The Devil Wears Black Leather: Chapter 7

David S. Grant is posting his latest fiction “The Devil Wears Black Leather” while he works on his latest book, the fourth and final installment that follows: Bliss | Bleach | Blackout. The working title is of course, Bleak. Why is he doing this? Because he loves you! (Note: Also, may be drunk, hence the third person intro.) For more information (or purchase/download) David’s books check out his Goodreads (Bleach 4.6 rating; Bleach | Blackout 4.8 rating) or Amazon page.

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New Mexico was beautiful, great place to grow up.  Some day I hope to have my kids grow up there.  This is what Leah always said when anyone asked about her childhood.  She played sports, went on hikes, and celebrated every occasion with her family.  Birthdays were always her favorite.  This was before she started using Methamphetamine.  This was before she started selling her body.  This was before she moved to Las Vegas.

Leah is naked.  She is standing, supported by the back of a chair.  Her legs are slightly parted, but they are closing with each application of Saran wrap.  There is a bathroom with a glass door and a mini-bar to her right.  She tries to say something, but the duct tape is too tight.  Elvis hears the mumbling and puts his hand on her forehead, then tells her it’s going to be okay.  Elvis continues to walk around Leah, unraveling the Saran wrap around her body.  When he reaches her breasts he grabs a microphone and begins to dance around as he applies the wrap tightly around her body.

It was two hours ago when Leah got the call from her agency to go to the hotel named The Black Jack Inn.  Elvis would have been her fifth customer of the day.  Now, it is increasingly looking like Elvis will be her last.  “Elvis was a religious man” was the initial line she had heard.  When she saw the dozen or so packages of Saran wrap she didn’t think twice.  Vegas, a place of fantasy; where dreams come true.  She had seen much worse, so she thought.    Now, a tear was beginning to form.

“A prostitute doesn’t appreciate her body, she is unhappy with her skin”, Elvis pauses, “She doesn’t appreciate God’s work.”  The Saran wrap was beginning to cut off circulation below Leah’s knees.   Elvis continues, moving around Leah with spools of wrap.  When Elvis reaches her neck he stops, goes to his bag and pulls out a crucifix.  He nails this to the wall directly in front of Leah.  “Your last memory”, Elvis points to the cross, “The Lord died for you and look how you repay him,”  Elvis sits down at the end of the bed, staring at the cross, sighs, and then gets back up.  Leah screams “NO!”, but Elvis continues, picking up a box of Saran wrap in one hand, the microphone in the other.  It takes only one more box to fully cover Leah head to toe.  A couple minutes later Elvis is back on the end of the bed, singing “Suspicious Minds” into the microphone.  Leah’s body goes limp, slumped over and beginning to turn blue.

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The Writing of David S. Grant View all posts by Pulp Scribbler

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