Page 93 of The Chemist

“Come on. How about we go do some lines, then you can suck on my hog until you bust a nut?”

Diesel wasn’t used to having to work so hard to convince a guy to suck his dick. Maybe he really was losing his dick mojo.

The man’s gaze slid up Diesel’s lean frame before landing on his bulge once again.

Smirking, the horny pig released his grip on his date, allowing the poor kid to fall to the ground with a disturbing grunt. The asshole didn’t seem to care what became of the boy.

Thankfully, Chase and the other guys were watching, so they would be able to get this kid some help.

“Sure. Why not,” the man said, wrapping his arm around Diesel and leading him toward the door to the private party.

This was it. The moment of truth. Would they be granted entrance into the club or rejected the moment they opened their mouth?

“Name?” the doorman asked.

“Mr. Yellow,” the man replied, waiting as the doorman scanned the list of names on his clipboard.

Guests must use code names. That would make sense if they didn’t want a record of their attendance at this party.

Tapping his finger on the name, the doorman looked up at them.

“Gotcha. You and your guest can go inside.”

Diesel took a step to the side, pretending to be high and lose his balance. The man caught him and wrapped his arm around his waist.

“This way,” he said before leading Diesel through the doors and into the darkness of the private club.

Inside, another host waited to greet them.

“Welcome, Mr. Yellow; how are you this evening?”

“Great, good. Where’s my stuff?” the man asked, seeming impatient with the interaction. Diesel wasn’t sure what that was all about.

The man who greeted them gave him a smile before pulling a small baggy from his suit jacket and handing it to Mr. Yellow.

“If you don’t mind,” the man said.

“Yeh, no problem.”

Diesel felt powerful hands grab him, then spin him around so that he was facing Mr. Yellow.

“Here, take this,” Diesel’s date growled, shoving a pill into Diesel’s open hand.

“What is it?” he heard Zero’s voice whisper in his ear.Oh yeah, the guys were still listening in. His guardian angels.

“What’s with the red pill?” Diesel asked, hoping to answer Zero’s question while getting an answer of his own.

“It’s ecstasy. Don’t worry. It’s good. You’ll like it,” the rough man grumbled.

It wasn’t ecstasy.

Diesel had taken many pills and snorted many powders; he knew when he was looking at ecstasy, and that right there was no fucking ecstasy.

“Don’t take it,” he heard Marc’s voice say through his earpiece. “Ecstasy isn’t red.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he found himself saying out loud before he could stop himself.

“What did you say, boy?” the beastly man next to him asked, looking a little more than pissed off. “Just take the stupid pill, then we can go get you some more dope to sniff.”

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