In Laymon's Terms

She’d wasted no time in stripping out of her clothes. Damn, she was hot...Perfectly formed, pert breasts, marred only by a poorly-done spider tattoo on the left. She had some other tattoos: a serpent wound its way up her back, tail disappearing into the cleft of her ass. He sat patiently watching her breasts bob as she traced a pentagram around the mattress on the floor. This was goofy as hell, but it might turn out to be worth it.

She started babbling about “heightened awareness” or somesuch as she drew out two long thin lines of coke on a small pocket mirror; from somewhere a couple of small glasses had appeared with a cloudy green liquid inside. Kent didn’t even have to ask if it was absinthe, at this point it just seemed to fit. He just wished she’d shut up for a minute and let him enjoy the buzz.

It was worth being patient; the sex had been great, she liked it rough, really rough, and he didn’t mind hurting her...Once he was able to tune out all the weird shit she kept saying as he thrust into her. She’d come the first time just as he cut her with the razor, screaming out some sort of gibberish and then biting his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. The cut he’d made wasn’t deep, just enough to draw blood like she’d asked...Moments later she’d howled out the same gibberish and bit him again.

They lay there for some minutes, listening carefully. Sirens wailed outside; in this part of town that could mean anything from an OD to a knife-fight or a drive-by. The warehouse made the furtive creaking noises that were common to all old buildings; somewhere outside a car door was slammed. Nothing, at least nothing that needed a chalk pentagram to keep it at bay...

The combination of booze and drugs coupled with their energetic sex was starting to work on her. She mumbled something and began to doze off. Kent pretended to do the same as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, taking in important details like the door and the broken-down dresser where she’d left her purse...

Kent lay there with her for a few minutes, then carefully extricated himself from her embrace, being very careful not to wake her. He’d remembered where the small refrigerator was and he helped himself to one of the three remaining beers. Kent dressed quickly, quietly so as not to wake her. He’d need to avoid the club for a few weeks—never a good idea to shit where you eat...Fortunately, Seattle had lots of clubs and they were all filled with women stupid enough to let Kent into their homes. He’d run into a few of his previous conquests on the street before and most of the time had been able to convince them they must have just lost their money the night before. Making sure they got good and drunk was the key. One girl even fell for his line about getting sick in the middle of the night and walking to the hospital rather than waking her. She was so impressed with this self-sacrificing bit of gallantry that she brought him home again, and this time he got her jewelry too...

He finished the beer and looked around for the bottle of absinthe, no sense in letting it go to waste...Nowhere to be found, maybe she’d put it under the pillow; now that was just too risky...After a couple of minutes he gave up the search and went on to more important matters, like her purse.

Moving quickly to the wooden dresser, he picked up the purse, a trendy designer brand. He wondered briefly where she got her money. Jeanne, Jenny, or whatever her name was might have actually been interesting to get to know under other circumstances, maybe there would be a next time...After all, she’d had an awful lot to drink as well as the coke and X. Just might be worth trying again...He quickly rifled through the purse. Hey! A vial of white powder, an unexpected bonus! That along with nearly a hundred dollars. Kent left a ten-dollar bill and pocketed the rest...Leave her enough to buy a bottle of something to take the edge off when she woke up.

Looking at her again, as she stretched in her sleep, he almost felt bad about ripping her off...almost...But hell, anyone stupid enough to think that they can summon a demon by making weird noises while being fucked deserves to be ripped off.

Kent helped himself to another of the beers in the fridge and headed for the door. There was enough money to make a score before he went home, and he’d gotten laid; not a bad Saturday night, all things considered. He wished she hadn’t been a biter and that he’d been able to find the rest of the absinthe, but what the hell, you can’t have everything...He headed past the stairwell to the door.