Hearts
Predator Press
[Mr. I]
We could still see the neon Burgermania sign from the lot we pulled into.
I thought it, and Edward said it: "Jesus Christ, this place is a dump!"
LOBO, parked to a fence, turns off the car. And as we sit looking bewildered at the ramshackle place through the car windows, he pops out and closes the door behind him. As the automatic seat belt retracts, I hear him say, "Come on guys. It's showtime."
"Why would Ethan buy a strip club?" asked Edward, peering around fearfully through the autoglass. "And in this neighborhood?"
My eyes lock on a dilapidated flashing sign. Contrary to the bleak surroundings, it blinks optimistically:
"Nipples Italy"
As Edward cautiously exits, I writhe out of the tiny car.
LOBO has already disappeared inside. A big guy in the door, obviously there to take cover charges, motions us over in a hushed, clandestine manner. "It's good to see you gentlemen," he whispers when we're in range. "We were a little concerned." While polite, his body language rushes us past him as he looks over our shoulders. "Head directly for the kitchen."
Bad music and cheap perfume explode to assault the senses as we open the doors and enter. Two thugs with earpieces see us, and while holding their ears with one hand they point to our left, muttering at nobody. My eyes follow their fingers, and LOBO is just disappearing around a corner. I spot Sapphire, naked as the day she was born, catching the eye of a security guy and casually collect her clothes.
I've never seen her naked before. And I'll be damned if Sapphire wasn't hot.
She was dressing as she descended the small stairway from the stage. The music skipped, and the MC announced another dancer.
Edward nudged me. "C'mon man. Let's move."
We passed the men's room, the ladies room; LOBO was nowhere in sight, and neither was another option in this darkened hall. Nonetheless, we kept walking down the unlit corridor until we got to a plain, unlabelled door, nondescript in every way given the environment. The hall darkened even further as Sapphire entered behind us. "Go!" she yelled.
I opened the door, and the room was electronically alive. There were, no shit, hundreds of monitors. Every inch of the club was under surveillance. Even the room they were in. A guy in weird sunglasses watches us on several monitors, sitting close to the door, says "Here they are," without looking up.
LOBO is standing in the middle of the buzzing room, looking around mystified. "Cool!" he says. "Ethan bought an arcade!"
Sapphire comes in behind us, in only heels and a scant bra of gold chains. She enters, closes the door, and holding golden chain panties, ducks to the ground to step into them through high heels. I see her swing them over her curvy figure in a slow, pornographic way.
I have a hard on the size of December.
"An arcade?" inquires Edward. "You mean you've never been here before?"
"You mean to say in an arcade in the kitchen of a kickass strip bar in a center of a crime-riddled slum?" LOBO pauses. "No. But you don't know Ethan. He really digs the working class. And you know he does a lot of charity work."
Still not looking up, sunglass guy says to no one, "Prepare for Decontamination and Biological Processing."
LOBO grabs his testicles, then everything goes white ...
[Mr. I]
We could still see the neon Burgermania sign from the lot we pulled into.
I thought it, and Edward said it: "Jesus Christ, this place is a dump!"
LOBO, parked to a fence, turns off the car. And as we sit looking bewildered at the ramshackle place through the car windows, he pops out and closes the door behind him. As the automatic seat belt retracts, I hear him say, "Come on guys. It's showtime."
"Why would Ethan buy a strip club?" asked Edward, peering around fearfully through the autoglass. "And in this neighborhood?"
My eyes lock on a dilapidated flashing sign. Contrary to the bleak surroundings, it blinks optimistically:
As Edward cautiously exits, I writhe out of the tiny car.
LOBO has already disappeared inside. A big guy in the door, obviously there to take cover charges, motions us over in a hushed, clandestine manner. "It's good to see you gentlemen," he whispers when we're in range. "We were a little concerned." While polite, his body language rushes us past him as he looks over our shoulders. "Head directly for the kitchen."
Bad music and cheap perfume explode to assault the senses as we open the doors and enter. Two thugs with earpieces see us, and while holding their ears with one hand they point to our left, muttering at nobody. My eyes follow their fingers, and LOBO is just disappearing around a corner. I spot Sapphire, naked as the day she was born, catching the eye of a security guy and casually collect her clothes.
I've never seen her naked before. And I'll be damned if Sapphire wasn't hot.
She was dressing as she descended the small stairway from the stage. The music skipped, and the MC announced another dancer.
Edward nudged me. "C'mon man. Let's move."
We passed the men's room, the ladies room; LOBO was nowhere in sight, and neither was another option in this darkened hall. Nonetheless, we kept walking down the unlit corridor until we got to a plain, unlabelled door, nondescript in every way given the environment. The hall darkened even further as Sapphire entered behind us. "Go!" she yelled.
I opened the door, and the room was electronically alive. There were, no shit, hundreds of monitors. Every inch of the club was under surveillance. Even the room they were in. A guy in weird sunglasses watches us on several monitors, sitting close to the door, says "Here they are," without looking up.
LOBO is standing in the middle of the buzzing room, looking around mystified. "Cool!" he says. "Ethan bought an arcade!"
Sapphire comes in behind us, in only heels and a scant bra of gold chains. She enters, closes the door, and holding golden chain panties, ducks to the ground to step into them through high heels. I see her swing them over her curvy figure in a slow, pornographic way.
I have a hard on the size of December.
"An arcade?" inquires Edward. "You mean you've never been here before?"
"You mean to say in an arcade in the kitchen of a kickass strip bar in a center of a crime-riddled slum?" LOBO pauses. "No. But you don't know Ethan. He really digs the working class. And you know he does a lot of charity work."
Still not looking up, sunglass guy says to no one, "Prepare for Decontamination and Biological Processing."
LOBO grabs his testicles, then everything goes white ...
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