"Stuart Hughes - Clock's Runnin, Mister" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Stuart)

Clock's Runnin, Mister
a short story by Stuart Hughes

Swallowing bubble gum, she stepped from the doorway of a downtown video
arcade - pulling her black halter-top down and her miniskirt up for effect
- and walked her practised walk to the kerb.
Fog was drifting in from the Bay, giving the lights of the Golden Gate
bridge a fuzzy brightness.
The Buick crawled towards her, its headlights dazzling. Squinting against
the glare, she stood by the kerb and beckoned.
As the car pulled up she leaned forward, placed her palms flat on her
knees, and stared through the window. Her tongue slowly traced its path
across her glossy lips as she studied the driver. He looked okay: dark
hair, cut short; clean shaven; wearing a suit. A reasonable bet.
The electric window hummed down.
She rested her forearms on the door and leaned inside. "Hi there. I'm
Jane," she lied, then let her tongue perform its sensuous trick again.
"See anything you like?"
The guy leant towards her. "I like what I see so far," he said
confidently, his voice full of macho bravado. "Are you getting in?"
"Well, that depends ..." She let it hang, unfinished. There were plenty of
risks in this occupation. Safe sex and condoms could protect her against
some of them - gonorrhoea, syphilis, AIDS - but not all of them. Some
risks you simply had to take a chance on, but you could still do your
damndest to minimise the risk. Unlike some girls who would do anything for
money and if their luck ran out they would die regretting it, she wasn't
afraid to say "no" or refuse a trick, even if it did incur Angelo's wrath.
She would sooner anger her pimp by earning less money, than take a risk
with her life. Angelo could make things real unpleasant when he wanted to,
but at least she knew he wouldn't kill her.
The guy in the Buick looked a reasonable bet, but looks could be
deceiving, very deceiving ...
"Depends on what?" he asked, surprised.
"On what you have in mind."
"I see." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Straight. No gimmicks."
"Condom?"
"Sure."
She nodded and allowed herself to relax slightly. "You get an hour for a
hundred bucks. If you want longer the rate doubles. Deal?"
He looked away and she thought she'd pushed it too high, then he was
looking back at her, smiling. "Deal," he agreed.
"You got somewhere to go, mister?"
"Berkeley," he said.
She opened the door and got in.
"Want to stop somewhere for a coffee first?" he asked.
"Huh?" She was fastening her seat belt and the question surprised her.
"Coffee?" he repeated. He seemed amused.
"Well ... yeah, but it's your time, mister. Clock started soon as I got
in."
"That's fine by me."