Amy strode into the apartment block and, ignoring the lift, started up the stairs taking them two at a time, an easy task for her long, slim legs. She preferred using the stairs, as the lift was too slow for her liking, and there was always the faint hint of vomit and urine in the air. Having to go into Chuck's apartment was bad enough with out adding to the misery.
Reached the third floor, Amy retrieved her lock-pick from its place in the collar of her denim jacket. Chuck's door would be locked and she did not have the patience to knock and wait. She opened the lock with a single flick of her wrist, flung the door open and headed for the bedroom, trying to breathe as little as possible. How could a human-being live in such squalor?
“Wake up Chuck! Oh, what a shock there is a broad here too! Oh, look how young she is! Are you sure she is not a long lost daughter? OK sweetheart, shift your cute little ass out of here, don't bother with a kiss goodbye, and no he won't be calling you again.”
The girl sat up in the bed.
“Who are you?”
“I'm his wife.”
“No she's not” came from under the duvet.
The blond puffed up slightly at this.
“Well he's mine now, so you had better leave before I call the Police!”
“Honey, I am the Police, now get out before I arrest you for necrophilia.”
“I'm not that old! Bitch!” Chuck was sitting up now.
The blond glanced back and forth between Amy and Chuck, before bursting into tears, leaping from the bed and starting to gather up her scattered clothes.
“Don't forget your retainer!”
Amy smiled, apparently happy at a job well done.
“Time for work, Chuck!”