“Sex,” she said, “is that all you men can think about ?”

“Like duh, I mean, she already made it clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, they were ‘just friends’, and yet she expects him to pay for her all the time. That makes him a sucker. He admits she’s a terrible friend, not just to him but to anyone, which leaves him with no reason at all to even continue talking to her. I told him to just ditch her and move on.”

“But you don’t think about sex all the time.”

“Of course I do, I just don’t let it motivate me.”

“Ah.”

“Thoughts are thoughts, deeds are deeds.”

“So you don’t want sex… what about money ?”

“What about it ? You know I don’t find it important.”

“Sex and money, what else is there ?”

“Power.”

“Money, sex and power.”

“That’s the holy trinity right there.”

A door opened a few feet away, light streaming through its portal into the alley she was in, illuminating a scene which was, at best, incriminating.

Heaven looked up at the wall opposing the door, carefully directing her gaze away from the light, so as not to blind her sensitive night-eyes. The silhouette that was the intruder must have seen her, for it gave out a shocked gasp, before entering the alley and starting to run, away from her and into the deserted street. Blood was spurting from the corpse in her arms, flowing freely without her mouth to drink its flow, its crimson nectar making a mess of her hands. She stood up and took a precious moment to stamp her boot down, hard, upon its neck, breaking it and rupturing the skin, destroying the puncture holes. She may not have the time to properly dispose of the body, but she surely wouldn’t let it scream ‘X-File’ when it was found. That done, however little it was, her attention focussed entirely on her new prey. She ran out of the alley in pursuit, the pool of light slowly diminishing as the door swung shut.

Her quarry ran, his jacket flapping behind him, like the wings of a chicken attempting flight. The road was poorly lit, its streetlights in disrepair, flickering or given out altogether. It was deserted, which was to be expected of four in the morning. She took her time, staying near enough to keep him afraid, but not closing the distance as she could easily have done. She was enjoying herself, this was a game she hadn’t been playing often enough of late.

He was in great shape, but even so, he was starting to pant when he ducked into another alley. She could hear him, as she walked in, trying to catch his breath as quietly as he could. She stopped a few steps in, letting the streetlight behind her cast her shadow long into the alley – an entrance of her own, matching his in technique though surpassing his in style. Her arms were open, straight, with her fingers spread. She knew he could not see the blood on them with his eyes, but surely he could see them in his mind, though it was a pity the blood was not dripping. “Now where,” she said, “oh where has my pretty boy gone ?”

“Are your breaths sweet,” she continued conversationally, in the face of his silence, “in spite of the fetid stink, knowing that these will be the last breaths you will ever take ?”

He replied to this last by running out and away again, one hand now clutching a gun. She smiled at his retreating form, wondering if he knew, deep in bone and sinew, that tonight would be the last night of his brief existence. Oh, and what a night it was, the air chill, the moon bright, the streets quiet.

Truly a night meant for the hunt.

“Why don’t you want money ?” she said, “Everyone wants money.”

“Well, if you give it to me, I’d take it. I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor, and I must say rich is better. I just have a problem with working for it.”

”You have a problem working for it…” she laughed, “why didn’t I see that one coming ?”

“Money isn’t real, you see, people think it is, but really it’s not.”

“The invisible hand ?”

“Oh yes, that, of course. But my point isn’t economics so much as it is psychology, I guess. People just forget that money is a means to an end, not an end in itself. They work to get money, and when they get it they don’t know what to do with it except make more money. Ad infinitum.”

“And you’re free of that oh-so-vicious-cycle because… ?”

“Money is meant to allow us an easier life. As long as all my needs are taken care of, I have an easy enough life, so working beyond that point is self-defeating. Diminishing returns, as it were.”

“Ha. You’re just saying that because I pay for everything.”

She could tell he was running towards a particular place, some destination in mind that might provide sanctuary, this was not some random chase. She hoped it wasn’t a church, they always spoiled her mood. The streets had become better lit, though still as empty, and the decrepit buildings gave way to a moderately better class of neighbourhood.

A car turned into the road, and he ran out in front of it, waving his firearm and shouting, shouting. It was too late for the vehicle to stop, and it swerved to the side, crashing onto the sidewalk and into a wall. He ran to the driver, pulling the door open and yelling for the man to come out, dragging him forcefully when the seatbelt came released. Finally, he looked up, straight at his pursuer, his gun pointed at the temple of the driver, the poor man held like a shield in front of him.

She walked forward slowly. There was enough light and enough time now for him to observe every detail, the blood on her hands and on her face, the promise in her smile and the brightness of her eyes and of her demeanour. “Desperation,” she said, as she stopped a few feet away, “makes men do the strangest things. Do you really believe taking a hostage is going to help your… hmm… situation ?”

She tilted her head to one side, studying them both, “Do you think he’s more afraid of me, or of your little gun ? Are you going to shoot him if I–” she paused.

“–Took a step forward ?” And she did exactly that.

“What if I took another ?” And that.

“Living is a hard habit to break, isn’t it ? Would you like to pray now ?”

She gave them ample time, but neither of them looked about to do anything more interesting, and she had decided to end it when the driver’s head blossomed in a shower of blood. She knew her prey hadn’t shot his weapon, without its telltale flash, and she spun around, going into a combative half-crouch, her hands closing then splaying open, her crimson nails lengthening into points. Her senses primed for the new threat while the twitching body dropped to the floor behind her, her prey falling to his knees, whimpering, “Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” over and over.

A figure stepped out of the shadows from across the street, a woman dressed stylishly in white, her eyes fixed on Heaven. “Look ma,” she said, as she lifted her hands up, “no hostage.” She stopped half the street away, in a position that seemed to signify ‘I surrender’, except that in each hand she held a silver gun.

“Friend of yours ?” Heaven asked.

“No,” the newcomer said, “but he has something I want. What is your part in this ?”

“Part in what, bitch ? I was just going to kill him. But he can wait until I’m done with you.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. I think it would be better if we both walked away from this alive.”

“Do you think you can kill me with your fancy guns ?”

“Maybe not, but I can stop you.”

“You’ll have one shot before I rip your throat out.”

“That’s perfectly fine, I only ever need one.”

“Shut him up, his whining is getting on my nerves.”

“Seeing your first kill up close and personal tends to do that,” she said, as, in a smooth motion, her hands came down and two shots went off, delivering their freight of extinction, “They have a tendency to wig out.”

She’s fast, Heaven thought, “Now keep the guns, if you don’t mind.”

“The way I see it,” the newcomer replied, as her right hand moved within her coat and she kept its weapon, “both of us don’t need the attention, so neither of us is going to tell anyone about this, am I correct ?” She brought her left hand down to her side, but made no move to holster that gun.

“Fair enough,” Heaven replied, straightening up. Their eyes never leaving each other, she backed away slowly into the shadows, stopping when she was fully out of sight.

After a time, the newcomer seemed to become satisfied that Heaven had left, and went to the body of the man, taking something from it before walking swiftly down the road, in the direction away from the one Heaven had taken.

She considered following her for a moment, then turned away and started for her hotel. Whatever it was that had stumbled upon her, it was no concern of hers, and right now she needed a warm bath.

“And if she slept with him it’d be okay ?”

“Yeah. Of course, there’s more to it than that, but, in essence, that’s what he thinks he wants. He’s giving her what she wants. It’s a transaction.”

“You make it sound really cheap.”

“Men want sex, right ? Women want security. Women want a guy who’ll be there in the morning, someone to take care of her while she’s pregnant and to take care of the kid until it’s old enough to fend for itself. That’s hardwired into humanity, just as all a guy wants to do is impregnate as many women as he can. In each conflicting case, for the survival of the species.”

“So women want security and that means money ?”

“Exactly. In other cultures, they have this whole tribal thing where everybody owns everything together, and everybody sleeps around and nobody really cares. But in this enlightened civilisation, men grow up wanting to be rich and women grow up wanting to be beautiful.”

“Sex and money.”

“Yes. At the core of it all, we’re all pimps and prostitutes.”

When Heaven awoke she had two objectives, both brought about by the events of the previous night. First, it would be time to leave this city, and find somewhere else to roost. Second, and more immediate, her dinner the night before had babbled several things in an attempt to trade his wealth for his life, among those things the name of an investment banker she intended to visit tonight. If the dead man’s wealth was as considerable as he had claimed, it lent credence to her decision to leave the city. Even if his lack of legitimacy might buy her some time, it would be a matter of days before someone came looking.

A quick call to the front desk confirmed that the consultancy was indeed listed and provided her with an address. She decided against feeding tonight, and drew a bath, luxuriating in its waters while she considered her next destination. Moscow was a strong contender, she could pay Lenin a visit. Or Tokyo, perhaps, to shop in Shinjuku. Shopping seemed a very good idea, as she went through a mental catalogue of cities. That decided, she left the bath and, dripping wet, sat herself upon the bed, placing a pillow upon her lap and her notebook on top of it, making the necessary preparations.

With her travel arrangements and her minimal packing done, she decided on a little black dress, putting on a coat and bringing her gun. While she wasn’t certain how much money she had, she suspected she had a lot of it, but adding to that sum couldn’t hurt.

Any office building is very much like any other, secured after dark but never secure. She had expected a man who worked late and alone, and in that she was correct. What she did not expect was a man both young and handsome.

“It’s very impolite not to knock,” he said, as she leaned back against the door, closing it behind her, “Who are you ?”

He was sitting behind a large desk, no doubt with a hidden button to call for security or a firearm in the drawer. His office was large and pleasant, expensive and understated. Tasteful, in a way she appreciated, down to the maroon of its carpeting.

“I’m told you handle the financial affairs of a certain Jonathan Jenson,” she smiled.

“The affairs of my clients are confidential, as are their names. What do you want ?”

“Jon promised me a fortune, I want to know where the money is. The bank and account number.”

“Even if I had such a client, and even if he did make such a promise, I would not be obliged to take your word for it.”

She had removed her coat while they were talking, and dropped it to the floor now, revealing the gun in her hand, pointed at him, “Stand up, hands up, away from the desk.”

His eyebrows raised, he complied, “Listen, I don’t know who promised you what, but if you want anything you would have to get authorisation. I’m in no position to reveal privileged information.”

“Right now the only position you’re in is a highly precarious one. Sit on the couch, you’re too tall.” She walked up to him when he had sat down and placed the muzzle directly on his forehead, letting him feel the coldness of the metal. “Talk.”

There was a long pause. Finally, a slight shiver went through him, and he closed his eyes and said, “I can’t.”

She saw a resignation in him, a rare sight, but something she had seen enough to recognise. She tried a different tack, “Will you speak if I shot your hand off ?”

“No.”

“You’re married,” she said, spying the wedding band upon one finger, “do you have any children ?”

“None.”

“Would it bother you if you could never have any ?”

“It would.”

“But you wouldn’t talk… ?”

“I wouldn’t.”

She removed the gun and took a few steps back, “Take your clothes off.”

She looked at him as he obeyed, a man unafraid of dying for his principles was a fool, though a fool with strength. She briefly considered breaking a hand as promised, but she found torture both vulgar and boring.

“I noticed you were looking at my tits,” she said, knowing that he hadn’t, as she had had her coat on, and his eyes never left her weapon when she had discarded her coat. Having said that, and with the gun pointing at the floor instead of his head, she saw his eyes flicker briefly to her breasts, her nipples obvious beneath the thin veil of her dress. “Would you like to see more ?”

“It wouldn’t work. I appreciate the effort, but you’re wasting your time.” He seemed fairly fit, probably played golf on the weekends.

“Sit down,” she said, as she revealed herself to him. She remembered being told that all men had fear, but fear is not always effective, and it was a man’s weapon. A man wields a sword, a woman drips poison.

“So,” she said, “where does power fit in ?”

“Men want to be rich because it gets them women, and women want to be sexy because it gets them men. What both really want is power, which is not money alone or beauty alone, but how you use what you have to get what you want.”

“Huh ?”

“See, a guy thinks that by being rich, he can get any girl he wants, but instead he loses her to some guy who’s poorer than he is, and he can’t understand why. The same with the girl who can get any guy she wants except the guy who chooses an ugly girl over her. And the reason is power.”

“I don’t think so. I think there can be any number of reasons why a girl chooses a guy, and it may or may not have anything to do with how rich he is.”

“Of course, this is just a generalisation. But it is how we are, at some primal level, which means it’s a factor, even though it could be a small one.”

“So sex and money doesn’t make you attractive, power makes you attractive. And sex and money is just a key to power.”

“Exactly. Power isn’t visible, but sex and money are. So people confuse one for the other.”

“So what’s power, then ?”

“Power comes in many forms, of course, from politicians to poets to priests. Ultimately, it’s about getting what you want. Freedom, and choices.”

“You get what you want all the time.”

“And why do you think you’re still with me ?”

Her dress hanging around her waist, she cupped a breast with her free hand, pinching her nipple between thumb and finger, allowing a moan to slip out. She closed the distance between them, enjoying the way his eyes flickered between the promises in one hand and the other, though he was too afraid or too confused to be aroused. She stopped a step away from him, her legs apart, “I’m wet,” she whispered, “feel how wet I am.”

“I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she said. She kicked off her shoes as she lifted her dress up, allowing his eyes to drink in her hairless crotch, her arousal manifest as gossamer strands, trailing from parted lips onto the carpet, shimmering threads capturing the light, “I’m asking you to touch me.”

She stood still, enjoying the confusion on his face, watching his body slowly betray his will. She moved forward, fluidly, one knee upon the couch at his side, barely touching him, leaning close, her breasts before his face. He looked so bewildered she felt like laughing, and she wondered if this could be considered rape. Then her voice was at his ear, her breath warm, “You want me,” she purred, as she reached down and took him in her hand, lightly. She moved herself until she was kneeling, her sex above his, hidden from view by her dress.

In the stillness of his non-participation, she used him to tease herself, until the hand holding him was soaked with her moisture. The thought flittered through her head, between her rising anticipation, that for a man, he was remarkably pliant, and for a mortal, remarkably patient. Did he believe he would get release just by sitting there ? Or was he still hoping she would just leave ? Then she had had enough of waiting, “What do I have to do, put a gun to your head ? Fuck me already.”

And that did it – he was inside her and she was lost in a delirium of fire, screaming in ecstasy.

When her senses returned he was moaning, his hands upon her breasts as he continued fucking her. She noticed that she had released the gun, and it lay on the couch, within easy reach of them both. She held his head with both hands, lifting herself off him as she kissed him deeply. “I want you to fuck my ass,” she said, as she stood up, removing her dress before kneeling on the floor, reaching back with both hands to offer herself to him.

When he went for her instead of the gun, she knew he was hers, and between that thought, his frenzy and her fingers, she reached another orgasm before he was done.

He pulled out of her and collapsed back onto the couch, and she turned around. She was about to drink him dry, while his blood still danced within its endorphin afterglow, when he spoke, the merest contented gasp, “Oh wow, that was heaven.”

She crawled to him and took him in her mouth, licking him clean, before looking up at him, on her knees between his legs, “Are you still not going to tell me ?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied, smiling in contentment.

She turned away to pick up her dress and put it on. When she faced him again, he was holding the gun in one hand. It wasn’t pointed at her, and he was still smiling.

“What are you going to do with that ?” she smiled, “Rape me ? It’s not even loaded.”

She laughed as his eyes went wide with astonishment.

“I admire your discretion,” she said, as she picked up her coat, “so it looks like you have a new client. I’ll send someone down with a million dollars tomorrow.”

“Wait. What do you want me to do with the money ?”

“Invest it as much as you can while keeping it untraceable, I’ll give you detailed instructions with the cash. If you do well there’ll be more.”

He nodded.

“Oh, one other thing. Jon’s dead. Right now, nobody knows about it but you and me. And nobody knows about his account either, so I guess the money’s yours.”

“I’ll have it forwarded to his wife.”

“It’s yours to give away, if that’s what you want.”

And she took the gun from his unresisting hand, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and closed the door behind her.