Dying For Kisses - Not Finished

Dying For Kisses - Not Finished

Dying For Kisses
by Katherine D. Martin

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this or portions thereof in any form.

Kit's Klub is what it was called, and everyone knew about it. From the prim and proper to the lowly drunkards, everyone had heard of it. Everyone knew it's name. But only the few who knew what was just exactly in it were rare. They were lucky. They came back out.

Hans leaned back against the wall of his room, glancing out his drowning window, water constantly warping everything on the other side as the hard pattering of rain hit it and fell. He held a cup in both hands, occasionally lifting it to his lips, blowing the steam from the liquid, and sipping from it.

The rain and him were so alike. Or so he thought. So many fell to it's enchanting embrace, dancing around, lost to all but it's caresses. Even children. But so quickly did it change. Cool caresses cleansed the mind and freed the soul, causing all it touched to be lost. But once it turned, once it was done having it's fun, it easily had a way with you. You lost your soul to it, and it lethally struck.

He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts and smirked, getting back up off of the wall and heading out of his living room and down the hallway, taking a left into the kitchen. Now that his cup was emptied, he set it down in his sink, upside down to let any enslaved droplets go.
Hot tea, it was one of the very few things he could enjoy and know it would be just as good as the last one. Unlike the women that crawled around here.
He reached for another tea bag in his absentmindedness, but quickly being drawn form his thoughts when the door knocked.
He didn't feel like putting up with them. Not now. If he just left it alone, they'd leave.
But when they didn't, and when his door was opened and a man bellowed, 'Anyone home?' from the door, he sighed and turned, returning to the living room.
"What is it you need, Sir?"
The man was drunk as hell, Hans could smell it. Especially when his mouth opened the vile air slithered through his slurred words. "You know damn well what I want."
"Are you a new customer and simply need company, or a returning one and wish to see a certain woman, Sir?" That was a stupid question. No one ever actually came back, very few left in the first place.
"I want a blonde."
Hans nodded and moved to a roster hanging beside the door. 'Who is in tonight...,' he thought. "Alright, Sir. Down the hall, take a left. Third door on the right."
"Whas'ser name?"

"Lila, Sir."
He grinned and nodded, turning from the room. But then he stopped as Hans placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She'll ask for her payment first before giving you what you need, Sir. Just to make sure she is paid for her work. If you have any complaints afterwards, you can bring them back to me, all right?" He wouldn't come back. Lila'd been doing this for awhile now. And she hadn't had a customer in two days.
The man nodded once more, a flab of flesh doubling up his chin each time he bobbed his head. "A'ight." And that was all.

The man left, slammed the door, and sung his way down the hallway. Hans cringed at the intoxicated voice, turning to pick up the phone on a small nearby table. A few buttons dialed, and the phone rang one, twice, but not a third time before a sweet voice answered.
"Hello? Lila's room."
"Lila, I've sent you a customer."
"So I can hear."
"Remember to collect before this time, please."
"Alright. It's about damn time you've sent me something to eat. Can't a girl get any flowers with dinner, Hans?"
He chuckled. "Maybe next time."
She giggled a bit and hung up, the click sounding in Hans' ear and confirming his suspicions.
His chuckling had stopped and he smirked. She just had to be the wittiest prostitute in his brothel.