Human Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Chewing my lip, I debated my options. He wanted me to brave the masses in order to stick my dainty paws in his Speedo. In the meantime, I would have to try to avoid being trampled, felt up, knocked to my knees, and my precious corner table nabbed by someone else. Where was Indiana Jones when you needed him?

  Meat's eyes peered directly into mine from his place at the front of the room. His grin taunted even as he tilted his head, indicating my time had arrived. He shimmied closer, hips thrusting in lewd suggestion, and blatant challenge.

  Grabbing up the two five dollar bills, I headed to the stage, snaking past one group of women, and elbowing through others. Sweat broke out from the efforts to even make it close enough to reach him. Or maybe the heat from the spotlights held responsibility. After all, Meat shone with it, too.

  I experienced a mysophobia inspired moment. "No touchie! No touchie!" I had enough sweat of my own, didn't care to share anyone else's. Besides, who knew if they'd washed their hands after leaving the bathroom? Money held prestige as a big time carrier of nasty germs. Add to that the fact that nasty, money-infected, germy hands groped down some guy's pants that might or might not have washed lately. Come to think of it, wonder where that part had been right before his stage call? Ewwwwwww.

  With one final shove, I felt the edge of the stage against my belly. Looking up, I located the guy who already knew how to push my buttons and tapped my toes until he meandered back in my direction. No way would I relinquish my front row seat after such a battle to get that far.

  He found me amongst the crowd and his grin widened. The recently discarded shirt lay on the stage floor already. Keeping his gaze locked onto mine, he tugged the leathers hard enough the Velcro gave way. A dark line of hair led from his belly button downward, meeting up with the only material left on his body. My eyes followed it down of their own volition. I stared up at a black leather thong with a quite noticeable bulge in the front. Blinking, I stood transfixed at the scene in front of me. I could have sworn he laughed at me.

  The woman next to me cooed as she tucked money into that Speedo, indicating that he should look her up after this dance, as she would love to do things I didn't dare think about, let alone repeat.

  Gripping the money, I waited for my opening. He wiggled, the bulge didn't even budge inside his skivvies.

  Which brought about another question. Are those things supposed to move inside their confines? Or are the thongs too tight they are almost glued into place? Maybe he sprayed that sock with the stuff that beauty pageant ladies sprayed on their rears to keep the swimsuits from riding up?

  Ow! The woman next to me stomped my toe in her effort to get closer to her "newfound love." I decided to complete my mission and fast before I ended up road-kill after all. Reaching out, I waited until just the exact moment. I stood on tiptoe and reached as far as I could before snagging the edge of the black material. Closing my eyes, I pushed the money downward, yanking my hand back in record time.

  I was quick. He was quicker.

  His hand grabbed my wrist, holding it in place. Soft, warm skin rubbed against my slack fingers. Glancing up, I found a taunting grin on his face, full of wickedness and pride at his challenge win. I tugged, but he didn't release my wrist. Instead, he thrust a couple more times.

  "Hey! Get your ass over here. I wanna put money in that strap of yours!" A slurred voice carried from a couple of lusty women down.

  With a wink and a smile of promise, he released my wrist and sauntered back across the stage, gathering bills as he went.

  I turned my back, still flushing, and tromped back to the tiny table that miraculously remained vacant. Plopping down, I felt my temper rise. Meat meant to embarrass me, probably a direct payback for my de-thonging him in the past. Next time I found my hand in his drawers, I would squeeze that prominent area and find out once and for all if the contents were really Meat's meat or just a sticky sock tucked strategically underneath.

  Meat's set had been over for approximately fifteen minutes when I caught sight of him coming through the side door leading offstage. He wore the same blue jeans with the hole in the right knee from earlier. Must be a leftover from his monk days. They spent lots of time on their knees so it would probably wear that area out in their clothing frequently.

  He slowly ambled over, took the remaining chair, spun it around, and sat facing me.

  I sipped my water and watched the action on stage, ignoring him.

  "Cat got your tongue?" he inquired, his mouth hinting at a teasing grin.

  I shrugged, unsure why he irritated me so much. Sure, I felt embarrassed by that onstage performance and my part in it, but normally I was fairly easygoing, I wouldn't typically be miffed at someone for such a token episode in the scheme of life.

  "I heard this vicious rumor backstage just now," he tossed out.

  That got my attention. I quietly took the bait. "And, what was that?"

  He reached out to grab a beer off the tray of one of the waiters before answering. "Seems I'm a lousy date." He popped the cap and took a swallow, his eyes staring into mine. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

  I blinked up at him. "Who, me?" Yeah, the squeak sealed my innocent plea. So, I might have mentioned that idea in passing to the clan at the table behind me. Who knew it would spread to the whole club by now?

  He just shook his head and scanned the room.

  "Do you have a real name?" I asked when the silence grew uncomfortable.

  His attention flicked back to me. "Yes." He took another drink before his gaze returned to the action on stage.

  I tapped my fingers on the table, yet no more words came from him. Jeez. It was like interviewing Frankenstein, the monster, not the doctor. Grunt once for yes, twice for no.

  "Nut."

  "Baby, I have nuts. I'm not one, though," he returned in a low, sensual voice.

  My face immediately flamed. Talk about blunt.

  The devil horns popped out. "Tasty when cracked?" I managed with only a tiny wry smile.

  He tipped his head back and laughed. As the chuckles faded, he leaned forward, arms crossed over the back of the chair, beer bottle in hand. The low voice sent shivers down my spine even as his eyes twinkled with wickedness. "You aiming to find out?"

  Oh, boy.

  CHAPTER 4

  I woke slowly, becoming aware of a couple of small items right off the bat. First of all, I needed to find a mattress sale. My current one felt hard as granite and didn't smell lavender-ish like my sheets normally did. Secondly, my head swam and my stomach verged on rebellion. Very odd. I couldn't recall ever waking with that sensation before. I pushed against the mattress. No such luck. The hardness remained as unforgiving as before.

  Last night's activities returned in a flash. Club. Dancers. Bottled water. Puzzle pieces fell into place. They spiked my bottled water? Who?

  The boys! Panic washed over me like a tsunami, immediately receding when I recalled that my adoptive father had offered to watch the boys for a few days since I needed to spend a few evenings at the exotic dance club gathering data, which gave me time to complete my research project and enjoy a small token of freedom without numerous interruptions. With my primary concern addressed, I returned to the gigantic issue at hand.

  Scurrying, I sat up, opened my eyes to see the image of Meat bobbing in front of me. It took a couple of blinks for the vision to steady and the three heads to merge into one. "You kidnapped me for a night of some perverted debauchery?" My intention of sounding outraged sunk as my voice squeaked and rasped. Definitely not intimidating, darn it.

  A low chuckle sounded behind me. Twisting, my mouth fell open at seeing the person sitting there. This nightmare just got better and better.

  Perturbed, I swung back to Meat. "Correction. You kidnapped us for a night of perverted debauchery?"

  Meat shared a glance with our other companion before answering in a low rumble. "I didn't kidnap us. Someone else did."

  Stunned at that revelation, I took t
he opportunity to look around. My stomach sank at the scenery. Metal walls surrounded us, solid, without a single window or hole. An effective jail cell that offered no release. A single door sat to one end, presumably locked since the guys sat on the floor inside rather than free. No supplies, no furniture, no boxes sat in the modest-sized room, thus no comfort and little avenue of escape.

  "Seems we found the slavery market on the first try." This from the blond fangy behind me.

  Slavery market? Oh, he didn't just say that, did he? My heart nearly stopped at the images that word brought to mind. "Would someone please care to explain what's going on? Where are we? What happened?"

  Meat released a long sigh. "There were people disappearing from the club, rumored to be sold into slavery in some foreign country. I was investigating. My side job as a PI," he added when I shot him a look. "Local police begged a favor. Since the disappearances happened at my club, I volunteered to help."

  "I thought you were a dancer?"

  "That's my full time job. My PI stuff is a part time business, mainly as a hobby than for extra income."

  "Wait. Slavery? If that's the case, why are you two here?"

  "Rotten luck." Ducky grumbled.

  "What? You think slavery is limited to women?" Meat shook his head.

  He had a point. I pinched myself to make sure this wasn't a horrible dream after all. No such luck. At least clothing covered me appropriately, the same for my two compatriots. That counted for something.

  "One of the workers 'found'"—he did the air quotations—"you groggy and assisted you out of the club. We followed."

  A sudden thought hit me. "Why did you keep coming back to the table?"

  The corners of his mouth curled upward. "Babe, you were prime slavery bait, but you provided some humorous entertainment, too."

  A gasp escaped. I didn't know whether to be highly insulted or flattered.

  "Yeah. Blonde and brainless gets nabbed every time."

  Growling, I swung back to look at Dick of a Duck. "Takes one to know one."

  He didn't even blink. Instead, just sat with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up, looking relaxed. Vampires must have adventurous lives and are used to these kinds of situations.

  "What are you here for?" I asked.

  Ducky closed his eyes and rested his head back against the metal confines. "Moral support." Deadpan.

  Meat scooted forward from his sitting position against the same wall.

  The sound of waves caught my attention. Now that I thought about it, the floor made rocking motions. Oh, boy. This couldn't be good either.

  "As for where we are, I'm not sure. On a boat headed for some third world country would be my best guess." Meat glanced around our surroundings.

  "Oh, no. I can't be on a boat. I get seasick." A loud metal door slamming closed above us interrupted and sealed the location idea in my mind. "Did I mention I was claustrophobic, too?" I frantically scanned the small room; metal walls surrounded us with hundreds of dark gray metal bolts binding each panel together. If I didn't know better, I would say they were beginning to close in as well.

  "Why can't we do the James Bond thing, pull some saw thingy out of a shoe, and saw our way through the side?" Made sense to me.

  Meat gave me a droll stare before rolling his eyes. "Because dingbat, we're in the hull of the ship. Even if we had such a device that would miraculously cut through this steel, we would take on water. Think Titanic."

  "Oh."

  Ducky spoke up. "Yeah. All you have to worry about is drowning. I become crispy when they open that trap door during daylight hours."

  Meat nodded at him. Sympathy flashed across his features.

  Whoa. I missed something here. "What? You know about his sun… allergy?"

  "Uh, yeah."

  "Wait!" The light bulb kicked on for me. "You know one another?"

  "Again, Princess. Uh, yeah," Ducky answered.

  Oh, no. No, no, no. I can't be trapped inside this dark, ever decreasing sized hole with a vampy that would love nothing more than eating cute, sweet, and innocent humans like me. Talk about unfair. Mark the calendar for this being one of those really, really bad days that I shouldn't have gotten out of bed. Well, technically I guess I didn't make it to bed to begin with.

  Meat leaned in a bit closer. "You smell different."

  "What?" My dander climbed a bit higher. "I haven't showered in a few hours. I spent the evening being surrounded by masses of horny women who were sweaty and wearing enough perfume to out-smell a blood meal plant. I was drugged, my head is throbbing, the world still spins, and I may hurl at any second. Stinking is the least of my problems." I ended my tirade then opted to add one more thought, "Besides, I think I have to pee and soon."

  "Shhhhh. I'm trying to make out what they're saying." Meat looked over at Ducky. "Can you determine the language?"

  "Oh, I speak fish. Maybe that will help! Here fishy, fishy! Here fishy, fishy! Talk to me, fishy." Did I mention I lose a bit of touch with rational thinking when life throws kidnappers, a boat, and a cranky vampire in my path?

  A large hand smacked me across the nose. "Ow!"

  Ducky's gaze bored into mine, frustration radiated across his face. "Shut that up or I'll have you for a midnight snack. I'll save my sanity, my hearing, and have a full stomach all at once."

  Did that mean he hadn't forgiven me for accidentally knocking him down and making an ouchie of his knee?

  Meat interceded. "Okay, enough. Let's put our heads together and figure out a plan to get out of this. What are our assets?" He glanced from me to Ducky.

  "I can suck them dry." That from the vampy. "And moral support, of course," he chipped in.

  I frowned at that declaration. "Oh, jeez. Now there's a nice thought."

  Ducky sat forward, his royal blue silk shirt pulling tight over his toned chest and abdomen, leaning in to bare his teeth in my direction. "Yeah. And, what do you have to offer, Princess?"

  I looked up at Meat, met his eyes. Not sure if I should fess up, I chewed my lip in indecision. What if they held it against me? Told the other fang-possessed beings of my ability and I became a pack animal for their brethren?

  Ducky leaned a bit closer in anticipation. Another loud clang broke the silence.

  Considering we would probably drown or be killed, maybe it wouldn't hurt for a small secret sharing. "I can teleport."

  Both their eyebrows shot up. Then Ducky ruined it with his skepticism. "And you can hit your target?"

  Why do people always ask that question? Can't they just be satisfied with the fact that I can do the trick? I shrugged. "Well, fairly often."

  Meat blinked. The silent treatment again. The agony! I can't stand it!

  "Okay. Fine. Basically never. But anywhere is better than here, right?" I crossed my arms over my chest for emphasis.

  Ducky snorted and sat back, bracing himself against the steel wall once more. "Yeah, she would teleport us out of here and into the middle of the stinking ocean to be shark bait. Much lovelier way to expire."

  "Hey! I wouldn't do such a thing." Well, not intentionally anyway. Come to think of it, I guess that was a possibility. Drat.

  Meat sat silent. I could almost see the hamster wheel turning in his head. "That may come in handy later." He spoke in low tones, probably talking to himself.

  Monks probably talked to themselves often, especially those vowed to silence. He more than likely debated which took the ribbon for worst situation: sex slavery or back to those bus-pulling chores at the monastery.

  His phrasing caught my attention. "What do you mean later? This room is stifling already." I pulled out my shirt and fanned my chest with it. "Maybe they're going to steam us to death like lobsters?"

  Ducky snarled at me. "Don't breathe so much. I think the oxygen level is getting low. In fact, if you would quit yapping, I'm sure we'd have plenty of air left."

  I blinked. Surely he pulled my leg. Ships had vents. Air locks. Space between the nuts and bolts. An
xiety began to set in. What if he was right? What if we were destined to die of asphyxiation? Breathing in deep, I realized maybe Ducky had an important point. The air seemed to be thinner already. Would panting make the air disappear less quickly? I gave it a try, earning another scowl from the vamp. Perhaps breathing shallowly would save more air than breathing deeply? How about holding my breath for short intervals?

  Meat's face flashed. Yep. His light bulb just went on. "This can't be the first time they have kidnapped people. We just go along for the ride until we find out where the others are. Then we can make our escape and save the others as well." He literally beamed with his intellectual answer.

  Custer must have had the same smug expression right before his famous last stand. For some reason, I didn't want history to remember me shot with arrows and scalped. Oh yeah, didn't they stuff the only survivor of that battle and place him in a museum for all to see, too? A cold chill sped down my spine. Self-preservation rose. "Go along for the ride? Do you know what they do to women they have taken for slaves?" I wanted to thump the tall, broad shouldered, dark-haired man beside me in the back of the head.

  "Oh, don't worry. You won't make it to slavery. In fact, I'll put money on the fact they toss you off the boat before we ever make it to port," Ducky replied.

  My mouth fell open.

  "Here, sharky, sharky!" Ducky taunted and chuckled.

  Gritting my teeth, I tried to control the overwhelming urge to whap the meanie. Maybe I should kick the moron in the bad knee? Definitely tempting.

  "Maybe you can speak shark, too?" he added before holding his gut and laughing at my expense.

  Tossing my quickly unraveling braid over my shoulder, I turned back to Meat. He seemed to be working through details of that harebrained plan of his.

  "What's your assets?" I asked.

  His gaze dropped as he mumbled his answer. "I'm a li…" A loud clanging of metal on metal above covered his voice.

  "You're a librarian? Jeez. That's helpful. What are you going to do, recite The Taming of the Shrew until they fall asleep from boredom?" I grouched at him.