The Butcher and the Butterfly by Ian Dyer

parents had died when she was young leaving her in
the care of the only woman that would take her in; Cathy. She had
been raised fairly enough but it was when the blood started to flow
from between her legs that Cathy had shown her true colours.
    As Susie served
Keef his usual frothy beer she felt in her pocket the solid gold
coin that Cathy had given her and signalled that she would spend
another night underneath another man as he thrust himself into her.
The only saving grace she had was that at least this man, this
Watchman from the South didn’t look as dirty as the others, didn’t
look as dead as the others she has had to please in the past.
    As she tried to
clear her mind and maintain focus on the jobs at hand the batwing
doors burst open revealing John and Cathy, and much to Susie’s
disappointment, Jameson the local Sheriff. They trundled into the
bar one after the other, Cathy leaving the two men after she had
shown them to their table in the corner under a huge painting
depicting the town in the grand days when the black oil flowed
freely from its hills.
    Cathy joined her
behind the bar and the usual conversations started about the state
of the town, the way in which the sand is starting to take over,
the deaths, the births, the bored young lads becoming trouble,
Tommy the simpleton and on rare occasions Patience, the recluse old
woman, would even be spoken of. It was all very boring to Susie,
but to keep away from becoming gossip herself, she joined in with
nods and grins where it mattered. Even flattery when it suited,
especially for Jameson, the fat bastard. Thank fuck, Susie thought,
that she was the property of a Watchman tonight and so wouldn’t
have to put up with his sweaty, bloated body grinding up against
her and as if on time there came footsteps on the stairs and her
man for the night came waltzing down from his room.
    He was a good
looking man; even if a bit travel worn, with the air of a city man
and the grace of a dancer. As he walked down the stairs he drew
attention from the fifty or so folks in the bar. They no doubt
already knew who he was and what he was but it wasn’t every day
that a Watchman comes into town, especially since no crime had been
committed. Hushed voices became whispers and Susie served a few
more patrons as the Watchman glanced around, found a spare table in
the shadows of the stairs and sat himself down.
    Susie looked over
to Cathy knowing what she must do and Cathy gave her an approving
nod. Pouring a fresh beer, followed by a chaser of whiskey she
carried the two glasses over to the table much to the chagrin of
the sheriff. Her hands were shaking slightly, more than they would
if this was a regular paying customer. Her belly twisted in knots
at the thought of talking to this stranger. Cathy had warned her
before about city men, about their strange and bewitching ways, but
she had blown them off, but now, with a city man right here in
front of her she could see what Cathy meant; there was something
strange and bewitching about him and it tugged at her
womanhood.
    The Watchman
acknowledged her with a nod and a smile and she placed the glasses
down on the table offering him first the chaser, which he drank in
one gulp and then the beer which he merely placed to one side.
    He looked at her,
those deep set eyes boring holes into her soul. ‘Thank ya, Susie.
Busy night?’
    Susie swallowed
hard, her tongue swelling to twice it normal size. She was all of a
sudden aware that she had no answer for him; there were no words
ready to come out. It was as if he had asked her to explain why the
stars twinkle or why the wind blows. Time was speeding by now and
it was becoming awkward.
    ‘Take a breath,
Susie. I’m not here on official business.’ He smiled and the
bewitching had begun.
    ‘It’s not that,’
Susie exhaled and now fully capable of speech, ‘This is the first
time I have spoken with a man from the city. Plus, usually when the
coin is spent on me.’ She trailed off