Murder in Times Square excerpt by Mykola Dementiuk

The main character in this excerpt from Mykola Dementiuk's Murder in Times Square thought all he wanted that weekend was some flirting, some excitement and a little sex on the side, but he was trapped when he walked into Connie’s arms. A young woman who happened to be not a lover, but a killer who used men like her empty bottles of booze, discarded as another was picked up and drained.

Murder in Times Square
Extasy Books (October 15, 2010)
ISBN: 978-1-55487-694-5

Excerpt:

As usual, no matter the weather, 42nd Street was alive and crowded. The continuous movie arcades gave some shelter from the rain, which had let up somewhat, but people kept on coming onto 42nd Street. This was New York City and this was its playground, a real playground for adults… Ah, the story of sexual life in the Big Apple, it goes on and on…

I walked with Connie down 42nd Street, her dark-hosed legs drawing attention from the passersby and once more giving me a nice hard-on. Oh shit. I shook my head. Will probably cum before I can stick it in her.

Grant’s Bar was very crowded. It being a Sunday, all the seats and tables were filled with people, eating, drinking and laughing. I wondered where I would fit in. When she ordered drinks, we were standing at the crowded bar, but I didn’t want any. “Just a beer,” I said. She looked at me like I was losing it, but I didn’t care. Gin and tonics were her usual drinks now, which she paid from a bill she had separated from the bills she had left over from the other day. Good thing I hadn’t taken any of her money, but I didn’t say anything. After her red-faced response to Clem, it was obvious to what she’d been doing on the side. I shrugged. So what? I didn’t care, as long as I got mine.

We sipped our drinks, making small talk and gazing over the crowd, when someone called her name.

“Connie!” a high-pitched voice cried, “Miera! Where ‘ya been?”

It was an obvious Hispanic transvestite--as Miera means look here--who was making her way past the crowds, giggling, leering, but impatient to get to Connie and tell her the news. Not a bad looker at that. Nice hairdo and pretty made-up face, but the makeup couldn’t disguise the stubble that could be seen close up on her chin. Within a few more hours, she couldn’t pretend what she/he was. Still, my mouth was open as a few times as I saw the tops of her fake breasts peeking out.

“Cheeka! Where ‘ya been?” she squealed again. “Did you hear about Paco? Muerta! He got killed!”

I froze, like something had gone through me, but didn’t come out the other side.

“No!” Connie equally squealed. “Oh, my God, what happened?”

I nervously looked at Connie, but she had fallen into a Spanish conversation and held the drink to her lips, taking little sips. The Hispanic transvestite, Yvonne she called herself, talked with a lot of clicks and lisps, an over-exaggerated mimic of girlwannabe, but something I would’ve wanted if it had not been for this murder shit. But I was getting me in deeper with every minute that was passing and somehow I was losing it. I hadn’t fucked Connie yet--just the fleeting insertion at the subway station followed by a few jerk off sessions that had gotten me nothing. Now here was Yvonne, an obvious blowjob queen who was used to being treated like royalty and which I was more than willing to cater to her every whim. But that was before I had my, our, run-in with Paco. Jesus Christ! I glared at Connie. It’s not my fault but hers, the bitch!

Connie and Yvonne had their heads close together, talking low to each other and Yvonne was looking at me, her mouth open.

“I swear,” I heard Connie say, glancing at me. “I know, it doesn’t show, but he’s very dangerous.”

Connie nodded and Yvonne said nothing, just kept staring at me, her eyes widening. I smiled and a few times ran my tongue over my lips. Without a word to me, Yvonne slowly got up and went to rejoin her friends at a table not far from us.

I shrugged, “What’s with her?” I asked, sipping my beer and hoping I could see those false breasts again, but didn’t.

“Nothing,” Connie said, quickly finishing her drink. “Let’s get outta here.”

When I next looked at Yvonne and her transvestite friends, they were looking at me and rapidly talking. Connie said nothing so I shrugged and followed her out.

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