Morgan Lynn - Snowed In
Whispers come across the room delicately scratching my inner ear.
“Hold your breath.” I look into Stella's dilated pupils. “Do you hear that?”
We’d been stocked into a cupboard in the basement of Winslor’s mansion, like hookers stashed from a frenzied wife. Tools dug into my ass, as I curled up with my legs against my chest. Our scheme was simple: seduce, slit, then leave. They weren't supposed to come so soon- let alone at all, this was supposed to be in and out. A and B. A blood shower for the girls. Me and Stella barely got undressed, let alone close enough to Winslor to slit that motherfucker's throat, before whatever gang that has some unsettled business came barging in on our business. Somehow we became the damsels in distress packed like scared rats in a box.
Now me and Stella are normally girls to fight, and I'm sure we could take on the three heavy boot steps just by avoiding gaze. But geniuses think out of the box, maybe this will lead to bigger and better things who are these men that believe they contain enough power to have Winslor bent over screaming for his mother. I’d like to find out, maybe get myself bent. Mob wife is always a fun game. Fuck it, we are two 5’8 bitches with long golden legs and C cups. We have ivory and sage lingerie on for Pete's sake. Like they wouldn't instantly pity us as the poor girls somehow involved in their gruesome business. It would be easier to be obvious than sneak around I suppose. This is annoying though we were Supposed to be in and out and now we are in here. The agency might be back soon with Kyle, and then what? We can't blow his cover with them. That could put all three of us at risk of being scooped intp sex trafficking. We might as well make it worthwhile, get some action out of this failed day and get out of this fucking cupboard.
I lean down to Stella’s ear after she nods in agreement that the whispers aren't just my imagination. “Should we have some fun?” “Remember New Orleans?” somehow we found ourselves in a similar predicament earlier this year at Mardi Gras, that one more by choice. Definitely by choice- and well planned, we’d picked those men the day before at the parade and watched them for a couple hours to be sure they could supply what we wanted- a dress up game of being the crime lord's girl. From there the manipulation was slick, pieces fell into place with minimal effort. With this there's a risk, if they know our faces it could spell trouble, but Winslor lives in a mountain village of North Dakota with a higher bear population than humans. So seemingly it's game time.
Stella’s eyes vibrated with excitement and she scooped her tits so they'd push up in her bra. I did the same and brushed through my hair lightly.
“Okay, one- two- three” Stella whispered with her hand in position to open the cupboard, the whispers were close enough now we could make out what they were saying. “Where’s those fucking girls?”
Stella yanks her hand from the door and holds it in her lap. The blood drained from her body and turned her face pale. I felt my own do the same. We both could only stare at each other. It was a rubber band snapping me back into reality, I could see me and Stella both going through our memories like a picture book of every wrong we have done and how that could possibly lead to these men searching for us. Sure there was a lot to dig from, but the lengths went to assure anonymity of me and Stella’s identities let alone locations made this hard to realize. Someone would've had to have found the location of Winslor’s mansion, which is tied into a tight bow between him and the hooker agency we used to procure our entrance. Flown to
this mountain town in the middle of bumblefuck North Dakota. We were flown in on a private jet that landed on his property. Winslor doesn't play with his own security, and neither do me and Stella. We are basically ghosts, new names wherever we go, and I haven't had a form of identity since ‘99. We sat in that cupboard for at least 5 hours, listening to the crashes of glass, and chimes of crystals hitting the ground, the groaning of a probably half dead Winslor. Only when we heard the engines of at least three trucks turn on and pull off slowly down the snowy road, did we creep out of the cupboard.
“What the actual fuck- did you tell anyone what we were doing?” I said to Stella. “No- of course not, I'm not insane. Kyle is the only one who knows.” She said to me, and we both realized the contents as she spoke it into existence. That motherfucking prick, he tried playing us the same fucking way we played his whole squad. Kyle asked us to go to the middle of nowhere North Dakota, get completely undressed with only a knife small enough to fit in my ring. We are both such idiots. I twirl the ring around my finger before throwing it to the floor and crushing it with my foot.
He’d given us the 200k before we flew out, and I'm sure those goons slipped it out of my coat pocket by now. How could we be so oblivious, careless, stupid.
“We are never working with a man again I swear. They are all annoying. This is A and B business from now on.” I look at Stella shaking my head down. I could feel the goosebumps taking over my body as the cool concrete made contact with my feet.
“Let's go find some clothes, Brooke your lips look like they'd freeze off.”
We walked up the two flights of ornate red velvet steps. On the way we passed a streak of blood down the ivory carpet that led to his living room. At least we accomplished some goal today. Although set up Winslor did rape Kyle’s 12 year old niece who got trafficked through the same agency, so Mother fucker deserved what he got coming. What a cheap bastard Kyle is trying to kill two birds with his one meager stone. Have us do the dirty work before slitting our throats just the same. Although I smiled at the thought of Winslor suffering, and by the sounds of his screams those men messed him up more than letting him bleed out like the pig he is would've.
“Fuck him, fuck them both” I spat on his carpet as we entered the master bedroom, where Winslor had ushered us out in just a robe and underwear only a few hours ago. Our coats had been expectedly stolen, probably a last ditched attempt to murder us by hypothermia, but the idiots had left his glorious closet fully stocked. Me and Stella got dressed like business men. Fedora’s covering our hair and thick black coats, slacks, and leather snowshoes. We had to wear three pairs of socks each to get our feet to fit into his shoes- Winslor had some small teeny weeny baby feet apparently.
“So what’s the plan? You want to go see if we can find some keys to the cars in the garage?” I pull on the last shoe and look towards stella.
“Yeah I guess that’s the best bet right? You think the agency is still coming to get us?” Stella questioned back.
“Fuck all if I care im not going back with them, we should try and get out before they come. If Kyle was able to get us in, I'm sure he can assure we don't get out.” I said to her as we walked back down the stairs and to the rack of keys hanging next to the door. “Yeah exactly.” Stella’s voice remained calm and she grabbed off every key on the rack.
“Okay let's go get one of these cars.” We head to the garage and open the metal door who’s padlock had been melted off by nitric acid and water- a trick I taught to Kyle that confirmed his hand in this hunt.
“Those pig fucking- ass licking– cunt bastards.” I hear Stella swear loudly as my view becomes the same. Every single car had the tires slashed, and we stepped into the radiating pool of gasoline that had been leaked from all their tanks.
“Oooooooooooooooh Kayyyyyyy.” I say and we slowly back out, closing the door. “We should probably get out of here before ya know we get blown to pieces?” “Definitely in agreement.” One thing I admired about Stella was she was just as calm as me, we have never been in a situation we haven't been able to get out of and she knows it. Even with this, it's another day, another adventure more exciting than getting high and watching The Simpsons over a frozen meal. This was an experience, more money than most salaries. Even if we didn't get to keep it today. It is just another day. Our way of living. “Where should we go?” Stella asked. I could see the cold air hitting her cheeks, already turning them red.
“I think the best bet is climbing up that big hill and trying to see any roadways.” She nodded her head and we began the hike through 2 feet of snow. Winslor wasn't good for nothing after all, his coats are what is keeping us alive.
The early morning sun blessed us with enough light to make the voyage. The whole way Stella and I kept in communication with our sniffles, our mouths too frozen to speak till we reached the top.
“Honestly dude I'm about to make a fire. I snagged this multitool and lighter from the cupboard before we left cause it was practically shoved in my ass crack the whole time” Stella shivered through her teeth and began picking up the sticks canopied under snow. I laughed and rubbed my leg where a screwdriver had dug a hole.
“Smart I'm gonna go to the edge to see what I can find.”
My feet dangle off the hillside and their weight begs me to let them sink into the ever expanding iris of the earth below, to be placed delicately into the hands of the devil as lilith. I've often met devils capable of love. Kyle being the bane of Stella’s existence for the last three months, then subsequently trying to murder her (and me) only proves this theory. That the warmth of a gruesome creature encapsulates us. We see it in each other, and we’re best friends for that reason. But each time I choose that path im Drained down a dank wet hole, into a pit that will take all my will to escape. It's a tired idea but validation is what holds me here. Whether that be a soft gaze, a flick of my lower lip with oil stained thumbs. The gentle touch of a cold shaft unloaded, with my lover’s fingers readily on the trigger. The money that comes pouring in from risking lives of me and my friends for the sick goals we think make us superior. It’s wrong to live as we do, but that overarching orgasmic fill of insanity keeps me drinking the kool aid. Keeps me oblivious to schemes men like Kyle try to pull.
It's Adrenaline; the world's most dangerous drug, and I’m an addict. I want to experience the filthy thoughts that can only be bled from the human mind. The intrusive thoughts I can explore instead of partake. Each time losing the essence of myself as I travel dimly, into a world where nothing retains meaning and I live by the sheer audacity of my being.
It was as if I was in a theater, and the curtains were the furled leaves of the willow trees who valiantly guarded my view. Salt thick water rushes into the bridge between my eyelids, I
smack them against the crusted hills of my lower lash line. Crack my sclera like thin ice on the Winslor pond as I look through the flurry of snow. I'm able to make out a soft glow of red lights zooming in and out of trees. Not many but as I've been sitting I have counted at least 8. Seems like a major road, and I don't mind a walk. On the plane ride here, I saw what looked to be a small trucker city a couple miles out. Shouldn't be too long before we got a ride and some cash. Men on the road are quite the easy targets. I look over my shoulder as I begin the short walk to the clearing where I see the smoke from Stella’s fire. “Hey I found a way out, are you ready?”