Jan 142014

Whew, chapter 12 is a long ‘un! It’s also proving more time-consuming to edit than I’d expected, but it’s also fucking hot, so I thought I’d post the first half just to give you a taste. A couple of things to note: Bad People do Bad Things. Please do not extrapolate that I condone in any way some of the acts done by or to the characters.

Others, though, I certainly do. I won’t bother to say which is which.

Also, you may notice the sudden change of one character’s appearance. Yes, that was intentional, and in the final draft of the book, the previous chapters will be edited to reflect it. In the meantime, we press FORWARD into the Duel!

Theo shifted restlessly in his chair. Across the room the blonde woman Elsie had come down from the table and was now totally naked, on her knees surrounded by Incubikers. Their cocks jutted out from their unzipped jeans and they were passing her around like a joint, every man taking a hit of her open mouth for a few strokes before handing her off. Elsie’s eyes were vacant and almost rolled up as she opened her mouth for each new cock, spittle and mucus drizzling down her chin and glistening slick on her breasts. She knelt with legs spread, hands furiously masturbating with a desperate grind of her hips. Even at a distance Theo could hear her grunting as she rode her orgasms one after another while the men fucked her face. Nudging Michael, he nodded towards the camera the IncuBikers in the circle were passing around as well, getting closeups of Elsie as she was passed on from cock to cock.

“That’ll be prime content for the our next bukkake title,” he murmured. “I bet we can get her to take a few of them in her ass, too.”

Michael glanced at the group and sniffed dismissively. “Elsie? She doesn’t do anal, brother – at least, not for the kind of green I’m willing to pay. The little bitch still has that ‘I’m young and beautiful and the next Belladonna’ attitude.” He took a sip of beer. “It’ll take a few months to wear her down, but in the end we’ll get her to take it in the ass for next to nothing.”

Theo grinned and he shook his head in amusement. “You’re lucky I’ve already got a money on a different bet tonight, brother, or I’d take your money proving you wrong.” He leaned in towards Michael, voice low and urgent. “I told you – I found something special in New York. It’s big, and it’s gonna make even your sweet Isabella seem like last year’s whore.” Seeing Michael’s skeptical expression, he said “Fine. I’ll give you a little preview.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted over to the blonde. “Yo, Elsie! Listen up!”

Elsie’s pulled her head away from the biker currently in front of her, eyes unfocused and wild, and shouted eagerly “Yessir, Mr. Theo? Oh, God! I’m coming again!” Her words slurred through her salivating mouth and she made a gobbling noise as she shoved his cock back into her mouth. Michael looked at his brother with a “Yeah, so?” expression. Theo simply held up a finger. Wait and see.

“Elsie, you’re so fucking hot! I bet sucking that cock feels really good.” Theo paused for moment, his voice taking on a more commanding tone. “Don’t you think it would feel great to have one of those beer bottles in your ass, too?” Michael’s eyes widened as the girl hummed enthusiastically, nodding her head in agreement without missing a stroke on the cock filling her mouth.

Theo smiled. “You really want that, don’t you, Elsie? You want your ass fucked with a beer bottle because it will feel so good?” Elsie’s noises became even more desperate, and she lifted her hand for a moment from her pussy to give a thumbs up, hand shiny with her own cum.

Theo glanced triumphantly over at his brother, and continued to call across the room. “You’re such a lucky hot slut, Elsie. There’s a bottle right behind you! Why don’t you just reach back there and shove it in your ass, girl? I bet you’ll cum even harder when it’s deep inside.” Theo motioned to one of the Incubikers standing in the circle and the man passed a beer bottle into  the girl’s questing hands. As her fingers closed around it, Elsie lifted slightly off the floor and without hesitation pushed it against her anus, sitting down onto it so that all but the last inch or so disappeared up inside her ass. Still sucking on the man in front of her she let out a muffled scream as her sphincter stretched wide, but her fingers worked her pussy even more furiously. The scream morphed into a low moan keening from her mouth between in wet slurps and gaggging noises as the cock pushed in and out between her lips.

Michael watched the girl go through several more orgasms with no sign of stopping. He turned to his brother, his face thoughtful  “Alright, I’ll admit, that has potential.” He looked back at Elsie. “Was it in her drink? Could she have tasted it?”

Theo shook his head, looking smug. “The drug has less taste than fucking iocane powder, m’man. I put it in that first beer she chugged, but I could have put it in anything.”

Michael grunted. “Mmm. Just how suggestible is she?”

“Fucking neurochemical magic,” Theo answered. “My guy at Stanford said it turns the serotonin on max and then plays some hokey shit with the amygdala, shutting off inhibitions.” His face turned more serious, all business now. “Want to see how far it goes? It will cut her market value.”

Michael slowly nodded, eyes dark and interested.

Theo shrugged. “Alright, your call. We have the Russians now, Elsie won’t be much of a loss.” His voice raised again. “Hey, Elsie, you hot little cocksucker, you know what would make that bottle in your ass feel even better? Wanna know what would really send you over the edge?” The young blonde paused, the tip of a cock still in her mouth, eagerly waiting to hear his suggestion.

“Slam your face into the floor. Break your nose, honey.” Theo’s voice sounded as calm as if he’d suggested she have another beer. “Give yourself an instant nose job, you hot little slut. That will make cocksucking feel fucking amazing.” He sat back in his chair and watched dispassionately as Elsie pulled back and jackknifed down, face smashing into the stained wood floor. There was an audible crack as the cartilage in her nose broke.

When she sat up again her face was covered with blood and saliva down her chin. Her nose was a swollen misshapen mass shifting off to the left side of her face. Even from across the room Theo and Michael could see raccoon bruises beginning to darken her eyes. Elsie didn’t seem to notice, opening her mouth and moving to take the nearest cock back into her mouth. The particular man’s erection was faltering at the horrific sight of the damage to the blonde’s face. He stood frozen for a moment with a horrified look on his face as she gasped for breath around his cock, ramming her ass down on the floor to shove the bottle deeper while still masturbating frantically. Her naked thighs became speckled with drips of blood from her nose.

The Incubiker couldn’t take it and he turned his head and puked. Elsie didn’t notice, but as he pulled away she raised her face to the ceiling, eyes completely rolled back in her head, and screamed. “Id fees so good! Moh! Oh, God, moh cock! Moh!!”

“Jesus,” Michael breathed. “And she’ll remember none of this tomorrow?”

“Only what we tell her,” Theo replied smoothly. “She got drunk. Fell down, broke her nose. Why’s her ass sore? How should we know?” He clapped his brother on the back. “We can get any bitch – or fag, for that matter – to do anything  we ask for nothing, brother.” He mimed a cash register. “Ka-fucking-ching.”

“Singing my song, boys?” came Jane’s alto voice from behind them, and the two men jumped like teenagers caught looking at porn. Jane stretched her arms amicably over their shoulders and leaned in. “Did I miss anything good?”

Theo glared at her suspiciously. “How long were you back there lis-“ His eyes grew wide as he saw the rest of her. “Holy fuck, girl, what are you wearing?”

Jane smiled wickedly. “I told you it’d be worth the wait, boys.” She pirouetted, and the silver mesh draped over her body flowed under the lights like molten silver. It wrapped tightly around her torso, sheer against her breasts and tightly corseting her waist. It fell in waves of gossamer metal threads over her hips all the way to the floor. The dress wasn’t quite transparent, but as she moved pink nipples and a dark triangle at her crotch were implied by the stretch of fabric. She wore a single ring on each hand, one onyx and silver, one black gold set with a pale blue chalcedony stone. A long string of pearls was draped around her neck, tied loosely and stretching from neck to mid-thigh. Her hair was slicked back severely with two precise spit-curls twining along each cheek. Overall, Jane looked like a kinky fever dream by Erté.

It took a moment, but Michael recovered first. “Ms. Jane, that outfit is a long way from dusty riding leathers. I’m beginning to believe you might be worth our money.” He motioned towards the black case at her feet. “I take it Nastya got your gear for you?”

Jane frowned in annoyance. “Mr. Doukas, I gotta tell ya, that Russian bitch is totally worthless. I hope you don’t mind, but I used some rope to leave her in a position to truly contemplate her the depth of her inadequacy.” Her frown turned into a saucy grin. “You’ll get her back in the morning, I promise, with a vastly improved attitude.” Jane nodded idly over at Elsie, bloody-faced and moaning on the floor. The Incubikers had abandoned her, but the girl was still grinding on the bottle and frigging herself with spastic jerks. “Not to be nosy, but she ok? Looks like she could use some training in…um…” She watched the blonde slowly fall over on her side, moaning and fingers still rubbing her pussy frantically. Jane shook her head. “Pacing herself, maybe?”

The men exchanged glances, and Theo said, smoothly, “Bitch just can’t hold her liquor. She’ll sleep it off, we’ll take her to see Jonesy at the clinic in the morning.” He watched Jane’s face closely, gauging her reaction, but Jane simply shrugged.

“As they say in the homeland, not my circus, not my monkeys. Besides, I already got a date. Where’s that Georgia peach? My hands are itching to get some rope on those southern chocolate tits…” Jane’s rough tone of voice was completely incongruous with her elegant silver dress. The brothers sat frozen for a moment before bursting out laughing. Theo stood, grabbed Ksenya’s arm and pulled the brunette towards the far end of the room.

Jane looked at Michael, who returned her gaze thoughtfully. Then he shrugged, leaned over and whispered to the Russian woman sitting next to him. She hurried to the kitchen and a moment later Georgia stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. Her hands froze when she saw Jane, her hands letting the towel fall to the floor. Her dark brown eyes were wide and awestruck as she took in the elegant silver lingerie with spiked heels and white patent leather peeking out from the hem. Jane, on the other hand, looked at the cook with a dispassionate gaze, almost cold. After a moment she lifted her arm slowly and crooked her finger in a long and deliberate come hither.

Slowly Georgia walked across the room. As the Incubikers and their women saw the cook invade their playspace they began calling out with crude jibes and mocking noises. Georgia’s dark skin reddened to an umber hue as the taunts of “Heifer!” and “Gonna roll ‘er in flour, Jane?” surrounded her. Jane’s eyes were a lifeline pulling her through the abuse and scorn, held impervious by the commanding desire of the woman in silver. As she reached the head table where Jane stood next to Michael the room had quieted. All eyes were on the two women, the tawny, frizzle-haired cook in ill-fitting jeans and a tight sleeveless denim shirt that barely held in her breasts, and Jane in like some Norse angel, blonde hair shining in close gold curls.

Jane caressed Georgia’s round cheek, and the larger woman shuddered at the touch, eyes held captive by Jane’s. The caress trailed into a solitary finger that traced down Georgia’s neck, dipping into her cleavage, pushing slightly and then harder between them. Jane’s head inclined slightly, and wordlessly Georgia obeyed the silent command. She knelt with a grace no one suspected she possessed. Her hands clasped naturally behind her, and she bowed her head.

Jane looked down at the woman for a moment, face grave, almost reverent as she let her eyes take in the lush curves of skin and denim. No one moved, shocked into silence by the power of the submission given and received so elegantly between the two women.

Abruptly Jane looked up across the room at Theo. He stood with Ksenya, both as entranced as everyone else. “You gonna let me win that easily, boyo?” she called out to him. It broke the spell, and with a shocked roar Theo pulled Ksenya around and ripped off her rayon dress with one swift yank.

Ksenya’s squeal changed to a low moan as he grabbed the back of her neck. It was so slender that his hand almost completely encircled it. He pulled her up roughly and bit into her neck. Her moan grew louder and she thrust her hips forward, questing for more stimulation. Theo pushed his other hand between her legs and Ksenya began moving her grinding against it in wanto, circles, hips grinding up against his fingers as they stroked her vulva. Theo moved his hips behind her, pushing her harder against his hand. The IncuBikers and a few of their companions let out a chorus of  hoarse and puerile cheers for their leader as they watched the naked Russian woman writhing against him on the stage.

That was the cue, and an Incubiker fired up the music system, sending a pulsing techno beat through the room, an occasional twang of classic rock mashed in amongst the beats. Jane cocked her head, getting a feel for the music, then caught Theo’s eye across the room. She nodded to him as if acknowledging a worthy opponent.

The duel began.

Jane lifted her dress, revealing the full shine of white patent-leather boots laced up to just under her knee. Reaching into the top, she took out the inlaid curved knife she’d used back with Kitten and Tony. With a quick flip of her fingers she tossed it into the air, flipped it up high in the air. The silver-white handle and bright silver of the blade shone in the bright lights of the club as it spun through the air. The shiny attracted the attention of a few men and women from Theo, and there was an audible gasp as Jane caught the blade. The knife didn’t stop, her hand riding the momentum  in a quick serpentine slice across Georgia’s shirt. The kneeling woman barely had time to squeak before the silver buttons of her tight denim shirt clattered to the floor, a staccato barely audible under the thunderous drum and bass.  The top fell open, and Georgia’s full breasts spilled out, either side of the vest pulling out past her hard nipples.

The crowd barely had time to register the naked breasts before Jane reached forward. She grabbed a handful of Georgia’s thick, wiry hair and pulled her forward and down. The voluptuous woman let out a frightened cry and reflexively reached out to catch herself. Her hands ended up on either side of Jane’s boot, peeking out from under translucent silver hem of the dress. Instinctively Georgia stretched her neck forward and kissed the white patent leather. Her eyes were closed blissfully as her lips rested against the shiny surface. She seemed almost worshipful as she reveled in the cool leather over Jane’s petite foot. After a long moment she lifted her lips slightly and planted another kiss, slightly higher. Jane tilted her foot just a bit, giving another silent signal to the prostrate woman. Georgia moaned ecstatically and began planting frantic kisses in between licks up the leather and laces. Her head pushed against the hem of the silver dress revealing the tight curve of the boots as they rose over Jane’s calves. Georgia lost herself in worship of every curve and seam, interrupted only by a slight gasp as she felt a cool rush of air across her back. The remains of the denim shirt fell away, sliced open by Jane’s knife so quickly it might as well have been tissue.

Across the room, Theo had ripped off his shirt and unfastened his jeans. Ksenya was on her knees, hands wrapped around the base of his cock as she moved her mouth on it. His face was a grinning mask of feral lechery as he looked out over the crowd of his fellow bikers and their women, cheering him on. His leer faltered slightly as he noticed that not all eyes were on him – a few groups of bikers and more than a few women were staring at the spectacle of Georgia, topless and worshiping the hot spiked heels of her Mistress of the evening. Jane stood like an angelic figure in silver samite and pearls, somehow holy and hot at the same time.

Theo growled with bitter savagery at Ksenya. “Put your hands behind your head, whore!” She didn’t move, and Theo lifted his hand to slap some sense into her. His arm froze halfway down, though, as he realized she couldn’t understand a word he said. Ksenya hadn’t even noticed, eyes closed as she sucked his cock, but It threw them both off rhythm. Theo swore again and pulled her hands away, pushing them violently down. The Russian sex worker was experienced enough to know what he wanted, and she left her hands at her sides as he grasped her head with both hands. He forced his cock deep into her throat until she gagged, hands fluttering helplessly but remaining down at her sides. She might not understand words, but she knew men like Theo, and she knew better than to lift them  from where he’d put them. “Suck my fucking cock, bitch!” he roared, and smiled grimly as he heard a chorus of “fuck yeah!” come from the audience.

Jane reached down and twisted her fingers in Georgia’s hair. She pulled the woman from her boot and held her there as she murmured, “You think some bootlicking is going to make you worthy of serving me, slut? You’re going to have to work harder than that.” Her measured tones somehow slid between the pulsing bass notes and flanged treble so that Georgia could hear every word. “You’re going to have to show me more than devotion, you sweet fucking peach.”

Jane tightened her grip and gave the woman’s head a little shake as if she were chastising a kitten. “That knife I have? It goes through leather like it was butter.” She paused, letting that register with Georgia, whose half lidded eyes were riveted on the blade. “That means that if you move, my pretty, you’ll be cut before you can even scream.” Jane’s lowered her tone, still clear through the music. “So don’t fucking move, my hot little bitch.”

Pushing Georgia’s head down again, Jane touched the tip of the blade to the skin just under the hairline at the back of Georgia’s neck. The bowed woman’s lips were again pressed against Jane’s boot, motionless with ecstatic terror. She let out a tiny cry into the leather but did not move as Jane drew the blade down the dusky brown skin of her back, tracing her spine inch by inch. The sharp edge drew a red scratch along the vertebrae, just short of breaking skin. Jane moved the knife with inexorable deliberation, slowly moving closer to Georgia’s waistband. There was a slight gap between the fabric and her skin, and when the tip of the blade disappeared under the waistband Georgia let out a low moan of mixed desire and dread. Her hips began to tremble, but Jane kept the grip on her curly hair to hold her face pressed to her white boot.

Jane pulled up with a deft flick of her wrist. The sharp knife ripped easily through the denim, and Jane continued the motion of the knife up as if it were a sword. The silver blade glittered in the air over her head, but Jane focused her gaze down to the soft brown expanse of Georgia’s back. The woman trembled slightly underneath her but did not try to rise. Jane watched with satisfaction as the movement of muscle under the smooth skin gradually revealed a thin red line stretching from the base of her skull to the just-visible cleft of her ass. “You are marked, woman,” Jane proclaimed, face flushed with excitement as she reveled in Georgia’s submission.

Jane held her arm up for what seemed an eternity, as if there were a channel of energy flowing from the knife down through her arms to Georgia’s thick curls. The violent tableau was like some strange demonic healing ritual painted by Frazetta, the bare dark skin of Georgia’s back in stark contrast to the serene draped silver of Jane’s elegant dress. Finally the moment broke and Jane moved her knife hand in a blur, making the blade disappear.

She twisted, skirts flowing around her like a whirlpool, using her grip on Georgia’s hair as a pivot point to move around the prostrate woman. Jane came to rest kneeling behind Georgia, the silver fabric of her dress gracefully coming to rest moments after she’d stopped moving. She reached out and put her free hand at the small of Georgia’s back. Jane held her hands there deliberately for a moment, seeming to gather energy, and then abruptly shifted back. Her weight bent Georgia back, arching up and back, breasts bare and nipples hard and the color of rich cocoa. They thrust up towards the ceiling, and Georgia’s chest heaved in hoarse gasps. She let her head fall back towards Jane, completing the arch.

Jane’s eyes burned with lust as she held the woman’s face centimeters from her own, simultaneously feeding on the woman’s fear and giving her a kind of terrible strength. “Oh, yes, my sweet peach,” she growled into Georgia’s wide, dark eyes. “You’re going to give me everything, aren’t you?”

Georgia managed to swallow between gasps and finally found her voice. “Yes, mistress, oh, yes,” she moaned. “Everything…anything…for you.” Her eyes were wide and shining as tears formed.

Dec 232013

Jason was glaring at her before she even opened the glass door to the Hellas Café. In one of the booths Alec was finishing off dinner with Joey, and Jane gave the boy a playful wave of fingers as she walked quickly to the counter. He leaned aggressively towards her, frowning. “Who the fuck was that woman you –” he began, and then stopped as she laid two fingers against his lips. He smelled sandalwood and a kind of clean, oily aroma underneath. It was a familiar smell to him, but he couldn’t remember where…suddenly his eyes widened as he realized she had gun oil on her hands. Jason swallowed, and met her green eyes, focused intently on his.

“No time, boyo. I’m on a very tight schedule. Her name was Nastya. Did my note make sense?”

“Yeah,” he grudgingly allowed. “She’s upstairs sleeping in your room. I gave her some hot cocoa, as you suggested.” His scowl returned. “And I took it off your tab.”

Jane was unfazed. “Good. My kit?”

“Right here.” Lifting a rectangular black hard case from under the table, he looked at her quizzically. “Not to pry, but that looks just like a portable bar kit I once had. Shaker, shot glasses, mixing tools…”

“Right the first time, my sexy barista.” Jane seemed inordinately pleased that he’d recognized it.” She flipped open the case, revealing neatly coiled lengths of rope where the bottles would normally go, and a dizzying array of stainless steel blades, iron clamps, and brass chains neatly arranged under leather straps. “Works remarkably well as a tool kit, as you can see.” She looked over the collection with a critical eye, reaching out and rubbing a smudge off the dark mahogany handle of a butterfly knife. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and finally seemed to come to a decision. “Hmm…Yes, this’ll work.” She snapped it shut with a satisfied click of the latch, and noticed Jason’s expression, somewhere between confused and worried. “What?” she said, a little defensively “It’s my rope kit!”.

Jason just stared. Jane sighed, setting the case down again. “You haven’t been to many kinky play parties, have you?”

He smiled wryly. “No, I keep my sex where it belongs, between me and my partner and God.”

Jane looked sharply at him, and opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. “I would explain, but as the Spaniard said, no, eet ees too mush. Lemme sum up.” She took a breath, and held up a finger as if giving a lecture. “Ego-driven attention whores such as moi who do frequent such parties –  ” she pirouetted, eliciting a round of applause from Joey in the far booth. “- have kits like this full of our tools. These are a few of my favorite things.” She tapped the case. “Nipple clamps. Blades, for sensation or cutting. Needles and sutures and chains, oh my!” Despite his best efforts, Jason was beginning to smile. “A few carabiners, my graspin’ brass ring for suspension, and about two hundred feet of Twisted Monk Nutella Rope.”

At that, Jason’s grin changed into a shocked O. “Twisted…what? Nutella…rope?” he gibbered.

“I know, can you believe it?” She grinned like a kid who’d scored a prize baseball card. “I couldn’t believe I got two hundred feet of it, but there was a problem on his site and for a change he didn’t sell out of the color of the month for almost two weeks! I was so fuckin’ happy I almost creamed my kneeler – er, chair, that is, right there.”

He was still staring. “But…why is it called…Nutella? And what the fuck is a twisted monkey?”

She tsked at the befuddled man behind the counter. “Twisted Monk, dear ignorant man, and it’s who, not what. Look him up, he’ll teach you a thing or two there at the Abbey. And as for the other – ” she quickly unlatched the case again, opening it and pointing at the dark tawny rope in neat bundles under a leather strap. “What would you call that color.”

Jason looked down at the rope for a moment, then back up at her, eyes resigned. “Nutella,” he allowed. He looked up at Jane. “Want to tell me what’s going on with the Incubikers? I take it if you need this, it’s actually going well?”

Jane smiled and patted his cheek. “Well, if I wasn’t having to teach you kink toys 101 right now, I could tell you, dear man, but now I’ve really run out of time.” She picked up her case and headed back towards the front door. Over her shoulder, she called. “If anyone asks about me, tell them that Nastya is helping me get all dolled up for my audition.”

“Your audi-“ Jason said, following it with “And where will you actually be?”

Jane paused at the door and dimpled a wicked smile at the barista. “Doin’ what I do best, of course. Stirrin’ shit up.” Then she was gone.

Jason exchanged a long look with Alec, still seated in the booth with Joey. The little boy looked from his father to the barista and back. ”I like her! She’s cool, like Mommy!”

Alec smiled at his son, ruffling his hair. “I hope she is, Joey. For her sake.” He glanced back to Jason behind the counter. “Because she’s got a wolf by the ears and a snake by the tail, and I don’t know…” He shook his head. “What do you think, Jason? Can she actually pull it off?”

Jason shook his head as well, echoing his friend’s worry. “Oh…I dunno, Alec, but damn, I hope so. She’s…got a spark, alright. I only hope that she is close to as competent as she is cocky.” He paused a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “Regardless, I think I might just arrange for a little insurance.” Pulling out his cel, he began punching numbers.

Kitten LaRue sighed with a phlegmy, bubbly sound as she stepped gingerly into the clawfoot tub. She’d been hard at work, “inspiring” the girls as she put it, which usually consisted of threatening, berating, and occasionally slapping them around. The men tended to need more “encouragement” than the women, she reflected sourly, weaker sex my ass.

Sinking her body into the bubbles, she hummed softly to herself starting to relax. It took a moment for her to realize the single point of discomfort was at her neck – in the form of a knife point pricking just over her jugular vein. Kitty opened her mouth to scream just as a dark bundle of rope was shoved rudely between her lips, turning her shriek into a muffled groan. She felt a small, strong hand twist into her hair, forcing her head back.

Looking up, she saw the gamine face of Jane looking benevolently down at her. “Hello, sweet pussy,” the woman purred. “I just don’t have much time, and I wanted to be sure that I had your complete attention. Where’s the button to call Tony? Just show me with those pretty eyes.” Kitten’s eyes rolled wildly for a moment, then came to rest at an intercom mounted next to the tub. Jane stretched out her boot and tapped the red button. “Good. Now, while we wait for him, just listen.” Jane began talking in low, urgent tones.

Tony came in the bathroom door swearing with the gusto of an Australian born and bread. “Goddamnit, Kitten, don’t you fockin’ think I have betteh things to do than deal with yoh silly cunt –” His words transformed into an inarticulate gargle as Jane grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back. She wrapped her other arm around his throat, pulling him further off balance, and as she dropped to her knee his ass hit the floor, one arm braced out to the side. His eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe past the iron bar that was her arm. Jane let go of his hair and snaked her hand around his supporting arm and he let out a squeak as he fell face first towards the tile. Eyes scrunched shut, he braced for impact…but then realized he had stopped, suddenly, nose inches from the floor. He hung there, frozen in Jane’s chokehold. His eyes were getting blurry, but he could clearly see the tip of a curved knife, blade richly inlaid with swirling patterns, slide in front of his nose. Abruptly the pressure around his neck loosened. Jane stood, letting the tip of the blade lead Tony to his feet as well. As he slowly got to his feet the man’s eyes nearly crossed with the intensity of his focus on the  on the near-invisible edge.

“Sorry about that, Tony m’love,” Jane said, her tone placating but the knife never wavering. “Man comes into his wife’s bathroom and finds a little nympho dyke has jacked his entire security system, he might can get a bit cantankerous.” She carefully laid a large folding buck knife that he recognized on the small counter next to the tub. His eyes widened as he realized Jane had removed it from his pocket. Then he noticed his wife sitting on the edge of the tub, naked, toweling her hair with a bored expression.

Somehow, the banality of that familiar action helped Tony finally find his voice. “Kitten? Are you alright? Why the fock are you just standin’ there when this –”

“Give her $1500, Tony.” Kitten didn’t even bother looking at him as she cut him off. “Now.” His mouth went wide with shock. Jane looked at the man and decided the immediate risk to herself was over, and made her knife disappear. Kitten continued, in a matter-of-fact tone. “She’s been spying on the IncuBiker’s for us, Tony, and she’s about to figure out what the fuck Theo got from New York that has him all balls-heavy.” She looked at Jane, who stood silently, waiting. “She can’t stay long. But she had some information that just couldn’t wait.” She gestured, and Jane finally spoke up.

“I was there when your girls were taken today,” she began. Tony’s face darkened, but she quickly continued. “I saw something that Theo and the others missed when they took down that truck.” She paused, waiting to see if Tony was listening, but he just glared at her. “That truck was a pretty new one – it had a hood-mounted camera system in it, as well as one up by the rear-view mirror, so the owners can make sure the drivers aren’t poppin’ pills and picking up hitchhikers.” Tony’s expression changed, the anger slowly replaced by understanding. “You see where I’m going with this? That truck has footage, date-stamped and untamperable, that would inextricably link Theo – and the whole IncuBikers gang – with human trafficking. Hell, since the women came from Russia, Homeland Security could probably slap their asses into Guantanamo.” Tony was smiling openly now, and rubbing his hands together. Jane smiled back at him. “Thought so. Glad you’re so happy. $1500 and I’ll tell you where the truck is.”

Tony’s hands froze, and he looked at his wife, then back at Jane. “$1500? Just for an address?”

Kitten snorted with disgust at her husband. “An address that can take down Theo Doukas, you shortsighted schmuck, and possibly more. An address with an expiration date, as well – Jane’s figures the brothers will figure it out any minute.” Jane nodded solemnly, and Tony grimaced, eyes narrowed and glancing around like a rat looking to escape a maze. Suddenly Kitten reached out and slapped him across the face, shouting “Give her the motherfucking money, you cheap Aussie bastard!”

“Fine!” he roared back at her, pulling out his smartphone and punching some buttons. Jane unfolded her tiny silver ring strip into her palm, but he waved it away, muttering “I’ve got you in the system, shela, I don’t need that hocus pocus any more.”

A moment later the green gem on Jane’s wrist flared to life, and she smiled. Tony’s cheek was still red from his wife’s slap as he looked at her with angry expectation. “The truck is being held at Central Avenue Auto Parts on Warren Street. It’s the only big truck on their lot, so it’ll be easy to find.” Tony nodded and began texting furiously on his phone, arranging for some out-of-town help.

Jane tipped an imaginary hat to them both and began to turn, then paused. “Kitten, darling? I don’t suppose you’d have something naughty and sheer I could borrow? I think the boys over there are expecting something more than denim and leather tonight.” Kitten looked confused, and Jane laughed, heading towards the bedroom. “Oh, don’t worry, dear, I’ll just help myself. Don’t worry, I won’t take anything too pricey – Goddess knows my tits could fit into one of your bra cups and still have room for Tony’s balls.” She winked saucily at the man as he looked up from his phone, vaguely aware he’d been mentioned. “But just barely, darling.” Jane gave a final wink. “Don’t worry, dearies, I’ll see myself out.”

Dec 202013

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.

Dec 172013

Theo Doukas was tinkering with his bike as the rest of the men in the security detail finished putting on their leathers. Jane watched as they strapped various implements of destruction to their bikes, spiked baseball bats, chains, even a large pipe wrench with a rock clamped into the jaws. Their jackets were patched with a Satanic-looking stud grinning and grasping the shapely hips of a naked woman face down and ass up. Along with the “Incubiker” and “Detroit” rockers was the not-so-subtle Latin phrase “FUTUIS MUNDO”.

As Theo became aware of Jane’s presence he glanced over his shoulder, smiling at her puzzled glance. “Wanna know what it means?” he growled with the voice of someone confident with command. He dropped his wrench clanking to the ground as he rose and turned towards her. He was a little over six feet tall and moved with the grace of an experienced martial artist or even a dancer. Wiping the grease from his hands with a black bandana, he tucked it in his left back jean pocket as he looked Jane up and down slowly. His gaze was appraising, not invasive. She returned the look, taking him in from his well-worn but neatly polished engineer boots to his slightly tousled black hair.  Theo’s demeanor was masculine without being macho, and Jane’s smile was more authentic than she’d expected.

She liked him.

“I know what it means,” she said, waving at the motto. “Nice sentiment. Just kind of trying to relate it to my own motto, Futuis viam meam ad Deum.” She watched him carefully to see if he caught the Latin.

Theo blinked thoughtfully. “Hmmm. ‘Fuck the World’ or ‘Fucking My Way to God.’ Never had much use for the big G myself. I like what’s here, what I can take. Speaking of which,” he met her eyes. “Before we start this run, you got to know one thing. I’m told that you’re the tough little bitch that put my crew in the clinic.” He paused as she nodded once. “No biggie, I’m sure they had it coming. But don’t try that shit on me. I won’t make the mistake they did.” As her expression turned puzzled, he smiled grimly. “Thinking that tiny isn’t dangerous.” He lifted his hand as if to brush his hair out of his eyes, and gave a quick flick that Jane couldn’t quite follow.

However, she had no problem feeling the edge of the knife Theo now held at her throat. She didn’t move. Softly, he murmured, “Fuck with me, I will end you.” The tone was almost loving, and Jane wasn’t surprised to find herself turned on. He nodded downward, and she risked a look. His other hand had a Sig Sauer 9mm pistol leveled at her midriff. “Blink once if we’re clear.”

She looked back up at him solemnly, then suddenly grinned and widened her eyes comically before exaggerating a slow blink. Nodding, Theo smoothly reholstered the gun and pushed the blade back into a wrist sheath hidden under the his denim sleeve.

“Damn, you guys really are brothers, aren’t you?” she murmured, and he finally grinned at her. “Yeah. He got the brains, so I had to settle for the looks.” He gestured at her leathers, her jacket, chaps and boots all varying shades of brown incongruous in the garage full of black leather, iron, and chrome. “What’s with the Sky Captain getup?”

She shrugged. “Eh, black leather makes me look pasty. Same reason I’d rather have amber than diamond, any day. I like things that used to be alive to look that way.” She fingered her aviator’s cap, and smiled up at him. “Plus, I used to masturbate with a Rocketeer action figure.” She was gratified to see his eyes widen slightly. Gotcha. “So what’s the plan for this? We’re getting some Russian imports?”

He grunted assent. “You might say that. Tony Bumblefuck across the way was kind enough to facilitate their trip here, and now he seems to think that we’re dumb enough to think he actually needs an fuel truck delivery to his fortress of stupitude. Taking down the tanker is not a big deal – my boys can do that in their sleep – but the whores inside need to be moved quickly into the van.” He waved towards the corner of the garage, where an overweight Incubiker lounged back against a black van with no windows, smoking a cigarette.

“Last two times we had Rich to sweet talk the sluts out of the truck, and that worked fine. He even got a little on the side, just because they like hearing ‘suck my cock’ in Russian.” Theo grimaced. “Seeing as he apparently had a violent conversation with your foot, it’s a good thing you’re fluent in Mother Russian, or we might not be so happy to have you around.” He glanced up past her shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Beecee?”

Jane refused to turn around, just turning her head slightly to where the big man from the alley slouched towards them. Theo looked amused at the man’s surly expression, eyes glaring at the small woman from under a white bandage covering his stitches. “BeeCee, I don’t know that you’ve been formally introduced. Jane, BeeCee. He’s Michael’s left hand man – me, of course, being the right.” Seeing that neither of them were making any move to greet each other, he sighed, as if the father of unruly children. “Right.” He motioned towards the black helmet the giant held in his oversized hands. “What’s with the hardhat, BeeCee?”

The larger man grunted, nodding towards Jane. “Mr. Doukas says she’s supposed to wear it.” As Jane frowned, Beecee grinned mockingly. “It’s the law, bitch. Deal with it.” He held the helmet out just long enough for her to reach for it and then opened his fingers to let it drop.

Jane gave a slight kick, her boot catching the helmet before it hit the floor. It flipped neatly up into her waiting hands with a hard slapping sound. Beecee’s mouth opened for a moment, speechless, then he frowned with annoyance and stomped sulkily to his bike.

Theo watched him, amused. He swung a leg over his own bike and watched Jane as she gracefully mounted the seat behind him. “What was that, more of your kung fu Barbie shit?”

“Nope,” she said, eyes twinkling as she buttoned the helmet strap under her chin. It fit her like a black shiny salad bowl, making her look like a character from a video game. “Hacky sack with the stoners in high school.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning forward. Theo could feel her breasts pressing into his back through the layers of leather. Jane nuzzled against his jacket, breathing in deeply with satisfaction. “Mmmm…Love me some leather. Yum, yum.” For a moment she seemed lost in reverie, then looked up, seeming surprised to see him watching her. “What, like you don’t sleep with your floggers? Let’s go, stud, Mother Russia has some pussy waiting for us.”

He laughed then, but there was no warmth in it. The garage was filled with the roar of exhaust pipes as the bikes rode out of the garage into the Detroit afternoon.

An hour later, Jane was standing on top of the tanker truck, tapping the helmet absently on the against the side of into the dark circle of the opened hatch. To her left the Incubiker team waited impatiently, alternately glaring up at her or nervously along the street, watching for police. Theo stood at the bottom of the ladder on the side of the truck, his face angry and intent. “They want what?” he said loudly, voice filled with frustration.

Jane looked down at him, her expression regretfully bemused. “They want a Hello Kitty vibrator.” She laughed softly at the ridiculous request. “That’s really what they said, Theo. Hey, on the bright side, they’re only asking for one.”

Theo looked up at her suspiciously. “You’re fucking with us, aren’t you? I told you this needs to happen quickly – The money we gave Detroit’s finest only keeps them away for so long. Plus, Beecee’s getting carried away.” He waved towards the big man who was working over the hapless truckdriver. The poor delivery man’s face was bloody and his body sagged between the two Incubikers who held him up for Beecee’s fists.

Jane sighed. “Boss, I would fuck with Beecee from here to wednesday, but I would not fuck with you. I’m seriously telling you, they are insisting that they were promised a ‘hello kitty’ vibrator – ” Jane stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to her. She called down into the tanker for a moment, and when an answering stream of Russian echoed metallically up to her, she started laughing.

“Something to share with the class, Ms. Jane?” Theo did not look amused as she turned to look down at him, chuckling.

“Sorry, boss. My mistake. It’s not ‘hello kitty.’ It’s Kitty LaRue – as in, the ‘great American pornstar’” She shook her head. “Tony promised them that she would be here to greet them”

Tony didn’t look amused. “Where do you get ‘vibrator’ out of that? Do you even speak Russian?”

Jane chuckled again, unfazed by his suspicious tone. “Better than Tony does. Apparently he charmingly referred to Kitty as his ‘fucktoy’.” She shrugged. “Fucktoy, vibrator, same difference to them.” She grinned impudently down at Theo’s scowl and laughed again. “Hey, man, you gotta love cross-cultural communication.”

“Tell them to get their skank asses out of that truck in the next two minutes or I will toss in a match and close the hatch.” Theo turned angrily from the tanker and walked over to the van, yelling at the driver to unlock the back. Jane shrugged and turned back to the hatch, speaking quickly to the sex workers waiting fearfully inside.

A moment later a thin pale hand reached up and she helped the first woman out. She was painfully thin, elegant cheekbones sharply outlined under a shock of ragged black hair. She wore a metallic black tube dress with silver shoulder straps, small breasts barely tenting the fabric as her nipples crinkled in the chilly air. She clutched a tiny bag in her hand, and Jane could see a small book and some loose photographs inside. In spite of her emaciated state she looked inquisitively at Jane, asking a short question.

Jane’s smile turned sad, and she replied with a few short Russian words, trailing off into English. “I’m nobody you need to know, sweetheart. Just go with them.” She motioned towards the bikers.

The Russian woman looked down the ladder at the men waiting below, then back up at Jane. Her voice was earnest to the point of desperation. “We are good fucking! They not be sorry to buying us!”

Jane sighed. “I’m sure they won’t be sorry, you poor sweet slut. But you might be.” She caught the woman’s eye, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “If that happens, let me know. I’ll see what I can do.”

The woman’s expression changed and she suddenly looked disdainful. “What you mean? We LOVE to fuck! And drugs! We are party girls! You said these men give more than Tony and Kitten. You lie?” Seeing Jane shake her head slowly, the Russian laughed, hard and brittle. “So we go with them. We work in America finally! We will find rich man!” Scornfully, she sniffed dismissively at Jane and turned to make her way down the ladder. “You just can’t find man for you!”

Jane just watched her go down into the waiting arms of the leering Incubikers, a hard look in her eyes. As she heard the next prostitute climbing up out of the hatch, she gave a sigh and reached out to help her.

When they were all out and in the van, she and Theo remounted his bike. He looked at her thoughfully. “You did a good job up there. Worth the $1500, easy – we’ll make that back off those girls in a day.” Firing up his engine, he raised his voice over the growl. “I’m kinda surprised, though. Don’t you feel a little guilty? You are tough, but you don’t seem the type for running whores.”

She looked at him evenly. “You’d be surprised at what type of work I’ve done, Mr. Doukas, sexual and otherwise. ” She nodded towards the van as it drove off. “Those girls chose to come here. They chose this kind of work. They knew what they were getting into, even if they convinced themselves it would lead to something else. I call that risk-aware, and as they say back in Mother Russia, ‘not my circus, not my monkeys.’” Her voiced softened just a bit, but there was no regret in it. “I’m no fucking saint, Theo. I just want my money. Speaking of which…”

Theo nodded, and took a hand off the throttle to fish out his cel phone, pressing a number to speed dial and then saying, curtly, “Brother. It’s done. Bitch delivered as promised.” There was a pause, and Theo nodded again. “Good. Later.” Pocketing his cel, he nodded at Jane. “Your money is deposited. Feel free to check.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “No need, I can tell.” She held up her wrist, where a bracelet made from an intricate skein of copper and brass housed a dark green stone. Theo looked puzzled, but Jane simply smiled, waiting, and nodded towards the jewel. It suddenly flared brightly, the light fading into emerald numbers glowing inside the stone: “$-1-5-0-0-*” Jane ran a finger over the stone, and it dimmed back down into dark smooth jade.

Theo grunted. “Neat trick. LCD under tinted glass, wired with Bluetooth to your cel?” She shrugged noncommittally and got on his bike, and he muttered over his shoulder. “All that fancy shit. Just call the fuckin’ bank, get it over with.” Revving the throttle, he waited as she pressed her body against him.

“Ah, Theo, you’re a Luddite at heart.” At his angry glare over his shoulder, she laughed. “Relax, big boy, it just means you like to keep things simple. It adds to your charm, manly man.” She playfully tapped her helmet against his. They rode back towards St. Antoine Street, leaving the empty truck and the ruined driver on the side of the road behind them.

Dec 092013

Jason looked up as Jane sat down at his counter. “You take debit cards?” she asked as he poured her a cup of coffee.

“Five dollar minimum,” he said sourly, sniffing. “Pardon me for saying so, Miss-I’m-too-cool-for-a-name, but you smell like a whorehouse.”

Jane smiled good naturedly. “More like one particular whore than the whole house, but no offense taken – these things take time.” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “While we’re on the subject of houses of ill repute, though – I found Tony and Kitten…amusing, but not really roommate material. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra room available?”

Jason nodded suspiciously.” Yeah,” he grudgingly allowed, “but it’s a hundred a week, and I’m not putting that on your tab…”

“No need, my friend.” She rummaged in a pocket of her leather vest and tossed him a strip of plastic. “Run that like a credit card for two weeks rent. It’ll do for starters.” She leaned over the counter, looking left and right. “My rucksack still back there?”

Jason absently opened a cabinet under the register and handed her the leather bag, motioning towards stairs leading upstairs next to the counter. “Take room three. Alex is in two, and it shares a door with one, where his boy stays. There’s an outside entrance, too, door code is 4692.” When she didn’t move, he looked at her. “Something else?”

She was looking at the tied laces on the flap of the rucksack, and then up at Jason, her expression grave. “You didn’t open this.” It wasn’t a question, and as he returned her gaze steadily, she sighed. “Oh, Jason. You’re an honest man, aren’t you? What the hell are you doing in a shithole like this?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and headed upstairs.

“Whatever I can,” he answered softly, and pulled a cel phone out of his pocket. Pressing a button, he began to talk in low tones, his eyes never leaving the staircase.

The next morning Jason had her pancakes and eggs ready as she came down the stairs, and she saluted his timing with a quick snap of her hand and a brilliant smile. Alex sat at the counter with a small boy of about 4, the two of them sounding out words in a Seuss book. “Sam-I-Am!” the boy said happily, pointing at a sad moustachioed figure in the book. Then he looked up and noticed Jane sipping coffee in the booth. “Who dat, daddy? She pretty!”

Alex hushed is son with a whispered “Don’t bother her, Joey, let her eat alone.”

“Hello, Joey.” Suddenly she was standing next to them her hand offered to the boy. “My name’s Jane. You’re doing a great job on that book – it was one of my favorites.” She looked at the book critically for a moment, then at the boy. “Can I tell you a secret?” The boy nodded warily, and she whispered a few sentences in his ear. His eyes grew wide for a moment, then he looked at his father sitting next to him and started giggling. Smiling, Jane tousled his hair and went back to her breakfast, reading a battered paperback with some sword-wielding barbarian on the cover.

Jason came over and topped off the boy’s orange juice. “What’d she tell you?” he asked casually, glancing over Joey’s head to Jane in the booth.

“It’s a SEEKET!” the boy pronounced happily, then more quietly, “That means I have to whisper it.” Jason nodded gravely, leaning over. Joey whispered intently, and giggled as Jason began chuckling.

“Well, then, I guess it’s lucky for him you’re done! There’s your bus!” Joey squealed with excitement, hugging his puzzled father and giving Jason a high-five before jumping off the stool and rushing out the door.

Alex watched him go, and then turned to Jason, curiosity getting the better of him. “What?” he demanded.

Jason indicated the moustachioed fish in the book. “She told him that her father kind of looked like that fish,” he grinned. “And that if Joey didn’t eat all his food, it might happen to you, too.” Chuckling, Jason cleared away the plate, and in spite of himself, Alex grinned back. Taking his coffee, he turned around and walked over to her booth. She looked up at him and waved him into the seat.

“I ran into your wife earlier this morning,” she said bluntly.

Alex’s expression didn’t change. “Yes, I heard. Thank you for not involving her in your little…demonstration.” He sipped his coffee and Jane thought she saw just a glimpse of the deep pain he felt at the mention of his wife. “I didn’t watch the tapes, but Tony and Kitten were quite impressed.”

“What’s the deal with them, anyway?” Jane asked. “With a sweet set up like they’ve got there, why can’t they make ends meet? Those camgirls and boys I saw in there – man, talk about walking poster children for the Big Burnout.”

At this Alex chuckled, a soft, bitter sound. “Yeah, that’s a good way to describe just about everyone over there. The problem isn’t the infrastructure – it’s that it’s a castle under siege.” He looked up at Jane, then, and she was startled by his eyes, which had looked brown, but now revealed a vivid green ring around his dark irises. “The Incubikers won’t let any new talent in, and if old talent goes out, they don’t come back. That talent you saw? They haven’t been out of that building in three months. Tony and Kitten are able to get supplies in and out, they have that much pull with the teamsters, but people…” He trailed off. “When the Doukas’ catch someone trying to get out, well, if they’re lucky, they disappear. Some they keep… for their own amusement.”

Jane sipped her coffee and speculated out loud. “And in town known as “the Murder City”, I guess it doesn’t take much of a donation to keep the police out of the whole thing.”

Alex laughed again. “Police? You kidding? The Doukas not only have them paid off, they have them procuring. Notice that Juvenile Detention facility down the street? Both Tony and the Doukas brothers used to take advantage of that, scooping up people close to the edge. Doesn’t take much paperwork to get a pretty not-quite- 18 year old released on a ‘work apprenticeship’. By the time his or her birthday comes around they’re strung up on smack or in debt or both, and they just start working the cameras.” He waved out the window in the vague direction of the Incubiker enclave. “Or the clients.”

“So what changed? What put Tony and Kitten are on the defensive?” Jane snorted. “For that matter, why doesn’t Doukas just roll right over him?” Her tone dropped low. “And why do you get to come and go freely?”

Alex looked at her steadily. “I really don’t know the answer to the first two questions. At some point the détente failed, that’s all I know. The Doukas brothers just decided one day to make a move on one of Tony’s stars.” His eyes were expressionless. “That’s part of the answer to your last question, though.”

His voice quickened, as if he wanted to get the telling over with quickly. “Isabella. That’s her name. The one you saw in the alley, the star that the Doukas brothers took from Tony.’ He took a breath, eyes glued to the table in front of him. “Joey’s mother. My wife.”

Jane said nothing, simply waited, and after a long moment Alex got his emotions under control and continued. “She was an indie model, came to work for a month-long exclusive contract with Tony. She’d just finished a great trip to New York, worked with some really high-end photographers, and we thought – that is, I thought – ” his voice cracked, and Jane simply sipped her coffee and waited, silent, for him to regain composure.

“I wanted to stay in the city, keep working the contacts. But she told me she had gotten something really good during her time in New York, something that she wouldn’t show me…I never really understood what it was, or what she thought it would do, but…fuck, I don’t even really care anymore. She just seemed to think it would be our ticket to the dream – for her to stop traveling all the time, for me to stop having to scrambling for freelance gigs, for us to do what we wanted.”

“What is it that you wanted, Alex?” Jane’s voice was soft.

He looked at her bleakly. “Fuck if I know. Never had enough breathing room to actually figure that out.”

Jane nodded, solemnly. “Fair enough. So what happened?”

He sighed. “Again, I don’t really know. I couldn’t meet her when she landed at the airport because of Joey’s school stuff, and from what I heard, Incubikers were waiting there to take her. That was three months ago. Since then, they’ve intercepted every talent Tony and Kitten have tried to hire – and anyone who gets out of Kitten’s building gets disappeared, or worse.” He stirred his coffee and gave a soft chuckle. “The last two times it was a bund from Russia. Tony thought they might be beyond the Doukas brothers’ reach.” Alex gave a bitter laugh.” Didn’t matter where they came from, though,” he pointed out the window again, “that last mile is where they grab them. Didn’t even have to use force; just convinced the girls that working for them would be much more convenient than working for Tony and Kitten.” He chuckled again, sounding tired

Jane tapped a sugar packet thoughtfully. “Why the laugh?”

Alex grimaced. “It’s not really funny. Another bunch of girls are supposed to come in today. Tony is nothing if not persistent. I’m just thinking it might not be so easy for the Incubikers to convince this group to switch sides.”

“Really? Why’s that?” Jane’s tone sounded speculative.

“Because the only guy they have who speaks Russian is in the clinic with his jaw wired shut,” Alex grinned with a bitter triumph and tapped a finger on the table in front of Jane. “Thanks to you.”

Jane stood up from the booth and was gathered her things. Alex looked up, surprised at the sudden exit. “Hey, where are you going?”

Jane gave him a big smile. “That, Alex, was some valuable information. In fact…” she handed him a small card. “Here. PIN is 1469. Take out a hundred, get Joey something nice. And hang onto that card. Anything else you hear about that you think I might be interested in, pass it on, and I’ll authorize more.” She snugged her fingerless leather gloves over her hands, and carefully dogeared her place in her book before tossing it in the rucksack. “Place like this, the right piece of information can be worth a lot to a woman like me.”

Alex looked at the card with a bewildered expression. “I don’t understand. What are you doing?”

She smiled and slung her rucksack over her shoulder. “Going to see Michael Doukas about a job. I hear he might be in need of a Russian translator.”

Alex still looked confused. “And…you speak Russian?”

Jane gave him a wink as she went out the door. “Vot tak!”

Nov 252013
2013-11-11 10.18.42
Only slightly posed.

Only slightly posed.

So, a while back, I told some friends of mine “I’m a simple man of peace!”

They laughed.

It bothered me. More than it probably should have, and so I tried it out on other people. Exactly one person – my oldest friend, in fact – didn’t snicker, laugh, chortle, or guffaw when I said I was a simple man of peace. They pointed at the San Francisco GRUE, at Dark Odyssey Surrender, at the upcoming Washington DC GRUE (which conveniently comes right after Thanksgiving). They pointed at my self-employment, my public work, my private relationships, my kinks and hobbies and goals and gadgets.

And you know what? They were right. I was – I am – about as far from a “simple man of peace” as I can be.

And that bothers me.

So I decided to take arms against a sea of brainweasels and do something about it. The lovely Miss Ali had asked me if there was some special way we could spend a weekend together, and as I outlined what I had in mind, she enthusiastically agreed. Thus, SMOPcon was born.

The idea was to find an environment both reclusive and also inspiring. To pare things down to a minimum, to cut down on the noise just to see what kind of signal might actually be coming through.

For my part, the rules I made for myself (the aspiring SMOP) were relatively simple:

  • No technology more complex than paper and pen. That meant no clocks, watches, smartphones, computers, whatever. I was OFF THE GRID.
  • I would sit zazen three times a day, for 1/2 hour per session.
  • I would do yoga twice a day.
  • I would eat simple and healthy (mostly) meals.
  • I would go to bed when tired, get up when rested, fuck when horny.

Miss Ali, for her part, was taking on the role of “Service Muse.” This meant that she was accepting the responsibility of:

  • Locating an appropriate space for the SMOPcon and negotiating its use (AirBNB for the win, btw!)
  • Planning & preparing the menu, usually
    • Fruit, coffee, and toast for breakfast
    • Vegetables and fish or sausage for lunch
    • Salad and (possibly) meat for dinner
    • Fruit, nuts, other snacks as needed
  • Minding the technology:
    • Monitoring my phone for emergency messages
    • Changing the music as I requested
    • Keeping track of time when I sat zazen
  • Leading yoga workouts twice a day
  • Courtesan/bedwarmer/rope bottom services as requested
  • Providing stimulating conversation, a sounding board, or a silent companion as needed.

I could write. I could read my books. I could smoke cigars, drink whiskey, listen to music (though I couldn’t actively use the iPod, see rule 1). I could bounce ideas or thoughts off of Miss Ali, or simply enjoy watching her do the work she’d brought along for herself.

This lasted from Sunday afternoon thru Wednesday noon.

So, Did It Work?

That’s a good question. Am I now a SMOP? Well, no. As the zen saying goes, first mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers, then mountains are not mountains and rivers are not rivers, and then mountains are once again mountains and rivers are once again rivers.

To put it more clearly, did something happen? Yes. Was it enlightenment? Come on, are you serious? Here’s the way it broke down:

  • I had thought that going off the grid would drive me crazy. It didn’t, not at all. I surrendered my phone when we got in the car to go to the location, and never had the slightest temptation to check it, check in, or anything else. That surprised me just as much as anyone.
  • I also thought that sitting for 1/2 hour 3x/day would be hard. It wasn’t – even though that’s six times longer than I sit any other day. In fact, I grew to really look forward to that part of each day.
  • The location was SPECTACULAR:



  • …which probably had a lot to do with how easy it was to monotask.
  • I found that my days went pretty much as I’d planned them, with the big chunks of time spent on each making them feel more…nourishing, I suppose. Like eating real food instead of fast food might taste.
  • I found that for the most part I didn’t want to listen to music, but I really treasured the time I spent talking with Miss Ali. We discussed her own work (some career planning) and I would talk to her about where my thoughts were leading. Like a true muse, her comments often led me in directions that led to breakthroughs.

And yeah, while I didn’t achieve enlightenment, I did have an epiphany or two (life-changing, even) and also came out of it with a pretty nice outline for a cigar-themed erotic romance. Also some unforgettable sights, sounds, and memories.

I can’t speak for Ali, except for two things she shared with me: one, she did get a great deal of her own work done, and two, she would have liked to have a third service provider there to “…do the meals. And the yoga!” So maybe her calling was more towards the muse; I only know that she gave me exactly what I asked for and several other things that I needed but wasn’t aware enough to ask.

The hardest part of the weekend was the aftercare – or rather, the lack of it. I mentioned that leaving the grid behind was no problem; coming back to the grid has continued to be difficult. I find myself much less tolerant of noise, of bustle, of busy-ness. I came out of the SMOPcon right into managing and hosting a variety show/street fair night at Dark Odyssey Surrender, and the number of times I wanted to just scream “FUCK RIGHT OFF!” and go find some water to sit by was more than I was comfortable with.

It’s been a couple of weeks now, and that urge only hits once in a while. Meanwhile, I find myself monotasking more – every chance I get, in fact – and guarding jealously my morning rituals of yoga, meditation, and caffeinated journaling.

For me, it was a SMOPcon, but you can easily remove the gender and call it STOPcon – whether that’s Simple Top of Peace or even a non-power-dynamic Simple Time of Peace. But oh, do I ever recommend it. That silence, when all the rest goes away?


Aug 112013

So I just finished “Banging Rebecca” (don’t I wish!) and thought I’d actually post a review to Amazon. Much to my surprise – and VERY quickly after I submitted it – my review was rejected. I’m still not sure exactly why…but fuck ‘em if they can’t handle the word “cunt” when I’m writing a review. Here you have it, in it’s original and uncensored form.

I’ll get the one thing I didn’t like about this novella out of the way first: safer sex. There isn’t any mention of it in the whole shebang (see what I did there?) and as a sex-educator that’s a little disconcerting.

But I got over it, because DAYUM, this has some very hot stuff. Outside sex. Bondage. Impact play. Dominance/submission, all set within the kind of conflicted tangle of emotions and desires that really accompanies that kind of play. There is a real story here, with conflict, with foreshadowing, with character development and everything else English Comp teachers teach us about. But it’s also dripping with (and built by) amazingly rendered sexual encounters, one after another, building up to the surprising and satisfying finish (see, I did it again!).

It’s a short read, yes. But it’s also full of scene after scene of cock-throbbing cunt-drenching sex, so if you’re in for some wank material, this is the best deal you’ll find. If you’re just looking for a good story, though, it’s also just a good buy.

Oh, and Alison? I’m a pretty experienced BDSM educator and enthusiast. So thank you for a new idea that I can’t wait to try out…

Jul 202013

Apologies for the tardiness of this next installment; I let other priorities distract me from my goal of releasing a chapter a week. I will endeavor to be more prompt, promise, especially as things are about to REALLY heat up…

Crossing the street, they approached the dark building that housed “T.S. Enterprises” according to the burnished steel letters on the side of the building. As they approached the door the woman saw the camera she’d sent the message through was accompanied by more cameras at regular intervals all around the building. The doorway itself was a seamless black slab resembling black slate, no knobs or hinges visible in the twelve-foot tall slabs, each half that in width, that formed the front entrance. As her escort paused in front of them, she looked expectantly up at him.

Though he tried to maintain his disdainful composure, he finally gave in to her inquisitive gaze and said “What!?!” with the desperate tone of someone who feels harassed but is not sure why.

“Are you kidding?” she said, gesturing with a hand at the doors. “C’mon, with doors like this, I’m just waiting for you to toss a bone in the air so it becomes a space station or something.” Her expectant grin faltered as he just stared at her with a blank, faintly hostile stare. “Oh, c’mon, you’ve never seen 2001: A Space Odyssey?” She shook her head, muttering to herself “Honestly. What are they teaching the children these days…” She reached out and tapped the wall with a knuckle, the tiny brass rivets on her fingerless gloves making a rat-at-tat sound. “So, what do we ‘Speak, friend, and enter?’” Glancing up at the guard’s blank face, she shook her head. “Never mind. What are we waiting for.”

The guard held a finger to his ear, listening to an unseen voice. Then he looked at her with a smug smile. “Seems you’ve got a few items we don’t exactly feel comfortable with around the boss. So I’m going to have to do a…” he licked his lips suggestively “thorough search.” He flexed his hands in anticipation and stepped towards her.

She held up a hand. “I’ve got a better idea, Schmuckballs. Let me save everybody some time.” Under his astonished gaze she rapidly unbuckled, unzipped, and unbuttoned her entire ensemble, a pile of brass, denim, and brown leather slowly pooling at her feet. In less than a minute she was completely naked, nipples pink and hard in the cool morning air, a thick tuft of blond hair at her pubis trimmed into a neat triangle. Her breasts were full and round, looking mature without being out of proportion for her relatively tiny body, and her skin had a soft cream color that was almost luminous. She stood with her weight evenly distributed on both feet, looking up at the flabbergasted guard with a calm, expectant expression. Then she very deliberately lifted her middle fingers in a double fuck-you, a thin silver band on one and a large amber stone gracing the ring on the other. “There. That satisfy you?” She waited, but the guard seemed mesmerized by the tiny nubs tipping her breasts. She sighed. “Oh. Right. I’m supposed to satisfy someone with more brain cells, obviously.”

Looking up, she noticed another video camera, and smiled at it. Lifting her hands behind her head, she cocked her hip jauntily and stepped forward, pivoting like a beauty contestant displaying the goods. As she turned, she revealed an ass of cream-colored skin broken by long lateral bruises like thin shadows across each cheek. As he saw them, the guard’s breath left him in a long hiss, and she shot him an inquisitive look as she finished turning. “What? A girl can’t enjoy a good caning once in a while? Ask your Master’s voice if we can go in now, Schmuckballs, it’s fucking cold out here.”

At this he seemed to recover himself, growling at her. “Stop calling me that, you cu-” his voice broke off and his eyes unfocused in widened surprise as he listened to unseen commands. “Sir? Yes, sir. Of course not, sir. Right away, sir.” Swallowing, he stepped back from the door as it opened and without looking at her motioned for the nude woman to walk in. “Please come in, Ms…” again he left it a question, and again she ignored it as she sauntered past, patting his arm as she went past.

“Be a dear and fold up my kit, won’t you, Schmuckballs?” A vein in his forehead bulged, but he simply said “Yes, ma’am,” and bent to gather the clothing as she disappeared inside.

The lobby of T.S. Enterprises continued the black slate and steel theme of the outer doors, this time with a stone floor leading to a glass and chrome latticework stairway leading up to a ring of offices, the atrium continuing up six stories to a skylight filtering the gray-bright morning sky. The woman walked up to the base of the stairs, ignoring the security guard at the tiny desk and looking up them to the man descending. “Tony Nesmith, I presume?” she said, her voice not quite a purr as her weight shifted, one hip cocking a little further in front.

“None other, shela, and I’m beginning to like making your acquaintance more and more.” Tony unabashedly looked her up and down, eyes evaluating with a professional detachment that nonetheless showed a happy grin on his face as he took in her body. At a slight gesture of his hand she turned, with the calm smile of one who is simply replaying a gift already given. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her ass striped with bruises from a past caning, and his nostrils flared slightly. “Mmmm…I do like a woman who knows what she’s got and isn’t afraid to flaunt it.”

“Like me, honey?” came a soprano, slightly nasal voice from higher up the stairs, and both of them looked up to see Kitten descending to meet her husband. Her outfit did certainly flaunt something, though how flattering it was seemed a bit more debatable. The naked woman seemed to have some trouble keeping a grin off of her face as she watched the former star descend, a skin-tight spandex dress painted on her rubenesque curves, a keyhole neckline showing off cleavage like a miniature ass crack in her chest. The implants in her breast seemed to move slightly out of sync with her body, and there was a definite dimple in the curve of her hip where a too-small thong bit into her waistline.

Her perfect teeth smiled predatorily at the young naked woman at the base of the stairs, scarlet lipstick opulently lacquered under the smoothest unwrinkled cheeks money could buy. Impossibly long lashes surrounded eyes that would have been liquid in a more slender face, but which now seemed to squint out from the round fleshiness surrounding her visage. Her hair was big and sweeping in frosted blonde and sandy brunette strata that would have been almost still in style a decade before. Like her breasts, it seemed to move somehow independently of her body motion or, for that matter, gravity, and as she finished her descent and took her husbands arm, he seemed to deflate a little, the sag of a man who has been too long in battle and now simply has resigned himself to his fate.

“Yes, dear.” He smiled at her, and there was the echo of real affection in his gaze. “Of course like you. Doesn’t she look like a yummy little treat, though?” His heavy Australian accent made the word sound like “trite.” “I daresay you’d like to sink your teeth into that cute little arse yourself, darlin’.” Addressing the woman, still contrapostally posed at the base of the stairs. “What should we call you, Little Miss Stripey Butt.”

A coy smile crossed the woman’s face. “Cute as that name is, I’m actually called ‘Jane’.” Her smiled dimpled. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Kitten. I’ve been an admirer and fan for decades.” Kitten’s eyes widened angrily, but there was too much innocence in Jane’s words to take real offense.

Instead she laughed again, a false staccato sound. “Jane? As in, Plain Jane?” Her hand tightened territorially over her husband’s arm while he simply endured their verbal fencing.

“Actually, ma’am, more like ‘Calamity’, as those Incubikers found out.” Jane straightened, all posing gone from her figure. “Which is, I think, why you wanted to see me, right, Mr. Nesmith?”

The man chuckled and nodded, motioning her up the stairs. “Yes, yes indeed. I have a…few proposals for you, in fact. Especially with the way you handled that singletail. A switch,am I right?” As he walked between the two women up the stairs, his hand fell with casual grace across Jane’s ass, tapping the bruises there. “Looks like you had some fun at some point in the recent past…care to tell?”

“I could do that,” Jane replied, not reacting to his presumed intimacy at all in spite of Kitten’s glaring from across her husband’s shoulder. “Or I could just show you. I have heard about your legendary paddle on Kitten’s beautiful ass, and…well…” She gave an apparently unconscious wiggle to the curve under his hand, and just as Kitten’s mouth opened in protest, she continued. “Of course, my real fantasy is to be under Kitten’s hand. Or…well…ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying…” As they reached the top of the stairs she looked demurely at the woman, seeming oblivious to the jealous fury filling Kitten’s eyes.

The older woman simply stood there, glaring, until a suggestive throat-clearing from Tony reminded her that a reply was expected. “Oh. Yes, dear.” The word dripped like acid from her lips. “Please, do share with us your true fantasy.”

“Well…” Jane looked demurely at the floor, then up again at Kitten. “Ma’am, you’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. I used to get off just imagining tasting you, having my mouth close to your…” she trailed off, looking down in embarrassment, one arm coming up to massage the back of her neck.

Kitten couldn’t help but notice how it lifted her breast on that side, the nipple seeming to quest towards her husband and herself. In spite of her anger, she found herself licking her lips. Then she suddenly shook her head. “Wait a minute! What the fuck is going on here?” She took a step away from the naked woman and her husband, seeming to shake off some sort of glamour that had filled her eyes. “She comes in here and barely introduces herself and suddenly she wants to eat me out? While you paddle her ass? Who does that?” Her hands fluttered agitatedly in Jane’s direction. “Why the fuck are you naked in my house, bitch?”

Jane looked at her with wide eyes, an innocent, wounded sadness welling up in them. “Well, ma’am, I imagine I’m naked for the same reason they are.” She pointed behind the woman to the opposite railing one floor above them in the atrium, where a row of naked and semi-dressed women interspersed with a couple of men watched the three of them with more than a little interest.

Tony noticed them, too, and bellowed out “You aren’t getting paid to eavesdrop you sloppy cunts! Get back in your rooms and make those perverts give us more money!” The crowd scattered with alacrity, and in a chorus of slamming doors the balcony was empty again. He looked at Jane. “Those are our cam girls, little Jane. You think you belong with them?”

“Well…not exactly, Mr. Nesmith.” She smiled at him, just short of an invitation. “I suspect that my abilities are…specialized enough to attract a more erudite and discriminating audience.” Looking at Kitten, she smiled. “And I’m sorry if I presumed, ma’am, but I just figured that like them you’d rather I prove my…abilities.” She smiled again, eyes flicking up to the balcony, and this time there was no mistaking the invitation. “Didn’t any of them get an audition?”

Kitten looked at Jane for a moment more with suspicion, and then, gradually, another expression – not quite predatory, but hungry and cruel nonetheless – came over her face. “Ah. I see. Well…yes, I’m certain we could arrange something, after the appropriate tests are taken care of. Can’t be too careful these days, you know…”

“My most recent AIM test is in my wallet that Schmuckballs has in my pile of clothes,” Jane said promptly, and she seemed to wiggle like a puppy while at the same time standing in place. “I really do have some skills I just would love to show you…” Somehow she managed to plead without whining, and Tony’s eyes now glittered with possessive intent.

“An audition it is, then, shela. Been a while since we’ve had this kind of toy, hasn’t it, Kitten-o-my-heart?” He smiled wickedly at his wife, and she suddenly seemed to acquiesce to her husband’s desire.

“Oh, yes, dear, it will be just like old times…” Looking Jane up and down again, this time with a lascivious gaze, she smiled. “And if the audition goes well, I’m sure we might be able to make each other a nice bit of money, indeed, all the while having lots of fun…” She caught her breath as Jane moved next to her, snuggling her breasts against the larger woman like a smaller version of her namesake.
“I’m sure we will. Though I think, since I’ve already given Mr. Nesmith a ‘screen-test’, this should be more of a work-for-hire deal. I know I would rather we had the cameras rolling, to have something to remember you by…” She smiled and looked at Tony, head not moving from his wife’s bosom. “Shall we say, $1500 for the video, no stills?”

“Um…well…we’ve never really paid for an audition before…” Tony began, but his voice trailed off as he saw his wife’s hand dip towards the golden curls of Jane’s vulva and come away slick with moisture. Looking at the expression on his wife’s face, he realized she wouldn’t brook more negotiation. “$1500 it is. We’ll get you a check mailed just as soon as…”

Janes hand floated up languidly and curled open at his nose. A strip of flexible metal uncurled there, which a moment before had been a ring around her middle finger. There seemed to be writing on it, and looking closer he could just make out a website. “You have a computer in your bedroom, don’t you, Mr. Nesmith? This will be so much more convenient for you and me both, don’t you think?” He took the ring from her, and her hand seemed to float down and brush the bulge in his pinstripe trousers. “Then we can get on to…other things.”

May 192013

Editor’s note: If you’re new to the series, start here. If you’re wondering about the chapter title, well, it’s a work in progress, remember? In fact, as I was editing this, I found myself questioning whether it really merited being a “chapter” at all – that maybe it should have just been tacked on to the end of Chapter 2. Mainly because while I love that there is exposition, witty dialogue, and pancakes, there’s not a lot of action here. Speaking of which, if you’re wondering “Hey, Gray, where’s the sex?” trust me…it’s coming. Got feedback? I’d love hear from you, either in the comments or directly.

“I knew you were trouble!” Jason glared at Jane as she came through the door. Crew Chief Jonesy just gave her a merry grin, though, as he accepte a tray with four large cups from the barista. “And you still can’t pay for anything, unless you robbed those poor fellas too…” Jonesy suddenly froze, looking distressed.

“You gotta pay for coffee now?” he said, sounding panicked.

“What?” Jason shifted focus for a moment to the wide-eyed medic. “No, no, Jonesy, you know you never have to pay for your coffee. Especially since you have to lug those poor guys to the clinic.” He glared at Jane as she sat in a booth, a small amused smile on her face. “Quit grinning like that! He told me what you said about getting three beds ready! How can you call that self-defense?”

She nodded thoughtfully, expression becoming more serious. “You’re right. That was a mistake.” Looking at Jonesy, she said “I’m sorry to cause you more work, friend. But I was wrong.” She held up a hand, thumb tucked. “Doc Jonesy’s gonna need four beds.” As Jason’s glare darkened, she gave him a nod. “Fire up the grill, Jason-my-friend, I’ve got a powerful hunger, and this girl’s work has just begun.”

Jason looked for a moment as if he would explode. Suddenly he sagged, leaning against the counter for a moment. “But…you can’t pay!” His objection was only half-hearted as he turned to the grill.

“Don’t worry about it!” Jane called to his back. “My moneyroll is on his way. Breakfast, and then some.” Jason looked at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow cocked in mute question. “Eggs, scrambled, sausage links, pancakes, and coffee.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then added “And throw some cheddar on those eggs, wouldja, darling?” She settled back in the booth, giving Jonesy a wave as he walked out the door. Her eyes closed and a serene smile came across her face at the sound of the griddle sizzling mingling with Jason’s muttered imprecations.

Shortly the man brought the plate of food to her table and sullenly dropped the plate with a rude clatter. “That’s another $7 added to your tab,” he announced darkly.

“Seven?” she said, surprised. “That seems kind of steep for, well-” she waved her hand around, indicating the shop’s decor, “– a place like this.”

“You get a $2 pain-in-the-ass tax,” he snapped. “I told you that you should just go. Now you’ve just gone and stirred things up that didn’t need stirring. Four men – Incubikers, no less – in the clinic. Not that they were really good men to start with, but still.” Jason looked up intently at her. “There’s been a truce, almost, lately. Uneasy, sucky for everyone, but mostly peaceful. Violence is not the answer!”

“Kinda depends on the question, don’t you think?” she said quietly, then took a forkful of eggs. She motioned for Jason to join her across the booth. He grudgingly sat downas she swallowed, humming appreciatively. “Good eggs.” Gesturing with her fork, she continued. “Question for you: who was that redhead they were escorting? She was…” she looked away a moment, seeming to go through several possible adjectives before finally settling on one. “Striking. Moreso than I’d expect from that crowd, that kind of porn.”

Jason chuckled bitterly. “Oh, she’s not part of the porn. I wish she were, it would be easier on…” He stopped and sighed, taking a different approach. “She’s Michael’s own little pet – he thought she was ‘striking’ too, and so he just had to have her. Any trace of mirth left his face. “So he took her.”

“Took?” Jane asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Took her from Alecs.” Jason nodded upstairs, indicating his lodger. “From him and from her little boy.” He looked down at the table again. “Continues to take her. Night after night.”

Jane looked puzzled. “Why doesn’t anyone – ” she began, but Jason cut her off.

“The answer to any question beginning with ‘Why don’t they – ‘ is usually…”

“Money,” Jane finished the quote. “Yeah. Figures. They pay off the police, eh? Can’t Alec go higher in the food chain?” Before he could answer, she held up a hand. “Never mind. Stupid question. He didn’t go quite high enough, did he? They found a way to discourage him from trying again.”

The barista set his lips, looking away before replying. “If you count his fingernails, you won’t get near ten.”

The woman’s face went blank. “Ah. I see.” She ate the rest of her meal in silence, and after a moment Jason got up and returned to polishing and re-polishing the glassware behind the counter.

Just as Jane was mopping up the last of her syrup with the final shred of pancake, the door opened and a well-muscled man in a dark designer sports coat walked in. Ignoring Jason, he walked over and tried to loom over the woman by standing too close to the booth. His attempted intimidation was a diluted by her complete disregard for his presence, and his face slowly grew red as she continued to idly draw little designs in the syrup.

“Hey, bitch. Mr. Nesmith wants to talk to you.” His voice had a nasal whine to it, making him seem more petulant than threatening.

With a glacierlike calm she turned her head to look up at him. “Really? And why do you think that is, shit-for-brains?” His mouth opened, but she continued before he could speak. “Do you think it might have something to do with the four assholes I sent to the clinic half an hour ago? And do you think,” her voice suddenly took on a strident tone, like a slap in his face “- that if he decided to just send one asshole to get me, he expects you to treat me like shit?” Eyes narrowing, her voice suddenly lowered, becoming a low, predatory purr. “Or maybe…tell me, schmuckballs, what did you do to piss Tony off? Did you say no when Kitten wanted you to take your turn? Because if he sent you to me alone…he must not be expecting to get too much back.”

The man’s face had gone white as the woman talked, and when she finished, his stance was a little more unsure, and finally he shifted away from the booth. “Mr Nesmith…requests your company,” he amended, voice surprisingly gentlemanly. “If you would be so kind as to let me escort you, Miss….?”

“Thank you, schmuckballs. That’s much better.” She didn’t move from the booth for a moment, taking a final, leisurely sip of her coffee. Then with a lithe movement she was out, the motion so sudden that the man jumped a bit as she suddenly was inches away from his broad chest. Looking up at him, she winked. “You can call me ma’am, for now. Pay the man, and let’s go. Mustn’t keep little Tony waiting.” She handed her rucksack over the counter to Jason. “Keep an eye on this for me, willya?” He nodded, a grimly amused smile on his face, her tab in his hand. “Oh, and don’t forget the asshole tax, Jason! Schmuckballs certainly qualifies.”

Jason presented the bill neutrally to the rough man who glanced at it with a look as if he were swallowing glass. With a muttered “Fucker!” he threw a ten at the counter, and stiffly opened the door for her as they went out into the morning light.

May 122013

In case you’re late to the party, I’ve decided to force myself into editing That Damn Book (aka “Kumir”) by committing to releasing a chapter a week here online, for free! This is definitely a Work In Progress – feedback is welcome and appreciated! If you missed it, Chapter 1 is here.

The cold morning wind blew the paper litter around the woman’s legs as she walked with an easy stride out of the coffee shop and turned into the alley. The shadows were graying with the slow creep of dawn, and her unruly blonde hair, skin and leathers seemed to glow with a rainbow of pewtered shades. She held the whip loosely in her right hand, the coils making a dull tap with every step as they bumped against her leg. As she passed her toppled bike she spared it an ironic half-smile, but made no move to set it upright. She looked down the alley, now empty, neither bikers nor bums in sight. She stood there, weight balanced, as though she were waiting for something she knew was going to happen.

Sudden flashes of red light slashed over the alley walls, and she glanced over her shoulder to see an ambulance pulling up. A vague logo emblazoned with “St. Antoine’s Free Clinic” was barely visible under the street grime covering the side. The driver, eyes crazed by too many stimulants and too little rest, looked at her through the rolled-down passenger window. His scruffy beard was a shade darker than the sandy blonde receding hairline that straggled down to his collar. There was a distinctly Jesus-like aura to his hopped-up alertness.

“Hey, lady! You don’ wan’ be there, lady! They takin’ Mr. Doukas’ woman home, and you even look at her, they cut you! Bad!” His voice was a frenetic staccato, but there was a feeling of genuine care underneath. “They cut the last fella whut looked down that alley, and it was bad…real bad. Doc Jonesy had to take care of him.” The driver looked down in mournful remembrance. “That guy, he used to be so pretty…Doc Jonesy can’t make him pretty again. Best he could do was make his face-parts work again.” His face looked sad as a basset hound. “Mostly…”

Jane thought for a moment, and then smiled at the driver. “I bet I can guess your name.”

The driver smiled beatifically back. “Really? That’d be a neat trick.”

“It’s Jonesy, isn’t it?”

The man shook his head with puppy-like eagerness. “Nope!” As she frowned, he laughed with manic glee. “It’s Crew Chief Jonesy!”

Her smile widened at that. “Ah. Yes. Your turn to be crew chief, I guess. Double shift?”

Crew Chief Jonesy’s smile kind of dwindled. “You know it, lady. Every fucking day.”

The woman’s smile turned thoughtful. “You really used to care, before the speed, didn’t you?”

The man grinned happily at her. “Still do! That’s why I’m on it – there ain’t no other drivers, and somebody’s gotta take care of business. Just dropped off another chica from the Toy Shoppe. She split her –” suddenly he stopped, eyes looking wildly up, then worriedly back at her. “Wait. Am I doing that TMI thing again? Doc Jonesy told me I needed to stop talkin’ so much…”

Jane waved a benediction to the driver. “No problem, Chief. And thanks for the warning about looking down here. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” At a sound from down the alley, her head snapped around with a raptor’s speed, and she saw a group of Incubikers exiting into the alley from a side door, a separate silhouette tall and slender in the midst.

“It’s Monique!” Jonesy whispered reverently from behind her. “Mr. Doukas’ woman. I’m tellin’ ya, lady, ya shouldn’t be here.”

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