by Liz K. Lorde
He was lucky that he had any use to us, or he’d have really been a dead man.
James slips from my grasp and falls onto the bar stool first, before slipping from that as well and hitting the floor.
I look to Walter, “Satisfied?”
He says nothing, just letting his disapproving mustache do all the talking. Couple heartbeats of time later and he pushes out a frustrated breath through his nose, stepping away from me and getting one of his many ‘mess rags’ and begins to clean up, well, the mess I’d made.
From the corner of my eye, I could see that platinum haired blonde looking at me with ‘fuck me’ eyes. I turn my head to take in her beauty. Big tits, great smile, and a red knee high dress? Oh indeed. I smile at her and sweep my bloodied hand, still wrought with glass shards, through my messy rings of dark brown hair; then I step over James’s motionless body. When I get over to the pretty thing, I sit down beside her, cock my head and say simply: “See something you like?”
HER PUSSY IS TIGHT AROUND my cock. Are you really surprised that I ended up with her? I’d spent a good ten minutes teasing her neatly trimmed pussy with my tongue, and I could still taste the absolute sweetness of her sex on my mouth.
It gives me great pleasure, to give pleasure. At least… to good girls. The not so good ones? There’s a reason my ex’s back when I was a young buck still remember me, even ten, fifteen years later. And no, if you were wondering, I hadn’t bothered with getting Blondie’s name. Pumping away at her, I can feel just how amazingly warm she is – and best of all, she’s dripping fucking wet for me.
She throws her head back, “Oh, fuck, right there!”
“Yeah?” I ask in a husky voice as I increase my strokes, giving her every hard inch of my huge cock. “You like having that pussy filled don’t you.”
“Unnhff, yesss,” she breaths and a couple more topless scene girls enter the private suite. It’s a little bit difficult to explain when you’re deep inside of a woman, but this was the place where our VIP clientel would go and party. For me? I used it as a personal den of stress relief, tonight was just special because I’d actually told the women beforehand that I’d let them in.
Unsheathing myself from Blondie’s pussy, I hear her whimper with need as I keep myself at the drenched entrance of her tight as all hell sex.
The VIP suite is a deep crimson color, and there’s a couple of couches where you can really get down to business. Off near the corner of the private room, there’s a stripping pole, and on the other side of the place, there is a great black bar filled with all of our top shelf liquors.
I raise my chin at the two scene girls. They’re giddy and walking over to me, and their tits are absolutely perfect.
Blondie hardly seems to even notice them as I plunge myself back inside of her sweet and oh-so-pink lips.
There wasn’t a better feeling in the world than being inside of a woman. I couldn’t even begin to understand why someone would want to go and settle down when a sea of pussy was what waited out there for you. One of the scene girls has long black hair that comes down to her ass, and the other has short blonde pigtails with blue streaks. They’re both wearing skinny jeans and way too many belts; only thing those were good for were either killing a man or making a proper naughty girl’s ass red with pleasure-pain.
I put my one hand on Blondie’s bare ass, rocking her against my massive and energetic cock, and I grab at Black Hair’s ass, pulling her over to me.
“I’m, I’m close,” Blondie pants and moves her hips harder and faster against me, with an unbridled and lusty verve. This chick couldn’t get enough of my dick, and fuck if she wasn’t making me consider my code of not hitting something twice. She’s damn good.
“Keep going baby,” I encourage her with my voice coming from my chest, my balls tightening with pleasure. Good thing condoms got passed out for free around here.
Black Hair runs a hand along my shoulder blade, feeling up my hard and sore muscles from a long day’s hustle.
I turn my head to her and give her my best smirk, pulling her closer to me so that I can kiss her chest.
Her one friend does some kind of excited squeal at seeing this, and I think that Black Hair is starstruck or something, cause she doesn’t say fuck all. That’s not too unusual for these dealings.
“I need a marker, babe,” I tell her as softly as I can muster while I’m deep inside of Blondie, listening to her frantic mewls as our bodies melt together.
Black Hair breaks free from her starstruck reverie and looks to Pigtails, her friend, and takes the black marker that she has on her. Black hair passes me the marker and I proceed to sign my name across both of their full tits.
They thank me. They actually fucking giggle and squeal and start talking amongst themselves, and fucking thank me. You can’t make the crazy shit like this up, honestly. Before they can turn to get out and let in the next ones, I call out to them in a blissful thrall, “Wait! Come here.”
They move back in closer to me, and I feel Blondie’s walls start to clench, unclench, and clench again in miniature convulsions. Oh yeah, I love the feeling of a woman’s cum coating my cock – if it wasn’t for the rubber I’d be on cloud ten right now.
“Make them bounce for me girls,” I instruct, keeping a steady eye on Pigtail’s puffy and deliciously erect nipples. They both start playing with their breasts, and the both of them are smiling like they’d won the god damn lottery.
Hell yes, that’s what I’m talking about. I slam harder and faster into Blondie’s yearning pussy, loving the sound of her cum drenched sex as I slip in and out of her, over and over, feeling the pleasure in my nuts build higher and higher. Shit, those two were all this cock needed. I bite down on my lip, and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest – yes, yes, yes, fuck yes. Euphoria builds up in the back of my skull and the soles of my feet start to tingle, and when one of the girls starts pulling hard on her nipples, asking me to please come for her, I shoot all that pent up cum out of my twitching head.
In my mind’s eye, I was feeding Blondie’s greedy, wet little pussy all the ropes of my white cum. Just picturing the way that it could be dripping out of her right now if not for the protection.
THE TWO GIRLS LEFT, BUT BLONDIE remains naked on my lap, our bodies spent from the performance. I’m petting at her soaked and sensitive pussy, loving the control that I have over her every time that she squirms. I’ll give her the boot soon, but not quite yet.
The black curtains part at the front of the VIP suite, and a short, portly man walks in.
J-Roc. Not a made man yet, and he probably never will be, but an associate of the Ligotti empire. He doesn’t have much hair left, and where he does have it, it is black and thin and trimmed low to his head. His small and beady brown eyes flick over to the blissed out girl on my lap, and you could just see the lights of envy in his eyes. Probably been a while since he crushed anything. He brings up a hand to his mouth and clears his throat.
I let out a long, drawn out breath through my nose, and stick a finger inside of Blondie, my eyes locking on J-Roc. “Please,” I start in a low, contemptuous voice, “by all means, just let yourself in.”
“Sorry boss,” he replies.
I raise my eyebrows for a second in response, and let them drop back into place.
“It’s just that you got a call.”
“Tell ‘em to buzz off,” I say with cold disinterest, I hadn’t even made this girl cum a second time yet. This was supposed to be my wind down time.
Something wasn’t right though. J-Roc looks like he’s sweating bullets trying to work up the courage to tell me news that I don’t want to hear.
Go on and just spit it out. “Well?” I ask, leaning forward a bit and pulling the naked woman tighter to me. She lets out a soft giggle and whispers some sweet nothings into my ear, and then I say, “you gonna take your dick out and make this weird? Or are ya gonna cut the shit.”
He straightens out his back, licks his lips and averts his gaze
from me.
A thorn of nervousness pricks at my chest.
The next words come out of his mouth in a slow, dragged out way, and arrows of hurt find their mark on my heart. “It’s Helena, boss… She’s been committed. ”
Every neck hair bristles, and a river of electricity flows through my mind. I don’t say anything, because I can’t. I feel my jaw dip and suddenly I feel like I need to be clothed. I blink and try to swallow away the pebble in my throat. “Leave,” I sternly murmur to the girl on my lap. My cousin’s the only family I’ve got left. If only she wasn’t such a horrid junkie. Still, she’s family.
The world around me goes dark, and I know that there’s only one choice to be made.
CHAPTER 3
VIVIAN
It’d taken me several weeks of hard driving to get near Chaos, Nevada, and I’d spent most of my nights with my mind turning and turning as to if I should just go back home. With what little money I’d been able to save up from babysitting and the work that I did, whatever didn’t go towards room and board at Dad’s, I wasn’t able to stay in any hotels or anything. Nope, that’d cost me too much.
So on my way here, as I’m sure you’re already imagining, I had to sleep in my truck.
Yep. It sucks. I really, really do not suggest you try it for fun or anything – cause it’s totally not. All the while, while I was struggling to get even just one good night’s rest, I was plagued by the thought of how I’d talked to my father. Of how he threw that bottle at me. It felt like I could feel that spot where it’d hit me, no matter what that feeling just wouldn’t seem to go away.
Abandoned underpasses became my home on the way to the City of Lost Souls, where greed and corruption and megalomania ran rampant. Whenever I was able, I’d park overnight in a wal-mart parking lot and get weird looks from quiet truckers.
Guess they were probably even lonelier than me, but at least they got paid good money.
DRIVING TOWARDS THE EXIT I crank up the radio on some classic rock music station, since it was all that I could manage to find. I didn’t know where to even begin looking for Mom here, but I knew that there just wasn’t anything left for me back home. Dad was done with me, and that was that. I’d broken him. Made him feel like shit and if we’re being honest, I was probably the reason that he even went back to drinking.
A thorn of hurt pricks at my chest. I didn’t want things to end the way that they did, but I’d made my choice – for better or for worse. I’m determined. This is where I’ll make it. This is where I’m going to become myself. Where I’m going to find Mom and we’ll be a family again. We’ll be a family again, won’t we? I breath in through my nose and check behind me before changing lanes, moving past a pristine looking Sedan. The big and neon colored billboard sign towers above everything over the road reading ‘WELCOME TO CHAOS’.
I can feel an invisible hand holding my heart as I pass beneath that sign. Guess my journey starts here.
THE FIRST MONTH is rough for me, to put it lightly. I’m keeping with my simple strategy of getting condiments wherever I can from local fast-food chains. Salt packets, pepper, ketchup, sauce, just anything that it feels like I can take without them losing too much money from it.
And yes they have Burger Town’s here. I like their Schezuan sauce.
I don’t even feel that bad about it honestly, because the hunger in me demands that I do this. The pain in my stomach gnaws away at me, and it feels like at all hours that it’s pissed at me. Stupid stomach, wish I’d never been born with it. That’d be nice, not having to have to eat. Eating only for pleasure. I’m still living out of my truck and the few changes of clothes that I brought with me are already starting to show wear and tear; some rips here, some threads getting pulled at night by myself when boredom inevitably strikes.
God the hunger’s hitting me again. How does anybody get anything done when food’s all that you can think about? The only thoughts that skitter across my mind and my bones are that I’ve made a huge, terrible mistake. That this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Applying for jobs around here is hectic, much like the rest of the city. It’s bustling with people from all walks of life, and a strip joint is basically as prevalent as any Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts. Luckily towards the end of the first month, I manage to get a call back from the local Fry Guys, and they agree to give me part time work. Two shifts a week to start, and not up front with the customers – I’ll be in the back prepping food and learning how to cook.
Still, I know that the pay won’t even be close to enough to cover the cost of living – especially in the horrifying opulence that is this city.
The third week in, and I’m finally starting to get the courage to walk around for more than just basic survival necessities.
I tried applying for food stamps at the local office but I was declined before I even got started, really. They say they don’t even start to qualify citizens until they’ve been in Chaos for at least a year, and I thought that was one of the most fucked up things they could put into effect. There’s homeless out on the streets, and people in desperate, desperate need of attention. Of shelter and food and just… what you need to live.
What I need to live.
I miss home, and I miss my bed. I miss feeling safe at night, and not having to lock myself in my truck and turn on the radio just to fall asleep for a couple of hours.
I’m walking through one of the local skate parks and it’s littered with graffiti and gang symbols, all drawn in black spray paint and the like. Just strolling through and I get the feeling that maybe I shouldn’t be here. There’s kids on bikes, like not even older than 14 – and they’re not even wearing helmets. Can’t help but think they’re going to bust their heads open. Some older kids are on their skateboards, and they’re rolling around in the half-pipes doing their thing.
Part of me wishes that I could join them, but I know that I’ll end up busting my ass and end up in need of medical attention. Just another thing I can’t afford right now. The sounds of cars thundering by all along the neighboring roads fills my ears; high-tech motorcycles seem to be favored here, with their bright neon green colors. Nothing like I’m used to back home. All around are me are these huge, sprawling buildings of glass and rock, towering above all. And yet here, in this seedy little place, men and women of many colors and age come together in the two things they have in common. Their lack of money, and their love of skateboards and bikes.
Walking around the edges of the skate park, I hear the sound of someone skating towards me, and I shift my head to look to my left.
Shit, he’s barreling right towards me.
Stupidly, I can’t even find the energy to move – but I can somehow find the energy to be afraid. The black dude narrowly turns in time, and I whip my head around to follow him as he moves right past me. He’s wearing a dark green beanie, and he can’t be any older than 17 maybe. I mean, he could, as he’s pretty tall – standing on that colorful skateboard at six and three. He’s very lanky. Regardless, he comes to a stop on his skateboard and turns around to look me over with those chocolate colored eyes. He pops his board up and carries it underneath his armpit. His mouth is tight and serious, or maybe it just rests that way.
Regardless I don’t know what to say or do as he sizes me up, and begins walking towards me.
“Sorry,” I tell him
“No worries,” he replies, his voice hard and just as distinctively ‘street’ as I expected it to be. But not in a threatening way, just in a natural sort of way. “What’chu doin’ ‘round here girl?” He asks me, taking in my figure and closing the distance between us. “You definitely not from here.”
I’m surprised that he says that, because the way that I smell right now? Let me tell you… I’ve gotten whiffs of garbage more pleasant than the way I’ve had to live as of late.
Now there was something that I missed. The sweet, sweet embrace of a soothing, hot, nonjudgmental shower. Although I suppose all showers aren’t one to judge. “How can you tell
?”
The Tall Man smiles, revealing his surprisingly perfect row of white teeth; save for the singular silver cap on one of his front teeth. “Jus’ can. Bet you don’ hit pavement, neither.”
“Skate?”
“Yeah,” he says enthusiastically, “skate. Hit that sweet pavement. ‘Bout the only thing good to do around here, shit, find yourself either over here – or at the courts.” I assume that he meant basketball. “F’you not here or there you’ll be in places you mos’ definitely don’t wanna be.”
I smile unsure of what he’s speaking about.
He picks up on this. With his free hand, he brings his middle finger to his forearm – and at first I feel a jolt of fire in me, because he’s got to be flicking me off right now, right? But no, he lifts his chin and imitates some kind of look akin to a zombie… rolling his eyes into the back of his head.
Laughter rolls from my throat. “Just what the hell is that supposed to be?” Maybe he means needles, drugs or something.
“That’s that heron shit,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Heroin?”
“Ye,” he replies curt. “That’s that heron shit, and f’that’s yo game… tch,” he sounds, “you fittin’ to end up dead. Trust me. Hotshots on every corner no matter who you buyin from.”
I shake my head, “I don’t have the money for drugs,” I say dumbly, realizing how that makes me sound. “I mean—I wouldn’t buy them anyway even if I did.”
“Yeah I feel you on that,” he scratches at his nose with his thumb, “name’s Slim.” He extends a hand to clasp with me.
I clasp hands with him, and he does it way, way smoother than me. “Vivian,” I tell him, and our fingers rub against each other as we bring our hands back, “so it’s just Slim?” Like… Slim Jims?
Slim lets out a dark chuckle, “Ye, they call me that ‘cause I eat so much.” He brings a hand to his absent gut and gestures up and down it. “Can call me Charles too, f’that suits you better.”
