by Alexis Angel
Traffic’s a bit rough today over the 59th street bridge, so it takes almost an hour to make the drive from Queens to Manhattan. I spend that time going through my e-mail and going over Python’s financials, so I’m pretty glad by the time the limo halts to a stop under Dirty Destiny’s bright red sign. There’s already a line at the place, and the bouncers are already turning away a lot of folks; business seems to be flourishing for her.
“Wait here,” I tell the driver as I step out of the limo, “I’ll let you know once I’m done.”
“Mr. Python,” one of the bouncers calls after me, addressing me by the name that most of the fucking city has started to use since that Out and About article, leaving his spot and escorting me straight to the main entrance.
A lot of people start complaining as I cut the line, but hey, what the fuck am I supposed to?
Stand in line like a good little boy? C’mon.
I button up my jacket as I step inside Dirty Destiny’s main floor and, just as I suspected, the place is packed. There are two dancers on the stage, and the men are throwing dollar bills at them as if they could cure cancer.
Sex really brings out the best in fucking people, huh?
That’s probably Junior’s college money.
Their daughter's are probably gonna have to fucking strip now to make college money because Daddy stuffed it down a fucking g-string.
Fuck, those daughters might be out there selling their virginity to the highest bidder. Like a lot of the fucking Kindle books that are coming out nowadays.
“Where’s Destiny?” I ask the bouncer, and he points up at the one-way windows overlooking the stage. The office, then. I thank him and head straight up; another bouncer calls up to tell him I’m coming, and he steps to the side as I walk up to the stars.
By the time I reach the balcony, Destiny is already waiting for me there, a big grin on her face.
“Came to see me or to enjoy the show?” she asks, taking one step toward me. I grab her by the ass immediately, pull her into me and crush my mouth against hers. I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees us kissing; we’re two grown ass adults and I’m far too busy to be keeping stuff like this a secret.
“I came for a show… A private one,” I tell her, and her response is a quick one. She likes to shoot from the hip.
“Well, I hope you’ve brought your big boy wallet, then.”
“No, I forgot about it,” I whisper against her ear, “but I brought something bigger than that.” Smiling, she takes her hand straight to my crotch, curling her fingers around my erection. Yeah, that’s right, I’m already fucking hard. Just seeing her is enough to make me pop a boner.
“Well, I’m going to need to inspect it first…” She pulls, softly squeezing my cock, and I become even harder. If she keeps teasing me, my cock might just rip its way out of my pants.
“Yeah? Am I up for an oral inspection?”
“I think you’re right; I’m going to need to do a thorough inspection…” she purrs again, letting go of my cock and hooking her fingers on my belt. She pulls me inside her office and slams the door behind us.
The moment I hear the lock on the door snapping shut, I just grab her by the waist and push her back until her ass is against the edge of the desk.
Tangling my fingers in her hair, I yank on it and force her head back. She gasps as I do it, and then I place my other hand over her knee and slide it up and under her tight fitting skirt. I only stop when my hand is right between her thighs, her damp thong against my fingertips.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” I tell her, lifting her head and making her look at me. “It’s all I could think of on the ride here.”
“That makes two of us then,” she says, flattening the palm of her hand against my crotch once more.
Let’s get this party started, then. I lean in to kiss her but, when our mouths are just one inch away, my cell phone starts to ring.
I could just ignore it—and that’s what I’d normally do—but this is the ringtone I set up for Strokes.
Fuck, I don’t want to interrupt this rodeo that’s about to start, but if Strokes is calling… then something is seriously up.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, letting go of Destiny and taking one step back. I pull the cell phone out of my pocket and, just like I expected, Strokes’ name is flashing on the screen. “Babe, sorry, I really have to get this.” It fucking hurts to leave her wet like this, but it can’t be helped; there might be something happening at Python and I need to be on top of it.
“Just make sure you come back as hard as you are,” she tells me teasingly, straightening the front of her skirt and sinking into her chair behind the desk.
“Well, only if you stay as wet as you are now… “ I tell Destiny, and grab my cock, giving it a lewd tug over the trousers. Destiny smiles.
“You've got a deal,” she says, using one hand to lightly run up and down her tits.
I look at her and smile lewdly. I love being filthy with this fucking girl.
I reach for the door in her office and I step out.
If you’re wondering why I’m not taking the phone call with her around, it's because my business with Strokes is too sensitive for me to act careless. Besides, I don’t want to pull her into this.
No, I’m not going to tell you what it is now.
Listen, people could be watching.
I mean, look at you. You’re watching the both of us. You think anyone else in this club knows that you’re watching?
Fuck, what if someone else is watching me just like that.
No. If you need to find out, you will.
It’s for the fucking best, doll.
I walk toward the balcony railings, but there’s too much noise up in here. I go down the stairs at a hurried step and, nodding at the bouncer, step inside one of the private rooms. It’s empty and silent, and the soundproof walls prevent the sound of the music from getting in, and my words from getting out. Perfect.
“Strokes? Something happened?” I always get fucking anxious when she calls me. I never know when she’s going to hit me with bad news.
“Took you long enough to pick up the phone, where are you?”
“Destiny’s.”
“Well, well… Seems like someone is having fun,” she says to me. “Listen, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, Austin, but later tonight I’ll need you to be at Python,” she starts, lowering her tone and finally getting down to business.
“Why?” I ask, a bit pissed off. “I thought Maverick was fine with running it tonight.”
Yeah, Maverick always covers for me when I’m not around—running Python without him and Strokes would be close to impossible, but I guess she’s not talking strictly about Python.
“Yeah, he’s running the floor. But I have a new batch of girls coming in,” she whispers into the phone, and I can tell that she’s a nervous fucking wreck.
She drowns herself in caffeine whenever we have girls coming in like this, and goes without sleep for days. Strokes’ bold, but she really gets stressed out when it comes to the real work we do at Python. It’s only natural, though—with the amount of risks we’re taking every day, any sane person would be worried out of their minds.
“Alright, don’t worry. I’ll be there,” I try and soothe her, but I know that she won’t calm down until she sees me inside Python. “Has security been warned to be on the watch for the police?”
“Yeah, they know what to do. I just feel more at ease when you’re here to handle this.”
“I’ll be there, Strokes,” I say.
“You better. Now go have fun, we’ll talk later,” she finishes, ending the call.
Fuck, I wasn’t really expecting a new batch of girls for today. Well, it has to be done anyway.
I push the cell phone into my pocket and head out of the room, anxious to get back to Destiny. My call with Strokes lasted for just a few minutes, so I bet I can still there and find her wet and ready to go…
Yeah, I probably should head
right back to Python, but I can’t just leave Destiny like this. To leave her without fucking her would be a sin.
I take several breaths. I need to do what any real man would do.
Go inside.
Fuck the living daylights out of that goddess.
Cum all over her fabulous fucking tits.
Go back to work.
Plan.
I’m heading to the stairway that leads to the balcony over the stage when suddenly a loud bang echoes through the floor, drowning out the music.
Someone screams, and I look at the entrance just in time to see the doors being slammed open.
One man in a SWAT uniform steps inside and throws a smoke grenade straight into the middle of the crowd. Immediately after, what looks like the entire fucking NYPD rushes into the club.
Like they’re storming the building in a fucking war.
Fuck.
This can’t be good for business.
74
Destiny
Fuck!
I should've taken Lester’s threats more seriously.
I should have been ready.
But, no, I let myself go and get lost in some imaginary future, thinking that everything would work out happily in the end.
Lester would do nothing, and he would give up on this Python charade once he saw there was nothing shady going on in there.
But, of course, this was nothing more than a fantasy.
This isn’t a fucking novel, hun.
There is no Happily Ever After.
I don’t care what it says in the blurb. Just because HEA is guaranteed, how is it going to happen when Lester and the entire fucking NYPD are shutting down my club?
Just as Austin got a phone call and stepped outside to take it, my own cellphone started to buzz. I picked it up, unlocked it, and now here I am, standing in the middle of my office while big bold letters, all in caps, seem to scream out me.
TIME’S UP, Lester's message reads, and I feel his dark and ominous shadow cast over my club.
He’s coming for me, and once he comes …
A loud bang drowns out the music. It's an explosion, a loud one, coming from the club’s main room. My feet carry me out of my office and into the balcony that overlooks the stage.
Everyone is screaming and running around aimlessly, empty space forming around a can in the middle of the room. Then that small can starts to spit out a white cloud of smoke and I realize with a sinking feeling that I really underestimated Lester.
He isn’t coming for me with a notice for me to close the place for inspection.
No, he’s coming for me with guns blazing, blood in his eyes.
“What the fuck is going on?” Lux screams at me, appearing at my side from God knows where.
“Lester,” I simply whisper, and her eyes become as wide as golden coins. She grabs the balcony railings to steady herself and then looks at me with a worried expression her face.
“You don’t mean to say that--”
“Yeah, I do,” I tell her, cutting her off. “He’s going to raid us, and make sure we close down for good,” I say gravely.
That’s when a small army of men in NYPD tactical uniforms storm through the place.
They’re all wearing gas masks to protect them from the smoke grenade, and they’re all holding rifles, not regular service pistols.
Lester is hitting me with a fucking SWAT team. Up until now, I thought that Lester was one of these guys, brimming with threats but never having the balls to act on them.
Why did I think that, hun?
Why was I so fucking stupid?
Because look at me now!
I was wrong. Jesus, I’ve never been so wrong, and the Dirty Destiny and all my girls are going to pay for my mistake.
Fucking Christ!
Another explosion in the distance.
Fucking fuck.
Excuse my language, okay? I’m just watching everything I built go up in flames.
I smell smoke now.
Fucking FUCK!
Okay, I need to keep it together. I need to act. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and then look at Lux.
“Lux, I want you to get as far away from here as you can. Take every girl you find with you, and guide as many of them out of here,” I tell her as she looks at me with wide eyes. “I don’t want Lester to lay his dirty hands on any of my girls,” I say, and she simply nods and bolts.
“GET THE FUCK DOWN!” One SWAT guys starts yelling at the customers, all of them with their hands up in the air. They look like confused cockroaches, their eyes squinted because of the smoke, but they finally start lying down on the ground.
I look around, trying to pick Austin from the crowd, but I can’t recognize him from up here, the smoke covering the room like a blanket.
“GET THE FUCK DOWN!” I hear another yell, and then a gun goes off, the bright glow of the bullet being fired like a punch to my throat.
Rubber bullets, please, let it be rubber bullets, I pray to myself as I turn on my heels and enter my office, heading straight for the power switch I keep under my desk. I press it in a hurry, and all the lights go out at once, and I know that all of the security doors I have on the main room have opened.
I won’t make it easy for Lester. I have no idea what lies he told the courts to get a SWAT team to storm my club, but it can’t be good; I want to let as many of my customers and girls escape.
I can already see the police handcuff some of the men on the floor and drag them out into the street.
I grit my teeth as I imagine what Lester has in mind; he’s probably going to take them into court and bury them in made-up charges.
But first he’s going to walk them in public and shame them.
He’s making sure that Dirty Destiny will never open its door again if I don’t play nice, and he doesn’t care about who goes down in the process.
Motherfucker!
If I could I’d choke the life out of that fucking limp dick loser right now.
“EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM,” I hear someone roar, and I recognize Lester’s voice among the confused cries and the shouts from the police. “FOCUS ON THE GIRLS,” he shouts again, and I feel a violent rage growing inside of me.
I’m grabbing at the rails so hard that there’s no blood left in my hands, and I realize that I’m shaking with fury.
Then, as if the Devil himself had set his pitch black eyes on me, there’s an opening in the smoke and my eyes meet Lester’s. He looks at me with a grin, his eyes small and evil, and he raises his arm and points at me.
“THERE!” he yells, spit coming out of his mouth. “SHE’S UP ON THE BALCONY, GET HER!”
I have to get out of here—now.
There’s nothing I can do; I sure as hell can’t face a SWAT squad by myself, so I turn on my heels and head out of the service door, a headache brewing inside my skull. I run down the cramped corridor and I push the exit door with as much strength as I can. It swings open and I step into the cold New York night, my breath pluming out of my mouth in a white cloud. I can hear heavy boots running down the corridor, and I keep running.
I go as fast as I can down the fire escape, the metallic stairs creaking and groaning as I run down.
The moment my heels hit the concrete, I look over my shoulder as two men holding revolvers look down the fire escape. They’re not wearing any uniforms, but they sure as hell seem hell bent on getting their hands on me.
Gritting my teeth, I start to run as fast as I can, my heels clicking on the floor like the maddening tick of a clock, time is running out, Destiny, that repeating sound seems to say.
I turn a corner and then I keep running, pushing my body to the limit as my lungs seem to scream inside of my body. Stopping only to take my heels off, I dash down Broadway like a madwoman, and then turn another corner, step into an alley and crouch behind a car.
My heart seems to be climbing up my throat as heavy footsteps close in on me, but then the men keep on running down the street, still cha
sing me.
“Jesus Christ,” I sigh, putting my heels back on and standing up.
Yeah, I bet I looked pretty strange, huh?
Although, this is New York City. I bet no one even batted an eye to me running around dressed the way I am with my heels. Probably just another day in Gotham, huh, babe?
I look down the street, over the top of the parked car, and a feeling of sadness and despair takes over me. Regular uniformed cops are stretching yellow lines around the Dirty Destiny’s entrance, and every single one of my customers is being hauled out in handcuffs. I recognize a few of my girls, the cops dragging them out in the street as if they were cattle, some of them wearing nothing but a thong and a bra.
Anger replaces the sadness inside of me, and I ball my hands into fists.
My club, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is fucking gone.
Taken away from me in an instant. And all because of that hideous man. That evil bastard.
But there’s something more sinister here.
Something worse.
Women are being treated like crap for liking sex.
It’s the age old fucking double standard.
I think about Austin, and worry washes over me; what if Lester caught him?
I can’t even begin to think about it. I’m still not sure why Lester is so preoccupied with Python, but if he went this far, leveraging all his power to bring me down… God, please, let Austin escape.
So that whatever he’s doing can continue.
That’s right, babe.
I believe him.
He may not be telling me the whole story, but remember how I said I was a good judge of character?
I believe him.
I remember that dirty grin on Lester’s face, the look of satisfaction as he saw me standing over the balcony, and rage flares up inside of me once more. I don’t think I have ever been this angry before. I don’t care how long it takes, or how much it’s going to cost. Lester is not walking away from this scott fucking free.
