Friday Flash Fiction #12

For this week’s FFF #12, Ubermilf gave us this starter sentence.
She was always threatening to punch someone in the face, but this time she meant it.

So, here goes with my effort……MEET MY FRIEND..

She was always threatening to punch someone in the face, but this time she meant it.
Cynthia Roberts always carried a gun in her handbag. Not that she would ever use it, well maybe one day, but it just seemed to make her feel safe when she was working, although at this moment in time she wasn’t working, but standing in the dirty, gloomy room that Rob Martin called his office.

“So, what’s your problem this time Cynth? “

Cynthia hated the way he called her Cynth, almost like he’d known her all her life and they were really close friends. Well he hadn’t and they weren’t. He was a fucking idiot who had less of an idea of how to treat a woman than Ted Bundy.

“You know the problem, Rob. The girls are working their asses off every night and you promised them, four months ago, a higher cut of their takings. Up to now you’re taking the exact same cut, so when’s it going change?”

“Aww, Cynth, come on babe. Take a chill pill and come park your ass over here. Help yaself to some rum punch girl, it’s Christmas.”

“Rum punch at Christmas? You really are a fuckwit, Rob. Who in their right mind has rum punch at Christmas? It should be a nice, comforting glass of home made Eggnog? I’ll bet the rum in your punch is the cheapest shit you could get your hands on as well.”

“Now, now Cynth, don’t be so hostile. Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”
Rob got up from his chair and got Cynthia a glass of the putrid looking liquid. He walked back and sat down behind his desk again.

Cynthia made her way over to the desk, her stilettos clicking on the wooden flooring. Her long, brown hair bobbed as she walked: her tanned legs, that seemed to go on forever, taking long strides. The leather skirt she wore was just short enough that when she sat down in front of his desk he could see all the way up to the honey pot. A short black leather jacket covered a white, low cut top that showed her silicone enhanced cleavage. Cynthia was Rob’s number one lady.

He stared down at her legs and let his eyes follow the smooth skin of her inner thigh, catching a glimpse of white lace before Cynthia placed her handbag on her knees. Rob felt a stirring in his loins.

“You look good tonight, Cynth.”

“I always look good Rob and that’s why you take less from me than the other girls. Now, when are you going sort this out? I’m getting it from all angles.”

“I bet you are,” Rob muttered, staring at her ample breast’s.

Cynthia put her right hand in her bag and pulled out her lipstick.

“Don’t get funny with me, Rob,” she told him, applying a perfect coat of Elizabeth Arden ‘lip plumping’ scarlet.

“You know Cynth; I’m getting just a little bit sick of the way you speak to me when you come in here. I’m nothing but sincere with you and you seem to treat me like shit. Well, it’s gonna fucking stop. You work for me, remember. Now, you show me a little respect or you’re going to see a side of me that I only show to the other bitches out there.” Rob had gotten louder as he spoke and was pointing at the door as he finished.

“Shut the fuck up Rob. I’m not an aggressive person, as you know, certainly not physically anyway, but I made a promise to myself today,” Cynthia reached into her handbag again and pulled out the gun, “Rob, meet my friend, Punch. Punch, meet the shit that is Rob,” she finished, gesturing to both the gun and the pimp.

“Ay, n…now slow down a minute there Cynth.”

“I fucking hate the way you call me that. Not even my mother used that name with me.”

Cynthia raised the gun to the trembling man’s face.

“You see, Rob, I promised myself that I was going to smack you in the face when I saw you tonight. But, I thought to myself, now why should I go getting my hands dirty on a low life piece of shit like you when I’ve got my friend here that could do the job for me.”

Before Rob could plead again Cynthia pulled the trigger. The room was
filled with the explosion from the gun’s barrel as blood and skull erupted from the exit wound on the back of his head. The bullet’s entry was a small, smoking hole just below his left eye. Cynthia’s “punch” had done the job.

“Now your bitches are mine.”

Cynthia got up from her chair, placed her gun on the table and lifted the glass of rum punch to her lips.

“Christ almighty! That’s disgusting, you cheap bastard.”

Cynthia leant across the table and threw the drink into the dead man’s face.

“Punched in the face again, Rob. Nothing less than you deserve.”

She put the gun back into her handbag, straightened her skirt, turned on her heels and walked back across the wooden floor to let herself out of his grubby little office.

“Have a Merry Christmas, Rob.”

The End.
Feel free to leave your comments…..good or bad.


Filed under david barber, david barber's fiction world, fiction, friday flash fiction, killer

17 responses to “Friday Flash Fiction #12

  1. Nobody can be more ruthless than an angry woman. Nice piece David.

  2. Great work Dave, fantastic piece of flash noir!

  3. Oooooo! I liked this a lot. Love the bad words and dirty talk thrown in. (haven't heard honey pot in awhile haha!.. I was helping out in my daughters class last year and the teacher was reading a book about a Bear Family. I started snickering when she read the words "honey pot" out loud.)The scene was believable, not far fetched. Loved the way you described Rob. I felt he got what he deserved. Great job!((Hugs))Laura

  4. I guess those liquor ads are right, it's all about the booze you serve ; )Seriously, an interesting story, and cheers, Dave!

  5. A tale that packs a punch! Well done Dave I enjoyed that.

  6. Thanks to all. It was a bit of a rush job. Work, kids, shopping and "decking the halls" etc. Glad you enjoyed it and looking forward to the next challenge.All the best, David.

  7. Christ, PMS can be a real bitch! Good story but just from the words on my screen Cynthia scares the shit out of me.

  8. I thought I left a comment here before? About how nothing says Christmas like a dead pimp? No?You should submit this story to FaLaLaLa Lifetime.

  9. If Ted Bundy had ever met Cynth, he might have kept to nothing more than talking to that dog. Great stuff, man.

  10. Very striking! (pun intended)I truly enjoy your ability to write in the style of the classic gumshoe stories. It reads very vivid and real.PipeTobacco

  11. Good un, Dave. (sound like a German greeting but you get my drift).

  12. Thanks all for your comments. Bring on the next FFF.All the best, David.

  13. Ba da BOOM! Right in the kisser.

  14. I loved it David. You write like a girl. Of course, what I mean is you convincingly sounded like a p*ssed-off woman, and that's a powerful place to be in.

  15. Paul, thanks as usual for reading my work and commenting.Lily, I try my best. I live with a woman who is constantly pissed off. I jest, she's lovely.Thanks for your comments.All the best guys, David.

  16. loved that one David ,more of that bird Cynth.

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