I've got to get rid of her,' Rick's thoughts were elsewhere, desperately trying to stay ahead of the game. He knew, though, it was coming.

"Listen to me Marylou, you ain't nothin' to me. You were nothin’ more than just another job. So, get over yourself, you hear?" Rick McKenna's words cut through Marylou, much like the sharp knife he used to slice through the rare steak on his plate.  

"But, Rick," Marylou objected, discernibly upset by his callous demeanour, "I don’t understand. How can you say that? I… I thought we had something?"

Her usual sultry, southern drawl sounded more like desperation than seduction.

"Darlin', pick up your bag and leave, right now," Rick barked loudly at her, and he stopped what he was doing, briefly lifting his gaze to her, "it's best for you," he added before returning his attention the bloodied plate, hoping everyone heard him tell her off.

He looked up again when Marylou grabbed her handbag from the counter and stomped away. He watched her as she disappeared up the staircase of the dimly lit, basement eatery.

A single tear smudged Marylou’s mascara and ran a black trail down the side of her cheek. Her body jolted, startled by the shutter-board swing doors as they banged closed behind her.

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, looking at it in anger before wiping off the black mess on her coat. Standing in the drizzle of another stark, cold night in downtown London, she looked the street up and down before stepping off the pavement to cross the cobbled road.

'I have to get a message to the embassy,' she pondered in her mind. Rick's last words. It did reveal one truth. 'He had to get rid of her, and fast. He must be under surveillance.' 

She stopped walking and froze, gasping at the reality that Rick might be in danger. She lifted her heavy tweed coat to run toward the red telephone booth she noticed further down the road. The light inside flashed ominously but looked empty.  

She was about ten steps away when she noticed the car lights round the corner slowly. Its beams pierced through the darkness The wind-blown, angled rain glimmered

through it. When the lights hit her, she immediately sensed danger when the accelerator was floored and the large vehicle sped straight towards her. The thought of running was still in her mind when the car struck her, throwing her into the air like a tossed ragdoll.

The car screeched to a halt. A dark figure stepped out of the rear door and walked over to Marylou's mangled body. Standing over her, the two shots from the '38 disappeared under the sound of the crashing thunderstorm. The large automobile sped away and disappeared into the black night. 

The crimson-red pool on the pavement was illuminated by the telephone booth light, and Rick noticed it right before he realised it was Marylou. ‘No! No! It can’t be her..’ he silently prayed, running to her. He recognised her coat. Then the white-heeled shoes with the golden clasps. He needed no check, for he knew it was her.

He pulled a soft pack from his inside pocket, caught a cigarette between his lips, and tilted his head to shield the benzene lighter flame from the rain. He flipped the metal lighter closed and took a long, deep draw on the strong tobacco.

'Fuck protocol' anger milled his mind, 'they shouldn't have done this.’

Someone was going to pay for what was done to Marylou. And he was going to ensure they suffer before the light leaves their eyes.

"I'm here for Shanty," Rick snarled at the doorman through the opened slit in the metal door.

"Shanty is busy," came the reply, but Rick's ten-pound bill he slipped through the narrow opening was apparently enough to gain entrance. A long passage opened up to him. The sounds of moans, groans, shrieks, and screams echoed down the seedy hallway.

"You can come in, but Shanty is busy. You can go wait at the bar, just go right down there," the burly muscle barked at him. He never saw the knuckle-buster fist coming and collapsed in a heap on the dirty floor. Rick stepped over him.

"I'm in a hurry, I can't wait," he mumbled as he walked up to the first door.

The locked door elevated his anger and he stepped back to kick it open. The small room was filled with opium smoke, and an oversized bedside lamp cast a glow across the naked back of a whore fucking her umpteenth customer for the day. She flung herself off the man, clearly terrified by the unexpected intruder.

"I'm looking for Shanty," he growled in her direction. She tried hiding behind a pale, scrawny-looking man, who sat up and was fumbling with his glasses to see what was going on.

"Shanty is not here," she blurted out hastily, "I don’t know which room she's in.”

The spectacled ‘John’ stood up in protest, his thin frame sporting a huge erection.

"How dare you…" He was cut short when Rick’s fist planted him back onto the bed.

"What the hell man?" he cried out, holding his nose with both hands. Gushing claret streamed down his chest. His whore used a shirt to wipe him down and hold to his broken nose.

“Put some ice on that,” Rick mumbled as he turned around and walked out.

Room number two was diagonally opposite. He scanned down the passage before turning the door handle. Finding it unlocked, he pushed into the room.

“Aaaah!”

The scream came from an enormous, stripped-down bloke who was cuffed to a steel mesh screen against the wall. He was perspiring heavily and his hairy back covered in welted red streaks. His ‘Madam’ stood behind him. Dressed in black stiletto boots, fishnet stockings, and a black and red, lace corset, she yielded a woven leather whip which she had been expending on her client. The mask on her face hid her panicked expression as she swung around at the sound of Rick barging into the room.

 "Get the hell out of here, you brute!" She yelled at him, taking a step toward Rick and cocking her arm to flay the whip she held in her hand. He stepped into her swing and caught her by the wrist before the leather could cut his face.

"Darlin', you’d better calm down. I'm looking for Shanty," he hissed between his teeth, "I'm not here for you. Where can I find Shanty?" and pulled the hand-stitched leather mask from her face. Her stricken expression was chiselled by the deep bladed scar which ran from ear to ear.

"Who do you think you are?" She yelled at him in protest "Get out!"

Rick ripped the whip from her hand, pushed her back against the undressed blubber client, and menacingly lifted his hand to strike at her. The sound of liquid pouring on the floor broke the silence. The ‘John’ had pissed himself. The Madam cowered and screamed at him.

“She is not here! I don’t know where she is! Please, leave!”

“You’re gonna have to clean that,” Rick smirked and threw the whip on the floor. He slammed the door closed behind him.  

He marched across to door number three and swung the unlocked door open. The lowly lit room smelt acrid and his eyes needed to adjust to make out the ‘John’, who was tied to the bed. His arms and legs were bound to the four posts with ruby silk ties. A rather large blonde woman was on all fours over him, moaning loudly while she was sucking him off. Her back was facing Rick and he tilted his head to look at her thick pubes sticking out between her plump thighs. He walked closer. She was obliviously gagging on the large cock of her tied-up client, who was blindfolded. He gave her a hard slap on her fat arse, which startled her and made her jump up. Her massive tits swung around and wrapped around her sides, yelling something foreign at him. Fear filled her eyes when she saw Rick.

"I'm looking for Shanty," he barked, “Where is she?”

"She… she is not here," came her shaky reply, "She, she might be with a client, I think". Her timid voice was squeaky and high-pitched and sounded totally unsuited for her large frame.

"Thanks, doll, you can get back to it then," he said as he turned around to walk out, pulling the door closed behind him.

'Where the fuck is she?' His anger was mounting and the lurid stench of sex clung to his nostrils.

The next door had no number but was painted a bright red color and stood out from the others. He turned the doorknob and pushed in. The door creaked open. He entered a darkened room that appeared larger than the others he had seen. It was decorated with draped Persian carpets on the walls and the ceiling, covered with cream, satin-looking sheets. A large, four-poster bed with a mirror mounted under the canopy frame, stood centred against the back wall. Two wall-mounted, stained glass lights beamed their soft radiance into the room.

He walked up to the dresser table to look at the open book on the counter. It was a frayed edge copy of ‘Gone with the wind’. He opened the book and brushed the pages with his thumb as he scrolled through it. A small piece of paper caught his eye. He held it up to the light and read the numbers written on it out loud.

"Why would you read one's private letters," he heard behind him.

He turned around to see the woman addressing him. He placed the note back in between the pages and closed the book.

"I'm looking for Shanty," his agitated tone evident in his request.

"And whom may I ask, is looking for Shanty?" The woman replied.

She showed no sign of fear and stepped closer to Rick, pushing past him to pick up the book which he handled. She opened it to confirm the note was still there, closed it carefully, and clasped it against her chest. She was wearing a dark green velvet dress that had lacy frills at the shoulders and seams. She looked like she stepped out of an old western saloon, even with brown, suede ankle boots.

"That's none of your business," Rick answered her as he took a closer look at her. She was older than the others but had a charismatic beauty that differed too.

"Do you know where she is, or not?" he added glumly.

"Shanty is with a client," she spoke to him with an authority that reminded him of his late mother.

"She should be done shortly. Are you here for an appointment?" She added.

"No, I need to speak to her. It is important," Rick replied.

“Well, why don't you sit down and relax for a minute. She shouldn't be much longer," she laughed suddenly, "her john is not what we would call a 'long haul' client."

"I don't have time to wait, it is a matter of life and death," Rick insisted, but the woman appeared neither intimidated nor scared.

"Darlin', you seem to be all worked up. Why don’t you sit down and let me make you a cup of tea? Or would you prefer something a little… stronger?" She insisted.

"Whiskey, thanks," Rick mumbled and sat down on a Victorian-styled high chair. He watched her glide across the floor to a small serving table. She decanted a generous shot of golden brown liquid into a crystal tumbler and gracefully floated back to him.

"There you go, enjoy," her friendly manner irritated Rick even more. He gulped it down in one swish, slamming the glass on the side table next to him.

"Now, I really need to speak to Shanty," he growled again, and pushed himself up from the chair, "tell her it's..." was the last words he recalled.

Rick woke from the cold water splashed onto his face.

"Hey, what the?" His eyes opened but could not focus properly yet. He could just make out a dark figure in front of him. When he tried to get up, he realized that he was bound to the bed, similar to the man in Room 3. He angrily pulled at the silk ties, but to no avail as he was expertly constrained.

"What did you give me?"

"Just a little sedative to calm you, dear," he recognized the woman's voice.

"You! You gave me that whiskey. Who in the hell are you?" he demanded.

"The question, dear, is who are you?" he heard her reply.

"Listen, I don't have time for this. Someone I care about is dead, and I need to speak to Shanty. She is the only one who can help me."

"Let's start there," he heard her say. His eyes adjusted and could see her more clearly.

"Who died?" She asked sternly, standing over him with her arms folded across her chest.

"Marylou," he near whispered her name. The anger flamed up inside him again when he uttered it.

"Her name was Marylou."

He could hear the gasp and saw the woman leap up and felt the burning slap across his face.

"Say that again!" She screamed at him.

"Say what?" He replied, caught off guard by the slap, which stung like hell. The woman fell back into her chair, her head dropped between her hands and he heard her whimpering cries.

"Lady," he uttered after a couple of minutes when her cries subsided, "what in God’s name is goin’ on?" 

"Mary, was my best friend." she replied, "My name is Chantelle du Bois, Shanty here. What happened to her?" She demanded suddenly as she stood up and walked over to him.

"I found her in Ellingwood street. She was shot. Twice. And it appears she was first struck by a car. It was a deliberate hit," Rick’s dower voice recounted.

"Do you know who did it?"

"Marylou gave me your name and this address in the event somethin’ happened to her. I was hopin’ you'd know," Rick replied.

"Marylou worked as an agent. It’s a treacherous job," she mumbled a monotone reply, staring ahead into blank space. The loss appeared to weigh heavy on her.

"Yes, I knew that. I'm with the agency too. We were workin’ with intel from our Russian asset. I don't think it was them though. The hit, it wasn't their style. Maybe the Krauts, but I can’t tie the pieces together yet."

"Marylou's assignment was to infiltrate a group called 'The Freikorps. They're a Nazi sympathizer group and apparently setting up an underground network here in London. The last time we spoke, she said she had made contact with an insider and expected to be invited to a meeting. That was about ten days ago, and the last time we spoke." Shanty brought her hands up to her head, shaking in disbelief at her own words.

They suddenly heard a loud commotion coming from outside the room. When a gunshot rang out, Shanty quickly released the four knots which held Rick on the bed.

"Come with me, now" she whispered and ushered him behind a dressing screen. She pulled a draped Persian carpet away and pushed against the wall. A hidden latch swung open, and she pushed Rick into the dark space, following him and closing the latch behind her. She fumbled in the dark for a second and struck a match to light the paraffin lamp standing on a ledge. They were in a dark passage, and Shanty picked up her hems and started running, Rick in tow. They crisscrossed a couple of times, then climbed down a wall ladder and continued down an underground stormwater canal.  

Rick followed Shanty, hastily making her way down the grimy waterway. After climbing up to another level, Rick was led to a red door at the end of the tunnel they were in. She knocked three times, paused, and then banged her fist once. A key could be heard turning in the lock and the door slowly creaked open. Rick stepped inside, into what appeared to be a long passage, all white and stretching so far that he could not see the end. Metal grid-covered wall lights donned the one side, with many lights not working and some sputtering their last lumens. Shanty greeted a burly man dressed in blue overalls and grabbed Rick’s hand as she made her way down the passage. There were doors at random intervals, some ordinary looking and others clearly designed to keep unwanted intruders out. Steel riveted doors with no handles or visible keyholes.

Shanty came to a halt in front of an old-looking, rusty steel door. She reached inside her bosom and lifted a key hanging from a gold chain around her neck. She ran her fingers across a panel and pressed against a rivet that popped open. She bent over and unlocked the door, motioning for Rick to enter. She followed him inside and locked the door again.

He heard a light switch flip on and the dark room slowly lit up with flickering flashes before Rick could look around the large room. It was clinically white and reminded him of a hospital he was in during his time in Austria. The walls, floor tiles, and most of the furniture were white. There was a white steel table with two white steel chairs on the left side. The wall next to it ran the entire length with floor-to-ceiling, white steel cabinets. On the opposite side, an out-of-place, dark-stained mahogany Biedermeier sofa stood at an angle next to a white server cabinet. A white metal Bauhaus desk lamp was placed on top of it. At the back wall, a thick, velvety-looking white curtain draped down to the floor.

“Where are we?” Rick turned around to Shanty.

“We’re safe,” she replied, “that’s all that matters for now.”

“Take off your clothes,” she suddenly commanded.

Rick did not move but watched Shanty remove her coat and shawl which she hung behind the door. She bent forward and lifted her leg to untie her boots. She looked up at him.

“We are going to be here for a while. Can we just take a moment and then deal with what comes next.”

Shanty removed her boots and turned around, pointing at the row of buttons running down the back of her dress. Rick hesitantly stepped closer and undid each button. When the last one was released, she turned around to him.

“I deal with grief best when I’m being fucked. Like a whore. So please, oblige me,” she bluntly stated.

Rick shrugged at the idea. Marylou was dead and fucking was the last thing on his mind.

“Maybe another time, darlin’,” he mumbled and made his way to the window, splitting the drapes with his index finger to peer outside into the darkness. Nothing inconspicuous, all appeared normal. When he turned around, Shanty's frock was on the floor around her feet. A black brassiere with blood-red lace work remarkably presented her milky white breasts. Her large bosom bulged above the wired cups. Heaving as she breathed. Rick's stern gaze moved down to the black knickers which were clipped to her stockings. The contrast of the lingerie against the paleness of her skin was a sight to behold. Shanty's luscious body took him by surprise. The dress made her appear larger than she was. Rick bit against the inside of his cheek to suppress his instinctive arousal.

“Come here, Rick,” she beckoned while she stepped out from her garment, “come comfort me in my time of need.”

Rick did not move. He thought of Marylou. She was a job. But he cared about her. He let his guard down. Now she's gone.

Shanty seemed to float across the floor as she closed the gap between them. 

“She's gone, Rick. She is gone. I need you to comfort me.”

Her mesmerizing fluidity seemed to capture Rick’s attention, who stood still as she slithered down against his body onto her knees. Her hands slid down his chest, across his stomach, and expertly unbuckled his trousers without so much as a glitch. Looking up at him, the sound of his zipper preceded the release of his semi-rigid cock, which she engulfed with her ruby-red lips. Rick's body stiffened yet remained immovably still while Shanty's tongue swirled around his dick. It swelled into her hot mouth. He was staring straight ahead, purposefully avoiding the remorse of Marylou's friend blowing his cock with her adept skills. He involuntarily dropped his gaze to her.

She held his shaft with one hand and used the very tip of her tongue to lightly lick the head. Slow circles. Light taps around it. Flicking her tongue against the frenulum. His reluctant manhood trembled against her lips, yet throbbed in her hand. She gripped it tightly about an inch below the head and slowly lowered herself onto him, wrapping her lips around the top of the head. Her saliva coated him as she gently sucked on the glans, tickling and squeezing his scrotum while she did so.

Rick's breath became shallow and somewhat shorter from Shanty’s skilful devotion. His mouth fell open, letting out a lustful groan as his eyes closed. Shanty came back up and licked her tongue into his open mouth. She stepped back and undid her bra, which fell off her when she bent down to remove her knickers and stockings.

Large, dark brown areolas pointed at him from her voluptuous breasts. Shanty peeled off Rick's jacket and slowly undid his shirt buttons while she stared into his eyes. She swept the shirt off his shoulders and pushed his trousers down. Rick had not moved, nor said a word but she knew he wanted her. She turned around, for him to observe her naked buttocks and proceeded to climb onto the sofa on all fours, lifting her ass so he could get a proper view of her vividly dark bush nestled between her shapely thighs. She looked back at him, then lay down on her back, and rested her neck on the sofa’s armrest.

“Fuck my mouth, Rick,” she begged.

Rick stepped forward, as if in a trance, and pushed his rigid cock down to enter her anticipating, open mouth. Shanty arched her head further back so she could take his full length down her throat. Rick revelled at the sight of Shanty’s naked body and his cock plunging down her throat. She was pulling roughly at her large nipples and moaned loudly above the gargling sounds of her mouth being fucked. When Rick pulled out of her, he climbed onto the sofa to straddle her so he could reach her bushy pubic mound. Shanty moved up too and gripped his cock firmly with her hand as she sucked him into her mouth again.

Her moans trembled through his dick when his fingers probed into her wetness. He gripped a clump of her pubes and pulled it upwards, using the other hand the spread her lovely, lilac labia before his tongue licked into her. She smelled of soap, but her sweet juices reminded Rick of his favourite Kentucky bourbon back home.

“Oh, that’s good. Yes, lover, eat my delicious cunt”

Shanty gripped his hips and rolled him over, his cock firmly in her hot mouth. Sitting above Rick now, she ground herself against his mouth, groaning whenever she forcefully bucked her clit against his teeth. Pulling his cock from her mouth, she slid forward across his abdomen, lifting her ass for Rick when her hips hovered above his arched cock. She reached back with one hand and pulled his shaft forward so she could mount it in her reversed position.

Rick was absorbed by the gorgeous view of Shanty sliding down onto him, her ass lifting as she started riding his cock. He grabbed her butt with both hands to squeeze and slam her down onto his throbbing cock, slapping her shapely behind a couple of times for good measure. Shanty sat on her haunches and rode Rick like a racehorse in her reverse position. She would expertly rotate her hips, or increase her pace which made her ass cheeks flap open for Rick’s enjoyment. She slowed down whenever she felt Rick tensing, edging him to last a little longer.

Then, at one point, with Rick’s cock deeply buried inside her, she sat up and swung her body around to face Rick. Her large tits juggled above Rick’s face and she leaned forward to dip a nipple into his open mouth. Rick lick, sucked and bit the dangling nipples and wrapped his hands around her butt, lifting her and pulling her down onto him. He was thoroughly captivated by Shanty’s sensual fucking and groaned with delight.

Oh, Rick! Fill me. Fill me!” she cried out as her orgasm began to build. Rick was compelled to thrust harder as they crushed into each other with renewed vigour.

Shanty’s moans became shorter, more intense and her eyes closed as she cantered on top of Rick. She gasped in short, high-pitched breaths to her increased pace, digging her nails into his chest, dragging it down to his stomach. Drawing blood when her nails tore at his skin. The sharp pain only made Rick growl louder, pumping his cock deeper into Shanty.

“I’m gonna come,” Rick uttered, followed shortly after by his ejaculatory groans.

Shanty sat up on him, rocking her hips back and forward with his dick deep inside her. Rick watched as she arched backward, throwing her head back and her stunning tits bouncing to her fuck-rhythm. Her arms lifted to behind her head which she untied, shaking it onto Rick as she came back forward to him.

“You are on hell of a fuck, Rick,” she whispered in his ear, grinding her cum-filled cunt against him before she abruptly dismounted from him and walked to the dresser.

Rick’s gaze followed her naked figure slinking away from him, taking pleasure in how she swayed her hips from side to side. She looked stunningly beautiful. His thoughts went to Marylou again. ‘So-long, my sweet darling’, I will treasure you always,’ he thought to himself. He smiled.

Shanty caught his attention as she walked back to him.

“So, do you feel better after fucking?” he asked her, as she came up behind him and lost sight of her. She did not answer him.

“Your hot cunt is so delici... ghluuurgh!”

Rick’s words were cut short by Shanty’s ivory handle, straight razor when it slit his throat, slicing through his windpipe and main artery with surgical precision.

“My cunt, du scheiss Hurensohn [shit-son-of-a-whore], is the last thing you will have on this earth,” she hissed at him between her teeth and wiped the blade clean against his cheek while standing over him.

“One more thing. It was me. I killed that Marylou bitch!”

It existed as the last words he heard before the blackness set in.