by P. J. Day
“How can I help you,” he asked, in a cockney accent.
“Jack King,” I said.
“Hmm... let me see.” The bouncer used his index finger to scroll down the list that was attached to the aluminum clipboard. “Nope, don’t see a Jack King.” The bouncer gave Holly an eyeful. “But, since you brought a supermodel to the party, I have no choice but to let you in.”
Holly’s cheeks turned red and she was visibly appreciative of the comment as she flashed me a vernal grin. He lifted the velvet rope and Holly and I walked right in.
“I was kidding; you’re on the list,” said the bouncer, his voice trailing off as we continued toward the club.
What a scoundrel, I thought, but how could I judge a man who just pulled off something that I would do if were in his position? I’d do it with more tact, and subtlety—who was I kidding? Holly looked absolutely stunning. It’d be hard to show any kind of restraint. I probably would have done the exact same thing as dude-huge just did. Give the supermodel’s date a hard time, just for fun.
We could hear the loud bass from inside the club reverberating throughout the walkway leading into the VIP section of the club. A scantily-clad hostess greeted us at the entrance. Holly caught me checking out her backside.
“Those eyes of yours sure are quick,” she said.
“I can’t help it. It’s right there for the visual taking. Her outfit is meant to do what it did to me. It’s science.”
We walked to our table, which was one of many in a row lining a large balcony that hung over the dance floor. The music was thumping at the highest decibel that was possible for humans to bear without running away screaming. It sounded like a combination of trance and hip-hop. The rhythmic motions of the hundreds of dancers below created a metrical wave of flesh. Holly began bouncing a little as she couldn’t resist the pulsations emitted by the tribalistic compound of beats we found ourselves in. The bass was so powerful; I could feel its beat in my body. I pointed to the really expensive bottle of vodka on our table and then pointed to the dance floor. “You want to hang up here or dance?” I yelled at Holly.
“What?” she asked, my question obscured by the loud music.
“You want to dance?!” I shouted.
“Yes!” Holly yelled back, her whole body moving as if it were possessed in a trance-like state.
We made our way down an elevator to the dance floor. Holly pulled my arm and led me to the bar. As soon as we arrived at the bar, she wrapped her arms around my neck, grabbing and pulling my head toward her thick, rose-colored lips and placed them against mine. The soft, supple, velvety feel of her delicate mouth was now pressed against my face, just millimeters away from some incredibly sharp fangs. I kept telling myself... Holly, don’t use your tongue... please, don’t use your tongue. Then, she frenched me passionately and I made sure to open my mouth as wide as possible, hoping she didn’t slice her tongue with my naturally sharpened cuspids. I held her tightly in my arms, enjoying every second of our oral embrace. She then turned her torso forward, her soft thighs and ass firmly pressed against my lower extremities, we remained locked at the lips, as her right hand held onto the back of my head. I felt every single drop of blood in my veins coursing throughout my entire body like a river which just burst through a dam, first trickling out of a tiny hole and eventually bursting through in a violent torrent. Everyone downriver be damned!
Our undulating bodies were in tune with one another in more ways than one. It was just me and this gorgeous, sensual woman; everyone and everything around us was just a prop at that very moment. Holly grabbed my hands and placed them on her hips. I felt every last bit of her slightly prurient and nuanced rotations from her hips as her pelvic bones touched my fingers and the thickness of her posterior rested on the palms of my hand. Splendidly, she showed off her optimal physical fitness with each and everyone one of her sultry thrusts. My lips then slowly moved away from her glistening, jutted mouth and began making their way to the center of her neck. I started salivating uncontrollably. I made sure to keep my lips as close to the flesh of her neck as possible, to avoid unpleasant drool from escaping my mouth. My teeth made delicate little pulls at her skin, small prods at first and then slight yanks, as I tested Holly’s tolerance.
The moist osculation continued throughout the night. My fingers and hands delicately stroked every inch of her fit and toned body, except the parts that might make her squirm on the rather public dance floor, which would have jettisoned us out of this place for being too hot and heavy. Our bodies were rhythmically entwined the whole night. Sweat, saliva, and pheromones were shared with lustful comfort between us. Holly then looked me in the eyes and had both hands on my face as she said, “Thank you... I have been thinking about you every hour since I’ve met you.”
“Me, too,” I said loudly, making damn sure the two most important words uttered so far for Holly were clearly heard.
A slow song came on and I put my arms around her shoulders as I gently placed her head against my chest. I checked my watch and noticed it was 11:30. Whoever sent me the instant message would be waiting for me at midnight at Ngo Ngo. I didn’t want to break the moment between Holly and me, but anyone who claimed to know who I am shouldn’t be taken lightly.
“Holly, let me get you a drink.”
“Sure,” she said, smiling.
We both walked to the bar and asked the bartender for an apple martini. I gave him my card so he could keep the tab open.
“Holly, I’m sorry but I need to make a quick phone call and check on Ted. Just wait for a minute, okay?”
“Don’t be long... I hate being alone,” she said, giving me a long kiss.
“I won’t... give me three minutes.”
I headed to the door that led to the outside patio next to the bar. The bar had designated this place for all the smokers. I heard from Ted that Hong Kong law can fine individual smokers rather than the bar and club owners themselves; don’t know how that is enforced, but they seem to be all here striking up the most interesting conversations; I overheard the words mango, Stephen Hawking, and the Toronto Blue Jays all uttered in what I thought was one sentence.
“You staying out of trouble?” I asked.
“Yeah, just sitting here watching television,” he said. I heard faint keystrokes in the background.
“Get off the laptop. What did I tell you earlier?” I reprimanded Ted.
“I’m just sending out emails to my best clients. Letting them know I’m resigning and thanking them for all the years of support.”
“Can you seriously stop? Just wait until you get home to do that. I don’t trust anyone here.”
“Okay.”
“Listen, since you’re on my laptop, I want you to do something.”
“Fire away.”
“Check out my IM conversations from yesterday.”
Ted hummed as he scrolled through my programs and my IM conversations on my desktop. I checked in on Holly through the door to see if she was all right. Predictably, I noticed some dirtbag with a shaved head and an Ed Hardy tee-shirt begin to strike up a conversation with her. She exhibited an uncomfortable posture while flashing polite smiles at the aggressive flirt. Nothing she couldn’t handle I thought. I continued my conversation without worrying too much.
“Did you find it?”
“Who the hell is roe7163? They claim to know who you are?” asked Ted in a perplexed tone.
“Yeah. Weird, huh?”
“You’re not thinking of meeting them, are you?”
“Of course not; I want you to meet them, if the situation presents itself.”
“What? There is no fucking way I’m doing that. Especially with all the potential snoops running around.”
“Just put on the little outfit you had on at the coffee shop earlier today and scope out the scene, then report back to me.”
“No way, no how, man.”
“Ted—”
“What? I told you I don’t want to involve myself with potentially
dangerous situations anymore.”
“You’re leaving me behind. You’re leaving me to fend for myself, knowing full well that I’m vulnerable.”
“Are you giving me a guilt trip?”
“Yes.”
“Jack...” Ted said, in his usual whiny voice for situations like these.
“Come on, one last favor... promise.”
“I thought getting you in the club was the last favor?”
“That was the second-to-last favor. You owe me a lot of favors, quite frankly. Believe me, this won’t be your last favor, either.”
There was a small pause in our conversation, knowing Ted was struggling with my request. However, I had bailed him out of many situations in the past, and I was bailing him out before he left for Los Angeles by hiding him in my room and lying to my company in regard to his whereabouts. If they found out that I was lying and harboring an extremely valuable and AWOL employee, I might be fired.
“49ers hat? Okay, I’ll go. I will not engage unless I know it’s safe.”
“Definitely. See, you got what it takes to be a spy. You want to reconsider your decision on leaving?”
“No, I’m leaving. Quit trying to butter me up. If I engage, what do you want me to say?”
“Tell them I sent you. Tell them I had business dealings I had to take care of. Just find out what they want and who they are and let me know as soon as possible.”
“What if there’s trouble?”
“There won’t be. They want to see me. If they hurt you, they won’t be able to get whatever they want out of me. Plus, in my gut, it doesn’t sound like a dangerous situation. It’s a public place, after all.”
“All right. Hey, what if they follow me or something?”
“Let them follow you. Odds are I won’t be at the Peninsula tonight anyway.”
Ted wooed loudly on the phone.
“I knew you weren’t coming back. You stud, you!”
“Shh... they are going to hear you in the room. Be discreet, dammit! Also, it’s not what you think. The night is going very well. Okay, it is what you think but Holly is different.”
“Jack King is falling for a girl?”
“No, look... I’ll let you in on the details tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait for the details, oh boy!”
“Ted, cut it out.”
“Does she know about your condition?”
“Kind of. I’ll let you know tomorrow. “
“I’ll scope out the situation and I’ll have a report as soon as possible. Keep your phone on.”
“Thanks, man. Keep me in the loop.”
“Roger that. Get some blood, buddy!”
“Later, man,” I said in an annoyed tone as I hung up the phone.
I walked through the door and out of the smoke-filled patio. Holly now had two dirtbags, instead of one, harassing her at the bar. The other one was also in his 20s, had a cheap suit on with a cheesy gold chain. Immediately, I felt as if I was in a stereotypically bad action movie that took place in a far-off Asian metropolis.
“Hello gentlemen,” I said, as I interrupted their goofball charm circle.
Both sketchy guys stared me up from shoes to hair. I grabbed Holly’s hands and pulled her close to me.
“Excuse us,” I said. I held her arm and we both walked to the other side of the bar, which was a long one; around 15 yards long, in fact. It was made of glass and lit with special lights that would make even the most seasoned stage tech envious.
Both unsavory characters laughed to themselves as we scurried off. I didn’t want to play the tough guy act in front of Holly. She seemed to be a pretty level-headed gal and the bravado act wouldn’t have played well with her.
“Hey honey, don’t let that pasty patsy haul you around everywhere,” said the guy in the Ed Hardy T-shirt.
“I wouldn’t like it if my man dressed better than I did,” said the other brute.
Holly’s neutral look suddenly gave way to one of scorn. She gave me her drink and walked quickly to the two men at the bar.
“Holly, don’t!” I yelled, hoping to stop her from confronting the troublemakers.
“Listen, assholes, just because I didn’t give any of you a hint of interest, because—I don’t know, maybe because... you know... I’m on a goddamn date—doesn’t mean you have to be disrespectful,” Holly exhaustively castigated them.
The men giggled at Holly’s mousy huff; the reaction annoyed Holly further. Then the guy in the gold chain playfully blew a kiss at Holly while the other guy in the Ed Hardy shirt looked at me with a threatening countenance, his upper lip curling in an exaggerated manner. “Control your woman,” he said.
I grabbed Holly by the arm and tried getting her attention. She was still puffy-chested and confrontational.
“Holly, please calm down. Let’s go... this is stupid,” I pleaded, as we began to draw a small crowd around the bar.
Holly then grabbed one of her heels and cocked her arm back, while almost stumbling onto the floor. I clutched her wrist as she released the heel. The heel hit the floor in a flounder, bouncing a few times before resting a couple of feet in front of the men. They both stared down at the shoe. The guy in the suit picked it up and threw it at the both of us as I attempted to drag Holly out of the club. I heard the heel flying through the air as soon as it left the man’s hand; it created a refraction of sound with its unique shape, interrupting the consistent ambient noises the club had accustomed me to. Even though my back was turned to the men, I knew what was heading my way. I caught the flying heel with my left hand as I gripped Holly with my right, all the while facing the exit. I’ll admit there was a bit of luck involved with the perfect catch of Holly’s airborne Jimmy Choo, but supernatural vampire kinetics don’t develop on their own; they are honed and ameliorated through years of practice and dedication.
“Come on,” I said to Holly, my voice slightly straining. I looked back and the men did not charge. In fact, they just stood there stoically, not uttering a single word as we made our way out of the club, probably shocked that I managed to intercept the chic artillery in midair. The Lynx patrons all stood at our sides, some with drinks in hand, some passing judgment and some in awe with their cold stares. Club security came running at us; one of them was the ripped fellow who let us through in the VIP line.
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes bulging out, clearly full of adrenaline. His partner whisked right past us and engaged the two frazzled thugs.
I looked into the bouncer’s eyes with a look of assurance.
“We’re fine. Things got a bit heated back there, but we’re leaving, anyway,” I said, giving Holly a slight nod of the head.
“Who was giving you a hard time?” he asked.
“Typical club shenanigans; don’t worry about it. Nothing happened,” I said, dismissing the escalation with a flick of my finger.
The doorman let us walk right through and began to gesture at all the patrons to get back to dancing or drinking.
Holly’s body was beginning to feel a little limp as I carried her off toward the club exit. Her one-heeled foot gave her a pronounced limp as the other practically dragged on the floor. She had a slight slur in her voice and the apple martini was probably the final nail in the coffin, which by all accounts, probably contained her sobriety for the night.
“I’m so sorry, Jack; I was just... defending you,” she said morosely.
“Sweetie, I don’t need defending. I can take care of myself.”
“I know. But you’re such a sweet guy. They don’t know you. They don’t know the heart you have.”
Despite her liquored state, there was a sincerity in her voice that made me feel warm inside. Poor Holly was practically hanging on me like a fleshy shawl as I hailed a cab.
I looked in her glazed eyes and in a big brotherly tone, I said, “If you need to... you know,” I motioned a puking gesture with my hand and mouth, “...just tell me.”
“Please, I’m fine... I can walk fine... the sky
isn’t spinning. I’m just a bit buzzed—plus, the night is young. Let’s head back to my place,” she said in a slow, deliberate, and stuttered articulation.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t okay with it, silly. Maybe we can watch some TV or something.”
“Yeah... TV,” I said, with a grin.
We carefully stepped into the cab. Holly leaned into the driver’s ear and instructed him to take us to her hotel. I missed the name of it because I was too busy moving her knee away from my crotch. The driver without saying a word, stoic and with thick-rimmed, coke-bottle glasses, stepped on the gas pedal. Holly leaned on my shoulder and stared up at me. Her eyes were halfway closed and there was a warm smile on her face; her lipstick was almost completely gone, losing some of the red sheen that was proudly displayed on her lips from the moment we left for the restaurant. I brushed the hair away from her face and smiled back. She opened her mouth and I smelled the sweet, pungent smell of alcohol on her breath.
“I’m so sorry about what I did back there. I just lost it... this isn’t me, I swear.”
“No need to defend yourself. I know you were standing up for yourself.”
Holly gave me a soft pat on my chest. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” she said playfully. “I really, really dig you, Jack.”
Holly was not mincing words or playing games. She was as bold as she was beautiful, and through the truth-telling powers of alcohol, I had a feeling her words were the most genuine ones I had heard all night.
“Kiss me,” she demanded softly.
This time my mouth and lips connected with a graceful, controlled agility. There was a combination of sweat, perfume, alcohol and pheromones that oozed from her pores and it drove me absolutely wild. I couldn’t contain myself and something slipped; a question so personal and potentially damaging, so impulsive and yet natural, it must have come out in order to quench my most base instincts. It just naturally flowed from my tongue as I whispered in her ear, “Can I bite you?”
