by Stuart Keane
I should shop like that more often.
You might have to, for the rest of your life.
Now, as she stood in the hotel lift and thumbed the button for floor 6, someone beckoned to her, asking her to hold the doors. Tempted to ignore the request, but in a reasonably good mood, she slowly placed her thumb on the DOOR OPEN button. Seconds later, the doors halted and a man leapt through the thin gap. Breathing heavily and composing himself, he smiled, brushing himself down.
“Thanks,” he said, his breath coming in gasps.
“No problem.” Odette looked at the ceiling, wanting to keep herself inconspicuous. “Which floor?”
“Five, please.”
Odette pushed the button and stepped back, folding her arms before her.
“I’m Mike,” the man offered, holding out a wide, rugged hand.
Odette looked at it, smiled, and nodded. She didn’t shake it as the lift began to ascend. After a quick flick of her gaze, and catching a short glimpse of Mike, she returned her glance to the ceiling.
“Quiet type, eh? I get it. Sorry to ruin your day.” Mike turned away and began wrapping his white headphones around a portable device. “People don’t talk anymore, you know? I think technology has dampened their intelligence and made a majority of them social recluses. So, I’m sorry for trying to start a conversation.”
An awkward silence filled the small space between them.
“No, I’m sorry,” Odette said after three seconds, chuckling. “How rude of me.”
What the fuck are you doing?
Shhh, I got this, she thought.
You’d better. You might just blow our cover.
Mike smiled. “So, can I get the name of the damsel who saved a man in distress?”
Odette chuckled, and found herself blushing a little. The man’s grin was genuine, friendly and a little cute. It dimpled his cheeks in the centres and lit up his round face, making him seem approachable and handsome, in a quirky but unconventional way. He placed the listening device in the pocket of a trim leather jacket, and Odette realised his dress sense was immaculate. She prised her eyes away, fighting the urge to make conversation.
It didn’t work.
“You here on business?” she asked, mimicking the desk clerk from the previous night, her eyes scanning the buttons on the wall. Only floors 5 and 6 were lit up. The lift was slowing to a halt.
“I am.” Mike slipped a card from his pocket and handed it to her. “Best plumber in this lift car. Unless you’re a plumber, in which case that’s a blatant lie.”
Again, Odette chuckled.
“So, can I get your name?”
You’re not going to tell him, are you?
Why not?
The answer is fucking obvious.
Oh yes, don’t worry. I have this.
What the –
Odette held out a hand. “I’m Shay. Nice to meet you.”
X
+447745493071
Hi, S. Got your message on my old phone. This is my new number. I binned the other one. I’m now off the grid.
+447401877343
Hi, O. How you getting on? I already bagged number one. I hope you don’t mind that I broke the two day rule.
+447745493071
Hi, S. Yeah, using this new number to avoid detection. I bought a new prepaid phone today, and I’m so not used to it. The thing is fucking prehistoric. And no, that’s fine, I had a feeling you might start ahead of schedule.
+447401877343
Excellent. I managed to, how shall we say, obtain a new number? Lol.
+447745493071
Very resourceful. I went out and bought one, didn’t want to risk linking a victim’s phone to me. So … you have number one to your name?
+447401877343
Yeah. It was a little unfortunate, well for them. I was kinda hoping you would let me off with that one.
+447745493071
Let you off? How do you mean? You only had the one victim, right?
+447401877343
Well, yes. However, it was all a matter of circumstance, not planned. I had to improvise. I never really got a chance to be really creative, you know?
+447745493071
No, rules are rules. That counts as your first, no backsies. Besides, I have my first too.
+447401877343
All right, all right. Keep your tits on. Pray tell.
+447745493071
Nothing much to tell. Again, a victim of circumstance, wrong place wrong time. A taxi driver who tried to take advantage of me. What is it with men these days?
+447401877343
Lol. I gave my first man a clear choice, fuck me or die. Even though I’d probably not have stuck to my word, he made the wrong choice.
+447745493071
I think I’m starting to notice a trend in your work, S. Mind you, gotta get your kicks out of it, I supose.
Suppose. Fucking phone.
+447401877343
I don’t remember you being too backwards in the shower after we … finished playing with G. I’ve gotta get my kicks when I can. Talking of which, I’m out for a night on the tiles. I wanna let my hair down, it’s been four long fucking years.
+447745493071
Excellent. Looking for your second? I have some potential plans, something came up. We’ll see how that pans out.
+447401877343
My plans are to keep a low profile for a few days until I really step things up. I want you to see my next one in the headlines and immediately think of me.
+447745493071
I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for them. Right, I need some shuteye. Send me a progress update in the morning. Have a fun night out!
+447401877343
I’m sure I will. This place I’m heading to has a hell of a reputation. Speak soon, S.
XI
Shay sat in the back of the taxi watching the London nightlife zip past her window. The neon lights, the crowds of busy people out for a night on the tiles. She felt invigorated, it was the last of her free days tomorrow, the days of peace she had allowed herself before her proper killing spree started and potentially sent her into hiding, and she was determined to enjoy herself before this thing kicked off; she was going to have herself some fun, the most fun she could possibly have after being locked up for four long years.
She looked at the time on the dashboard of the taxi, it was nearly one in the morning. No point in getting there too early. If experience was anything to go by, the party didn’t usually get into full swing until a couple of hours after the doors opened.
The taxi driver glanced in the rear view mirror. “It’s just down this road, love. Do you want me to pull right up at the door or are you happy anywhere here.”
“Anywhere here is fine. How much do I owe you?”
The man pressed a button on the digital meter that was mounted upon the dashboard. He pointed to the display as it beeped. “That’ll be fifteen-fifty please, love.”
Shay handed the man a twenty-pound note. “Keep the change.”
The man thanked her and she jumped out of the taxi. She watched the man reset the meter, and the TAXI light illuminated on the roof of the black vehicle as he pulled away from the kerb. It was absolutely freezing, even with her newly purchased woollen coat. Shay could feel the bite of the cold on her skin. She smiled. Don’t worry. It’ll be warm enough when you get inside.
Looking into the distance, she could see the entrance; two huge door attendants stood in the opening and greeted the punters as they walked in. Even from this distance, Shay could tell that they were dressed appropriately for the party.
Ducking into the shelter of an abandoned building, presumably a former shop or takeaway restaurant, Shay pulled the small vial from her handbag. She flipped the lid, casting her mind back to the comment that the well-dressed guy in Soho had made before selling it.
Pure, top grade MDMA, strong enough to keep you buzzing with just one hit.
Carefully, she t
ipped out some of the powder onto the back of her hand. Attempting to keep her hand from shivering, she hoovered the powder up with her left nostril. Repeating the process, she did the same again and snorted the balance of the powder up her right.
She threw the empty vial carelessly to the ground and leaned against the wall for a moment, composing herself as the rush of the chemicals exploded in her brain. The feeling was immediate and intense; she felt fantastic, truly alive and ready for anything.
Suddenly forgetting about the cold, she turned and headed towards the entrance, a sudden spring in her step. Her heels clacked on the concrete. The two door attendants turned and stared in her direction, before the larger of the two spoke. “You are aware of the party tonight?”
“Of course, that’s why I’m here. The website said it was okay to pay on the door.”
“You are, but you are aware of the dress code?”
Shay smiled and slowly opened up her jacket, revealing her outfit to the doorman. She licked her lips, and couldn’t resist a smile as the two men paid attention to nothing but her.
The smaller one laughed. “Goddamn, you look hot. Get yourself right in.”
Shay thanked the man and refastened her coat. Stepping through the main entrance, she walked into a narrow dark corridor. The muffled sound of explosive, electronic dance music came from behind a double door at the end of the walkway. The excitement, coupled with the MDMA washing around her system, made her heart pound inside her chest. She approached the ticket booth and paid the entry fee with the stolen credit card. She moved to the next cubicle along, which was the cloakroom, and checked in her coat and handbag. She handed both to the clerk.
He was a young man with a goatee beard and a top hat, his face painted white apart from black mascara around his eyes. His lips shone with bright red lipstick. He wore a black leather jacket with a collar that folded up at the back of his neck. Hanging Shay’s coat and handbag, he returned to the hatch. “You’re number four-three-four. You want a ticket?”
Shay held out her hands at her sides. “Where would I put it?”
The man smiled. “Give us a twirl.”
Shay gladly obliged. She slowly turned, displaying the tight leather dress that hugged her breasts, her cleavage threatening to burst through the laces that were criss-crossed down the front of the dress, stopping just below her navel. The dress showed more than adequate skin. She turned and waved her rump at the man, the lace straps up the back of the dress, showing off the perfect curve of her spine, the bottom of the dress rising to just below her perfectly toned buttocks. To top the outfit off, she wore a long pair of black leather gloves that stretched up her arms and ended just above her elbows, and a pair of knee-high leather boots with a three inch heel, which accentuated the perfectly toned muscles on her calves.
The man licked his lips. “You look fucking fantastic. Someone is looking to have a good night.”
Shay purred at the man, the rush of serotonin swimming around her body increasing her confidence. “You bet my sweet arse I am.” She stepped towards the man, puckering her lips. “And if I don’t, there’s nothing to stop me coming back out here to have my way with you.”
The man laughed. “Sorry, that’s strictly against club rules, but trust me, dressed like that in here tonight; you’re guaranteed a good fucking night. Now go on, get in there.”
Shay blew the man a kiss and turned towards the door, as the muffled sound of music continued to thunder. She approached the double doors, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up in excitement as she waited for a brief moment; holding her breath. She rocked gently as she stood on the spot, the chemicals enhancing the experience.
She opened the main doors; the kick drum from the high-octane, electronic dance music hit her in the chest like a sledgehammer. Combined with the surge from the MDMA, it almost took her breath away.
Directly beyond the doors to the main entrance was a series of steps descending down into the first dance floor. She began to walk down them slowly, trying to ensure that she didn’t slip on her heels and make her grand entrance by falling on her face.
She thought back to the information on the website that she had found on Steve’s mobile phone:
Torture Garden. The world’s largest fetish and body art club, attracting an impressive 2,500 people to its monthly parties at the Electrowerkz venue. Features included dance floors, musical acts, performance art, fashion shows and an exclusive S&M Dungeon.
She walked down to the first dance floor. There were bodies everywhere, people were dancing and writhing against one another, oblivious to the strangers around them. A couple, a man and a woman, both greeted her in full leather outfits, complete with gimp masks. Neither of them spoke, the woman held out her hand and cupped Shay’s breast as she passed. She didn’t brush away the woman’s touch as she continued to move forward, pushing further into the crowd as the woman poked a tongue out from the slit in her mask, and waved it at her suggestively.
Red and blue lasers spun from machines attached to three steel frames that hung from the ceiling, throwing lights and strange optical illusions into the throngs of people. Everywhere that she looked, she saw black leather. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, the place was as hot as hell. The music continued to blast from powerful overhead speakers, and as she reached the centre of the first dance floor, she could hardly hear herself think.
The atmosphere combined with the drugs was making her feel euphoric. As she neared the front of the dance floor, her gaze was lifted upwards. Suspended from the ceiling at both sides of the stage hung four women, two on either side, both wearing nothing but leather basques whilst sitting writhing, kissing and stroking each other’s bodies in a customised sex swing. Shay stood and watched for a moment, her eyes transfixed on one of the women who spotted her. Leaning forward, the woman pulled down the other woman’s skimpy garment, revealing her bare breasts, and began to lap and bite at her nipples. The woman never took her eyes off Shay as she began to move her own hand down to her crotch.
The show was interrupted when, without warning, someone approached her from behind and placed their hands firmly upon her buttocks. Shay could tell from the strength and feel of the grip that it was a man. She didn’t turn around immediately, she slowly swayed her hips in time to the bass of the music whilst the hands tightened their grip, and slowly began to inch the hem of her skirt upwards.
The sensation of desire mixed with the increasing chemical euphoria polluting her brain was almost mind-blowing. Shay could immediately feel her arousal building. Placing her own hands over the ones that were caressing her rear, she removed them. In one swift movement, she spun around so that she was facing the stranger.
He was a young man, good-looking, with a strong chiselled chin and a friendly smile. He wore a leather cap on his head and a red, silk scarf around his neck. He was bare chested, slim, almost to the point of being too skinny. Shay twisted the man’s scarf around her fist a few times and pulled him towards her. Without a word, they immediately indulged in a heavy, passionate kiss. His tongue found its way into her mouth and she reciprocated, lapping at it greedily with her own.
After a few moments, he broke from the kiss and pulled Shay’s head back, using her hair for leverage. He began to gently bite and kiss both sides of her neck. His hands quickly moved down and began to fondle her breasts, and he attempted to slip his palm between the seams of her dress to continue his grope of her soft flesh.
Instinctively, she pushed the man away from her with the palm of her hand, not aggressively, just enough to distance herself from him. She wanted to make the most of the experience, and not settle for the first opportunity. She puckered her lips and blew the stranger a kiss before turning away and walking off into the crowd.
Shay walked past the few huddles of people. A man in a leather gas mask danced with another bald man wearing a spiked dog collar and chain around his neck. He stopped and admired her as she sauntered past. Despite the initial awkwardness o
f the situation, with the help of the drugs keeping her calm, she was beginning to relax and enjoy the experience.
She continued through the crowds, receiving the odd admiring look or caress as she passed. As she exited the dance floor, a middle-aged woman, slim but unattractive, and wearing a revealing leather nun’s outfit, stopped her, her palm placed upon Shay’s chest. The woman appeared to be heavily under the influence of numerous substances. She clutched a small bible in her right hand, and made the sign of the cross with her left whilst continuing to babble some incomprehensible nonsense.
Frowning, and becoming slightly annoyed, Shay attempted to repress the urge to plant her forehead directly into the woman’s nose. Instead, she walked straight past her and connected directly with the woman’s shoulder, which spun her around and swerved her out of Shay’s path.
She continued walking down a connecting corridor, the space dimly lit with red wall lights. The air was considerably cooler than on the main dance floor, and the sudden shift in temperature caused a massive spike in the effects of the MDMA she had taken. The walls were decorated with numerous posters, advertising party nights that had long since gone by.
Couples littered the corridor, engaging in sexual acts of varying degrees. It was completely out in the open, and it seemed that nothing was too depraved. Lesbian couples, gay couples, swingers, men and women alike. Shay observed as one stunning blonde woman in a costume not unlike her own placed a white tablet on her tongue, before placing it into the mouth of another equally beautiful woman. A few seconds later, the couple separated and the woman washed the pill down with a swig of her drink. The woman spotted Shay watching them and gestured for her to join them. Shay turned away without a word and continued on her way.