3WW - Content Warning

It's time for another 3 Word Wednesday. The prompts this week were: Flirt, Ploy and Stunning.

I'm still trying to let my "hero" finish his story and get revenge. I think this is going to have to be the next to last installment for him. He's very dark, and way too obsessed. This weeks clip is a little more explicit, but he's very close to the killer. Don't read this if you are offended easily, please. Otherwise, enjoy at your own risk.


He watched the working girl flirt for over an hour before the one he was looking for showed up. Not a stunning girl by any means, life on the streets sucked all the pretty out of her a long time ago.

The longer he watched, though, the more attractive she got. He knew his obsession was going to kill him, but what did he have to live for anyway?

His precious little wife had moved on and was screwing her divorce lawyer, and his two kids couldn’t wait to leave when he had them on his bi-weekly visits. They hid in their rooms playing video games and on the phone, and at 6:00 on Sunday would be waiting by the door, crap packed in their suitcases, ready to go back to grandma’s house.

Life sucked at this point. But watching the prostitute flash her saggy breasts and offer dates to anonymous men for a few bucks, and finding it a turn on, made him realize just how low he’d sunk. Her ploy wasn’t even that great. Flash them some T & A and expect them to cough up the money, but by the sheer number of trips around the block to the alley she made, he knew she must be doing pretty good. He wondered what she considered a good night. Twenty tricks? Fifty?

He’d been talking to the girl for a few weeks now. She’d been in the park. She’d seen the sick son of a bitch rape and kill his sister and had been too scared to do anything about it. He’d wanted to kill her, but couldn’t bring himself to wring her scrawny little neck. So, they worked out a deal. He’d watch her at night and if the guy showed back up she’d give him a signal – drop her purse and let all of the condoms fall on the ground. He thought it was stupid, but couldn’t come up with a better idea. She’d seen it on an episode of Cops.

As soon as the dark sedan pulled up, her purse hit the ground. Gold wrapped Trojans and flavored Lifestyles littered the sidewalk, and her eyes were wide with panic. Still, he waited until she picked up all her party favors and got in the car with the psycho bastard. He was probably letting her screw her way to a death sentence but he didn’t care at this point.

The engine in his twenty year old Toyota coughed and sputtered to life before he pulled into traffic and followed the dark sedan. What the hell was he doing? He had a degree in accounting for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a P.I., but here he was following the man who had probably killed his sister and the prostitute that had given him a blow job to save her own life.

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