Page 83 of I Will Always Find You
Occasionally, though, straight women would come with their “gay besties,” or bi/pansexual ladies who enjoyed a little kink, a little more queerness in their male strippers. The women were typically the ones who were more likely to use the pricey lounge room if they wanted a private dance.
The tight, questionably hygienic stalls were acceptable, even preferable for most of the gay male clientele; that sense of seediness only heightened the erotic excitement. Still, they were not everyone’s cup of tea.
So when the stunningly beautiful, tall woman with jet-black hair that verily twinkled when the lights hit the luscious locks, walked into the club with the young twink on her arm, no one raised a well-manscaped eyebrow.
“He’s not my friend,” Tony, the nearly naked stripper, said, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. He thrust his massive package, concealed only behind a thin blue cotton-lycra G-string, near the stunningly gorgeous woman’s face. “I only worked with him twice, last year. I haven’t seen him in months. I barely know him. I’m sorry he’s not here to join me, but I can give you what you want. Believe it!”
Running his hands slowly down his muscular torso, Tony moved seductively toward the woman in all black, smiling his crooked smile and trying unsuccessfully to hide the missing tooth on the right side of his mouth. He was good-looking, had a fit, hairless body, a round, plump ass, and a large cock, but he came across as a bit trashy—a little “rough trade” as the DJ and club manager Big G often told him.
Tony was aware that his aesthetic turned a large number of the gay customers on, so he was surprised when, twenty minutes earlier, Big G informed him that atwinkand a lady who looked like a supermodel wanted to hire him for a private strip show up in the lounge. But money was money, and one hundred bucks a song as opposed to fifty bucks a song in the stalls plus a hot chick was a huge turn on for hismostly-straightass.
As Tony moved and gyrated his athletic body to the beat of 80s classic rock—his music choice, since the clients had no preference—he took a moment to turn toward the guy who had accompanied the commanding woman. He did not want him tofeel left out. Tony licked his lips, winked, and grabbed his crotch, shaking his junk at the barely legal-looking man.
“You want this?” he asked lasciviously of the dark chestnut-brown haired man with the baby face. Tony thought the height difference between his two customers was amusing.Damn, this guy’s normal-sized, but she’s a freakin’ Amazon. And what the fuck is he wearing?
While Tony stared into the dark eyes of the cute twink, those eyes that looked so sad, even haunted, he began to feel a sense of unease and dread. The guy was intensely unnerving in his stillness and silence.
Tony felt a chill crawl up and down his spine.
“My friend has a way with words, doesn’t he?” the woman laughed, knowing her companion preferred silence over speech. Earlier, she had asked him to wear something more modern and fun, but the stoic young man opted for a black mid-century Italian suit he had found in a second-hand store on Church Street. He looked like a nineteen-year-old dressed as if he were an octogenarian.
She guessed he was trying to be ironic with his choice of attire.
Tony quickly turned back to the woman, who wore black Manolo pumps and a beautifully designed, fitted suit, bearing a black and silver pattern that resembled fabric woven from the night sky itself. Stopping his dance, he asked her tensely, “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” she stated plainly. “Do you know where he is, Tony?”
“Huh? Who?”
“The man who is not your friend. The one I’m looking for.”
“Corey? I’ve no idea. Listen, do you want me to dance for you, or not? This is gettin’ weird, no offence.”
The woman sighed, clearly annoyed. “It seems I’ll have to resort to the tried and true method to get the information I need.And here I was, really hoping I wouldn’t have to stoop so low as to taste someone like you—no offence.”
“Wha?” Tony babbled, backing up from the woman who now bore a most sinister sneer upon her pale-skinned face, her lips red as blood.
With lightning speed, the woman sprang off the sofa and seized Tony by the throat. With an iron grip, she held him in place as she sank her razor-sharp fangs into his neck, as if his taut flesh were as delicate as gossamer, easily pierced by her two tiny blades.
She drank deeply of the red ichor, absorbing the memories of her prey through his blood, his entire life story, brief though it was. Ultimately, it proved useless and even rather repugnant.
Unsatisfied, she tossed the barely alive stripper away from her like trash. Her strength was prodigious.
Tony, lost in a supernaturally induced haze of erotic pleasure and pain, crashed to the dark-stained wood-tiled floor like a rock; the back of his head hit the ground first with a dramatic thud.
“He knows nothing,” the raven-haired beauty said to her companion, who remained silent and motionless in the chair opposite the sofa. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time here.”
The young man slowly stood, staring at the half-conscious figure on the floor. Tilting his head until his ear nearly touched his left shoulder, he snapped his fingers and said in a hushed voice, “Break.”
In seconds, Tony’s left arm snapped backward at the elbow. He groaned in pain, having little energy to do much else. He endured the agony, knowing he had no other recourse.
The oddly dressed young man, with his old-timey garments and an air of unsettling confidence, tilted his head to the right and repeated, “Break,” punctuating the command with another sharp snap of his fingers.
This time, an agonizingcrackechoed as Tony’s right leg contorted grotesquely at the knee, bending in a direction that defied the laws of nature. His foot, twisted and limp, unnaturally rested against his shoulder, a vivid testament to the cruel magic assailing him.
Tears poured down the stripper’s cheeks, carving streaks through the grime of sweat and desperation that clung to his face; Tony’s expression morphed into a grotesque mask of excruciating pain interwoven with sheer terror, his eyes wide and pleading, reflecting the horror of his inexplicably violent fate.
“There’s no need to be cruel,” the regal woman stated softly, her voice edged with sincere sympathy as she observed the mortal man who had done nothing to them to warrant such a brutal punishment.
