A Stranger's Touch by Anne Brooke

A STRANGER'S TOUCH
     
    The air felt heavy, as if there was something weighing down on my shoulders that I couldn't shake off. It might have been my own fear. I didn't know. Odd how dark everything was, in spite of the torch I'd remembered to bring. It was shining at my feet, and the narrow band of light only increased the sense of darkness. I could hear the sound of my breath, though sometimes I fancied there was a faint hiss behind it, and I imagined someone else might be in the room with me. Someone who was pacing his or her pulse to mine. It made me shiver and I forced myself to regulate my breathing again.
    I couldn't remember why I'd agreed to any of this.
    No. I did remember. It was what Robbie had wanted. And the money. That always helped. The chair beneath me pressed into the back of my legs, and I shifted my position to try to get a little more comfortable. This assignment wasn't turning out to be quite as straightforward as Robbie promised me it would. And he tended to tell me the truth. Which wasn't bad for a pimp. In fact, it was one of his great strengths. He was pretty stylish in bed as well, I had to say. He was so damn good at knowing what tricks broke me open every time.
    Whereas my great strength was doing whatever I was told to do.
    Robbie had ordered me to dress sexy and tight--it had pissed me off to hear him as I always dressed sexy and tight. That was my job, wasn't it? But I hadn't let any of that show. I knew my trade, knew when to act pretty. He'd told me to come here, an empty house in the west of London. He'd said the door would be open, but the lights would have been cut off. He'd been right, too. I had to admit I'd been spooked as I'd followed his instructions--using the torch he'd given me to find my way upstairs and into the first room on the right, where, as he'd promised, I found a chair in the middle to sit on. I even wondered whether some crazy guy might leap out at me with a knife, or worse, but I kept telling myself that some clients liked the weird stuff, and Robbie had checked everything out. In the four years I'd been working for him, he'd looked after me and he'd never let me down. So I got on with the job and here I was.
    Waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
    And waiting.
    It struck me that I had no idea how long I'd been waiting. Maybe the client wasn't going to show? That happened sometimes. Oh well, I'd chalk it up to experience, ring Robbie when I got out into the street and see if he had anything else for me tonight.
    With a small sigh, I began to reach down for the torch at my feet, and it was then that someone spoke.
    " No , don't move," the voice said, and I froze.
    Male, soft-spoken. Confident, too. I hadn't had any idea there was someone else here, not really. I hadn't seen him when I'd come in--he must have been in the shadows at the edge of the room. I thought the breathing had been my imagination. I'd been wrong.
    Slowly, I returned to my sitting position.
    "Hello," I said into the blackness. "My name's Red. I'm named for my hair, though it's more golden than red. Robbie sent me."
    "I know who you are."
    I licked my lips. "What would you like me to do? I'm here to please you."
    A sound almost like laughter. "I'd like you to sit. And wait for me."
    "As you wish." I tried to stare into the corner to my right where the voice came from, but I couldn't make out his shape. No light at all came from the blacked-out window. I'd known from the outset that this job was going to be weird, but I hadn't realised how weird.
    What happened next was the strangest of all.
    Something in the air shifted, and when I next heard his voice, he was standing right in front of me.
    "Open your legs," he said, "as wide as you can."
    I did so. He moved in closer, so he towered over me, between my legs. I breathed in deeply, catching the spicy smell of him. He reminded me of the sort of herbs my mother used to cook with, a long time ago. And limes, too. He smelt of limes. Another