[hr][INDENT][I][b][i]The Ranch Hotel & Spa, Longhorn TX[/i][/b]
[INDENT]March 17th 2016, 9:47PM[/INDENT][/I][/INDENT][hr]"Hey sweetcheeks," said the nude man, knocking impatiently on the door of his room's en suite. "Ya almost done in there? Time is money," he chirped, his tone tinged with pedantry. "You of all people know that." His voice was thick and metallic; a mid-level executive from New York, his accent betrayed the city in which his wife and children lived only half oblivious to what unpleasantries he dabbled in during his buisiness trips to the South. 

"You still givin' me the silent treatment, huh toots?" he jibed, pulling a towel around his waist to cover his modesty as it became apparent he would need to employ patience, and wandered somewhat aimlessly back over to the hotel's large, plush bed. He lay there on the sheets, hands behind his head as he gazed up at the blank features of the plastered ceiling. "Heh. Good, I kinda like it." he called out, raising his voice so that she was able to hear from within the confines of her makeshift dressing room. "'Sa nice change, y'know?" he cooed. "My old lady never shuts up. I can dig a chick that keeps quiet, you sexy minx." As jocular as his efforts might have seemed, the man spoke only half in jest.

Finally, movement was heard from within the bathroom, and soon enough the door was unbolted and gently opened; the man watched mesmerised, as though he had stumbled upon a cocoon in the chance moment that it split apart and released whatever beauty dwelled within. Slowly but surely, the object of his attention came into view; a head of platinum locks falling in perfect curls around her dainty shoulders, the petite mistress delicately sashayed towards the bed.

His eyes fixed upon her almost too-perfect features, the man's jaw hung loosely as he practically salivated over the sight he beheld: her foudroyant appeal lay not in the exposed flesh of her tanned and unblemished legs, but in the garment she wore to conceal her more intimate areas. He recognised it instantly: grey, finely-tailored and yet incredibly baggy upon her lithe frame, the woman was draped in the very suit he'd worn to his meeting that afternoon. Seizing the moment and demonstrating her expertise, she dropped the jacket to the floor and revealed to her client the goods he was paying for.

He smiled a big, wide grin and purred in a way that only he could make so unpalatable. 

[center]***[/center]

"Well, I gotta hand it to ya toots," said the man, a lit cigar hanging from his lips. "That was unreal." he confessed, taking a long drag whilst his mistress remained ever-silent. He paused for a brief moment, before exhaling and briefly filling the room with a thick smog that swiftly dissipated back into nothingness. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way sweetcheeks, but... What you got down there," he said, nodding in the least subtle of fashions to the woman's lower body. "It don't feel like any woman I ever loved, that's for sure. You got yourself a wonder pussy."

With that, the woman instantly rose to her feet; the scowl she shot the grotesque being saying everything that her apparent muteness was unable to. The man smirked knowingly and reached into his bedside drawer. 

"Alright, alright," he said, dismissing her offence. "You earned your fee," he said, presenting her with a handful of crumpled notes withdrawn from his wallet. She snatched them from his fingers, and before he had even but a second to respond, the leather wallet, too, was relinquished from his grip as the still-naked woman sped out of the hotel room and off down the hall. "You filthy slut!" he yelled after her, panicking as he searched for his towel to preserve his modesty. Misplaced amongst all the sheets, he settled for a pillow which he held over his crotch and tip-toed out into the hallway. She was nowhere to be seen. 

"Stinkin' whore," he cursed, returning to his room and closing the door behind him. "No-good, thievin', stinkin' who--" he continued, before noticing that the bathroom door still lay ajar. He smiled wickedly: knowing that in her quick getaway, the woman had left all her belongings in the en suite, amongst which he would surely find some kind of incriminating identification. He wasted no time in investigating, but as soon as he laid eyes upon the white-tiled bathroom he paused in shock; eyes wide in a unique mixture of horror and disgust.

There were no clothes. There was no handbag. Nothing - except a thick layer of slimy, tar-like liquid, overfilling the basin of the sink and grotesquely dripping down its side as it pooled upon the tiled floor. 
 


[hr][center][h2][I][color=c4df9b]Emory Fairchild[/color][/I][/h2]March 18th 2016, 1:13PM | [i][b]Pointe Bordeaux Central Interchange[/b], Pointe Bordeaux LA[/i]
[sub][[b]Now Playing:[/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zF2tsBJnpk][i]'Tis A Pity She Was A Whore[/i] - David Bowie[/url]][/sub][/center][hr]"Ladies and gentleman, this is your driver speaking," announced a voice over the coach's speaker system, stirring Emory Fairchild from the state of half-sleep that he had been senselessly drifting in and out of for the entirety of the eleven hour journey. "We are shortly arriving at the Pointe Bordeaux Central Interchange, and we would ask all our passengers to begin gathering their belongings and preparing to leave the bus. It's been a pleasure to drive you on this cross-state route from Longhorn City and we thank you for choosing Grayson-Wair Travel." the driver continued, his words bearing all the enthusiasm of a three day old helium balloon. "We hope to see you again soon - [i]Grayson-Wair'll take you there![/i]"

Emory rolled his eyes in contempt, sitting upright in his chair and trying to perk himself up. He earned no encouragement from the day, which remained unwaveringly grey and overcast as a fine drizzle peppered the smeared windows of the coach. The dull neon sheen of the city didn't seem to welcome him much, either, but Emory found it difficult to take offence. It was as if the tall and garishly-lit buildings that loomed above him as they pulled into the coach station were judging him somehow; shaking their heads in shame and disapproval of the scum that was being delivered into the heart of the city. 

It was a sentiment Emory regrettably shared as he stole a glance at the ticket in his hands, its three-figure price sum staring back at him without forgiveness. It was by no means the lowest the twenty-two year old had sunk for money, but Emory couldn't help but feel ashamed of his own rapidly-deteriorating moral code and self worth. The lengths he would go to in order to procure finances were growing further and further out of his comfort zone; the knowledge and awareness of which alarmed the young man considerably. 

But it wasn't the things he'd done that had plagued him the most on the almost day-long journey; it wasn't his misdeeds that had bound his conscience to a consistent state of waxing and waning, unable to settle in either realm of slumber or alertness. No, what had haunted Emory Fairchild the most about this journey was its purpose. 

As he disembarked the vehicle and flashed his ticket to the station-master, Emory stopped to take in the size of the city before observing the crumpled flyer that had not left his furious grip for the entirety of his travel. Smoothening out the promotional print so that it was reasonably legible, Emory read the bold typeface for what seemed like the millionth time; taking in every word despite the ferocity with which they turned his stomach as they danced around that all-too-familiar logo of Fairchild Electronics. 

Screwing the document up into a tight ball, he launched it at a nearby trashcan in anger; though his aim was off-target, and the projectile merely ricocheted off the rim of the steel receptacle and gambolled off along the station's tiled floor. Emory noticed not, however, his eyes fixed upon a desk that sat beneath a suitably large sign, upon which the words "VISITOR INFORMATION" were emblazoned clearly. He approached with purpose, pushing his messy bleached hair back off his face before he spoke to the woman behind the glass.

"[color=c4df9b][b]I'm looking for the city hall.[/b][/color]"