The Subtle Taste of Midnight

A girl like Qat

The smoke billowed from her chimney nostrils. She stared at the tight line of cracked indigo lips with white spittle foaming at its corners. This had better be good. The longer she was away from the stage, the fewer leaflets there would be in her diamond-encrusted g-string. And Pik was already getting a head start on tonight's earnings.

"Till yuh crun. 150 with socks, 300 for gurlfren' special. On, but not inside. Mouth's 50 extra. Swallow's 60. All upfron'." The price list was recited with the molasses-slow drawl and glazed-eyed enthusiasm that only a well-seasoned working girl could manage to muster. The cigarette glowing between her lips barely twitched as she spoke.

"Upfrond? Tzoke rip off! Cheapa on Xzo corna and dey doh waa upfrond!"

"Go to tzoke Xzo corner, then!"

"Alrighd! Alrighd! Gurlfren' wid swallow."

"Three sixty."

"Dree sixdy!" His hollow face collapsed. The froth at the corners of his mouth erupted. "Tzoke rip off!"

For a young fellow, he was ghastly to see.

"If yuh penny pinchin, doh waste ma fuckin time!"

"Knock a likkle someding off, nuh? Ah just a likkle worker." His change in tactic was awkward at best.

Her hiss was caustic, "yuh wastin ma fuckin time! I got others to do."

"Whad odders? Yuh ain't cream!"

Qat should've been insulted by his remark, but he was right. She wasn't a top of the line model. She wasn't one of those girls who could pull down 500 Krü on a job with a wave of her hand. She was once... a long time ago. But not now. Not after ten years and three abortions (and the fucking doctor nearly killed her during the last one). Not to mention the fact that a year or so ago, she pushed out a melon which she promptly dropped off at the nearest orphanage. Qat knew that her value had decreased. In this business, a 19-year-old was already stale and moldy like week-old stewed peas.

She was twenty-two.

Qat wasn't cream like Pik, the wiry little Kle who was moaning her head off from two flights of stairs above. Pik was on a roll tonight; three Johns and two HJs in two hours.

"Yuh ain't cream neither! If yuh penny pinchin, go to Xzo." Another threat coolly delivered in her usual drawl. She had the upper hand in this negotiation, that's why she could throw out a higher price than her actual street value. He was clearly too tight with his purse strings to pay for Pik and he seemed to be a man who loved running around without socks, as such, he wasn't going to find his kicks at Xzo corner. The girls there were infamous for their halitosis, puss-encrusted lips, and crab-filled pubes.

Qat was a classy girl; a clean girl with a respectable pimp and a decent place to sleep when she was off-duty. It didn't matter that her "decent place" was a piss-scented shack she shared with Pik and Koko; it was still better than what the Xzo girls had. In this part of Zui, Qat's home was a mansion...

... that she could lose if she didn't cover her arrears with Boch.

Above, Pik screamed "Tzok me! Tzok me!" in her usual dry, rehearsed voice.

"Three sixty."

"Oh Daiza gurl, doh blue ball mi!" He licked his cracked lips and ran his beady eyes over her the outline of her breasts, imagining what lay beneath the heavy clothing. They were beautiful and overflowing, and he had seen them swaying freely on stage earlier in the night. Now he wanted the chance to nibble on them for a few moments.