Page 3 of Call Me Bunny

Justin puts an arm around my shoulders. “We didn’t bring you here to fuck Caryl, Neil, we brought you here to fuck a total stranger.” Everyone laughs, and I start to feel a bit queasy. I can’t tell if it’s the strong drink on an empty stomach or the fact that I suspect I’ve been conned into being the punch line of a group joke.

As the night goes on, my discomfort grows. I try to drown it in booze, but all that does is get me wasted. Soon I’m wavering on my feet, my words coming out slow and slurred. Justin buys me another drink and takes my arm, guiding me across the crowded dance floor to a secluded section of the club. He points at a woman sitting alone in a corner booth. She’s stunning, petite, but there’s a lot ofumphpacked in that tiny body. Plenty of curves, plenty to grab hold of.

Before I know what’s happening, Justin shoves me hard in the direction of her booth. I can’t hear what he shouts at me as I stumble towards her, but from the way he laughs at me, I doubt it’s anything good.

I barely manage to catch myself on the edge of her table as my equilibrium spirals out of control. The woman gasps and flinches away from me, and I try to articulate what happened.

“Try” being the operative word.

“Sh-shorry missh. My buddy pushed me. ’M not a creeper. Jush’ a nerd.” I erupt in a fit of giggles at my own lousy joke. I lean over the table and wink at her as a sudden burst of confidence washes over me. “I program video gamesh for a livin’. Pretty shexy, huh?”

The woman scoots to the far end of the booth and starts frantically tapping at her phone screen.

“Aw, don’ be like that. ’M a good guy. Lemme buy you a drink to show you.”

I don’t get a chance to buy her a drink. Right at that moment, a huge, beefy hand clamps down on my shoulder. Before I know what’s happening, the hand yanks me off my feet, tossing me onto the dance floor. I scramble to my knees, trying to get to my feet before I’m trampled but failing miserably as the world spins around me.

I shouldn’t have worried about getting trampled; Beefy Hand isn’t done with me yet.

The body attached to Beefy Hand is proportionately massive, and it moves towards me through the crowd with a grace that a body that big has no right having.

He’s gotta be six seven, well over three hundred pounds of meat and muscle, all stuffed in a well-fitted suit. The whole look screams “bodyguard,” and I get the feeling the girl Justin pushed me towards wasn’t just some chick he chose at random.

I start to suspect this whole night was a setup.

The bodyguard hauls me up and drags me to a darkened back corner. I don’t even see the door before he shoves me through it. I land hard on my hip in a service hallway, skidding into the far wall. My glasses fly off and clatter away. I reach out to feel for them, but his wingtip stomps down on my hand. I scream, but it’s probably useless to cry out. No one’s going to hear me with all that club noise out there.

Nobody hears the punches thrown. Nobody hears me shout in pain.

Nobody but me hears the switchblade click open.

As the bodyguard’s arm swings down with the blade aimed right for me, a flash of dull silver glints in the dim hallway lights. Not the knife; something bigger. Longer.

Something that makes a sick, wetcrackwhen it collides with the bodyguard’s head, with a hollow, metallic ringing that echoes after.

The guy who beat the shit out of me falls to the floor, and my eyes trail up a pair of heeled leather boots, fishnet-covered legs, and enough leather, straps, and mesh to put any professional Domme to shame. The woman rests the baseball bat on her shoulder as she looks down at me, her pink and blue braids framing an oval face with the most amazing almond-shaped pink eyes. Topping it all off is a headband with a pair of black leather rabbit ears sticking up.

“Bunnyluv?”

Between the alcohol and the blows to the head, I think I’m hallucinating. There’s no way Bunnyluv came to my rescue. She never leaves her apartment. Besides, I don’t know what she looks like. It can’t really be her …

She squats down next to me, tilting her head to the side. “You took quite a beating there, mister. I’m gonna get you out of here, get you stitched up.”

“My glasses … Bunnyluv, baby, I can’t find my glasses …”

Shit, I’m delirious. I don’t even know why my glasses fucking matter right now.

“Dude, I don’t know why you’re calling me that.”

She picks something off the floor and gives it to me. I take it in my good hand, and I realize she’s found my glasses. I put them on as best as I can one-handed. She’s even more beautiful when she’s in focus. Even with blood splattered all over her face.

“There. Maybe now you won’t confuse me with someone else.”

I try to shake my head but immediately realize what a mistake that is in my current state. My vision flickers, and I struggle to stay awake. “I—I’m sorry. I just saw the ears, and I thought you might be someone I knew.”

Her smile is kind. “Tell you what? We’ll compromise. Drop the ‘love’ bit, okay? Just … call me Bunny.”

I’d answer, but seconds later it’s lights out.

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