by
Cocktail party. The drink was flowing, along with the bad jokes, the schmoozing, the flirting and the backslapping. Here was society’s finest in their tuxedos and evening dresses, wearing those false smiles to compliment those oh so expensive rings, necklaces and watches. Oh yes, underneath that ‘I have it all demeanour’ there was much darkness. This I knew, and that’s why I was here. For this was where I found my clients.
A man introduced himself to me.
“Hi, my name is Derek Zinn, CEO of Weyland Enterprises. What do you do?” I shook his hand, simultaneously slipping my business card into his palm. I prided myself on the fact that I had perfected this move.
“Hi, my name’s John Steele, rapist for hire. Take my business card, give me a call. If you’ve got the cash, I’ve got the cock. Any bitch you want raped, no questions asked.”
READ MORE“Rapist for hire eh?” Said Derek Zinn CEO, raising his eyebrows as he looked over my card. “That sounds so much more interesting than the usual humdrum nine to five stuff.”
“Yes, well, I never really liked any job I’d had, so I thought that I would start my own business.”
“Ah, an entrepreneur, I like it. There aren’t enough men in this world who go their own way. Tell you what…”, he slipped my card into his pocket. “I think my wife had been cheating on me and I would like to see her raped to teach her a lesson. What are you going rates?”
“I don’t come cheap, but I’m sure money will be no object to a man such as yourself. Ten thousand dollars per bitch raped. This includes oral and vaginal rape. It’s one thousand dollars per extra-such as a golden shower or anal rape.”
COLLAPSE
