I drive a "Love Truck." The cargo hold isn't filled with goods, but a sturdy bed frame and a plush mattress. I drive along desolate back roads until the couple in the back is finished. One day, after I parked, a woman rushed out of the cargo hold, crying hysterically. She hugged my leg, tears streaming down her face, begging me to help her. She said as long as I agreed, she'd do anything. Chapter 1 I lit a cigarette, turned the ignition, and felt the slight sway and rhythmic vibrations from the cargo box behind me. This is my job, and my life. My name is Shane, and I’ve been in this business for five years. People ask, why would anyone choose the back of a truck over a comfortable hotel? Simple. No ID required. You don't have to worry about leaving a paper trail in some database. Unlike hotels, there are no security cameras capturing your face in high definition. Most importantly, no cops are going to knock on the door. From the outside, it looks like a standard refrigerated delivery truck. Valid registration, permits, everything is legit. But inside, it's lined with soft carpet and holds a queen-sized bed. Even the walls are padded with soundproof foam. After picking up clients at a designated spot, I drive loops around unmonitored back roads until their time is up. Five years without a hitch. Until today. Chapter 2 This afternoon, I picked up my clients at a secluded park. A balding, overweight man and a young, stunningly beautiful woman. One glance, and my eyes were glued to her. I swear, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Under the sunlight, wearing just a tank top and shorts, her skin seemed to glow. Her small face and large, watery eyes nearly hooked my soul right out of my body. It wasn't until the heavy cargo door slammed shut that I snapped out of it. "Must be nice to be rich," I muttered, starting the engine, distracted. Throughout the drive, her image kept replaying in my mind. Hearing the faint sounds from the back, I gulped down water, trying to suppress the fire in my gut. My rate is $300 an hour. The man tossed me a stack of cash—$1,000—and booked three hours. Usually, I’d be thrilled with a $100 tip. But this time, those three hours felt like torture. Finally, time was up. I parked and opened the rear door. A wave of perfume hit me, and a soft body slammed directly into my arms. I froze, looking at the woman in my embrace. She was terrified, her hands gripping my shirt tightly, trembling uncontrollably. Before I could ask, she spoke in a shaking voice. "Please, help me." She pointed a trembling finger at the cargo hold, as if a monster was hiding inside. What the hell happened? I calmed her down and slowly walked inside. The sight on the bed made me jump. The man was dead. His fat face was flushed red, a satisfied smile frozen on his lips. Even crazier, the man was still... active, if you know what I mean. I gasped, frowned, and stepped out. After thinking for a moment, I decided to call 911. But as soon as I pulled out my phone, the woman grabbed my wrist. "Please, don't call the police." "They'll blame me, and his family won't let me live." She claimed he took some pills, got too excited, and his heart gave out. I was skeptical. I’ve seen people die from that before. They clutch their chests in pain. They don't die smiling. And his condition... what kind of pill is that strong? Seeing her pitiful state, I sighed. "I can't help you." "He died in my truck. If I don't report it, I'm in deep trouble." Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. She knelt on the ground, hugging my thigh. Her voice was choked with sobs, yet undeniably seductive. "He turned off his phone to hide this from his wife." "And we haven't passed a single camera since we got on." "Even if we dump him somewhere, no one will know." "Besides, what you're doing isn't exactly legal." "If the cops come, you're going down too." "If this gets out, your business is dead." Seeing my silence, she stood up, her curves pressing against me. Her breath tickled my ear. "This stays between us." "Help me, and you help yourself." "If you agree, I'm yours. I'll do whatever you want..." Feeling her body heat, I swallowed hard, gritted my teeth, and nodded. Chapter 3 I put the woman in the passenger seat and started the engine. I know these woods like the back of my hand. I know where people don't go. Finally, I parked by a stagnant, wild pond in the marshlands. Tie a rock to him, toss him in, and the swamp critters will pick him clean. I put on gloves to drag the body out. The moment I grabbed him, I froze. The man looked huge, easily 250 pounds of fat. But I pulled him off the bed effortlessly. He felt like he weighed maybe 90 pounds. That was insane. He felt like a blow-up doll—massive on the outside, hollow on the inside. Time was tight, so I shoved the doubt down. I tied a heavy rock to the body and kicked it into the pond. With a gurgling sound, the body sank into the murky green water. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and let out a long breath. The woman walked over, staring at the water with a complex expression. "You really know the spots. No regular person would find this place." "I wouldn't have thought to use a rock." I explained with a bit of pride, "Without the rock, the gas makes them float." "Then we'd be in trouble..." I stopped myself. She took a tissue and wiped the sweat from my face. "You must be tired." "Don't worry, it's over." "Now... I'm yours." I looked down at her pale skin, and my brain short-circuited. I picked her up and carried her into the back of the truck. After the storm passed, the woman curled lazily in my arms and told me her story. Her name was Foxy. She was an orphan. No family, no degree, no skills. She got tricked into this life. She thought she found a sugar daddy, but it ended like this. Foxy laughed bitterly. "It seems I can't hold onto anything in this life." In that moment, something in my heart twitched. I blurted out: "Quit this life." "Stay with me. I'll take care of you." Foxy wrapped her arms around my neck, giggling. "Can you afford me?" "I have a big appetite." Her eyes roamed over me, and she licked her lips. I noticed her tongue seemed longer than a normal person's. No wonder she made me feel so good. The fire in me reignited, and we rolled together again. Chapter 4 I brought Foxy home. As soon as we entered, my dog, Sparky, went berserk. He was a small terrier mix, usually chill, but now he was barking madly, fur standing on end. I tried to calm him, but Sparky wouldn't stop staring at Foxy. I kicked the cage in frustration. He whimpered and shrank back, but his eyes never left her. I looked at Foxy apologetically. "He's acting crazy today. Usually, he's friendly." Foxy glanced at Sparky and licked her lips. "It's okay. Cute doggy. I'll take good care of him." I left Foxy in the living room and went to shower. When I came out, Sparky was lying quietly in Foxy's arms. She smiled at me. "See? We're friends now." I was about to praise the dog when I noticed something wrong. Sparky's tail was tucked tight between his legs, his body trembling. He stared at me, looking like he wanted to whine but didn't dare. What scared him this much? I took Sparky from her to check him. But as soon as I held him, a warm stream hit my leg. The smell of urine filled the air. The damn dog peed on me! I smacked him and threw him in the cage. He curled into a ball, burying his head. Disgusted, I looked at my wet pants and went to shower again. But Foxy followed me in. Clothes dropped. She wrapped around me. My legs felt weak. I pushed her away. "Maybe not today..." But the next second, a heat rushed through me. My energy returned instantly. "You witch." I cursed under my breath and closed my eyes.
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