This is the tale of a beautiful young woman climbing the corporate ladder, while supplementing her income by escorting at night. She ends up falling for a sexy, dangerous sugar daddy, who infltrates her world, then destroys the lives of everyone he encounters. Get ready for a chaotic story of lust, greed, downfall and triumph, that will leave you wanting for more. If you enjoy nail biting suspense and horror, this is your lucky day.
“Grace was dying, or rather, she had killed herself. Her suicide began in the summer of 1958 and took almost forty years to complete. Cigarettes have always been a slow but effective way to voluntarily snuff out your existence. Over the last two decades, not a day went by that she didn’t think about quitting. Now, it was too late, and her journey was ending soon. Not even in her sixties yet, Grace’s demise was both unfair and expected. The consequences of nicotine addiction had been written on cigarette packaging for over a year and preached aloud most of her life. She never took them seriously and had only herself to blame. Her husband had died two years earlier. His sudden Stroke (another version of ciggy suicide) was quick and merciful. However, Grace was slowly drowning inside her own body, and now swam in an ocean of misery, as every excruciating breath pulled her deeper below the surface. Death was waiting for her at the bottom, and it was most welcome.
Grace’s so-called friends had all but disappeared. Some vanished early in her diagnosis, while others dropped off one at a time. It was hard for them to watch as the hand of death began to squeeze away her life. Grace’s boys had long since forgotten her, and Karen was far too busy for a bedside vigil. The steady sound of dripping morphine was now her only companion. She wished, beyond hope, that they would just open it up and let her go. Grace had lived a life of decadence and indulgence, gaining everything she always wanted. Now, drifting away in chemical comfort on a river of peace, was the only thing she desired. Her last request, as it were. Unfortunately, even in the progressive ’90s, authorities still decided where and how people were allowed to die. The most inhumane way to go, in an otherwise humane world: bullets contained more dignity.
It was early August, and a late-night thunderstorm had cracked open the clouds so loudly that Grace was startled awake. She began patting around her covers, searching for the call button that would summon a nurse. Some mild complaining would get the drip mercifully sped up and vanquish her suffering. Through an opioid-induced Haze, she became aware that somebody was lurking at the foot of her bed. Grace’s visitor asked, “Are you looking for this?” while dangling her call button from its severed cord, with the hypnotic sway of a pocket watch. Lightning flashed, as the room was illuminated brilliantly by purple and blue strobes. Grace recognized the old adversary right away, and her eyes broadened with fear. Through a foggy oxygen mask dripping with condensation, she slowly choked out the name of her uninvited guest…”