Thursday, April 9, 2009

Mr. Hart

This is a continuation of the The Pregnant Hooker story I started a couple days ago. It's pretty gritty.


Mr. Hart

“I never knew pregnant chicks could be so good.”

            “Shut the fuck up and finish. You have five minutes left.”

            He had been sneezing when he came in. Blowing his nose. She thought Oh great, I’m going to get sick on top of it all.

            He moans. He is not an attractive man.

            She sits on top. She gyrates back and forth. He has no clue of what to do. His nostrils flare open, he clenches his lips tight. He breathes in huge snarls, teeth grinding, air rushing up his nose and blowing back out. No snot. He finishes. His mouth hangs open, gargling.

            He calms down. She rolls off of him, and next to him on the bed. He looks at her, his ugly face lights up. She knows his face. She’s known it since she was a child. She leans away and stares out the window.

            “You were amazing.” He says, panting.

            “Thanks. You too. Now go.”

            “If I pay for another hour, will you talk to me?”

            “I would have to.”

            He thinks. “Would you want to?”

            “If you paid, yes I would.”

            “What if I didn’t pay?”

            “Then I’d suggest you leave.”

            He growls and rolls back over. He dresses. He pauses, pants halfway up his legs, shirt hangs unbuttoned, “If I paid for another hour, would you fuck me again?”

            “I’d be obligated.”

            “And if I didn’t-”

            “You know the fucking answer, Mr. Hart. Either pay or leave.”

            He hesitates. “Who is taking care of you, Maggie?”

            I am. Are you ready to go, Mr. Hart?”

            “I never thought I’d ever have sex with you.”

            “Thanks. Looks like our dreams finally came true. Bye.”

            “You know I switched schools just to be near you.”

            She rolls to look at him. She matches his gaze for thirty seconds.

            He continues, “You were always beautiful. I always knew we’d be compatible, you know, sexually. I just knew it.”

            Her face is frozen. She sits up, resting her back on the headboard.

            He has finished dressing. He looks nervous. “I fantasized about you every night, Margaret.”

            “It’s Maggie.”

            “That’s Classic You, Margaret. Always selling yourself short. You’re better than that. You’re better than all this.” He motions around the motel room.

            “Thanks, Mr. Hart. You can go now.”

            “How long have you been pregnant, Margaret?” He pulls the chair out from the desk, flips it around and sits down. His eyes are wide and serious.

            She tries her best to stay calm. Her left arm goes behind her back, as if to itch. She reaches under the pillow and grabs at her cell phone. She regrets not replacing her can of Mace.

            “How long has it been, honey?”

            Her mouth hangs open. “Ummmm... five months tomorrow, I believe.”

            “Well oh well. And the father?”

            “I, uh, I don’t know. I always use condoms and I’m on birth control. It could be anyone.”

            He shakes his head. “Poor girl. Always selling yourself short.”

            She feels the outline of the buttons. She struggles to remember the number.

            He goes on, “You know, when they kicked you out of school, I was your sole defender. I know it doesn’t matter much now but I fought the decision tooth and nail, believe you me. I, I, I loved you.” He breaks into a cry. He sobs in short gasps. He continues to speak, his voice both higher and grating, “I always did! And I just wanted what’s best for you, you need to trust me on this, Margaret. I saw so much potential in you, and I can’t bear to see it so wasted in this, in this shithole!” He wipes tears from his eyes. His face burns red.

            “I appreciate that, Mr. Hart. Are you sure you don’t want to leave now?” She has entered “Sos! Tis gyu is a psycoh” into her phone. She presses send. She hopes he gets it soon.

            “No, don’t push me away, Margaret! I refuse to be like everyone else! I can help you, I promise.”

            “I don’t need your he-”

            Don’t feed me that bullshit, Margaret! It’s obvious you’re in way over your head right now. You need help. I can take you in. I can give you a place to sleep, and purchase everything your child would ever need.”

            “That’s really not necessary, Mr. Hart.”

            “I don’t care, Margaret, muh, mah, Maggie. I would, Maggie. For you, I would.”

            The phone vibrates. She can’t see what it says. “Mr. Hart, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

            He jumps up and kicks the chair against the wall. “You’re stupid, Margaret, you’re a stupid cunt! You don’t even see what’s right in front of your fucking face, you stupid bitch!” He punches the mattress.

            Maggie starts to cry. He climbs back onto the bed, also crying.

            “Oh Maggie I’m so sorry! Come here, honey-pie!”

            Maggie screams, and kicks his face. He falls backward off the bed and hits his head on the desk.

            You stupid fucking bitch!” He screams, standing back up.

            The door busts open. “Get away from her right now, fuckwad.”

            The man in the doorway points a gun. Mr. Hart flies backward, raising his arms behind his head. “Uh uh are you a cop?”

            The man smiles. “Nope. But I’ll fucking shoot you if you don’t grab your shit and leave. ASAP.”

            Mr. Hart looks to Maggie. Tears stream down her face but she is too caught up in the moment to weep. He sobs. “Why, Maggie? Why?

            The man in the doorway whistles. “I’m over here, pal. I’m going to ask you to not address the lady.”

            “Fuck you!” yells Mr. Hart.

            “Good for me. Have you paid?” The man asks.

            Mr. Hart looks back at Maggie. He sobs. “Yuh-yuh-yes...”

            “Good for me as well. Now get the fuck out, asshole.”

            Mr. Hart looks to Maggie. “I would have treated you so good.”

            “Count of three, dude!” yells the man.

            “I would have paid for everything...”


            “... I would have held you at night...”


            “I WOULD HAVE RAISED YOUR CHILD!” Tears well up in Maggie’s eyes.


            Mr. Hart wipes his eyes. “Please, Maggie! Tell him to leave me alo-” BOOM! goes the man’s weapon.

            Mr. Hart hits the floor, feeling his body for blood. He pants heavily. He looks to the ceiling. Particles float down from a scorched hole. Mr. Hart looks back to the man.

            The man smiles. “The next one goes into your skull.”

            Mr. Hart scrambles across the floor, picking himself up near the doorway and rushing out. He brushes past the man, who watches him until he has entered his car and driven away.

            Maggie sits. Her pillow is on her lap, and she hugs it tight to her stomach. She looks at her phone. The message says “I’m outside rite now. Dont wry.

            David walks over and sits on the bed. “Rough night, doll?”

            Maggie breaks into tears. “Yeah,” she moans.

            “It’s all over now, babe. The motherfucker’s gone.”

            She snorts, and weeps some more. “Thank you.”

            He looks at her and smiles. “Thinking of quitting yet?”

            She wipes her eyes. “What else would I do?”

            He chuckles. “I don’t know, something legitimate? I would completely understand if you left. Especially tonight.

            “I’m being serious, Dave. I have nowhere else to go. And even if I got a good job it wouldn’t pay. Not like this.”

            He stares out the window. “I’m worried ‘bout ya, Mags.” He is the only one who calls her this.

            “I’m saving up, Dave. I have over three thousand already. I’ll stop when I’m closer to the delivery. I’ll get a job after that, I promise. Just let me do it until I’m ready. Until I have enough to get by. Please, Dave.”

            He looks at her. He sighs. “Okay, but take a couple off, babe. Promise me that, at least.”

            She smiles. “Promise.”


Twenty-four hours later. Her tongue runs up and down his member. Her lips apply pressure. She has no gag reflex.

            The lucky gentleman is drunk. He leans against a brick wall. He drifts in and out of consciousness. He laughs when he’s awake.

            He looks down and smiles, revealing yellow, rotted teeth. “Yer pretty good fer a preggo bitch!”

            She looks up in disgust, still working him. He comes hard, shooting it down her throat. She chokes for a moment. She spits out what she can cough up. The man pushes her over onto the cement, and stumbles toward the street. She stands up, hocking and spitting one more time.

            “You promised fifty. I want it now.”

            He smiles again, showing off his yellow graveyard. “Fresh out, hun, maybe next time.” He starts onto the street. He feels her rush behind him. He feels something sharp poke into his back.

            She whispers into his ear: “Listen, I’m in no fucking mood to be jerked around tonight. Either you pay me or I leave you to bleed to death in this alley. Decide now.”

            “Fuck!” He breaks into laughter. “You’re a nasty one, ain’t you bitch?” He pulls out three twenty dollar bills and throws them to the ground. “Keep tha change.” He hiccups. “Cunt.”

            She eases off and waits until he reaches a safe distance. She slips her knife into her inside coat pocket. She crouches, collects the money, and stuffs it into her jacket.



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