The sheen of sweat on his hairy chest irritated her. She struggled to keep her eyes open.
"Do you like it?" Mr. Thompson asked as he thrust into her continuously. Elaine ignored his question. "I said do you like it?" He asked again. Elaine nodded this time to stop him from the terrible attempt at dirty talk.
Mr. Thompson did not care, "then why don't I hear any sounds?" He asked her. Elaine let out a soft moan, Mr. Thompson thrust harder, Elaine began letting out more exaggerated moans. "That is more like it." He told her grunting while his pace increased. Soon he stilled, orgasming. His loud groan filling the room as his cum filled the condom. He pulled out as they both tried to catch their breath. He pulled of the condom tying it and quickly tossing it into the trashcan.
"A little help with this." Elaine called out referring to the handcuffs.
"Oh." Mr. Thompson said a slight blush on his cheeks. He picked the keys from the bedstand and opened the handcuffs. Elaine dropped her arms and let out a groan of relief as she massaged her sore wrists. Mr. Thompson looked on sheepishly. Elaine threw him an irritated look and sat up, pulling on a cotton white tee. She pulled a cigarette from the pack on the rickety nightstand. A click of a lighter was heard in the room as she lit the cigarette. Taking a large drag.
The motel room, small and dimly lit, held the stale scent of cheap cigarettes and sex. Elaine sat beside Mr. Thompson, their backs resting on the headboard. The crumpled sheets a testament to their recent activity. The air hung thick with a strained intimacy, a manufactured closeness that neither truly felt. Mr. Thompson, his breath still heavy, reached for the cigarette in Elaine's hand. Elaine eyed his hand, and rolled her eyes in annoyance.
Mr. Thompson refusing to take the hint, still kept his hand outstretched. Elaine slowly placed the cigarette in his hand, turning to the bedstand to light another.
"That was quite something," he said, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
Elaine, her expression flat, merely nodded. Inside, she seethed. The act had been tedious, a necessary evil, and she was eager to be done with it. She feigned a soft smile, "Yes, it was," she murmured, her voice laced with a practiced warmth. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the cigarette and the distant hum of traffic.
Mr. Thompson, finally snapping out of his post-coital daze, reached for a wad of cash tucked beneath the pillow. He handed it to Elaine.
"Here," he said, his voice gruff. "This is the last of it. The final drop from the P.O. Box." Elaine's eyes flickered with a sudden intensity. She took the money, her fingers quickly counting the bills. A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face. "Thank you," she said, her voice devoid of genuine warmth. Mr. Thompson leaned back against the headboard, a wide, almost predatory smile spreading across his face.
"Anything for you, my queen," he purred, his eyes tracing the outline of her body beneath the oversized white tee shirt she had thrown on. He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against her arm.
"You look delectable." He paused, a suggestive glint in his eyes. "How about a little kiss, for old times' sake?" Elaine rolled her eyes, a flicker of disgust crossing her features. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a perfunctory, almost clinical kiss. She scrunched her nose, pulling away quickly.
"There," she said, her voice clipped. "Happy?" He nodded paying no attention to her behavior. She swiftly zipped up a worn leather bag, the sound of the zipper cutting through the air. She crushed the butt of the cigarette in the ash tray abandoning the other half as she rose from the bed the leather bag in her hands. She set the bag by the motel door. She pulled on her pyjama shorts she had packed and went round the room gathering her belongings.
"Where are you going to Elaine?" Mr. Thompson asked.
"Where else would I be going to?" Elaine asked her tone flat. "Orrr did you expect me to sleep here?" She asked almost laughing at the poor state of the motel room.
"I mean no, but isn't it too soon?" Mr. Thompson asked the cigarette dancing between his lips as he spoke.
"It is terrible enough that we just had sex in this run down, pest infected place but you expecting me to sleep over. That is a little greedy." Elaine bit back tired of putting on a kind charade.
"Fair enough." Mr. Thompson said shrugging.
"Good." She said nodding her head as she continued to gather her things. Only pausing to put on her shoes. She clicked the motel door lock open her hand about to turn the door knob. Mr. Thompson, his smile fading, watched her movements with a hint of annoyance.
"Hey," he said, his voice laced with a petulant tone. "What about my cut?" Elaine turned to him, her eyes hard. She reached into the bag and tossed a wad of bills at him.
"There," she said, her voice void of emotion. "Take it and be grateful." Mr. Thompson caught the money, his brow furrowed. He counted the bills, his expression darkening.
"This is not enough," he said, his voice rising. "This is not even close to what you owe me." Elaine sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Suck it up, Thompson," she snapped, her voice sharp. "You got what you got. Don't push your luck." Mr. Thompson’s face contorted in anger. "Don’t tell me what to do. I did my part." He said. "I did my part," Mr. Thompson repeated, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.
"I took the risks. I dealt with the dirty work. I deserve a fair share." Elaine crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "Fair share?" she scoffed. "You call this 'dirty work'? You picked up a package from a mailbox. That's it. You're lucky I'm giving you anything."