Mark Carver: The naked deal

"So long, darling," she whispered. "Wait for me."

An hour later Sally found him like that. At first she screamed, thinking it was blood splashed on his chest, that they'd caught up with him. But the blood was on his lips and the crimson on his chest was lipstick. She rushed to the closet and knew, before she even looked, that the bag was gone.

Feeling faint she sat on the bed, staring at her husband's chest with gazed eyes. The bold strokes said: WAIT FOR ME.

It was the same motel room they'd had before in Omaha, cheap, seedy, oppressive in the humid fall heat. They lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sally got up and showered, then applied harsh makeup and dressed in a sexy clinging dress. She looked at her husband on the bed with disgust.

"You're crazy, you know that?" she snapped. "She's gone forever. She'll never show, never. She hates you, with all her twisted heart."

Jack tilted the bottle to his lips. "She'll show," he said in a slurred voice. "She loves me. She's just… fucking with my head, thus all. A lesson. She'll bring the money."

"Jesus," Sally snorted. "All your life you've hustled women and now you finally got the short end of the stick. Listen, Jack." Her voice grew deadly. "I'll give you three days to shape up. You look like hell. Cut out the juice, clean up your act. We're splitting this jerk-town for California. Think up another caper, get off your ass. I'm leaving in three days with or without you."

"Hey!" He sat up, his face white. "You wouldn't leave me, Sal. We'll get the money back, she'll show."

"Bullshit!" Sally roared. "Are you blind? You could sit here forever, asshole! Just because you took her cherry you think she'll came back here? I've gotta go now, get some money for us." Her face hardened. "You know how. When I get back, I want you shaved and showered and sober."

The door slammed behind her. Outside, Sally choked back her tears. She never cried, but he was slipping fast, drunk all the time, dreaming about his hundred thousand. Somehow she had to pull him together and get him out of here, but if she couldn't… She sighed, knowing the answer. She couldn't leave him, even if he slipped all the way. They had to suck together, through shit or paradise, and this dump was hardly paradise. His destiny was her destiny, because he was the only man she'd ever loved in a vicious, brutal ass-kicking world. Somehow she'd pull him together, get back his guts for him, and he'd dream tip another brilliant caper.

Somehow.

In the stuffy room, Jack gulped down more scotch and put his hands over his eyes. She was here in Omaha, he could sense it, he knew it. Yesterday he'd been walking down the street and he saw her half a block ahead, her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight, her beautifully rounded ass bouncing, her long shapely legs moving with purpose and he'd screamed her name and began running, his heart pumping furiously, gasping for breath, knocking people aside and he'd caught up with her and spun her around, screaming, "Where's the money!"

But it wasn't Carol, just another luscious blonde.

She was out there, she had to be. She couldn't cross him because she was crazy about him, he'd taken her cherry and given her the sex of her life. Softly, Jack began sobbing. Then he reared back his head and his face contorted with agony. He screamed: "CAROLLLLL! WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE YOU!!!??"

The red orb of the sun shimmered on the Pacific, and Carol leaned back in her canvas chair and sipped her rum and Coke. She had a spectacular view of the ocean from her hotel balcony in Acapulco. She glanced at her watch, frowning. Only two hours left before Doug showed up.

She'd met the sleekly muscled, irresistibly handsome man on the beach a few days ago when she was sunbathing. He'd moved in quickly and smoothly like so many others, but after she'd his face she knew he was the one. The others she'd scorned before they could open their mouths, but this cool, self-assured and utterly charming stud had that look in his eyes, and she knew he was the one.

That look was unmistakable – greedy, cunning, totally selfish, ruthless, the look of a born hustler. Like Jack. They were a special breed unto themselves, the ones who preyed on lonely women. And they deserved special treatment.

She'd invited him up to her hotel suite and let him make love to her, plunging deep and hard for almost an hour to show her his prowess, giving her a terrific performance. And then she told him about the money, her hundred thousand dollars and her aching loneliness and his eyes flashed with savage greed and he'd fucked her all night, giving her the time of her life, one tremendously exciting orgasm after another.

And in the morning she'd confessed that she loved him, was absolutely crazy about him, couldn't live without him, but only marriage would do, no shack-ups at her age. And once they were married she'd let him handle all the money of course, because she was so dumb about things like that and he obviously knew his way around. Barely able to conceal his triumph, he assured her he was crazy about her too, and the sooner they got married the better, right away, now!

Not so fast, she'd laughed. A girl needed a day or two to pull herself together. They'd set the marriage for six o'clock this evening. And when he'd left, glowing with excitement and the now-familiar stench of greed, she'd slipped him a hundred dollar bill for expenses, just to watch his face, and oh it was lovely, like striking a sweet chord on a piano. He almost foamed at the mouth at the bill, a mere sample of what would come, a tantalizing morsel to whet his ravenous appetite.

Sighing now, Carol got up and began dressing and packing. It was five-thirty when she stopped at the front-desk. She explained to the clerk a man with a handsome grin would be looking for her in a little while and he was to give him this note.

The clerk nodded.

An hour later she was on the jet to Buenos Aires, staring with unseeing eyes at the vast expanse of blue over the soft white blanket of clouds. He would be staring at the note now, frantically reading the three words over and over, trying to understand.

Wait for me.

And his days would be desperate and his nights haunted, and he'd prowl the beaches waiting in desperation for the laughing, sexy blonde with the hundred thousand in cash, for the oh so easy pushover that he'd had shacked up, slipping out of his greedy fingers like a mocking shadow.

And all over the world there were charming, sleek hustlers like Jack, smooth-talking handsome studs who preyed on lonely women, and they'd be waiting for her, for wide-eyed Carol Shaw with the ripe tits and beautiful legs and hundred thousand dollars, because she'd found her destiny now and she felt like a breathless angel, an angel of vengeance soaring high above the clouds, and oh God her destiny was glorious, it was beautiful.