
Jay gripped the back of my neck, the frustration clear in his face. “Tell me the name of your hotel and I will tell you the story of how my wife died.”
I pressed my lips to his ear, “You first, Officer.”
Jay nodded and pursed his lips. I could feel his body tense, as he mentally prepared to reveal his darkest truth. “A gang of First Nation fuckers broke into my house, in exchange for letting my family live, they were going to rob me, torture me.” Jay’s crippled hand balled into a fist. “They started by handcuffing me to a chair with tape over my mouth. They just said if I let them take what they wanted…” Jay’s voice trailed off as tears welled up in his eyes.
“These men killed your wife?”
Jay nodded, “I remember I had a really bad pain in my chest like my heart wanted to jump out of my throat. Before I knew it, I’d just blacked out. You can call me a coward if you want. All that mattered was that Lucy and Eve got away.”
Wow, just wow. “Field of Roses motel,” I said softly, as I wiped tears from his eyes. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jay motioned for me to sit back in the passenger seat. “Put your head down.”
I did as he asked, placing my head on his lap as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.
After about five minutes on the road, I was about to sit up when he gripped my neck, forcing my face to his crotch. “What the fuck?”
“You wanted to suck my cock, you’re going to suck my damn cock.” He slammed my neck hard as we sped down the highway. I had no idea if we were even going in the right direction.
I knew I had fucked up, provoking a cop’s PTSD. But I had one card to play: I just needed to locate his gun. Stalling for time, I undid his belt, kissing his stomach. Jay’s body had tight, strong abs, under a soft, sweaty layer of body hair.
I kissed him just enough to make him moan.
I bit my tongue.
Logically, the gun had to be in the glove box, but I needed to be sure. There was no lock, so I nudged it with my foot, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice.
I waited until he pulled off the highway when I could feel the vehicle slowing down, before making my move. I sat up, hitting him square in the jaw. In the few seconds, it took for him to grab his mouth in pain, I got the glove box open, reaching for the gun. I had held a gun before but this one felt heavier, loaded.
Jay smirked. “You even know how to handle that, little girl?”
Now I was pissed. I struck him in the face over and over, until blood ran down his cheek. And then I cocked the gun. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the bullet shift into place.
“Just do it,” Jay growled through gritted teeth. “Just fucking do it!”
I could have. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Instead, I held the gun to his back. “Get out of the car.”
“Put down the gun.”
“I’ll lower the gun if you get out of the car.”
Jay sighed and finally did as I asked, all while calling me a few choice words.
I led him around the back, to my room on the second floor of the open-air motel. “Up the stairs, room 203.” Once I got him inside, I shut and locked the door.
“Now what?”
“Now you take your clothes off.” I held the gun at my side. For a moment I felt truly powerful.
“What?” Jay chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”
I narrowed my eyes, to show just how serious I, in fact, was. “Now, please.”
Jay took off his jacket, a brown suede coat that had seen better days. Next his white t-shirt, revealing a body full of scars.
“I know you.” I walked closer, inspecting the marks on his body. Something about him seemed familiar.
Jay had been shot no less than five times. One bullet hitting dangerously close to his spine. the wound required surgery resulting in massive scars. “I had a feeling you did. When I saw your last name. Did your father brag about what he did to me?”
“He told me stories.” I walked my fingers down his chest, to a massive scar on his stomach. “My father was the one who broke your hand.”
Jay silently nodded, avoiding my gaze.
“I know he was one of the men who robbed your house and murdered your wife. And he did that because his cousin was locked up for drug charges. I heard the story so many times. My father was actually proud of how much pain he caused the judge, the district attorney, and the investigating detective. But you got demoted to an officer, why?”
Jay blinked tears from his eyes. “No longer fit for duty.”
“Did you have my father killed?” I pressed the barrel of the gun, to his chest, only because it felt good to do so.
“No, a friend of mine did,” Jay replied.
I already knew Jay wanted to die, holding the gun to his chest meant nothing. Knowing that, I carefully lowered it to the ground. “Did my father rape your wife?”
“No, his DNA was not found on her body. He was just the one who made me watch.”
“Did you mean to kill him?”
“His death was an accident. I wanted your father to face justice. The plan was to bring him to the station bruised and bloody, just a little payback.”
“But he had underlying health conditions.” I knew my father took medication for his heart, kidneys, and liver, all while still drinking like a fish and shooting up heroin every night. I could imagine my father lost consciousness, during the attack and then just never woke up. Tears filled my eyes. My father was a real bastard but he was the only friend I had. And now, knowing that his attackers were cops (or at least hired by cops) they would never see the inside of a courtroom.
Jay cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his rough fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I forced myself to look him in the eyes. “So, you lied to me. I’ll never get to testify.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. Jay fell to his knees, reaching for the gun. He slowly guided the barrel to his chin.
“Please don’t,” I said placing my hand upon his. Yeah, apparently, he had lied about that as well, his crippled limb had more than enough dexterity to hold and fire a weapon. “There’s no maid service here and cleaning blood out of the carpet is a real bitch.”
“Fuck, sorry.” Jay tossed the gun to the floor, letting it slide towards the door. “I should go. I’ve already done enough.”
I shook my head. “Stay the night. It’s the least you can do.”
“You want me here?”
“Just take a shower first, please.”
“Sure,” Jay said with a laugh. “I got nowhere better to be.” He walked towards my small hotel room bathroom. Where there were plenty of hand towels and cheap bar soap.
I watched as Jay kicked off his boots. He next took off his dirt-encrusted pants and then his plaid boxers. Only after standing naked before me did he touch the door frame. “Your bathroom has no door?”
“Nope.” I got undressed, changing into clean underwear and an oversize t-shirt that once belonged to my father. I laid in bed, facing the opposite wall, to give him a feeling of privacy. But I was unable to sleep. I listened to the sound of the shower, unable to see my alarm clock. But I could feel when Jay took a seat on my bed. I turned to see if he was naked. He was, his waist wrapped in my only full-sized towel. “Will you hold me?” I asked.
“I’m not too comfortable with that,” he replied in a nervous breath.
“Because I’m a whore or because I’m the same age as your oldest daughter?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Can I hold you?” I requested while pulling the covers over my body so that there was a barrier between us.
“I guess.” Jay nodded and laid comfortably, letting me spoon his back.
I kissed his shoulder, stroking my fingers down his chest. “You feel cold.”
“I’ve been cold for a while now.”
“Let me make you warm.” I put my arms around his broad, slender shoulders. I could feel Jay reach for my hand, moving it to his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body, his soul.
Jay was breathing hard, clearly very emotional. “You have a beautiful heart.”
This was not my first rodeo. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him he could cry in my arms without judgment. “You’re a good man.”
Jay released my hand and rolled over to face me. “And you’re a good girl. Too good to be living like this.”
I stroked his face, tracing my fingers along his jaw. “What would happen if I kissed you?”
Jay chuckled. “I’d be honored.”
I touched my lips to his, once and then twice.
Jay was smiling as he closed his eyes. He cupped his hand to my cheek and kissed me again.
As a veteran sex worker, I knew what was happening. He was picturing his wife. It was a pretty common thing for clients to do, especially widows.
I just wish I knew how to speak like his wife did. But at least I knew how to touch him the way his wife would’ve.
I reached my hand around from under the blanket, keeping the fabric between us as I groped his leg, giving his upper thigh a firm squeeze. The towel fell to the floor.
I rubbed him between his legs, even through the blanket I could feel how big he was. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been with a woman since his wife’s death. Kicking off the blanket, I moved his hand to my thigh.
I was directing him to my underwear but it was up to him if he wanted to go further. And he did.
We kicked the blanket off the bed. Jay kissed me passionately, forcing his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like black coffee; deep, sensual, and masculine. With two fingers he slipped my panties down my thighs, just low enough to rub his cock to my clit, lubing himself with my juices. “You like that?”
I knew better than to respond out loud. Instead, I maneuvered my underwear off, kicking it to the foot of the bed. I wanted him inside me.
With his eyes still closed, Jay put two fingers in his mouth getting them wet with his spit before rubbing my hairless pussy. He started with my labia, spreading me open. “You’re so tight.” I could feel him insert two fingers, massaging my g-spot with intense pressure. It was all I could do not to cry out, as he fingered me to orgasm, playing my body like an instrument.
I kissed his neck; sucking, biting. My whole body was quivering as my juices ran down my thighs like a faucet. I wanted him so bad; to have him, to know him, to love him.
Jay slowly removed his fingers, licking them in turn. I couldn’t help but wonder, did I taste like her? My hand had been gripping his ass, digging my nails into his skin. I scratched him along his hips, until I was where I wanted to be.
Jay moved on top of me, cupping my face for a kiss. His breath was hot, intense as he found his pace.
My face buried against his shoulder, I could feel him grip the headboard for leverage as his power only increased.
He fucked me for what felt like forever, giving me orgasm after orgasm. Then, with a masculine, carnal, grunt he blew his load, kissing me one last time before opening his eyes.
The look he gave me was one of horror. I clearly was not his wife, I was a First Nation slut who probably looked a lot like the men who destroyed his life.
I was expecting him to leave, or yell or at least move but, no. Jay was frozen in place, like a catatonic statue, as he blinked tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so sorry, Tia.”
“It’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I spoke soft and slow, hoping to take the edge off. “Just let me hold you.” I put my arms around him, directing his head to my shoulder.
“It’s not okay, nothing is okay.” Jay rested his body in my arms, clearly sobbing.
This was not my first time comforting an emotional client. “Would you like some vodka, or scotch? I even have some NyQuil.”
“NyQuil, yeah,” he muttered with a nod. “That would be nice.”
I held him for a few more seconds, making sure he was comfortable before I left the bed.
I returned with a large dark bottle, with its little measuring cup cap. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Jay drank a dose of NyQuil and went to sleep within a few minutes.
Since he was facing me, I stroked Jay’s rough jawline as he slept. Tracing the stubble on his face; he looked so peaceful, so strong.
Like my dad.
The next day I awoke around noon, to find Officer Fuller already gone. This was not surprising since he had a real job to get to. On the pillow he left me a hundred dollars in twenties and a note. “Dear Tia,” that was all it said. I’d really hoped he would have written more but the fact that he didn’t add ‘don’t contact me ever again,’ let me with a sense of hope.
I walked down to the main office to give the money to Cathy. She was at her desk, sipping a can of off-brand cola. “Here you go,” I said handing her the stack of twenties. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Your blond-haired cop friend was a real cheap-ass.”
How did she know Jay was a cop? “Did you see him leave?”
“Yeah, he looked hungover as fuck, but I’m sure he’ll be back.”
“I kinda hope so,” I said with a smile.
“Good luck with that, Cinderella.”
“Excuse me?” I knew Cathy liked to joke, but that was a little uncalled for.
“Girls like us don’t get a happily ever after, we don’t get to ride off with the handsome blue-eyed prince.”
“Says you.” I left the hotel, to sit outside in the cold afternoon air. I was tempted to try to find Jay if only to see if he was alright. Because that’s what friends do.
I started walking in the direction of the police station. There was a bench across the street, just close enough for me to loiter with a cup of coffee and smoke my cigarettes until I caught sight of him.
It was around three, and he was leaving with a few other people; men women, people of higher social standing than me. I don’t know why I felt the need to wave to him.
But it was one of his friends who spotted me first. The female officer shook her head with a look of disgust. “Really? Turning tricks across the street from a police station?” she already had her handcuffs out.
“I’m not soliciting I was just here to speak to Officer Fuller.”
The woman laughed. “Yo, Jay, you know this piece of trash?”
“She’s a witness in an ongoing investigation.” Jay approached, gripping me by the arm.
A male member of his group snickered. “So, does this mean you’re not going to hang out with us?”
The female returned to her co-worker’s side. “Nah, it looks like he’s got better things to do.”
The entire group seemed to be laughing at Jay.
“Let me give you some money. You can buy a bus ticket and go see your mom.”
“No. I don’t want your money!” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I wanted so badly to hit him, but considering the cops were still watching, I knew that was not a smart idea.
“So what do you want?”
“Tell me to leave you alone and I’ll leave you alone.”
“What happened last night was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why.” Jay cupped my face brushed the tears from my cheeks. “But I’m not going to tell you to leave. You’ve had enough people leave you.”
His words made me cry even harder. I missed my dad. I knew that he would be put in pauper’s grave since there was no way I could afford to give him a proper burial or cremation. “I miss my dad but I can’t afford to send the body to a funeral home. What’s going to happen to him? Did they already get rid of the body?”
“I’ll pay for the release for your father’s remains. I’ll get him to you, I promise. But you have to promise to leave this place.”
“Canada?”
Jay nodded. He kissed my forehead, holding the warmth of his lips for a good five seconds. “You are worth so much more than a hundred dollars a night. Now go home.”
“Ok,” I replied with a nod. But I couldn’t exactly go back to the hotel without a payday. “Can you give me a ride?”
Jay looked at his friends who had already started to leave in their respective vehicles. “Sure.”
Apparently it would not take him long to have the body cremated and when that was take care of, he could bring the remains to me in a metal urn. “Just until you decide what you want to do. Maybe you can spread his ashes someplace like California.”
Jay dropped me off, but the moment his truck was out of sight, I took a walk to the biker bar where I was greeted by well-wishers. Person after person, saying how sorry they were about the loss of my father. I took their free drinks and listened to stories of how much of a bad-ass my dad was.
I gave a few blowjobs, pulling in a good amount of money. At around midnight, I walked to a gas station to buy myself some dinner. It took the form of a cup of stale coffee and a packaged cupcake. I ate my meal, leaning against the door of the women’s restroom looking out at the starry night sky. I lit up a cigarette and considered hitchhiking. But to where? Not sure, just someplace different.
“Hey!” shouted a male voice. “You working?”
“Who’s asking?” I replied before looking in his direction.
It was a tall, grey-haired man, speaking to me from the open driver’s side window of his Semi. “Just a stranger with some candy.”
I knew what that meant. I walked to his passenger side door and got in. “What do you got?” I looked around the cab of the truck to see if there was an ID posted. “Randell Fish.” He had his license posted, that meant he was safe, or as safe as a driver of an unlabeled truck could be.
He handed me a small tin from his glove box. It was a kit, with a pipe, lighter, and what appeared to be crack. “You can get started on that if you like. We’ll be on the road for a while.”
A while? He was taking me miles away into the frozen north. I’d have to hitchhike back to civilization. Oh well, nothing I hadn’t done before.
I filled the crack pipe and hit it with the lighter, taking a long drag. “Woah, that feels nice.” My mind felt clear, calm, even a little happy.
“My special recipe,” Randell murmured, rolling down my window while locking the doors.
Even with the cool breeze caressing my face, I felt dizzy. My vision was fading in and out, as the smoke-filled my lungs. My body felt electric. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you going to fuck me up?” I turned my head to Randell to see a red-faced demon with glowing eyes. “Yeah, this shit was laced with meth.”
That was the last thing I remember. I awoke naked, tied to a bed by my wrists. Looking around the room, it appeared to be a trashed basement with no natural lighting. My body hurt all over. I tried to scream, but there was duct-tape over my mouth.
Above me, I could hear the sounds of police, gunshots. “Kitchen- clear! Bathroom- clear! I’m going to check the basement!” Would the police find me? Am I even in a basement?
An officer came down the stairs in full riot gear. He cut my wrist restraints, wrapped my body in a blanket, and carried me out. “Thank you, Jay. I love you.”
At least, that’s what I wished happened.
Maybe someday, someone will find my body. From what I can tell, it’s near a river, not too far from my father’s old shop. My eyes are swollen shut and I can see a distinct bruise on my neck from where I was strangled to death.
It’s actually kind of nice here. But I know I can’t stay. My soul deserves better.
Since I don’t appear to be headed towards any kind of white light, I’m going to try to find my dad. “Peace out, earth body.”
I suddenly felt darkness, a pain. I guess I wasn’t going anywhere.
I saw a car pull up, then three. The same people who killed me emerged, laughing at the fact that my body was exactly where they left me.
The first man removed his belt. I turned away, fully aware of what was going to happen next. My body was still fuckable and at least now they didn’t have to pay me.
For the next few hours, the men seemed to be taking turns with my dead body. And drinking, and snorting cocaine. But this wasn’t a sick party, no they were waiting.
Under the cover of night, a final car arrived. Jay’s Truck.
This was bad.
A Canadian Tale ch2My father had been beaten to death, having died before even reaching the hospital. I witnessed it all, and now I was stuck in a room with Officer Fuller of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Is this going to take long?” I asked, chipping the neon pink polish off my fingernails.
The officer only smiled. He was a middle-aged man with a kind face and the most beautiful blue eyes. “What’s your name kid?” He looked at the paperwork on his desk. “Tiana Running-Elk?” He nodded at the sight of my name.
To be fair I had only been in his office for five minutes. The previous two hours were spent giving my statement and getting my mug-shot.
“I go by Tia. And I’m not a kid I’m nineteen.” First nation girls were notoriously short and I was no exception. At just 155 centimeters (or five-foot-one, for any Americans) I barely passed for a high school student. This made it difficult at times to find clients willing to pick me up for anything more than a blowjob. But lucky me, that was the reason I wasn’t in a holding cell.
I had a record of misdemeanors, and the fact that I was blowing a guy when I witnessed the two bikers attacking my father warranted me getting in-processed. But according to the arresting on-scene cop, it would be up to Officer Fuller (the on-duty desk jockey with the highest seniority) to press charges or just let me go, like they usually do. Because no one gives a fuck about a First Nation girl giving blowjobs for a living.
Officer Fuller sighed as he placed my file upon his desk. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know. She works the streets somewhere in the city.”
“Saskatoon?”
I giggled. Saskatchewan’s largest city was Saskatoon, a word I thought was absolutely hilarious. Just a reminder of how badly I wanted to move someplace classy like New York, or Seattle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sorry, Sir. My mom lives in Regina. I think.”
“You think?”
“She did as of the last time we spoke.” Which was nearly two years ago when she kicked me out. But the nice officer didn’t need to know that. “You have a beautiful family,” I said motioning to the photo on his desk.
The blonde woman was holding two little girls in her arms, one who looked about five, while the other seemed ten, maybe eleven. Too old to be cute but still young enough to be her father’s little princess.
“Thank you,” he said with an awkward, professional nod.
“What does your wife do? Is she a cop like you? Or a stay-at-home mom?”
“Actually, my wife passed away.” There was an awkward silence.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” He picked up my paperwork and glanced at it one last time. “You’re free to go, someone from my squad will contact you if we have any more questions regarding your witness statement.”
“Ok thanks,” I said, feeling like absolute crap.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Um, can you get me my smokes back? The arresting officer took them with the rest of my shit.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you to the front.” He motioned for me to get up and true to his word he walked me to the front and signed out a baggie of my belongings.
“One pack of cigarettes, one lighter, one wallet, one late-model smartphone, and one leather necklace with a flower pendant.” He paused on the pendant. On the back was my father’s initials. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about this.”
“I figured I’d see it again someday.” I made sure to take out the necklace and put it on. “Thank you, Officer. This really means a lot.”
The cop nodded. “I want you to take my card,” he said as he wrote a phone number on the back of a business card. “This is my personal cell. Just call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I repeated. He knew what I did for a living, and how I would need to toss it asap. But I didn’t toss it. For whatever reason, the feel of the embossed lettering made for a good fidget toy. I left the station to smoke at my favorite spot under the nearby overpass.
‘Near-by,’ of course, was a relative term.
My secret spot was a good forty-minute walk into the backwoods of Indian territory.
I checked in with my pimp, via my cell phone. Cathy was an old Indian who once worked the streets alongside my mother. She was pretty understanding since I’d spent the better part of the night at a police station but I had to pull in some money or I’d forfeit my room at her long-term motel.
I walked along the lower path, allowing the trees to shelter me from the internal cold of Canadian snow. I was about to light a cigarette when I saw what looked like a man was standing on the ledge of an overpass.
As I came closer, I swore I could see a gun in his hand. I ducked into the shadows, contemplating my next move. Should I call the police? Would they even get here on time? Then I remembered the card.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number. In the dead silence of night, I heard what sounded like a ringtone coming from the ledge. “No way.” Was Officer Fuller up there? Or just his phone? “Pick up, come on…”
After a few rings, I heard the sound of someone picking up. “Hello?” The voice was male, but it sounded like the caller was holding the phone a good two feet away from his mouth.
“Officer Fuller?”
“Yes?” his voice got louder as if he was moving the phone closer to his head.
“Hi, Officer Fuller? It’s me, Tiana Running-Elk. You gave me your card earlier.” I had to get up there but I had no idea how I could make it in time.
“Hello, it’s nice to hear from you. What can I help you with?”
Looking around I could see a tree, with a long, bent branch that could act as a bridge straight to the man’s location. I just needed to keep him on the line. “I’m kind of in a bad place. I really just needed someone to talk to.” I started to climb the tree, which was easier said than done, holding my phone.
“Um, sure. What do you want to talk about? Are you having thoughts of hurting yourself or others?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m mean I’m not sure.” When I was high enough to see his location, I was thankful he had already put down the gun, and took a step backward, away from the ledge.
“Well, what’s on your mind?”
“Do you think I’ll need to testify against the men who killed my dad? I kind of want to.” I could see him leaning against his car.
“If that’s what you want, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”
“Thanks,” I said as I climbed along the bridge shaped branch, coming into view of the crying policeman. “That means a lot.”
When his gaze met mine there was a moment of silence. His lips cracked a smile. “Are you some kind of supernatural bird creature?” He reached out his hand, getting me safely on to the ledge.
“Maybe.”
“Well, that’s what I get for going into Indian territory.”
“You get to meet all kinds of characters,” I said, leaning against his car, as I lit up a much-deserved cigarette.
“Just so you know I wasn’t planning on jumping.” Officer Fuller leaned back looking up at the sky. “I can’t even fire a fucking gun.”
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but his hands trembled. I’d seen the by-product of gang torture; fingers were broken with a hammer (or the butt of a gun, or whatever the attacker could find.) This usually resulted in significant nerve damage. “Who did that to you?”
Jay pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just another memory.”
I felt around in my pocket for the card, the name read, Officer Jayden Fuller. “Can I call you Jayden?”
“I prefer Jay.”
I wanted to ask why he was at this particular spot, if not to kill himself, but that felt like an even worse topic of conversation. “Okay, Jay, how about we go someplace a little less Canadian.”
Jay seemed confused. “Are you talking about the snow? You know It snows in places other than Canada, right?”
“Not like Canadian snow. Our snow is like a sentient alien fungus, it just stays here and grows. My dad used to tell me that Canadian snowflakes were little cities, working their way north to meet up with the mother ship up in the arctic.”
“Your dad sounds pretty cool.”
“He was, for a junkie. You’re off duty, right? I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“Yeah, I’m off duty.” He looked off into the distance. “Can I take you somewhere, like an all-night diner or something?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Do you know a place? this is actually my first time in this neck of the woods.”
That answered my previous question. He’d come here to die. “There’s a decent all-night diner a few miles up. It’s pretty popular with ice road truckers.” I reached for his hand, stroking my gloved fingers over his bare knuckles.
Jay turned and nodded. “Well, that sounds just perfect.”
I got into his car without hesitation. It was a small, late-model truck, the kind popular for driving to and from work. In the darkness I couldn’t make out a brand; Nissan maybe Ford. My daddy knew about cars, he was a mechanic (at least that was the job he paid taxes on.) So I knew just enough to be able to be helpful.
I looked out the window, gazing upon the Canadian wilderness. “It’s just off the next exit, the place with the weird flower logo.” I didn’t know the name of the diner, only that it had a Hawaiian-tropical motif, with decor from the seventies or eighties. There was a massive parking lot, to accommodate long haul truckers, (and the diner shared it’s truck stop location with a gas station, bringing even more business.)
Jay easily found a space. Given the late hour, we went inside and got a table by the window to enjoy the view.
The waitress, a native woman who was a friend of Cathy’s recognized me and I can only assume she thought Jay was a client. “Do you need a menu, Tia? or just the usual?
“The usual?” Jay asked.
“Whenever I bring guys here or just come in after my shift, I always get coffee and apple pie.”
“The usual it is then.” Jay lit up a cigarette taking a long drag.
Over six cups of coffee and several slices of nearly expired grocery store-brand pie, we talked about the past. He grew up in Vancouver, the son of an American father and a Canadian mother. They moved to the north when he was a child, for the peace and quiet of the countryside.
“Peace and quiet?” I asked. “More like boredom.”
He nodded. “I kind of got stuck here after highschool. I always wanted to move back to the big city or even the states, but…”
“Do you have dual citizenship?”
“One of the few blessings I was able to hang on to.” He put out his cigarette on a teacup, before taking a sip of coffee. “A real blessing for my kids. They always dreamed big, too big for Northern Canada.”
“And your wife?”
“I lost my wife, Lisa, just a little over six years ago.” Jay’s hands trembled so badly he had to put down the coffee cup. “Six fucked up years.” Jay reached for another cigarette. He tried to work his lighter but was shaking too badly to get a flame.
“Here, let me.” I stroked the button, inciting a light.
Jay nodded thanks as he leaned in close. He took a few drags to calm himself before continuing.
“I tried to be strong for my girls. Eve and Lucy. But they needed their mother, so eventually, I just had to let them move on.”
“Move on? Where are they now?”
“Moving on with their lives, that’s what I mean. Eve is fourteen, just started high school in New York.”
“Wow, New York?”
“She got into some kind of art school, on a partial scholarship.” He chuckled, likely due to the look of shock on my face. “She’s happy, so I try to leave her be.”
“That’s cool at least she knows you love her. And your other daughter?”
Jay’s smile crumbled. “My oldest, Lucy went to college in California. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I think she blames me for her mother’s death.”
That was when I realized I never asked how his wife died. I’d assumed the answer was something simple like, ‘cancer’ or even the flu. People died of the flu all the time. “How did you lose your wife?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.” I bit my lip, quickly realizing how badly I overstepped. We were not close enough friends.
Jay squinted his eyes, he seemed annoyed, offended. “I should probably drive you home.”
“Jay, wait!”
Before I could apologize he got up, tracked down the waitress, and paid our tab. Then he sat in the car, lighting up a new cigarette.
I knew I had to go with him, otherwise, I had an hour’s walk, in the freezing cold of the night. But I wanted to make him wait, staring him down through the window. A widow or not, I was not about to let this cop disrespect me. After just a few seconds he started to honk.
The waitress, the one who knew the kind of girl I was, probably assumed I was trying to back out of a job, told me to get out or she was calling Cathy.
“Fine, I’m going.” I walked out into the cold and proceeded to sit on the hood of Jay’s truck like a park bench.
He continued laying on the horn. “Get inside before you freeze to death.”
“Blow job is twenty!” I shouted over the annoying honking. “If you want to go back to my motel room it’s a hundred, but I’ll throw in the blow job for free.”
“Get in the damn car,” he said, in a softer, calmer tone. It was clear he was not trying to make a scene and get recognized as a cop soliciting a prostitute.
“Show me the money,” I replied.
The waitress came out along with one of the cooks. “The dude has money. Do your job and get home to your mother!”
Did she really think Cathy was my mother? “I’m going!” I got in the passenger side, immediately leaning my head onto Jay’s lap.
“What are you doing?”
“The only thing First Nation girls are good for.” Even from the angle, I was at I could see a few truckers were watching from their cabs. “You can drive away if you want.”
“How am I supposed to drive?” Jay muttered, his eyes staring forward. “I don’t know the way to your fucking hotel.”
The fact that he called it a ‘fucking hotel’ when my home was literally a hotel for sex workers, caused me to laugh. “Have you ever seen the movie Ratatouille?”
“Yes,” he said with a groan.
“The one about the rat who controls the guy by pulling his hair.” I re-positioned myself to sit on Jay’s lap, running my fingers through his hair. I ended with a light tug of his blond locks, that evolved into a scalp massage, as I kissed his lips.
Jay gripped the back of my neck, the frustration clear in his face. “Tell me the name of your hotel and I will tell you the story of how my wife died.”
I pressed my lips to his ear, “You first, Officer.”
Jay nodded and pursed his lips. I could feel his body tense, as he mentally prepared to reveal his darkest truth. “A gang of First Nation fuckers broke into my house, in exchange for letting my family live, they were going to rob me, torture me.” Jay’s crippled hand balled into a fist. “They started by handcuffing me to a chair with tape over my mouth. They just said if I let them take what they wanted…” Jay’s voice trailed off as tears welled up in his eyes.
“These men killed your wife?”
Jay nodded, “I remember I had a really bad pain in my chest like my heart wanted to jump out of my throat. Before I knew it, I’d just blacked out. You can call me a coward if you want. All that mattered was that Lucy and Eve got away.”
Wow, just wow. “Field of Roses motel,” I said softly, as I wiped tears from his eyes. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jay motioned for me to sit back in the passenger seat. “Put your head down.”
I did as he asked, placing my head on his lap as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove away.
After about five minutes on the road, I was about to sit up when he gripped my neck, forcing my face to his crotch. “What the fuck?”
“You wanted to suck my cock, you’re going to suck my damn cock.” He slammed my neck hard as we sped down the highway. I had no idea if we were even going in the right direction.
I knew I had fucked up, provoking a cop’s PTSD. But I had one card to play: I just needed to locate his gun. Stalling for time, I undid his belt, kissing his stomach. Jay’s body had tight, strong abs, under a soft, sweaty layer of body hair.
I kissed him just enough to make him moan.
I bit my tongue.
Logically, the gun had to be in the glove box, but I needed to be sure. There was no lock, so I nudged it with my foot, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice.
I waited until he pulled off the highway when I could feel the vehicle slowing down, before making my move. I sat up, hitting him square in the jaw. In the few seconds, it took for him to grab his mouth in pain, I got the glove box open, reaching for the gun. I had held a gun before but this one felt heavier, loaded.
Jay smirked. “You even know how to handle that, little girl?”
Now I was pissed. I struck him in the face over and over, until blood ran down his cheek. And then I cocked the gun. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the bullet shift into place.
“Just do it,” Jay growled through gritted teeth. “Just fucking do it!”
I could have. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Instead, I held the gun to his back. “Get out of the car.”
“Put down the gun.”
“I’ll lower the gun if you get out of the car.”
Jay sighed and finally did as I asked, all while calling me a few choice words.
I led him around the back, to my room on the second floor of the open-air motel. “Up the stairs, room 203.” Once I got him inside, I shut and locked the door.
“Now what?”
“Now you take your clothes off.” I held the gun at my side. For a moment I felt truly powerful.
“What?” Jay chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”
I narrowed my eyes, to show just how serious I, in fact, was. “Now, please.”
Jay took off his jacket, a brown suede coat that had seen better days. Next his white t-shirt, revealing a body full of scars.
“I know you.” I walked closer, inspecting the marks on his body. Something about him seemed familiar.
Jay had been shot no less than five times. One bullet hitting dangerously close to his spine. the wound required surgery resulting in massive scars. “I had a feeling you did. When I saw your last name. Did your father brag about what he did to me?”
“He told me stories.” I walked my fingers down his chest, to a massive scar on his stomach. “My father was the one who broke your hand.”
Jay silently nodded, avoiding my gaze.
“I know he was one of the men who robbed your house and murdered your wife. And he did that because his cousin was locked up for drug charges. I heard the story so many times. My father was actually proud of how much pain he caused the judge, the district attorney, and the investigating detective. But you got demoted to an officer, why?”
Jay blinked tears from his eyes. “No longer fit for duty.”
“Did you have my father killed?” I pressed the barrel of the gun, to his chest, only because it felt good to do so.
“No, a friend of mine did,” Jay replied.
I already knew Jay wanted to die, holding the gun to his chest meant nothing. Knowing that, I carefully lowered it to the ground. “Did my father rape your wife?”
“No, his DNA was not found on her body. He was just the one who made me watch.”
“Did you mean to kill him?”
“His death was an accident. I wanted your father to face justice. The plan was to bring him to the station bruised and bloody, just a little payback.”
“But he had underlying health conditions.” I knew my father took medication for his heart, kidneys, and liver, all while still drinking like a fish and shooting up heroin every night. I could imagine my father lost consciousness, during the attack and then just never woke up. Tears filled my eyes. My father was a real bastard but he was the only friend I had. And now, knowing that his attackers were cops (or at least hired by cops) they would never see the inside of a courtroom.
Jay cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his rough fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I forced myself to look him in the eyes. “So, you lied to me. I’ll never get to testify.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. Jay fell to his knees, reaching for the gun. He slowly guided the barrel to his chin.
“Please don’t,” I said placing my hand upon his. Yeah, apparently, he had lied about that as well, his crippled limb had more than enough dexterity to hold and fire a weapon. “There’s no maid service here and cleaning blood out of the carpet is a real bitch.”
“Fuck, sorry.” Jay tossed the gun to the floor, letting it slide towards the door. “I should go. I’ve already done enough.”
I shook my head. “Stay the night. It’s the least you can do.”
“You want me here?”
“Just take a shower first, please.”
“Sure,” Jay said with a laugh. “I got nowhere better to be.” He walked towards my small hotel room bathroom. Where there were plenty of hand towels and cheap bar soap.
I watched as Jay kicked off his boots. He next took off his dirt-encrusted pants and then his plaid boxers. Only after standing naked before me did he touch the door frame. “Your bathroom has no door?”
“Nope.” I got undressed, changing into clean underwear and an oversize t-shirt that once belonged to my father. I laid in bed, facing the opposite wall, to give him a feeling of privacy. But I was unable to sleep. I listened to the sound of the shower, unable to see my alarm clock. But I could feel when Jay took a seat on my bed. I turned to see if he was naked. He was, his waist wrapped in my only full-sized towel. “Will you hold me?” I asked.
“I’m not too comfortable with that,” he replied in a nervous breath.
“Because I’m a whore or because I’m the same age as your oldest daughter?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Can I hold you?” I requested while pulling the covers over my body so that there was a barrier between us.
“I guess.” Jay nodded and laid comfortably, letting me spoon his back.
I kissed his shoulder, stroking my fingers down his chest. “You feel cold.”
“I’ve been cold for a while now.”
“Let me make you warm.” I put my arms around his broad, slender shoulders. I could feel Jay reach for my hand, moving it to his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body, his soul.
Jay was breathing hard, clearly very emotional. “You have a beautiful heart.”
This was not my first rodeo. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him he could cry in my arms without judgment. “You’re a good man.”
Jay released my hand and rolled over to face me. “And you’re a good girl. Too good to be living like this.”
I stroked his face, tracing my fingers along his jaw. “What would happen if I kissed you?”
Jay chuckled. “I’d be honored.”
I touched my lips to his, once and then twice.
Jay was smiling as he closed his eyes. He cupped his hand to my cheek and kissed me again.
As a veteran sex worker, I knew what was happening. He was picturing his wife. It was a pretty common thing for clients to do, especially widows.
I just wish I knew how to speak like his wife did. But at least I knew how to touch him the way his wife would’ve.
I reached my hand around from under the blanket, keeping the fabric between us as I groped his leg, giving his upper thigh a firm squeeze. The towel fell to the floor.
I rubbed him between his legs, even through the blanket I could feel how big he was. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been with a woman since his wife’s death. Kicking off the blanket, I moved his hand to my thigh.
I was directing him to my underwear but it was up to him if he wanted to go further. And he did.
We kicked the blanket off the bed. Jay kissed me passionately, forcing his tongue in my mouth. He tasted like black coffee; deep, sensual, and masculine. With two fingers he slipped my panties down my thighs, just low enough to rub his cock to my clit, lubing himself with my juices. “You like that?”
I knew better than to respond out loud. Instead, I maneuvered my underwear off, kicking it to the foot of the bed. I wanted him inside me.
With his eyes still closed, Jay put two fingers in his mouth getting them wet with his spit before rubbing my hairless pussy. He started with my labia, spreading me open. “You’re so tight.” I could feel him insert two fingers, massaging my g-spot with intense pressure. It was all I could do not to cry out, as he fingered me to orgasm, playing my body like an instrument.
I kissed his neck; sucking, biting. My whole body was quivering as my juices ran down my thighs like a faucet. I wanted him so bad; to have him, to know him, to love him.
Jay slowly removed his fingers, licking them in turn. I couldn’t help but wonder, did I taste like her? My hand had been gripping his ass, digging my nails into his skin. I scratched him along his hips, until I was where I wanted to be.
Jay moved on top of me, cupping my face for a kiss. His breath was hot, intense as he found his pace.
My face buried against his shoulder, I could feel him grip the headboard for leverage as his power only increased.
He fucked me for what felt like forever, giving me orgasm after orgasm. Then, with a masculine, carnal, grunt he blew his load, kissing me one last time before opening his eyes.
The look he gave me was one of horror. I clearly was not his wife, I was a First Nation slut who probably looked a lot like the men who destroyed his life.
I was expecting him to leave, or yell or at least move but, no. Jay was frozen in place, like a catatonic statue, as he blinked tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so sorry, Tia.”
“It’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I spoke soft and slow, hoping to take the edge off. “Just let me hold you.” I put my arms around him, directing his head to my shoulder.
“It’s not okay, nothing is okay.” Jay rested his body in my arms, clearly sobbing.
This was not my first time comforting an emotional client. “Would you like some vodka, or scotch? I even have some NyQuil.”
“NyQuil, yeah,” he muttered with a nod. “That would be nice.”
I held him for a few more seconds, making sure he was comfortable before I left the bed.
I returned with a large dark bottle, with its little measuring cup cap. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Jay drank a dose of NyQuil and went to sleep within a few minutes.
Since he was facing me, I stroked Jay’s rough jawline as he slept. Tracing the stubble on his face; he looked so peaceful, so strong.
Like my dad.
The next day I awoke around noon, to find Officer Fuller already gone. This was not surprising since he had a real job to get to. On the pillow he left me a hundred dollars in twenties and a note. “Dear Tia,” that was all it said. I’d really hoped he would have written more but the fact that he didn’t add ‘don’t contact me ever again,’ let me with a sense of hope.
I walked down to the main office to give the money to Cathy. She was at her desk, sipping a can of off-brand cola. “Here you go,” I said handing her the stack of twenties. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Your blond-haired cop friend was a real cheap-ass.”
How did she know Jay was a cop? “Did you see him leave?”
“Yeah, he looked hungover as fuck, but I’m sure he’ll be back.”
“I kinda hope so,” I said with a smile.
“Good luck with that, Cinderella.”
“Excuse me?” I knew Cathy liked to joke, but that was a little uncalled for.
“Girls like us don’t get a happily ever after, we don’t get to ride off with the handsome blue-eyed prince.”
“Says you.” I left the hotel, to sit outside in the cold afternoon air. I was tempted to try to find Jay if only to see if he was alright. Because that’s what friends do.
I started walking in the direction of the police station. There was a bench across the street, just close enough for me to loiter with a cup of coffee and smoke my cigarettes until I caught sight of him.
It was around three, and he was leaving with a few other people; men women, people of higher social standing than me. I don’t know why I felt the need to wave to him.
But it was one of his friends who spotted me first. The female officer shook her head with a look of disgust. “Really? Turning tricks across the street from a police station?” she already had her handcuffs out.
“I’m not soliciting I was just here to speak to Officer Fuller.”
The woman laughed. “Yo, Jay, you know this piece of trash?”
“She’s a witness in an ongoing investigation.” Jay approached, gripping me by the arm.
A male member of his group snickered. “So, does this mean you’re not going to hang out with us?”
The female returned to her co-worker’s side. “Nah, it looks like he’s got better things to do.”
The entire group seemed to be laughing at Jay.
“Let me give you some money. You can buy a bus ticket and go see your mom.”
“No. I don’t want your money!” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I wanted so badly to hit him, but considering the cops were still watching, I knew that was not a smart idea.
“So what do you want?”
“Tell me to leave you alone and I’ll leave you alone.”
“What happened last night was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why.” Jay cupped my face brushed the tears from my cheeks. “But I’m not going to tell you to leave. You’ve had enough people leave you.”
His words made me cry even harder. I missed my dad. I knew that he would be put in pauper’s grave since there was no way I could afford to give him a proper burial or cremation. “I miss my dad but I can’t afford to send the body to a funeral home. What’s going to happen to him? Did they already get rid of the body?”
“I’ll pay for the release for your father’s remains. I’ll get him to you, I promise. But you have to promise to leave this place.”
“Canada?”
Jay nodded. He kissed my forehead, holding the warmth of his lips for a good five seconds. “You are worth so much more than a hundred dollars a night. Now go home.”
“Ok,” I replied with a nod. But I couldn’t exactly go back to the hotel without a payday. “Can you give me a ride?”
Jay looked at his friends who had already started to leave in their respective vehicles. “Sure.”
Apparently it would not take him long to have the body cremated and when that was take care of, he could bring the remains to me in a metal urn. “Just until you decide what you want to do. Maybe you can spread his ashes someplace like California.”
Jay dropped me off, but the moment his truck was out of sight, I took a walk to the biker bar where I was greeted by well-wishers. Person after person, saying how sorry they were about the loss of my father. I took their free drinks and listened to stories of how much of a bad-ass my dad was.
I gave a few blowjobs, pulling in a good amount of money. At around midnight, I walked to a gas station to buy myself some dinner. It took the form of a cup of stale coffee and a packaged cupcake. I ate my meal, leaning against the door of the women’s restroom looking out at the starry night sky. I lit up a cigarette and considered hitchhiking. But to where? Not sure, just someplace different.
“Hey!” shouted a male voice. “You working?”
“Who’s asking?” I replied before looking in his direction.
It was a tall, grey-haired man, speaking to me from the open driver’s side window of his Semi. “Just a stranger with some candy.”
I knew what that meant. I walked to his passenger side door and got in. “What do you got?” I looked around the cab of the truck to see if there was an ID posted. “Randell Fish.” He had his license posted, that meant he was safe, or as safe as a driver of an unlabeled truck could be.
He handed me a small tin from his glove box. It was a kit, with a pipe, lighter, and what appeared to be crack. “You can get started on that if you like. We’ll be on the road for a while.”
A while? He was taking me miles away into the frozen north. I’d have to hitchhike back to civilization. Oh well, nothing I hadn’t done before.
I filled the crack pipe and hit it with the lighter, taking a long drag. “Woah, that feels nice.” My mind felt clear, calm, even a little happy.
“My special recipe,” Randell murmured, rolling down my window while locking the doors.
Even with the cool breeze caressing my face, I felt dizzy. My vision was fading in and out, as the smoke-filled my lungs. My body felt electric. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you going to fuck me up?” I turned my head to Randell to see a red-faced demon with glowing eyes. “Yeah, this shit was laced with meth.”
That was the last thing I remember. I awoke naked, tied to a bed by my wrists. Looking around the room, it appeared to be a trashed basement with no natural lighting. My body hurt all over. I tried to scream, but there was duct-tape over my mouth.
Above me, I could hear the sounds of police, gunshots. “Kitchen- clear! Bathroom- clear! I’m going to check the basement!” Would the police find me? Am I even in a basement?
An officer came down the stairs in full riot gear. He cut my wrist restraints, wrapped my body in a blanket, and carried me out. “Thank you, Jay. I love you.”
At least, that’s what I wished happened.
Maybe someday, someone will find my body. From what I can tell, it’s near a river, not too far from my father’s old shop. My eyes are swollen shut and I can see a distinct bruise on my neck from where I was strangled to death.
It’s actually kind of nice here. But I know I can’t stay. My soul deserves better.
Since I don’t appear to be headed towards any kind of white light, I’m going to try to find my dad. “Peace out, earth body.”
I suddenly felt darkness, a pain. I guess I wasn’t going anywhere.
I saw a car pull up, then three. The same people who killed me emerged, laughing at the fact that my body was exactly where they left me.
The first man removed his belt. I turned away, fully aware of what was going to happen next. My body was still fuckable and at least now they didn’t have to pay me.
For the next few hours, the men seemed to be taking turns with my dead body. And drinking, and snorting cocaine. But this wasn’t a sick party, no they were waiting.
Under the cover of night, a final car arrived. Jay’s Truck.
This was bad.