DangeroustoKnow Read Online Free Page A

urged me forward. We walked out of the park and past the entrance to
the alley we’d been down previously.
    My nerves were scattering all over the place, but in a good
way. Did I look like his whore? Would passersby know I was going off with this
dodgy-looking man to have sex for money? What if I saw someone I knew? Would
they stop and speak, ask if I was okay and be shocked by my attire?
    It was another risk I was willing to take. The end result
was too exhilarating to be missed.
    I was living my whore dream.
    He’d been right when he said he lived around the corner. But
it wasn’t an apartment block, it was a shop. An electrical shop with heavily
grilled windows and a fat, sweaty guy sitting at the register. I didn’t need to
look to know he would have a gun beneath his counter and a length of lead pipe
within reach.
    Jovica nodded at him and directed me deeper into the shop.
At the very back, through a small storeroom with a grubby-looking kettle and
cracked mugs was a staircase. It was hidden behind a metal door, and as soon as
the door was opened the first step was immediately there.
    “Up,” Jovica said in his gratingly commanding voice.
    Gripping a smooth wooden handrail, I navigated the narrow
spiral staircase. A rush of adrenaline besieged me. This was like climbing to
my own sick version of a depraved heaven. The amber carpet was threadbare and
the dingy mint-green walls marked black with years of greasy handprints. I was
acutely aware of Jovica close behind me. His body heat radiated onto my bare
legs and his hand was not far behind mine, sliding up the rail.
    Eventually I reached another door. He leaned forward,
pressed his chest into my back and shoved a key into the lock. It turned with a
heavy clank just as I was inhaling his deeply masculine smell that reminded me
of the taste of his cock. Involuntarily my mouth watered and I licked my lips.
I hoped I would get to suck on him again.
    He flattened his palm on the door and pushed it open. It
swung wide revealing a medium-sized room with one large window facing a red
brick wall. The left pane had a lightning-shaped crack in it.
    Stepping in, I glanced around. It was sparse as far as
furniture was concerned. A big bed with a khaki duvet twisted in the center,
dented pillows and a rumpled bottom sheet. A low burgundy couch faced a small
boxy TV and a scattering of DVDs lay on a coffee table. Some of them were porn,
the others appeared to be war movies.
    To the right was a counter serving as a kitchen. There was a
fridge, a kettle and toaster. One lone, chipped Formica cupboard hung on the
wall above a sink and the drainer was heaped with dishes. A half-open door
opposite revealed a tiny, dark bathroom, to the left of it was a stack of metal
boxes, long and deep. Dented and strapped with thick cord.
    I breathed in. The whole place smelled stale and heavy, as
though it needed a good airing, but what struck me most was the lack of personal
possessions. There was nothing that gave a hint to his personality or his
lifestyle. I already knew he smoked and liked sex, so porn and several
overflowing ashtrays were of little use information-wise.
    I shrugged out of my denim jacket, dropped it on the end of
the sofa and turned to him. I was about to say something about his oddly
anonymous room but then remembered it was not my place to comment on his home.
    He stared down at me, a hint of amusement on his face. I
remembered his accurate description of me sprawled touching myself on my sofa,
surrounded by pretty soft furnishings. He was aware of how different his space
was from mine.
    But that fact made the situation all the sexier. The dingy
scent, the unappealing grubbiness and the lack of homey touches made it
suitable for a low-class whore like myself to come and provide services.
    Spitting my gum into my palm, I walked to an orange bag
hanging on a white plastic hook. As I suspected, it was a make-do garbage can
and I dropped the gum into it, spun and placed my hand