The Cycle

Chapter One

MABEL stood behind the curb of a T junction. The lamp post to her right shined with white fluorescent light that chased the night. The lamp buzzed without stop, a sign that replacement was long overdue. It flickered in rhythmic bursts, and the buzz increased. The flickering marred her vision with black and white spots, and before her sight recovered, the lamp burned out, and she was submerged in darkness.

She pulled the phone from her purse, powered the flash, then made her way toward the lamp post, across the street. It was a short walk.

The night was a slow one. Crickets chirped from hidden places; unpleasant sounds in her ears.

The black strapless gown she donned on, revealed more skin that necessary; via deep slits, and extreme short length: all by design. In her line of work, less was more.

Mabel had expectations: a night where her purse was filled. But the expectation that found her, wasn't the one she'd hoped for. It came from a desert place, and possessed her luck.

The spot that she'd chosen to operate from -bubbly at first- had dissolved into a barren roadside.

There was the occasional vehicle that zoomed past, without giving thought to her presence. A good wife was at home. Wild breeze flared up in their wake, and sent her shoulder length hair into a frenzy.

The midnight chill - not one to be left behind, made her skin spotty with goosebumps. Then seeped into her skin with invisible cold hands, that caused an abnormal contraction of her lungs, and the light quivering of her lips. She rubbed her palms together, cupped and blew hot breaths over them, and then hugged herself.

She allowed a wishful thought: if only more - required less skin.

The earlier hours had showed more promise. Several prospects had brought their vehicles to a halt; they knew her game; and had assessed her body with gleaming eyes.

She had been picky, when she shouldn't have; her line of work didn't afford such luxury. Yet, she had rejected prospective clients, like she had a waiting list. It was madness really, given she was desperate for cash; having drained her account in other to settle her siblings last semester tuition.

Intuition said she would score a big fish: a tingle that resounded and trailed after her as she left her apartment. She was convinced a prospect from either a bronze or silver zone, will land at her feet. Gold and platinum residents venture into her side of the territory; onyx zone: black district, only by miracle.

"Oh Mabel, you acquired a taste for finer food on the wrong night," she said to herself.

Her rejections had not been without cause, only that she'd set the bar too high, and it cost her, yet her reasons were valid. The night had dredged the bottom feeders, even those from the slums; and the visage on the other side of the glass, hadn't appealed to her in the slightest: all round and heavy.

Some were outright dirty, suspicious even: people like her get missing all the time, and it never made the news.

HINDSIGHT reared it's ugly head. She should have engaged the shady fellows, gotten the quick cash, and returned for the bigger fish. She could not afford another night where she returned empty handed, to a sparsely furnish self-con.

"You should pray more." The gospel of her mother.

She might have prayed, she'd done it in the past; Good fortune, favor, or the all so glorious light, which devout, and fanatics preach about. But with an added twist: illuminate her, and the path which led to her. So that men, even women, interested in what she had to offer, could see, find, and partake - in all that she had prepared; and afterwards, fill her purse with creds. But it was pointless