From the small sink in the bathroom, the telltale sign of a leaking faucet resounded through the thin-walled room and out to the street below in an aggravating monotone.His host brushed the pans away from one of the burners unsympathetically, and drew some water from a small plastic pail on the floor, then hummed to herself in a melancholy oriental song as she lit the burner with matches from nowhere. Once she adjusted the small blue flame, she turned and winked at him before disappearing into the bathroom behind the termite riddled door that would only forcibly close. He sat on the bed that protested vehemently under his thin frame and reached over to a small wooden cabinet to fondle a small cracked ashtray with a picture of a WWII battleship taped on the bottom. He began to absently reflect on the night - the mayhem a mere block away, and the meager existence reflected in the four walls that surrounded him. It was strange, that someone with her looks was barely existing despite the. She had liked him, but she knew the job that she was here to do, and what needed to be done had to be done.“Coming … Sorry,” she beamed a disarming smile at him. But even now, as she picked up the two Latte’s, Yulia was thinking about the way he had laid the bamboo cane across her bare bottom. How she had cried out and begged him to strike her harder, and how he had enthusiastically fucked her, almost all night, afterwards …Yes, she had liked him, and sometimes the job made her feel sad.“Your drinks, Sir,” she smiled down at the customer whose drinks she had just delivered. In turn he looked at her, well more like he stared at her breasts. But Yulia was used to that, she knew that she had killer breasts … in her line of work they were a weapon. As she turned, Yulia knew that his eyes would be on her ass, and she smirked to herself.Fleetingly, her mind’s eye recalled the feel of the rope around her wrists, the spread of her legs, the rub of the thick bamboo in between her labia … her.
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