“You gonna drop me off at the jailhouse, sugar, or do you want me to suck your cock?” the woman says.

He ignores her and turns right. Three blocks ahead, Perdido Street dead-ends under the South Jefferson Davis Parkway overpass. He drives beneath the overpass and pulls to a stop on a litter-strewn piece of asphalt between two concrete support pylons. Surrounded by empty parking lots and a fenced storage yard, the underside of the overpass is cut off from the rest of the world. The only danger is from passing police cars leaving the jail complex.

The harlot unbuckles her seat belt and leans toward him. She rubs his crotch with one hand as she pulls his belt loose with the other. She unsnaps his pants. “Momma’s gonna give you some honey right now, sugar.”

He slips his right arm between the front seats and curls his fingers around a hard plastic cable tie lying on the floorboard behind the passenger seat. Then he hooks his left hand through the door latch as he lifts the heavy-duty cable tie over the seat until it hovers just above the woman’s head.

She tugs at his zipper, then reaches inside his pants and rubs his limp, unexcited flesh. “Sugar, I’m going to have to give you some help, but don’t you worry, Momma’s gonna take good care-”

Moving quickly, his right hand drops the looped twenty-four-inch tie over the harlot’s head while his left hand yanks the door latch. He shoves the door open with his knee and grabs the bun at the back of the woman’s head with his left hand. Then he pulls her face into his lap and yanks up on the cable tie. The plastic ratchet makes a zipping sound as its ridged tongue rips through the locking mechanism.