As close to an honest story as I'm capable of. #flashfiction #shortstory https://t.co/wlp2YyEJw3 https://t.co/blT4yyxljz (1 day ago)

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Oct
16

Roxanne the zombie whore

The slow trip through the swamp only added to his client’s experience. Had he decided to keep Roxanne kept in some back room off a main street in New Orleans it would have been quicker for everybody involved but it wouldn’t have had quite the same jena sa qua as the French liked to say.

She had a waiting list so he must be doing something right.

In fairness to the other local zombie pimps, he did have the pick of the litter. When there was an outbreak at the state beauty pageant you can be sure mixed in with the camo-green National Guardsmen who responded there was a liberal dose of leopard-printed pimps hoping to steal away a prize.

He had done one better. He had grabbed Miss Teen Louisiana.

Roxanne.

Once you had the product your life wasn’t without risks but the hard part was over. Some of the locals used cheap restraints or failed to keep their merchandise fresh but not him.

Only the best for Roxanne.

His clients were mostly tourists. Men who traveled to Vegas may do things that needed to stay in Vegas but if you wanted the sick shit you needed to go to Southeast Asia. Or New Orleans. After the initial shock of the dead coming back to life there were enough men who wondered what it would be like to fuck a zombie that almost immediately a cottage industry sprung up. Not in New York or LA or even Vegas. But in New Orleans it became almost an unspoken rite of passage for many of the people who made their way down for the yearly All Taints Day festival.

He had her tied down on her back. Legs splayed open waiting for her paying customers. She had never made him feel anything but revulsion, with her private areas all blue and tattered, but to each his own. To him she was a mockery of sex. A mockery of life.

He would, in great detail, go over the rules with the John. Oral sex was, of course, not on the menu if the man wanted to keep his junk. Same with letting her grab it. She would tear it right off without a second thought… as many unfortunate men had learned over the years. He would put a ball-gag in her mouth if they wished but most of them quite liked her snarling and snapping as they violated her.

Lastly he would add with a smirk “don’t go falling in love”.

And yet they did.

Before the infection began he had been a pimp to live women. He had been no more or less abusive and predatory than most in his line of work and he had seen his share of men who had developed feelings for their whore-of choice. Psychologists had written a library full of books on the ‘how’ and ‘why’ these feelings develop but he’d never much cared either way as long as these guys brought the cash. Let them marry one for all he cared.

But this was different.

Falling in love with an undead? Now that was fucked up.

And yet they did.

Roxanne had her regulars.

A few knew her before she was turned. None of these would have had a shot with her then. Now they had their shot.

Some of them even swore that when they were with her that she showed signs of her former self. That she recognized them and even enjoyed herself during the act.

He would listen with a straight face and then march in with the fire hose and disinfectant after they left and hose her down ready for the next customer.

One of these dumb fucks actually tried to help her ‘escape’. Before he could get in the room to help this guy out Roxanne had ended his life by ripping out his throat. He probably thought she was leaning up to kiss him on the neck.

It wasn’t the first body he’d thrown into the dark waters of the bijou and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

He stepped off the crawfish skiff and led his client down the dirty pier to the small cabin where Roxanne waited. He was handed a small bundle of bills and he told the man that he had exactly 30 minutes to complete his business. With that he opened the door and the man disappeared inside. He walked slowly back down the pier and lit a cigarette. He looked up at the sky and put in the ear piece from his Ipod.

As was so often the case, luck was with him and his favorite song started up.

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