Page 24 of Watcher

I stand over the four dead men and pop each in the head for the Prospect.

“We need to get the Prospect back to the club.”

“What about Kasparov?” Diesel opens the back of the van, and the other Prospect and I load the dead Prospect, a twenty-five-year-old kid who joined the club a year ago. He’d been one of the most dedicated Prospects to ever be part of the club. Kasparov would pay for his mistake.

“I’ll have Beast get the Doc.” Diesel returns to his bike to make the call nobody ever wants to make. Beast will want Kasparov’s head.

I pull my cut off and tear my shirt at the shoulder, where the bullet struck. A good chunk of skin is gone, but the bleeding has stopped. I see twenty stitches in my future.

I ride behind the van, and Diesel takes the lead. I’d been shot a half dozen times since joining the club. This is the first time it bothered me. I can thank Jessica for that. I’d spent most of my life not giving a damn. Now I did.

Fuck. She is deep in my head. Last night had been something special. Even if she’d not wanted to go slow, I would have. Normally, the fuckfest is on, and I and some honey are throwing down all over the room, house, woods, or where ever we decide to fuck. Jessica is different, and I have no clue why. The only certainty in my life is the club and Jessica. I have no desire to take another bullet.

By the time we get to the club, my shoulder is bleeding again, and the fucking thing burns like Hell. Diesel helps me stand when I climb off the bike and get wobbly. I hear someone say something about a shot, and stitches, and the doctor is on the way, but everything goes dark, and I don’t give a fuck anymore.

I slip the bouncer a hundred-dollar bill, and he lets me pass. It’s a simple agreement that allows me to skip the line. I hear people complaining, but it does them no good. I’ve been coming to Club Decadence since I arrived in Pine Bluff. Yeah, Beast and the others know what I’m into. They don’t care as long as none of it comes before the club. It doesn’t. It never will.

We all have things in our heads that we need to get out. That’s why I come here. I open the heavy, soundproof door and make sure it closes behind me. I hear the lock click and walk deeper into the bowels of the club, music thumping walls lined by people doing all kinds of decadent shit the world outside wouldn’t approve of. Women are getting fucked, men are getting fucked, women are on their knees, men are on their knees. Here, everyone is themselves. This is who they are. What they are. Like me, they’re here to explore their darker side.

The hallway opens to a larger room with blinding purple, red, and blue strobe lights. A mass of bodies moves seductively on the dance floor, hands and lips occupied. The dance floor is the one place I never go. Not because I can’t dance but because certain freedoms are taken by complete strangers. I want to know who’s touching me.

Valerie, the bartender who had been here since the first day I arrived, places a glass on the bar and fills it with a blue liquid. The first time she served me the drink, she told me not to ask. I didn’t. Still haven’t. All I know is that it makes me feel incredible, invincible, and allows me to fuck all night.

Watching the crowd from a stool, sipping the blue concoction, I see a wide variety of choices tonight. Instead of choosing, I wait patiently to be chosen.

“You buying me a drink?” she says.

I nod at Valerie, and she fills another glass with the strange blue drink. She slides the glass over to the woman. Valerie will put the drink on my tab and automatically charge my card on file. Makes it easier.

“I’ve seen you hear before. Where’s the guy you’re usually with.”

“He’s in a back room, waiting.” She smiles as if I should know what that means. “I’ve seen you here as well. Seen you do some nasty stuff.”

I finish half my drink and set the glass on the bar. “What do you have in mind?” Decadence is not the place where you come to get to know each other. It’s where you come to get lost in lust.

“I’m up for anything.” The woman finishes her drink and turns her attention to the dance floor. She’s waiting for my answer. That’s the thing about Decadence. Everyone who comes into the place wants to up their game. Do something more horrid than the last time they were here. I believe in pacing myself.

She’s a beautiful brunette with dark eyes and a soft face. She’s wearing a black, shiny bodysuit that laces from pussy to breasts. Her hair is back away from her neck, and there’s a small bead of perspiration waiting to race down between her tits. She tilts her head away as I lean forward, lapping up the bead before it leaves. I stand, and she spreads her legs, leaning back, placing her elbows on the bar.

I move in for the kill, so to speak, kissing and licking her neck, my hand holding her chin away. The nameless woman grabs my dick through my pants and moans. I know the risks but you have one life to live, so why not live it on the edge. Nothing you have in life can be taken with you, so take the risks and have no regrets.

When I back away, the woman stands and goes after my neck the way I went after hers. Wanting to move things along, I take her hand and lead the way around the dance floor to one of the dozens of rooms. The challenge is not finding a partner for the night. The challenge is finding a clean, empty room.

“My boyfriend,” the woman says.

A cleaning crew exits a small room, and I pull the woman inside. When the door closes, a red light illuminates above us.

The shelf in the room has been newly stocked, the hook overhead sparkling clean. Each room has its own personality. This one says sadomasochist. I grab the cuffs from the shelf and put them around the woman’s wrists.

“I should get back to my boyfriend,” she says, fear filling her eyes. Everyone who walks through the door knows what they are in for. Otherwise, you stand outside on the street corner and use your imagination. I use mine inside.

I don’t say anything because I’m not required to do so. Instead, I lower the hook and raise the woman’s hands so the cuffs are over the curved metal. When I raise the hook, she moves to her toes.

“He’ll come looking for me,” she says.

“I know he will.”

It takes me only a few minutes to untie the bodysuit, letting her tits free, revealing a dark swatch of hair between her legs. I grab a paddle from the second shelf. The woman’s ass is plump and bounces when I pat it with a hand.

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