by Jane Brooke
Cleo reached down, and found a white cashmere cape, wrapped it around Mimi.
Husband thanked her and without a word, swept his bride up in his arms, turned and made a B-line for a back exit. Once there, he opened the door and with his young-bride-princess of the night secure in his arms, they exited.
Cleopatra turned and moved into the crowd, receiving many hosannas, good job platitudes, slaps’ on the back as well as accepting future reservations for her talents, she and the rest of her audience dissolved back into the main club.
Wishing that I had a camera so I could have filmed it all so I could on some later date when I was lonely masturbate watching it, I looked at Zoe, and began to kiss her.
A minute passed, and then I gently parted away from her.
“Gotta scoot Zoe...I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Promise?”
I crossed my heart and hoped to die her, and whispered. “Does the pope like to fuck kids in the ass?”
She laughed and kissed me one more time, turned, looked back at me, threw an air kiss at me.
I caught it in mid air and smoked my own air kiss back at her.
She captured it, hopped the bar, and began the final countdown to an exhausting night, serving the one percent of an acid etched honest world.
MY WORLD.
Jane, Vegas PI’s World.
xxx
LIZZIE’S is a notorious hard core Bull Dyke bar, puked over there off of dangerous Northern Blvd, just off of MLK Blvd.
Feeling phat, the warm wind whistling past my blond buzz cut, and my tiny ass planted on the turquoise and white tuck and roll front seat, the one I had upholstered in Tijuana; I was ready for some pure and unequivocal havoc.
Like I said, I love to test myself, fist against fists, brains against brains, violence against violence. Why the fuck not. It’s better then chasing a white ball around some preconceived pathetic death tomb, a par and a three iron the only passion ya got left in your life.
Smoking, I swear I’m going to quit, REALLY, I’ve got the Sex Pistols on my car music machine and feeling tight, I’m singin’ along with the boys and tapping my work boot on the dash as I make the turn on MLK Blvd.
“Liar, lie, liar, lie, lie, lie/ Tell me why, tell me why, why’d you have to Lie?/ Should’ve realized, should’ve told the truth/ Should’ve realized, you was a liar/ Should’ve....”
“BOOM BOOM BOOM.”
That’s how I roll and me being an ex Brit and all, I figure Sid and the boys will amp up my adrenaline.
For, in all reality, this Dildo chick is fucking lethal and could murder my skinny ass if I don’t have my P’s and Q’s in a line.
Figuring I will be frisked by the bull dyke at the door, know her a little, very stylish gal, huge, crew cut, about three hundred ponds, I locked my 357-magnum and shoulder holster in my floor safe below my passenger’s seat.
Got my 38 out of the glove box, and with my stiletto, I have them shoved in my boot. Because I’m a brain genie I pretty much know (if the biatch is there) how I will skideroo out of the joint, if I capture her ass.
I’ve been to Lizzie’s a couple of times, and as My Zoe said, it is hard core, very rough trade. I was hit on by about a zillions dykes. I loved the attention, I think the girls are cool and had left because I wanted to kick back with a beer and watch the Knicks basketball game at home with Gumbo and Stella my gold fish.
I have my priorities straight.
Finding the place, I check my cell for time, saw I had some of it to do my thing and, then whip back and capture Zoe.
The place was a kinda warehouse joint, no neon outside anywhere and if you didn’t know it was there, well you would never find it.
Primping in the mirror, I fluffed my blond eyebrows, saw I was pretty, PLEEEASE, hoped the door, and with my pulse beginning to bang, bang, bang in my neck, I moved across the street. I had my chrome handcuffs dangling from my belt loop, no big thing at Lizzie’s.
In my pocket is my Pi and gun license as well as the paper warrant.
At the door was BANG, that is her name, the Goliath butch door woman, sans bouncer that the club relied on to keep some semblance of non madness in the club.
Six foot two, three hundred pounds, waxed crew cut, and wearing tan chinos and boat shoes, and one of those Hawaiian shirts, you know with palm trees on it, she looked radically stylish.
I think the darling knows me, but no smiles this time. I sidle up to her, give her my best Jane smile, and ask her as I push a C-note into her hand. “Bang yer lookin’ all that tonight. Maybe you could help me here?”
Opening a paw that looked like Buster Posey’s (He’s the power hitting stud catcher for the Boston Red Socks) catcher mitt, she leered at the hundred dollar bill resting there.
“Maybe. What a ya want ta know?”
I never fucked a Bull Dyke before, but I was always curious about that. Won’t go there though, for in fact, they scare the white outta me.
“Tina Barks...She here tonight?”
Rubbing her jowls, she peeked at the C-note, back at me, back at Uncle Benjamin. Getting it, I peeled another note off of my roll and layered it in her mitt.
Her solid gold grill grinned, as she nodded at me, opened the door, and said.
“Yeah, she’s here. Go on it.”
I nodded my thanks, and half way through the door, I turned to her as she said. “Be careful doll. She’s fucking nuts.”
I nodded at her, and closed the door behind me.
Once inside, I felt like I needed one of the miner’s pith helmets with those little lights on the brim to see anything.
Stalling out, I heard blaring music, The Clash I thought and with my eyes acclimating to this shadow world I could see some of the beauty queens dancing on the dance floor.
On one entire wall there was a red back lit neon bar and it looked well stocked, with lots of glasses being racked on lots of racks. The bar was semi packed with lots of big girls in biker Levis and leathers. Holding court with them and it never surprised me, there were a lot of model looking young girls, that just adored large, violent, and most of the time sweet heart bull dykes.
Wrapping around the walls of the rather large ex warehouse were these red Naugahyde booths.
Same MO, big girls, thin girls, pretty girls and man girls, I fucking loved it.
Watching the girls dancing to the bongo drums I allowed my eyed to catch-up with the semi shadows of the place.
Then, I saw her, alone, leaning her six-foot-one super powerful bod against the bar. She was something, filthy blond, dirty Levis connecting to a pair of old cowboy boots. She was wearing a black tank top like Moi. I gulped seeing her sinewy muscles ripping along her, I figured, a hundred and sixty pounds of pure grit.
She was nursing an amber liquid in a short glass and killing a smoke between her brown stained fingers.
Again she was alone, and I liked it.
I didn’t know if these folks were her posse. If they were her crew, then would they protect her and, then gang rape and murder me once I made my play. I figured, just looking at her, that these folks, all decent and respectful people, wanted nothing to do with her.
She was a fucking thug. I could see that clearly
My PLAY began to unravel in my head.
Well, no time like the present. Me looking so doolish, I walked along the edge of the dance floor getting a lot of eye magic from lots of girls. I of course loved that.
I hesitate for a moment. OMG, she’s got this black, studded leather harness strapped to her hips, with this huge, about a foot long, black dildo connected to it. On the tip is black man’s dick knob.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Still hopped up from The Mimi Show and Zoe playing Chopin on my cunt, I figure WHY NOT. Maybe I can be paid tw
ice, and get a hammering from her, before I slap the cuffs on her.
You know, pay me once. Pay me twice.
Feathering in about a yard from her, I lean against the bar, going all lean and sexy on her, making sure my tiny belly is exposed.
“Jane, Jane, are you excited about being nominated for an Academy Award?” I can hear the red carpet press screaming and feel the flash bulbs going off everywhere.
And the Academy Award for best actress goes too?
Anyhooo, me peeking at the dildo and being all little girl shy and such, I catch Tina leering at me like I’m a dildo lubricant she forgot to by at the mall.
I smile at her, she smiles back, I smile again me seeing a hint of white powder on her nose. She has these beautiful white teeth, and is about 32 and quite sexy, in that ghetto way.
I pretend to count the ceiling tiles, as one of two gorgeous bartenders sidles up to me. Dykes, like all of us love pretty things, and both of the girls are wearing black leather hip huggers and red tank tops with the words: LIZZIES stenciled on them.
MY, bartender is a gorgeous smiling brunette.
“Something to drink beautiful?”
I blush and dig into my pocket and with draw a hundred dollar bill. As I am about to order and begin to push it across the bar, and iron grip cinches around my wrist.
Guess who?
“Whatever the cup cake wants Wanda, on me. One for me too.”
I love being marginalized as I look at her like I have never had a girl buy a drink for me. Tina digs into her jeans, and from her Impress Me Roll, flips a hundred dollar bill on the bar top.
“Run a tab. Change is yours.”
Flapping my eyelashes like a human Barbie Doll, I smile, touch her wrist, and purr. “Why thank you mister man.”
Already I can see the FUCK SCENE ball bearings rotating in her cabasa.
Perfect.
I’ll go there, because I figure getting a fuck from her has to be a hoot.
“Where ya from doll? Do I know ya? She asks.
Morphing into someone else, my specialty and with my brain power consuming her like a sucking black hole, I revert to my street rap mode.
As cute as I can be, I say. “Sure. Don’t ya recognize me, I sold ya yer dildo at ‘Dildo’s or Us’ at the Fremont Street Mall.”
Suspending chewing her bubble gum, I can see the marbles clinking inside of her head.
She then slaps her Levi clad leg, and begins to laugh.
“SHIIIET, ya had me goin’ fer a minute. Hey, yer funny.”
I coyly smile, and know that she doesn’t know that I am a girl, a girl with a gun.
“No, where ya from?
“Around.”
She giggles, and I kinda like her, a little. I know she’s not a knucklehead, because it takes smarts to be a coke dealer.
She tilts a pack of Marlboros at me. I take one as does she. She ignites her Zippo, and I seductively cup her hand with both of mine, you know, real sexy like as she lights both of our cigarettes.
On cue, I allow the smoke to feather out of my nostrils.
Tina grins at me, I smile, touch her arm and whisper. “You’re such-a-gentlemen. Thank you. What’s yer name, fella?’
“Tina, you?
“Betty.” I extend my hand and shake hers, lingering there a little too long.
“I like ya Betty. Ya got any plans for later?”
Ya, I’m gonna bust a cap in your ass and drag you to jail. I do not say.
“I don’t know Tina. What ya have in mind?”
My eye’s fall to her protruding dildo and all playful like, I take my forefinger and boink, boink, boink it.
She smiles as I drag on the smoke again, and sip at my martini with my guava lips.
For a while we go blah, blah, blah and blah.
I love vamping, and do my thing.
Meanwhile, while she is thinking up some plan to fuck me, I think about her.
She’s not dumb and kinda charming.
She was probably raised on the wrong side of a marked deck of cards. You know, a sweet kid once who got visits late at night over there in Pentecostal trailer park America while Uncle Billy butt fucked the innocence out of her.
Perhaps born to the Kennedys over there in Hainesport, she would have been one of their spoiled brats and could have been a doctor or a corrupt politician.
But the dice hadn’t rolled like that for her, so it is, tragically what it is.
“Maybe...ya’d like to play some. Betty?”
“Dreamin’ of that, Tina.”
She then reaches into that little side pocket of hers and withdraws a small tube bottle of white powder, and tilts it to me.
“A little toot, Betty?”
Smoking more, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m glad it’s coke and not crystal meth.
My buddy Lieutenant Garcia at N. Vegas Metro told me the stories.
The boys and girls in blue face off with a meth addict maniac. They pump six hollow points in them, they keep on coming. They then have to bring out the heavy metal, and pour shot blasts into them to take them down.
Though I am totally secure within my martial art skills, even me does not want to face a meth fiend in full bloom.
“Thanks Tina, I gave it up for Lent.”
She absorbs my words and, then there is that charming laugh of hers again. I forget for a moment that she is a homicidal maniac.
“Hey yer funny. I like ya Betty.
I blush, as my game plan solidifies in my huge brain.
“Ya want to go to my crib?” She asks.
With my Zoe clock counting down, and time getting short, and getting a little bored, I decide it is time to get down with it.
“Got to be somewhere. Can we play somewhere here?”
“Absolutely, come on.”
She takes my hand as I throw down the last of my velvet dream.
Feeling that perhaps I am experiencing my own Bataan Death March, she leads me across the dance floor towards the restrooms. She opens the door for me. We enter and she locks it behind us.
How romantic is that?
Girls like great restrooms, and this one is certainly that. It’s actually quite elegant, as far as loo’s go and is all white and blue tiles, with wall mirrors everywhere.
She moves to a wash basin, opens her little magic bottle, pours a lot of coke on the back of her hand and:
Snoot, snoot, snoot, up her nose it goes.
She wets her finger tip, and as most pro coke users do, she pushes it around her gums and lips.
As she puts the bottle back in her Levis, I see her jaw grinding. She is smoked and ready to play.
Instantly she slams me against the wall and presses her silicone cock against my moist cunt. Turned on from everything I’ve seen through the night, I grab a tuft of her hair, and pour my lips against hers.
Her mouth tastes like an ash tray. Turned on, I love it.
I can feel how hard wired she is, muscles popping as she French kisses me, and I reciprocate feeling my cunt and brain sewer up.
I guess kissing and love chirping wasn’t her thing, as she violently twisted me around, grabbed my wrists and plastered my palms against the tiles.
I could hear her breathing roaring out of her lungs. I figured her testosterone level was “Wire in the Blood” (That’s my fav British TV series) off the charts and with me ready to solider up I felt her hand under my tank on my tits.
Speaking of amps, mine were red lining for I needed a good fucking bad, real bad.
I know I have to become a better girl, but not just now.
“Oooooooowe.” I tweeted as she vice gripped my tiny nipple with her forefinger and thumb.
Bruises in
the morning. Oh goody.
Me standing strong, I feel her hands ripping at my zipper and snap of my hip huggers. Thugish and surly, she gets frustrated and rips my zipper, and slashes my leather jeans down around my ankles.
Bollocks. Chang’s laundry in the morning, they can fix anything.
Not asking if perhaps I’d like a spot of tea later, she plunges the dildo, completely inside of my cunt.
“Swoosh, Swoosh, Swoosh bellows out of my lungs.
I moan and groan and smile as my body jolts feeling like it was struck by lightning as she begins to fuck the moon beams out of my cunt. Feeling such pain and pleasure, much needed, I’m stomping my boots on the floor, and banging my forehead and fists against the tile wall.
Then I feel it, as a rumbling orgasm splits through my body and I kinda scream feeling every gram of it.
Of course over the next minutes the hammering never stops, and I’m worried, through breaks of the tsunami crashing though my cunt and brain about Zoe.
I cum again, and feeling my body going weak, my palms fall to the tile floor and as she continues to fuck me, growling all the time, my little head keeps going boing, boing, boing against my knees as my body goes haywire and I climax again.
Thankfully I take yoga and am very flexible.
Forgetting that she can’t cum like a guy, and for some reason she pulls out of me, and I almost collapse from the pain.
So far so good.
Though I’m having a good time, I figure the bitch is going to kill me fucking me, and I gotta scoot.
Time is up, it always is.
Leaning against a wash basin, she’s hyperventilating and her eyes look suddenly blood shot and totally crazed.
I’ve got to make my move, as I extend my hand to her and smile, whispering as I do.
“Just a sec, gotta pee.”
She takes a step towards me, I smile and whimper. “Please, just a sec.”
She nods, as I throw my leathers back on my hips, snap the snap, and move into a john stall.
Feeling like I had been just attacked by a jack hammer, I allow my senses to return to somewhat normal.
