Page 2 of Perilous

A part of me thinks about what it could have felt like to shoot my load into her mouth and down her throat. Holding her head tight against my body, feeling her throat squeezing, swallowing, my cock pulsing and spitting my warm seed into her body.

That is just not my style. That kind of thing leads to problems. And problems are what got me tied up withSinners Academy.

When your ex moves on and does so in maybe too fast of a way, what is someone supposed to do? What was I supposed to do? Stand back and watch this happen? Knowing some guy was sniffing my ex’s panties just for fun, knowing she was vulnerable…

Simply put—I fucking killed that guy.

I didn’t plan it out. I didn’t sneak around. I made damn sure that he looked me in the eyes and knew what was happening. I walked up to that panty-sniffing fuck and stabbed him in the neck a total of seven times. I watched him bleed out. I watched him die. When I was finished, I looked at my ex, winked at her, and walked away.

Last I heard, she was still in some hospital or some fancy recovery resort. Probably forced to stay there and hide because the truth could never be known.

That poor prick I killed? History rewrote itself that he was killed for his new watch and new shoes. Get this—valued at three hundred dollars total. Could you imagine?

Guys like me and the rest of us atSA, we could wipe our ass with three hundred dollars and not blink.

Obviously, after my outburst ofpassion, I ended up atSinners Academy. If I was going to be big, mean, violent, and have a tendency to murder people, might as well put it to good use.

I leave the private room through the back and meet Demo in a narrow hallway that smells like cheap body spray, the walls and floor twinkling with glitter. We take our masks off. Robes too.

“He’s working for a private dance,” Demo says.

“Good. That’s his usual.”

“You realize how much this is going to fuck up the stripper, right?”

I feel a tightening in my head. This sudden crushing feeling of a memory taking control. There’s bile in my throat.

“Peri?” Demo asks. “You good?”

“Fucking perfect,” I growl. “Fuck everyone.”

I throw my shoulder into Demo and knock him out of the way. I lead the way outside to the waiting SUV for us. We trade our robes and masks for custom-made, lifelike masks. State of the art masks that are so real they could confuse anyone.

I look like a clean, middle aged man with high cheekbones and a receding hairline. Demo has a creepy looking mustache and messy black hair.

“You know, it would be much easier to just do it the standard way,” Demo says. “Get the guy alone, show him who we really are, and then fucking gut him.”

“Orders are orders,” I say as I turn away and start walking back toward the strip club.

For the record, I’m on Demo’s side with this one. I know this mask shit is Luc’s doing. Sitting on his gold fucking throne in thePerg,making decisions like this. Trying to take our murdering ways into a new light.

I hate it.

For some reason theLegionsigned off on it too. Or maybe it meant this guy we were about to poison meant something different than just a normaltarget.

Demo and I enter the strip club again and walk to the main floor. Seven girls are topless on the main stage, one on her knees, rocking her body to some cliché eighties hair metal song.

Thetargetstands up and puts his hands together in prayer. He then rolls up some cash and bites it with his teeth. He leans forward and the stripper crawls toward him. She takes the money with her mouth, making sure their lips get close but they do not touch.

Demo nudges me. I nod. We approach thetarget.

Demo takes the lead and bumps into thetargetfrom the right. Thetargetlooks at Demo. Demo nods in approval at the topless woman climbing to her feet. With a quick move, I drop a clear tablet into thetarget’s drink. It dissolves instantly without any bubbles nor discoloration.

I turn my attention to the left, then slowly turn and step away from the stage. I reach into my pocket and take out a turned off cellphone and fake a phone call.

I’m not seen. Why would I be seen? I’m just some regular looking guy in a strip club. There are a dozen topless women either on stage or walking around right now. And the cameras that pick up on me will only see the lifelike mask.

I walk toward the back of the strip club and out the door for the final time. I don’t stop moving until I’m safely in the back of the SUV, where I hurry to take the mask off. We’re not that kind of group.

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