When they returned to the club, the van had already pulled into the garage and Michael was waiting for them. The Russian women were huddled around him, laughing as he smoked a cigar and bantered in Russian. As Theo and Jane walked towards them she saw the men exchange the smug grins of bandits enjoying the sweet plunder taken from their enemy, Tony.
Michael waved his cigar expansively. “Theo, my brother, someday that techie asshole across the street is going to know better. Meanwhile, this is an awfully fine batch of igrushka you’ve brought me.” He whispered something in the ear of the blonde on his arm, and her eyes widened, but she nodded, sinking to her knees in front of him. “Tanye here is especially fond of cigar service, she says. I’m about to test that claim.”
He looked at her expectantly, and she held up her hands, cupped in front of her. His eyes narrowed, and he growled “Nyet, shliukha.”
Her eyes widened a little more, and she shifted on her knees, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. Michael’s expression was icy and expectant, and eventually she settled, dropping her hands to her lap, and closing her eyes. Taking a breath, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide, her tongue sticking out slightly, cupped like a tiny pink bowl.
With a satisfied grunt, Michael tapped the ash of his cigar onto her tongue. Her body tensed, but her mouth remained open, her eyes opening and looking to Michael. He held her gaze for a moment, finally nodding, and she closed her mouth and swallowed. “Spasibo, Pakhan!” she said after a moment, voice a little hoarse. She waited there on her knees until he motioned her to rise.
Michael tried to hide his pleasure as he looked over at Jane, but she could see a slight smile. Showoff she thought. “So. You don’t have a problem with all this? Doesn’t offend some feminist sensibilities or some shit like that?”
Jane shrugged. “What, cigars? I’m a big fan, though I prefer Ashton. I also tend to roll my ash on the tongue, because I usually have plans for it later.” She grinned impudently at him, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Oh, you mean the whores in general? Why would I have a problem with that?” She looked at the half-dozen or so women still unloading their belongings from the van. “They know what they’re here for; just because we’re too stupid over here to make sex work legal doesn’t mean it’s any less of a choice.” She motioned at Tanye, who was rather urgently gulping water from a cooler in one corner of the garage. “That kind of thing? Hey, that’s between you two. I’m all about consent, and Goddess knows I’ve consented to a lot more extreme – well, let’s just say the answer to your question is no, whores and porn and camgirls don’t shock my feminist sensibilities.” She held up a finger. “But don’t get any ideas. I don’t affiliate myself with anyone on more than a short term basis. No offense – this girl just likes the feel of the road under her wheels.”
Theo smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “Fair enough. We’ll talk about those other skills later. You’ll find our audition isn’t quite as easy as that fuckwad Tony. Gonna take more than pussy licking and a foot job. ”
She smiled at him mischievously. “I sure hope so. There’s a reason I bailed on them and came over here, after all.”
“What is that reason, Jane?” Michael asked sharply, all banter gone from his tone. “You’ve made your money. Why the fuck are you still around? More to the point, why the fuck should we care?” He snapped his fingers at Tanye and she hurried over to kneel next to his boot, nuzzling her cheek against the side of his leg. The rest of the women were being led out of the garage by the Incubiker who’d been driving the van, and Michael nodded towards them with a satisfied smile. “Thanks in part to you, we’re not exactly lacking for talent right now.”
“You’re not lacking for meat, that’s for sure,” Jane said amicably. “My skillset is more specialized, you might say. More accurately, I’ve got a general skillset at a much higher level than most.” She nodded towards the door where the women had been led. “Give me a camera and any two of those women for two hours and I guarantee we’ll be on the red carpet for the AVN awards in Vegas next year, accepting either ‘Best Feminist’ or ‘Most Extreme’ or both, your choice. Or…” Jane looked down nonchalantly at her short nails. “I hear you have a space for pro submissive work?”
Michael nodded, slowly, and she continued. “Great – so set me up with some client who fancies himself a ‘true dominant.’ I’ll take him for an hour, make him think that he’s so good with a flogger that I’m having spontaneous orgasms with every stroke, and he’ll stay an extra two hours just to give my weepy little ass aftercare.” She looked at him steadily. “I’m a bisexual kinky switch sex worker with only three hard limits, Mr. Doukas – well, two, if you’re out of peanut butter.” She let out a sigh as if exasperated with his reluctance. “If you don’t have some way to make money with me, you are doing something very, very wrong and should probably go back to selling cars.”
Theo, who had been idly fidgeting with his bikes as he’d listened to the two of them, laughed out loud. Michael looked over at his brother with an annoyed look, and Theo held up his hands apologetically. “Sorry, brother, but she’s got you pegged.”
Jane quipped “No, that costs extra,” and Michael’s scowl deepened. She held up her hands as well. “Whoa, peace, Pakhan, sheesh.” She grinned over at Theo. “I guess you got the sense of humor along with the looks.” The younger brother struggled not to laugh under Michael’s glare.
Jane began putting her leather aviator cap back on. “Fine, Mr. Doukas, if all you wanted was my language skills, I’m good with that. Pleasure doing business with you.” She left the buckles dangling under her chin and turned towards Theo. “I’m sorry I won’t get to know you better, Theo. I liked you a lot more than I thought I would. You’re not bad for a guy who confuses his bike for a penis.” She punched him lightly on the shoulder and began to walk away.
Theo called after her “Nothing wrong with accessorizing the main tool, chica!” and turned back to his brother, chuckling. “Hire her, Michael. Between the new Russian snatch and my New York…acquisition, she could be just the edge we need to level up the video.”
Michael looked skeptically at his younger brother, then sighed. “You’d better be right, Theo, because I don’t like her. But for you, kid, I’ll hire her. Just remember, any trouble from her is your problem.”
Theo grinned evilly at his brother, and lifted his fingers to his mouth, his piercing whistle echoing through the garage. Jane stopped but didn’t turn around, a few steps from the exit.
“Jane. Big brother here thinks you did such a bang-up job with these Russian bitches that we’re gonna see what else you can do with them.” He addressed her leather-clad back. “Interested?”
Jane turned slowly, her eyes lidded seductively as she smiled. She swaggered back to the the brothers, an exaggerated waggle to her hips that hadn’t been there before. “Boys, as long as you can afford my rates, there’s any number of things I can show you.” She took off her aviator cap and ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “But right now I’m powerful hungry.” Laying a hand on Theo’s leather covered arm, she looked up at him with wide eyes. “Think you could whomp up a mess of vittles for a girl with an appetite?”
Dinner at the Incubiker’s club was a raucous affair, a long table laid out buffet-style by hard eyed women with lines deep in their faces and bodies modified by choice and age. Distorted tattoos and migrating body piercings mingled with augmented breasts that sagged and bulged in unfortunate directions even as the women dressed to display them proudly.
The clubhouse was mostly what Jane had expected, a teenage boy’s playground of dirty green velvet card tables and Incubikers draped over stained lazy boy chairs. They wore the ubiquitous uniform of dusty engineer’s boots and denim jeans, black t-shirts advertising long-gone rock concerts. Jane paused as she caught sight of the wall to the left of the door, and Theo chuckled knowingly. “I know, right?”
The wall was covered floor-to-ceiling with a mosaic made out of beer bottle caps. It was the club’s mascot, the grinning devilish man with a Schwarzenegger physique fucking a faceless woman doggy-style, her hips lifted by his hands as she prostrated herself before him. Jane couldn’t imagine how much effort and talent had been invested in so mundane and profane a piece of art, but she let out a soft “No fuckin’ way…” before continuing with Theo into the club.
The other walls of the club were far more typical, haphazard collections of cheaply-framed photos of Incubikers, autographed pictures of porn stars, the occasional knife, rifle, or random motorcycle-part-turned-wall-hanging dangling from finishing nails.
Theo led Jane to a seat at an anachronistically fine-wood dining table where Michael sat with three of the new Russian prostitutes. The older man grimaced at his brother. “These were the only ones who could stay awake. Fuckin’ jet lag – the others crashed up on the third floor. I think they were too tired to even shower, much less eat.” He casually pointed at the two women closest to him. “Ksenya, Valya, get us some food,” indicating himself and his brother. The two women looked at each other with nervous confusion. Michael repeated the command in Russian with a simple “Kormi nas!”
Noticing Jane smirking across the table, he growled. “You gotta say everything twice for a day or two, but there are ways to encourage them to learn faster.” He motioned at the third woman, still seated at the table. “You seem to think you’re the cunt-whisperer, let’s see you handle Nastya here.” He sat back in his chair, clearly waiting for Jane to take command.
Nastya was a thin woman barely twenty with a strong mouth and wide eyes peering out under heavy makeup and an unruly mass of bleached-white hair. She wore a sheer white dress that showed her long nipples tenting out from almost nonexistent breasts. The left tip showed the distinct outline of a double-spiked barbell piercing through the cotton material. Nastya looked at Jane with a hollow wariness, obviously recognizing her name and waiting to see what this domme would ask of her.
Jane gave the woman a wink, stood up gracefully and navigated the sea of chairs, bikers, jean-shorts and halters til she made it to the buffet.
Surveying the layout, she smiled at the full-bodied woman across the table, ladling garlic mashed potatoes from a pot into a bowl. Sniffing appreciatively, she said “Wow. Smells like real garlic in there. You make that?”
The woman looked up and around, surprised to be addressed directly. As she realized Jane had, in fact, been talking to her, her eyes grew suspicious. “Yeah…” she said, with a sullen tone. “So?”
Jane’s smile just got wider and she shrugged. “No reason – just that that’s how my grandmamma used to make it, and I never expected to find it among these guys. You put cream in them too?” The woman nodded, eyes growing interested even as her defensive body language remained. Jane maintained eye contact as she reached across and dipped a finger into the large pot of potatoes the woman held. Licking and slurping appreciatively, she let out a little moan. Finger clean, she murmured “Oh, my. It’s like an orgasm just for my tongue!”
The woman giggled in spite of herself, and Jane winked at her. “I bet that’s not the only creamy delight the boys don’t know they’re missing.” She shifted her gaze down to the cook’s jean vest, a few silver buttons struggling to hold in the woman’s impressive cleavage. “I don’t mean to be nosy, honey, but I gotta ask.” Jane gave a quick nod left and right. “Are those home-grown or store-bought?”
The woman blushed, the tired lines in her face suddenly smoothing coquettish pink. “What, these?” Her demure giggle was as incongruous as it was adorable. “No…Tracy bought them for me, oh, fifteen years ago.” She glanced down. “Lotta good they did me. Mostly just a pain in the back. But kind of fun when I…” She trailed off as a group of IncuBikers laughed raucously across the room, and both women looked over to see a group around one of the poker tables, cheering a young woman in a bikini top as she chugged down a stein of beer. The froth spilled down her chin and the men cheered louder as it turned the fabric of her top transluscent.
The woman shook her head, sighing. “Poor little Elsie. She’ll learn.” Spooning a final tup of potatoes into the dish, she straightened. “Or she won’t. I sure as fuck didn’t. But the boys always gotta eat, right? It’s better than workin’ at the fuckin’ Wall Market.” Shifting the bowl, she extended her hand to Jane. “I’m Georgia. Thanks for noticing the potatoes.”
Jane gave her hand a firm squeeze, letting it morph into a caress for a moment. “I’m Jane, and I can’t think of a better name for you, Georgia. Such a sweet peach.” Pulling the woman forward, she leaned in and whispered into the woman’s ear.
Georgia’s face turned red, eyes widening, and she looked at Jane with an expression somewhere between hope and fear. Jane nodded solemnly, then released her hand and quickly loaded up two plates. She returned to the head table where the Doukas brothers and the three Russian women sat, and Georgia watched her go, seeming lost in thought.
Another woman, thin as a rail with an old, tired face came out of the kitchen. “You gonna stand there all day, Georgia? Those wings need to come out of the oven, honey.” Georgia didn’t move, and the woman cocked an eyebrow. “Jesus, darlin’, what did that new slut say to you?”
Georgia blinked and turned to look at her friend. “Something I ain’t heard in a long time, ‘Phelia.” She sighed wistfully. “She said she was going to jill herself off tonight thinkin’ about my tits all tied up in rope.” Ophelia snorted skeptically, and Georgia’s face hardened. “Laugh it up, bitch, when’s the last time somebody talked about your skank ass?” She slammed the bowl down. “Get your own damn wings, I’m having a beer.” As she stormed off, Ophelia stood, shock and anger on her face slowly turning more thoughtful and sad.
Back at the table, Jane placed one plate in front of Nastya with some steak strips and raw vegetables on it along with the garlic mashers. Michael watched her, disapproving, as Jane tucked in to her own far more varied plate. Jane noticed and returned his gaze blandly until finally he burst out, “What the fuck kind of domme are you? She’s supposed to be serving you!”
Jane calmly enjoyed the rest of her mouthful, and then daintily dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. Setting it down deliberately, she held up a finger. “You said she was mine for tonight, right?” At his nod, she continued. “So. I didn’t want her to serve me – how the fuck would she know my taste?” Michael grunted and waved his hand dismissively, but she ignored the interruption. “So instead I got exactly what I wanted, and she got exactly what she needed.” She filled her fork with another healthy load of mashed potatoes. “I like to take care of my toys. It keeps them shiny longer.”
Theo was seated next to Ksenya, idly pinching her breast, and her eyes were tight with pain as she struggled with the pain. “The point my brother makes is that if they get you something you don’t like, you just punish them until they get it right.” His fingers tightened brutally, and Ksenya obliged him with a yelp. “Bitches gotta learn.”
Jane’s expression slipped for just a moment, betraying a look of utter scorn, but the man seemed not to notice, releasing Ksenya’s breast to dedicate some attention to biting into a rib. In a second Jane’s friendly, wry smile returned. “Well, that just sounds like work to me. If I want to hit something, I’ll hit it – why the hell would I set her up to fail? Nastya’s got a brain, after all, and I’m going to enjoy that at least as much as the rest of her hot little body.”
At the sound of her name, Nastya looked up at Jane, and swallowed, rising from her chair. “Что Нибудь’ выпить’?” she asked, smiling as she wiped a bit of steak juice from her mouth and picked up her glass as well as Jane’s.
Jane smiled back: “Да, Пиво пожалуйста. Хорошое. Newcastle, Stella, somethin’ like that, darlin’.” As the thin blonde went off to get the beer, Theo noticed Jane following the woman’s ass as she walked away.
He chuckled. “At least you’re as much a wolf as the rest of us.” She smiled back at him noncommittally. He motioned over to the table where Elsie’s beer guzzling was now a beer-bathing exhibition, her top now gone and her breasts jutting as she arched back for the leering men surrounding her. “The question is, would you be the bitch on the table or one of the wolves in the pack?”
Jane looked over at the spectacle, considering the blonde doing a classic bump and grind mixed with the occasional twerk accompanied by the enthusiastic hoots of the men. “Neither, I think. She’s cute and all, but I like my meat to have a little more seasoning, if you know what I mean. Sometimes that means experience,” she nodded towards the returning Nastya, smiling as the Russian handed her a bottle with a little bow. Jane gave the hooker’s ass a little pat to her back to her seat. “Or else with some history on her bones, like that sweet Georgia peach you’ve got stuck in the kitchen.” She caught Michael’s eye. “I saw that redhead this morning, Michael. You share my taste for ginger. Where’d you find that prime piece? Why isn’t she sitting here?”
Jane watched with interest as Michael’s eyes and body changed, a strange tension filling him. “Isabella is special,” the older man said. “All this ‘talent’,” he spat the word, “is nothing compared to what she can do. No,” he leaned forward across the table, earnest as an evangelist preaching. “It is not what she can do. It’s not what she looks like. With Isabella, it’s someting about how she does it. I’ve never…” For a moment he looked almost lost, a stricken expression crossing his face. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Theo’s hand slapped him on the back, jarring him out of his reverie. “Isabella is a fine piece of ass, Michael, that’s for damn sure. ” Theo guffawed, turning to Jane. “But Georgia? Are you kidding me? She’s been used up for years. Back when Tracy bought her those tits she was something else, but now?” he looked over to where she sat at the bar, slumped on the stool and nursing a can of beer. “I mean, just look at her!”
Jane looked at the sad woman at the bar, and seemed to come to a decision. She turned to Theo. “Look at her? I did. And it gives me an idea. How about we take care of that ‘audition’ in the form of a little wager?”
Theo grinned the happy smile of a born gambler. “Oh, I like how you think, lady. What’s the bet?”
“Simple. I will do what I want to do with Georgia – assuming she’s willing. At the same time, you can do your thing with – well, with whoever you want. Elsie, Ksenya, whoever lights your wick.” Jane’s smile turned wicked, and she waved her hand, indicating the Incubikers filling the room, eating and carousing. “Whoever attracts more attention from the wolves, wins.”
Theo laughed, shaking his head, and elbowed his brother. Michael had a thoughtful look on his face, far from displeased. Theo smirked. “Oh, dear, Ms. Jane, you must not realize that we built our company on gonzo porn, filmed by yours truly. Me fucking whore after whore, and that built all this.” He gestured around the club. “I know how to put on a show, and I know exactly what these guys want.”
Jane nodded, patting his arm sympathetically. “I’m sure you do, big boy. I just happen to think that I can do it better.” She sat back in her seat, lifting a boot to rest on the edge of the table. “With Georgia.”
A small inlaid buckle on the side of her boot reflected into Michael’s eyes, making him squint.”What are the stakes?” he asked, voice filled with a strange hunger.
“Well, if I’m wrong, and Theo wins, how about he gets to top me for a night?” She leered. “It’s been on my mind since that whole knife and gun thing in the garage this morning.” She licked her lips and shuddered a bit at the memory. “That was hot. I wouldn’t mind a little more of that, but I’d like to give it my – ” Jane took a breath, exhaling slowly – ” – full attention, not have it be some pesky business like an audition.”
Theo smiled back at her evilly, and nodded. “Lemme guess, that’s the reward in the unlikely event that you win, too? Cuz we both know you sure as hell aren’t topping me.”
Jane smiled. “Oh, come on, studly, that would hardly be sporting, would it? No, if I win, I need to get something else…” She looked thoughtfully all around the club, murmuring “Now…what around here would be worth gambling for…” As her gaze came back to the table, she finally looked at Michael, and her face turned serious. “Oh. I know. She’s really everything you say, Michael? If I win, I get Isabella for a night.”
Suddenly the mood at the table became tense, and even Theo’s leer faded as he watched his older brother’s face darken. Jane watched Michael struggle to find a way to decline without losing face, but by now several other IncuBikers were listening in. The room quieted as more people were brought up to speed and they waited. Would Michael stake his brother to the challenge from the tough little bitch? From the expression on the faces, it was evident that most of them were hoping to teach a lesson to the petite woman who had already bested four of them.
The moment stretched. Theo’s hands flexed, as if needing some action. Suddenly Michael laughed softly, waving a hand dismissively. “Sure. Why not? What’s the risk, anyway, Theo, you’re not going to lose, right?” He glared at his brother, eyes belying his easy tone.
Theo smiled back, relieved. “No fucking way, filio mei. I don’t care who she is, bitch ain’t got nothin’ on me.”
Jane slapped her hand on the table and stood up. “Good! Let’s do this. Nastya…” Motioning the woman over, she pulled a small brown leather journa out of her rucksack, running a thumb over the filigreed latch securing it. As it popped open, she pulled a dark wood pen from inside the cover and wrote a quick note. Ripping out the page, she passing it to Nastya with a quick whisper in her ear. The Russian woman nodded happily, turning quickly and heading towards the door.
“Nastya!” Michael’s deep voice rang out as he rose angrily from his seat. The girl stopped suddenly, shoulders hunched with fear. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Michael,” Jane’s voice came softly from beside him, and he jumped, not noticing her until that moment. “You did say I could use her, right? I know you were thinking of something else – and I’ll get to that, I promise – but right now, I’m using her to run across the street and get my rope kit from Hellas Café.” She looked calmly up at his dark expression. “The note is just for Jason, letting him know I sent her.”
Michael’s scowled deepened, but he waved Nastya on her way and sat down. Zhenya reached out a conciliatory hand to his arm, and he angrily shook it off. They sat for a while in silence, letting the antics carry on around them while they sipped their beers and picked at their food.
Suddenly there came a strange clacking sound that cut through the raucous laughter, and Jane’s hand went to her hip. She pulled out what looked like a bright brass scarab. She spread the antenna like twin pincers and put the belly to her ear. Michael and Theo exchanged glances as they both realized this was her cel phone.
“This is Jane, puttin’ the ‘amity’ in ‘calamity'” she said cheerfully, but her face darkened as she listened to the response. “Oh, you did NOT drop the – I swear, Jason, I will mince your balls in a garlic press if she – no, no, never mind, just hold onto it, I will be right there.” Snapping the pincers shut with an exasperated flick of her fingers, she made the phone disappear somewhere on her hip.
“That’s a slick phone,” Theo said, speculatively. “Where’d you get it?”
Distracted, Jane glanced at him. “That old bug? Picked it up in Nippon – uh, Japan, that is, a custom job by a friend.” She picked her coat up from the back of the chair and picked up her rucksack. “Idiot-boy Jason sent her up to my room to get the rope bag, and apparently she is ransacking everything I own, looking for it, because he ‘forgot’ he was keeping it for me downstairs.” Shrugging the rucksack over her shoulder, she sighed. “S’ok, it’ll give me a chance to slip into something more slutty.” Suddenly grinning again, she reached out and patted Theo’s cheek. “If Mr. GonzoCock here is as good as he says, I better pull out the big guns, eh?”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and made her way gracefully through the rowdy incubikers. A moment later she was out the door with Michael and Theo’s thoughtful gazes following.
Follow
I like the dialogue, gives it a real feel.
I’ll uh.
I’ll be in my bunk.