by Izzy Sweet
“You know, for such a big SUV, you certainly are small for it,” Meredith says with a honey-laden sweetness.
She’s needling me. It must be her only weapon in life, her sharp tongue.
“When I have to carry large loads, it works just fine, Meredith.” I say and refocus my attention on the lights around us.
“Excuse me?” she asks in a tight tone. “What did you just say?”
“I need quiet, Meredith. I need to focus on the road.”
Fucking Princess with a capital P. I don’t really need to focus on the road, I know exactly where I’m going. But if it keeps her quiet, I won’t complain. It’s hard enough to focus with the proximity of her scent already getting to me.
It’s back again, the smell of barely used perfume, so light and airy, but too faint to know what it is.
I’d shake my head or try to roll the knots that are forming in my shoulders if I didn’t think she’d see that instantly as a weakness. I can feel her almost animalistic need to pounce on any sign of weakness. She wants to be the top too much for her own good, and in truth a good solid spanking would probably do nothing but make her meaner.
The way her body shifts in her seat though is driving me to desperate measures. Every time we pass under an overhead street light, I get glimpses of those long crossed legs. She should have worn a pant suit for the weather we are in. Her short, dark skirt barely reaches the midway point between her thighs and knees. She is completely irresponsible. The top under her coat shows far more skin than is needed.
Any neanderthal will now be able to ogle her to their heart’s content.
Everything she is wearing is dark. The high-heeled shoes, pantyhose, tight short skirt, tight fitting top, and heavy coat.
All that dark clothing and now she has pale blonde hair to go with it. Gone is the black silky hair. In its stead is a woman who looks like she belongs right beside Lucifer in the family business.
Too beautiful to be real—that’s the best way to describe her facial features. Even if she were to shave her head, she would still be the most stunning woman I have ever seen.
She’s stunning and the most infuriatingly stubborn woman I have ever met.
Does she know that every time she moves or fidgets, my mind can’t help but think of her? Does she know about the cameras I use every night to watch over her? To keep her safe and sound?
To keep me close to her?
Finally, I give into my body’s need. Rolling my shoulders, I let my hands go loose on the steering wheel as I try to subtly flex them. My body is so damn tense my muscles are starting to ache. Ache for something, but I have no clue what.
Is it her? Is it her that would help the ache that consumes me day and night since she came back to Garden City?
Pulling into the parking lot of Lucky Tails, I breathe out a sigh of annoyance. “We’re here.”
Getting out of the car before she can respond, I shut the door roughly and take a deep breath of the cold night air.
It smells like shit here, but at least I don’t have to deal with her scent.
The other side of the car thumps as she slams her door. Walking around the front, she doesn’t even bother waiting for me as she takes off towards the entrance. I would have parked back behind the club, but she wants to come here so I might as well give her the full experience.
The sign above the club is made up of neon lights formed in the shape of a giant tiger. The tiger is lying on its stomach as its tail sways side to side in pink blinking lights. It’s tacky and absolutely what I expect all clubs like this to be like.
Ugly and just waiting for the unwashed masses.
“What in the hell is that?” Meredith points to the sign.
“Matthew’s idea. He believes it will bring in the crowds.”
Turning her sharp gaze to me, she asks, “You brought me to one of my brother’s strip clubs?”
“Of course. We must consider your safety, though we will be picking up a security detail from here. When we head to the other clubs your brother is considering purchasing, that is,” I say as I motion toward the front doors.
“So he’s doing what now? Franchising strip clubs? God.” She shudders as she walks to the front doors and stops, waiting for me to open them up for her.
I’d rather take a bath in pure alcohol. It’d be safer than touching that handle. Who knows where people’s hands have been before pulling open the door.
Knowing my luck, groping their disgusting body parts.
Staring at her intently, I say, “It’s getting cold. Are we going in or should I take you back to the safe house?”
The look of pure hatred on her face as she yanks the door open is all the reward I can possibly hope for.
She storms into the place.
The security at the end of the hall stops Meredith before I have a chance to be recognized.
It’s humorous to hear the door security ask, “You here as a guest or looking for job?”
“As if someone could fucking afford me!” Meredith snaps out loudly.
Walking up behind her, I say, “We’re just visiting. Is Peter here tonight?”
The security guard focuses on me in the dim lighting. Recognizing me, he nods his head. “Yes, sir! Would you like me to have someone escort you to him?”
“No,” I say. Meredith is still fuming as I lightly place my hand on her lower back. “Let him know we’re here when you’re not busy.”
Giving her a light push to get her past the guard, I can feel an electrical current running up my forearm and straight to my groin. While not unpleasant, it annoys me that she is able to have this effect on me with just the barest of touches.
Through a fucking heavy coat, no less.
This is absurd.
I remove my hand from her back as she turns her head to me, her eyes beaming a dangerous glare.
“Why are you touching me?”
“So you will shut up and we can continue on our exciting journey into a filthy disease-ridden adventure.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asks as we make our way into the club proper.
There are tables all around the floor. A bar is set back along the back of a wall, and the main stage has bar stools surrounding it. Mini stages are staggered around the floor for dancers who are not on the main stage to dance.
It’s crowded here tonight. Crowded with a haze of smoke everywhere. Yet another issue I will have to suffer through.
Meredith stands there, looking out across the room of men and women. I’m not sure what she expected when she said a strip club, but I have a feeling she was expecting the glamorous Hollywood-type, not this.
This strip club is located between the business district and the industrial district. It pulls customers equally from both. While Lucifer may have cleaned the place up. Slapped a fresh coat of paint on it and removed a lot of the bad element that had took over this place.
It’s still a strip club.
Again, placing my hand on the small of Meredith’s back, I gently usher her to an open table. Removing my winter overcoat, I fold it neatly over the back of my chair. No doubt I will have to buy a new one after it touches this chair.
This place just feels like its crawling with germs. I can only hope a steaming hot shower and enough disinfectant to kill a horse will be enough to clean myself. My suit, shirt, and tie will need to be discarded.
No sense in keeping clothing with this kind of… filth on it.
Sitting down at the table, I look up at Meredith as she stares at me. Daggers are in her eyes again as she looks from me to her chair then back at me again.
“Yes, Meredith, you may sit at my table,” I say just loud enough to be heard over the throbbing music that’s being pumped over the speakers.
“Are you always such an asshole, Simon? Do you have no manners?” she hisses as she removes her coat and hangs it over the back of her chair.
“No, Meredith, it seems you bring out the best of me,” I reply.
“Simon!” a fe
minine voice rings out.
I can literally feel my skin crawl hearing the way my name is said.
A woman with bright red hair who is wearing barely more than the strippers around us walks over to our table, trying to strut her…goods.
Meredith’s head whips around to look at the woman who’s approaching us, and at first she seems taken aback.
Then she sneers. “A friend of yours?”
Ignoring Meredith, I stand from my chair and nod my head slightly at the redhead. “Cherry.”
Cherry is thankfully smart enough to know my rules of personal contact. She stops close enough to touch me, but doesn’t do so.
I really do believe if she tried I might cut her hand off, and then remove any body part of mine she touched.
I simply could not handle being touched by her.
“Who’s this?” she asks as she looks down at Meredith.
“A friend,” I say coolly. She has no need to know who Meredith is or why she’s here.
“I’ve never seen you with a… well… um,” she says before asking Meredith. “You here for a job?”
“Why the fuck does everyone keep asking me that?” Meredith asks with some heat in her voice.
“Nope, not that then.” Smirking, Cherry looks over to me and asks, “You need Peter?”
“No, not right now,” I say, and I suddenly feel a small amount of fondness for the red-haired woman.
“Well, Spiderman, what can I get you two to drink?”
And now I’m right back to wanting to slit her throat with the stiletto I carry in my pocket.
“Nothing for me,” I say.
I have no clue when they last washed the glasses they serve their drinks in, and I don’t want to know either.
“What about you, honey?” Cherry asks Meredith with one of those smiles that seems to be so popular. It’s a mixture of nasty lemon mixed with honey.
“Vodka cranberry. If you can remember that, sweetie,” Meredith says back with a growl.
“Sure, whiskey sour. Be right back,” Cherry says before turning to me. “I could make a pretty good dollar on her if she were to dance. With that bleached blonde hair, men would go for her being tan like that. She’s a total bimbo barbie doll.”
Meredith’s eyes widen further. “Bimbo!“
“I’ll have your cosmopolitan sent right over, girl,” Cherry grins before turning to me one more time. “Her hips are probably too narrow and rigid to be a dancer though.”
Flouncing away from us, I watch as she heads towards the bar.
Turning back to Meredith, I see those daggers staring right into the back of Cherry.
Whatever. I hate these social interplays. They’re almost as bad as trying to read social cues.
Sitting back down at the table, I try to make sure none of my exposed skin touches anything here.
Snapping my fingers in front of Meredith, I say, “What is it you wish to do while we’re here? I can arrange for you to have a dance—”
“Nothing like that!” Meredith hisses.
I didn’t think so, she never put out the leanings towards women, but one never knows.
The music dies down after a moment and we both sit here, stewing in our own thoughts. I can feel the scabies crawling up my damn pants leg.
This is not the night I would like to be having right now.
Being with Meredith is a slow, tortuous affair.
I would rather be spending time exploring every single inch of her body with my hands while I listen to her moan in ecstasy, I think to myself.
Stop it. Thoughts like that will lead to nowhere but trouble… and perhaps hell. Fuck it all. The road to hell is always paved with a lack of self-control. I may end up there because of what I do, but I will not let her break me.
“I have to use the ladie’s room,” Meredith says, looking around the floor.
Hmm. Lady. That’s a good euphuism, Meredith, I mentally chide her.
She keeps looking at me expectantly, so much so I have to ask, “What? Do you need help with removing those skin-tight clothes? Perhaps you should have worn a more sensible…”
“One more fucking word about my clothes, Simon, and I’ll fucking break my heel off in your ear,” she snaps.
So, she does have a weak spot. Figures it’s clothing.
I know somewhere behind those heated eyes is a brain that could rival mine, but she doesn’t like people knowing it. Perhaps that’s why she dresses the way she does.
“Show me where the hell it is?” she snaps as she stands up from the table.
Looking down at my hands for a moment, I force myself to relax. Hopefully she will get one look at the bathroom and want to go home. Then I will be free of her torture and can go back to some sense of normalcy.
“Fine,” I grit out between my teeth.
Standing up, I step around her, heading off towards the back of the club. On my way, I check out all those around us. I may detest this business with my very being, but it is a cash cow when I look at the numbers instead of the filth.
Stopping outside of the bathroom, I motion for Meredith to stop. “I need to check it out before I leave you alone.”
Pushing us both through the door, I do a quick look through the stalls. It’s empty, thankfully. I’d fucking hate to see some woman on her knees sucking a cock or snorting coke.
Meredith looks confused as I finish my search. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Your security,” I say without any other words.
Heading back out of the bathroom, I say, “The window is bolted shut.”
Meredith says something, but I don’t quite hear it as the door shuts behind me.
Turning my back to the door, I stand to the side of it. It’s been a few years since I’ve stood as someone’s guard, much less worked a door as security.
I watch as the crowd of people moves and flows with the strippers weaving in and out of the tables. A couple of guys follow two strippers to the private dance booths and it makes me shudder to think of sitting on those vinyl seats crusted with body fluids.
Glancing towards the front of the building, I see Peter looking frantically around the club. His face is normally as jovial as a damn caveman’s, but right now he looks pissed and very worried.
Such an odd… Fuck.
He spots me and begins to race towards me with a look of something akin to fear. Shit.
Slamming the door open behind me, I race into the bathroom. Meredith is just coming out of the stall as I grab her by the wrist.
Yanking her by the arm, I practically pull her across the floor as I wrench the door open.
“What do you think you’re doing, Simon?!” she screams at me over the loud music as I yank her out past the door and onto the floor.
Peter is in a full out run as he reaches us. “We need to get out of here! Bomb.”
I know my eyes widen, but I don’t bother asking questions. Too many times shit like this has happened for me to think he would be playing a trick.
Sweeping Meredith up and over my shoulder, I run behind Peter as he slams his body into people to get them out of the way.
Rushing through the now vacant hole of the crowd, I hear Cherry far behind us, calling out to us.
Fuck. Cherry.
Turning back to her, I wave my hand in a frantic motion to get the fuck over here.
Then I swing back towards the exit and pick up my pace again until I’m at a dead run. We’re heading for the back door, not the front. It’s closer and hopefully we can get clear.
Peter lifts a foot and boots the door nearly off the hinges once we reach it. Turning back to us, he motions for me to move my ass.
I hear Cherry behind us, yelling and asking what the fuck is happening, but I don’t stop as I push Peter ahead of me.
Meredith, Peter, and I, get almost ten feet away from the door before a deafening whooshing noise comes from the front of the club. The fire and subsequent explosion launches Cherry out of the open door like a rag dol
l.
Her body lands a foot past where we were standing a moment ago.
Peter yanks his pistol from his hip holster as he looks around us.
He yells over the sudden roar of fire, “We need to get to my truck!”
Nodding my head, I follow him over to the silver Dodge Ram and plop Meredith down beside of it.
Looking into her eyes, I pant from the exertion of carrying her so far and fast. “Are you okay, Meredith?”
She nods her head numbly and points to the back door of the club. Flames are rolling out of it hot and heavy.
Shock. She’s in shock.
“I know, Meredith, I know. Let’s get you somewhere safe…” I say.
Shaking her head at me, she points again behind me. “No…”
Turning back to look, I see what she’s pointing at and my heart stills for a moment. Cherry is still there where she landed. Her body is crumpled on the ground, but her arm is moving almost like a flag.
“Peter,” I shout. “Get Meredith in the car. I’ll be right back.”
“What the fuck?” he asks, but I ignore him.
Jogging over to Cherry, I can’t help but think she looks like the victim of a violent train wreck. Her body just doesn’t lay right on the ground. A leg is turned at an impossible angle. The good arm is still moving slightly while her other is missing entirely.
Kneeling in front of her, I look down at her mess of hair that is more blood and charred scalp than anything else. Her face has that melted wax look to it.
“I’m here, Cherry, it’s Lucifer,” I say in a cool smooth drawl.
Gone are any inflections that comes with the Simon voice. Now I use the smooth, unhurried voice of Lucifer.
Her eye barely moves in her skull and one is completely melted. There’s this faraway look to it.
Taking her hand away from my tie where she grasps at it with blood-soaked fingers, I ask quietly, “Would you like me to do a kindness for you, Madeline?”
She’s far too gone now to know who I really am. She knows only that I call her by the name Lucifer would use for her. It’s her real name.
Pulling the stiletto from my pocket, I press the button and the blade shoots out from the handle.
Cherry could possibly live after all this, but she would never be right again. She would never be able to look in the mirror again.
