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before she slit his throat. She wouldn’t have touched the thing herself, after all, much less put it in her mouth.
    She showered afterward. When she came out of her bathroom she found her bed disturbed where Tony had done his little class warfare act. She sniffed, caught the hard stink of his pee, and rolled her eyes. She threw a leg up on the side of the bed and reclaimed her territory, watching her own stream of urine turn the sheets black as they hit. The specialty maid service would clean it up later anyway, along with the corpses. The beautiful thing about New York was that you could get anything you wanted in this town, even discretion, so long as you were rich and well connected.
    Kitty dressed afterward, did her hair—back in the bun—and put on a suit. Grey, grey, grey. She had more colorful things to wear, but not just yet. Not until she got to this place in Tennessee and took its temperature. With a rectal thermometer. Made it turn its head and cough while she squeezed it by the balls. She’d had enough men by the balls to know it hurt. She loved the look in their eyes, agony framed in the flesh around the whites. It was just about her favorite thing to do other than forcible knifepoint cunnilingus with a little blood play thrown in.
    Oh, good times. So many good times.
    She’d made her arrangements, and when Gary from the front desk called up to let her know that her cab was here, she was almost ready to go. She schlepped her own shoulder bag to the door and waited. She wouldn’t carry it any farther. She didn’t do any more than she had to.
    She sat and waited, leafing through a magazine, until the elevators dinged and Gary stepped out, picking up her bag for him. She favored him with an indifferent expression and passed him a crisp hundred as they stepped into the elevator. What was the name of the doorman that Anthony had gotten her information from? Jack? No, Jake. What a little shit he was. Too bad she couldn’t thank him properly for her evening’s entertainment. That was a minor regret at this point, though.
    She would miss this place. She’d miss the chair most of all, she figured. It certainly made things easier when she wanted to get her lick on. But she was strong and men were weak, and this town she was going to was bound to have its own supply of Tonys, waiting with their tongues doing nothing of use, waiting just for her to come along and give them a reason to have the damned things.
    “Where you heading, miss?” Gary asked. He had a New York accent. She wondered how strong his tongue was.
    “Tennessee,” she said, sniffing a little. It wouldn’t have been her first choice for a vacation destination, but it was what it was.
    “Oh, really?” He looked vaguely impressed. He fell into silence for a moment, and she studied the thin line of facial hair that he’d trimmed across his jaw. It looked like he’d drawn it on with a marker. “Why Tennessee?”
    “I’m going down there to acquire something,” she said, staring at the counter as it dipped from two to one. It was an old-fashioned one, a concession to the building’s age. “An antique,” she added. “Something … one of kind, shall we say.”
    “Oh, that’s nice,” Gary said politely, nodding, her bag clenched in his hand. “Like at a store down there?”
    Kitty felt her eyes flash with pleasure. “Not quite. More like … an archaeological dig.”
    “That’s cool. Like Indiana Jones?”
    “Not quite,” she said, “but close enough.”
    “So, will you be back in a few weeks?” he asked as they passed through the lobby. The whole place was done up right, class lingered in the air around here, and Kitty liked it that way. Velvety carpeting crushed beneath the soles of her shoes.
    Kitty pondered that question. “The truth is,” she said, actually speaking it in this case, “if things go well … I just may not be back at all.” She gave him a regretful smile that bore no resemblance to the truth, though. It