My fist connected to a larynx with a satisfying crunch and I wished we weren’t so enshrouded in shadows so I could see the surprise on his face. His gasps were panicked as he hit his knees; his body gasped for oxygen that couldn’t make it past the collapsed esophagus. I kicked out, aiming high, and couldn’t feel the pain radiating up my leg when I made contact with his skull from the complete euphoria swimming through my blood.
I kicked him again, over and over until it sounded like a wet squelch.
One.
When I turned in search of the others, I found them backing away onto the path, torn between fight or flight.
I walked toward them slowly, creeping forward in hopes they thought I just wanted to leave.
Or maybe it would be more fun if they ran?
I did wear my tennis shoes and could definitely use the exercise.
A man with swept back black hair clenched his fist and set his jaw before lurching at me.
“You stupid fucking whore!”
He swung once and I deflected it. On the next swing, I caught his wrist, turned it, and felt tendons strain under my grip. We were pressed together tightly now, him incapable of pulling away from my inhuman strength.
I drank in his fear, tasting it like the sweetest wine on my tongue. He wasscreaming, but I couldn’t discern the words over the rush of blood in my ears.
Something hard pressed into my hip, and I couldn’t hold back the corny, “Is that a glock in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me, big boy?”
“Please–”
“Yeah, I know,” I answered and reached for the gun strapped to his waist. “Please don’t do this…” I clicked the safety off. “You promise you won’t tell anyone.” He shuddered from the sound of the gun cocking. “How many girls said the same to you?” I asked. “Did you let them go?”
“I never–”
“Touched anyone? I’m sure you didn’t,” I sneered, disgust boiling alongside the bloodlust begging for his death.
I was done listening to the piece of shit, and so I crammed the muzzle of the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. Brain matter fell like confetti around us. The death of a rapist was something to celebrate, yeah?
I let him fall to the ground and made quick work of popping both sets of eyes out of their sockets.
Two down, one to go.
The other man was long gone, but I was like a hound with a scent.
“Ready or not, motherfucker, because here I come.”
“Iiivvvvyyyyyy!” Caramel slurred at the end of our shift at Luscious. “Come help me with this stupid outfit.” Her arms flailed around trying to reach the back clasp of her performance bra.
“For Chrissake,” I teased as I stepped around her and unclasped the band. “Stop whining like a teenage girl whose mom wouldn’t let her get the low cut prom dress.”
“For your information,” she scolded. “She wouldn’t let me get the low cut dress and I did pout for hours.”
“Oh please,” commented Raven as she clouded us with hairspray. “You act like you had that dress on for more than an hour. I bet the floor wore it longer than you did.”
“Hey!” Carm snapped. “I didn’t take it off ‘till at least after midnight, thank you very much. Just woulda looked a lot more sexy taking off a deep V silk beauty rather than that damn poofy, fairy ball gown I was forced into.”
My ugly laugh belted full force through the room, joined by Nova’s cackle and Caramel’s sweet, tinkering giggle.
The breaking light of dawn shone through the dressing room windows and pulled a yawn from each of us. Saturday nights at Luscious were brutal, and we never made it out before the sun rose.
“Alright, ladies,” I sighed as I tied the last loop of my shoe laces and dusted off my jeans. “I’m going home and sleeping until at least Wednesday.”
“Me too,” Darcy said around another yawn.
