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TITLE: Another Whore
AUTHOR: Kate Bolin
EMAIL: dymphna@dymphna.net
SITE: http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/
SUMMARY: Lindsey knows what he is.
RATING: R, for sex and vague darkness
FEEDBACK: Privately, please. It saves annoyance, and you're more likely to get a reply.
ARCHIVE: My site, list sites, otherwise ask.
DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe herein are the property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar, and Kuzui Productions. This piece of fan-written fiction means no infringement.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heck, I don't know where this came from. Thanks to the ever-mighty Dolores for betaing.


Under his desk sits a hooker with cotton candy pink lips and eyes ringed with shoplifted black eyeliner. She said she was sixteen, but he knows she's barely twelve.

She's been sucking his cock for the past half hour, those bruised-black eyes looking up at him occasionally as he sits back in his fine leather chair and lazily signs a few papers. He pulls out from time to time, just because he feels like it, but he makes damn sure she stays put, reminding her that she hasn't been paid yet.

And she stays, pushing her fried bleach blonde hair back with ragged fingers, opening her mouth wider.

He laughs, and signs more paperwork, and takes a conference call on the current status of a small-time loan shark case. Her tongue slides up against the head of his cock while he's discussing the legal ramifications of signed-in-blood documents.

When he hangs up the phone, he tells his secretary to hold all his calls, signs one last memo, then pushes his chair back against the plate glass wall. She stares at him blankly for a few seconds, then, when he gestures, scrambles to follow him.

He wraps his hands in her hair, looking down at her pale face and bright pink lips. He wraps his hands in her straw-like hair and he closes his eyes, the hair in his hands turning soft and perfumed, the face turning even paler, the lips blood red. He closes his eyes, and it's Darla sucking him, her teeth slightly grazing the head just before she takes him all the way down.

And he immerses himself in Darla's mouth, the teenage whore in the corner office ignored, and it's all here, all now, and when he comes, it's still *her*.

When it's over, and the girl squeaks out a comment about her money and it's nothing like honey and slow smoke over his eardrums, Lindsey throws the money on the floor.

She glares at him as she picks it up, and, with a sickening sense of deja vu, he knows he'd do the same.

And he knows Darla would've too.

Just another whore.


"Show the cleavage, say the line. Got it?"
Kate Bolin | ICQ: 3326944
Dymph-No-Mania: http://www.dymphna.net | dymphna@dymphna.net


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