Crusher’s struggles to dislodge her position looked an awful lot like pelvic thrusts. Small quick flashes of humping hips and cock and balls hinted at the truth. As the grunts and growls of sex-wrestling peaked with the action, Michelle stopped toying with the man. She leaped up from atop his cock, hopping forward to wrap her thighs around his head. She straddled his face and held him down long enough for a shocked-stunned referee to stutter off a three-count.
“Yes! That’s my girl!” Aaron hooted at the top of his lungs with a fist in the air. His voice rang out across the silent arena.
Michelle stood up, soaking wet with Jell-O, legs splayed wide atop the Crusher, his oozing come evident on her inner thighs. The crowd was silent in awe at the sudden turn of events, starring at Aaron as if he was mad. Michelle glared at them all with her insanely wild green eyes and threw her hands in the air in celebration of the conquest. The crowd went insane, clapping, screaming, whistling and hammering drum beats on the railing of the arena. A standing ovation for the queen of carnality who defied the laws of physics to pin a man twice her size. The Crusher ambled out of the arena a seemingly broken man, emasculated and dazed from the experience.
Michelle received her trophies in the buff, Jell-O and jism dripping off her glistening wet naked body. Many in the crowd assumed she was a scripted part of the show, in utter disbelief what they witnessed was truly real.
One couple whispered as they walked past, “Is that legal? I mean this is Vegas, but can you have sex in front of a crowd like that? That’s gotta be illegal.”
Ana and Aaron received Michelle in an embrace. They wrapped her in a towel and whisked her away from the adoration and fascination of the crowd.
“What are you doing?” Ana pushed on Aaron as he walked straight into the women’s bathroom with both girls, oblivious to the impropriety.
“I’m not letting you two out of my sight.”
* * * *
Chapter 23
Squeezed together in a bathroom stall, Anastasia administered the last two remaining doses of heroin to her vampire lovers. They emerged from the bathroom completely lit, ready to party like rockstars. Shamus, the DJ-announcer, a tall thin man, approached the three of them cautiously as they exited the women’s bathroom. He started to back away as he noticed the wild eyed gazes of Aaron and Michelle, but Ana seized onto his arm excitedly, cutting off his escape.
“Oh, I’m glad I caught you!” That’s exactly how he felt, caught. His every instinct was to bolt. There was something very wrong about them. Aaron pegged him with a hungry look, a predator recognizing the scent of its prey, the scent of fear.
Ana held him in place. “We need two dancers, girls, for a private party!” She was on a roll with her latest idea, “Are there any girls available to leave? We have a limo outside.”
The vampires hugged and kissed and rubbed all up and down each other hungrily. As Ana made her proposal, they both focused on Shamus, giving him the undivided attention of their insane, heroin-blasted smiles. He imagined they would haul him off to their limo if he couldn’t accommodate them.
Shamus addressed Michelle. “Um, my boss wants to offer you a job tomorrow night, a repeat performance in the Jell-O arena. He loved it. Great stuff.” He had trouble mustering any enthusiasm to pitch his bosses offer. They kept looking at him like he was a big juicy piece of steak.
Michelle’s eyes defocused, she looked at Aaron, who looked at her. Something passed between them, and she pegged Robert with her entrancing gaze.
“I would like that very much!” She stepped up into his face and caressed his cheek with the tips of her way-too-long, sharp nails. “Why don’t you send the girls with us for the night and I will consider returning for the show tomorrow. Unless you would like to play with me?” She licked her lips carnivorously, reaching down between his legs to measure his potential.
Shamus blanched. He backed away. “Ah … I’ll go get a couple girls. I’ll be … right back.”
Ten minutes later they were escorted out the front door and down the red carpet to their waiting limousine, two female beauties in tow. The bisexual strippers had been chosen carefully, explicitly warned to expect a wild finish to their night.
* * * *
Anastasia fixed shots of Patron for her and the strippers as they cruised the Vegas strip. All three girls knocked back several shots apiece while the vampires proceeded to get naked. They had barely been able to maintain the façade of humanity in the strip club. Once in the limo, they dropped the act, attacking each other ravenously.
Brandy, a short-haired blond with a slim svelte body joined in. She slipped off her form-fitting tank top, exposing her perky little breasts. The other girl, Mandy, a more voluptuous woman with long auburn curls and freckles, proceeded to crawl across the carpeted limo floor like a cat, working her way into Aaron and Michelle’s laps. She undid her bra, generous breasts with huge pink nipples burst out into both vampire’s faces as she shared one with each of them. Brandy slinked her way out of her miniskirt to slide into the foray, bumping hips with Mandy to make room atop Michelle’s lap.
Ana staggered her way over to fall into the mix, a giggling tumble of female flesh. Asses, tits, warm wet thighs, rubbing-playing-carressing. Several sets of hands vied for Aaron’s solitary cock. The competition was fierce for the only penis in the limo. They each had their turn, some more than others, some more than they could handle.
By the end, when all the humans in the limo had their fill and then some, it came down to the two vampires still going at it. Aaron had Michelle down on the carpet, her claws sunk in for purchase against his slamming thrusts from behind. She tried her best to maintain on hands and knees, but he shoved her down face-first, as he bellowed with his orgasm emptying into her.
Anastasia sat on the floor, naked, so drunk she could hardly walk. She mewled to Aaron, reaching out to tug on his arm as he lay collapsed atop Michelle. “I love you so much!” Her speech heavily slurred. “Marry me, now, tonight!”
She tried to sit up, lost her balance, flopped over on her side, legs spread eagle. The two girls Mandy and Brandy both gasped in horror. Ana’s inner thighs were pinkish-red. Yet again, he’d given her what she wanted, wicked-rough sex, and it was more than she could safely handle. Michelle did what she had done from the first night. She administered first aid to their pet via her magnificently long tongue.
The strippers looked at each other in silent agreement. Things had gotten way too freaky, even for them.
“Can you just let us off at the next intersection? We’ll take a taxi from there.” Brandy spoke with panic in her voice as she slipped back into her miniskirt and tank top as fast as possible. Mandy was right behind her, dressing with urgency as they tried not to stare at Michelle and Ana.
Mandy added, “We really need to get going, we’ve got to get home. It’s already four in the morning. I have a day job too.” Her voice had gone into a begging tone. The girls wanted off this ride and now.
Ana giggled and smiled as Michelle took care of her. Brandy tapped on the glass partition separating the chauffer and repeated her request, her voice almost shrill in its urgency. Ana was lost in the moment, her fingers tangled in Michelle’s golden curls, her hips pumping in time to the tongue.
Aaron shoved a pile of twenties into Mandy’s hand. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” He laughed at her as she backed away with a fistful of money, stumbling out the door backwards, unwilling to take her eyes off him.
Ana started in on him again as she peaked hard in Michelle’s face. “Please! Marry me! Tonight!” She pleaded with him, screaming with her orgasm. He could never deny her.
He married Anastasia Lucilla Makarova in the Viva Wedding chapel before an Elvis minister. They made entrance into the chapel in a convertible 1964 pink Cadillac. Elvis drove. It was the classic Vegas wedding, each partner blasted out of their minds. Ana was trashed on liquor and venom, and Aaron faded on enough high grade heroin to give three junkies a coronary.
Michelle laughed so hard she cried while snapping photos of their fabulous drunken pet staggering around, trying to straighten her veil. Aaron scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way to the alter, she couldn’t walk anymore.
In the limo, Michelle instructed the driver to return to Camden Estates, Demarco’s house. Aaron growled, “Why are we going back there?”
“For the rest of the kilo.” She pegged him with the stare. The issue was not up for debate.
They arrived at Demarco’s house scant minutes before sunrise. He carried his sleeping bride to bed, removed her clothes and administered another treatment of first aid. They cuddled around their precious pet and slept like the dead as the sun peeked over the horizon. Ana dozed in peaceful contentment, her husband wrapped around her protectively. It was the best moment of her life. She’d never been happier or felt more cherished and loved.
* * * *
Chapter 24
Kramer awoke first thing in the morning. He had to find out what the hell was going on with Demarco. His life depended on it. He recalled Juan Carlos’s blatant threats when Demarco didn’t answer the door last night.
“Dis is gonna be a problem. You got till tomorrow night gringo. I’m coming back to your casino tomorrow night. Better have the rest of my fuckin money and some answers. If he’s buying somewhere else I wanna know!” JC had left him standing there at Demarco’s front door, scared shitless.
By noon he’d left so many messages he filled up Demarco’s voicemail box. He’d driven past his house three times. The Black SUV was parked out front, covered in dirt, both driver and passenger side windows busted out. Something was seriously fucked up. He had a deep down twist in his gut, a fear he’d never known before. Is this how I’m going down? Fuck this! I’m not dying for that piece of shit! I’ll just have to pay the other fifty thousand and try to find a place to unload the coke. Demarco can go to hell. After much deliberation, he decided to call a personal friend and business associate, Michael Jamison, a private investigator.
“Yello, Jamison speaking, how can I help you?”
“You still haven’t figured out how to use the caller ID? You can’t see it’s me calling you? Kramer?”
“Yep, that and my VCR, still can’t figure out how to set the damn clock for auto-record.”
He snickered. It was a standing joke between them. Mike employed some very pricey high tech spy gadgetry in his investigations, but he seemed to be behind the curve on consumer electronics, still using a VCR.
“Have you taken it in for warranty work, maybe there’s something wrong with it.”
“I’m pretty sure that warranty expired about ten years back.”
“Gonna have to bite the bullet and start buying Blue Rays.”
“Do they have Fletch on Blue Ray?”
“I’ll have my assistant download it and burn it off on DVD. She can get anything off the web, even ‘Leave it to Beaver’.”
“Deal. We’ll work it in on a credit with the next invoice. So what can I do for you?”
“I have a problem. Basically it’s a security concern.”
“Alright, I can be there in say an hour. You available then?”
“That works for me, I’ll buy you lunch if you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.”
* * * *
Michael Jamison arrived right on time. They greeted each other in their customary handshake.
Kramer began immediately. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. That’s one of the things I like about you. You’re always right there when I need you, very professional.”
Mike smiled at the overt ego stroking.
Kramer continued, “There’s a young couple I’d like you to track down for me. Take a look at this security footage and tell me what you think.”
Kramer showed him the highlights of the confrontation with Aaron from the hallway security cams outside his hotel room. He was taken aback as he watched Aaron dispatch both guards and then turn on Kramer an instant later. It all happened in a blur of movement, leaving fallen and broken men.
From his military days and Special Forces training, he immediately recognized Aaron as an especially formidable combatant. Noting the black-haired woman’s amusement, she was obviously familiar with Aaron’s physical dominance in a fight. The scene struck him with a sense of otherworldliness, sending a chill down his spine. He was intrigued. Kramer really had something interesting here. After all his boring days spent chasing down the mundane, a truly exciting mystery presented itself for his study.
He asked, “Is that in real time?” Kramer nodded yes.
“He’s a quick little bastard.” Kramer replayed it again, slowing it down, but Aaron’s moves were still blurred, the camera couldn’t keep up with him.
“That’s an understatement. Can you slow that down more? I’d like a close up view.” He scooted up to the monitor.
Kramer adjusted the video with a few deft clicks of the mouse.
“Whoohee! He smacked you a good one eh?” He looked to Kramer, who took the ribbing in stride.
“Ohh yeah. I’m still sore from that, left me a bruise the size of his damn hand. But that was nothing compared to the security boys.” Kramer pointed to the officers frozen on screen. One on the floor, and a large Samoan standing back out of reach, his face a grimace of pain.
“The one he dropped, Marine, six months out of Iraq. Kid broke two of his ribs. He’s on a week’s paid medical leave. The monster who looks like he’s about to cry, his forearm’s broken in three places. He’s sitting behind a desk for the next month.”
Kramer looked him straight in the eye. “What do you think?”
He exhaled heavily and ran his hands through his hair. “I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley, that’s for sure.”
Kramer looked at him expectantly, anticipating a more in-depth answer.
He was gonna have to give a professional opinion. “I suspect he’s had some advanced combat training. Do you know if he’s ex-military? Special Forces?”
Kramer shook his head no.
“Here’s the background check I did on him, just the web-based stuff available with a few mouse clicks.” Kramer handed him a folder marked ‘Aaron Pilan’. “Until a few weeks ago, the kid was nothing but a waiter in New York, a nobody.”
“Okay. So what do you want?”
“Find out everything you can about him and the blond, her name’s Michelle. I don’t have a dossier on her. I don’t even know her last name.”
“Is that all you called me for? I can have a thorough background on him in a few hours. If that’s all you wanted you could’ve sent me an email.”
“There’s more.” Kramer paused, seeming to carefully consider his words. “I think Aaron’s responsible for a kidnapping. A close friend of mine has gone missing. He was last seen with the blond and Aaron at his home here in Vegas. I think they have done something with him. His name’s Alexander Demarco, and I haven’t been able to reach him since yesterday. He was supposed to meet me last night, he didn’t show.”
What the hell was going on here? This sounded hinkier every second. There’s something Kramer’s not telling me. “So … you’re really looking for Demarco. Why didn’t you say that to begin with?”
Kramer looked away, awkward. “Mike, the security situation starts here in the casino. They connected with Demarco here at a VIP party night before last. I’m hiring you to investigate via the hotel account. It all comes back to Aaron Pilan. Track him down and you’ll find both Demarco and Michelle. Here’s the address where they were last seen, Demarco’s home in Camden Estates.”
“So … they just met here at a VIP thing, followed him home, and you expect they would still be there at his house?” He eyed Kramer, trying to get to the bottom of his secrets. There was some subterfuge here. Kramer’s hiding something, but what?
Kramer leaned back in his chair, looking off into the distance through the window. “Ahh, well, she works
as an escort at times. Perhaps I failed to mention that. As to why she’s still at his home, of that I can’t be certain. It’s the only start point I can give you. Hopefully something will turn up from there. You’re the miracle worker. Work me a miracle.”
Though the situation stunk funky as hell, he was intrigued. Definitely the most interesting thing going on in his life at the moment. “Okay … you know my rates, nothing’s changed. Five thousand deposit up front and a hundred fifty an hour plus expenses. I’ll bill you weekly. Is that everything?”
“I don’t expect this to go on for weeks, or even days. You can keep that deposit if you find out what the hell happened to Demarco in the next twelve hours. I need you to start right away, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”
He observed Kramer closely. He’d already decided to do just that. “Sure. For you I’ll do it. You can count on me.” Guess I’m not getting that free lunch after all.
Kramer handed him the check he’d been holding for several minutes. They shook on it and he headed out into the scorching hot Vegas sun to stake out Demarco’s house.
* * * *
Mike arrived at Demarco’s house at three in the afternoon, parking his car across the street. He set up a digital camcorder on the driver’s side visor and sat back to wait. He was accustomed to whittling away the hours doing the waiting game. Sometimes it seemed like he’d been waiting all his life. For what? Who knew. This is why I make the big bucks. Nobody wants to sit out here for hours on end doing nothing, waiting for something that may never happen.
As he sat listening to the quiet murmur of the radio, he mulled over his conversation with Kramer. His ability to discern the undercurrents in people’s hidden lives was integral to this line of work. Kramer had some serious undercurrents going on. Desperate. Kramer had seemed like a desperate man.
The Nightlife: Las Vegas (The Nightlife Series) Page 17