Blind Her With Bliss

by Nina Pierce

  Picking up the newspaper clipping, Julie laid it over the steering wheel. In the waning sunlight, she scanned the highlighted section of the article she’d nearly memorized. “Elvis Castonguay, owner of Starry Knights, a singles’ club in Bangor, has known Jason McCarty for several years. ‘Everyone here loved Jason. He was a good guy. We were surprised by his sudden death. It’s such a tragedy. But no one knows what he was thinking. Who ever really understands a thing like this?’ asks Castonguay of McCarty’s apparent suicide.” Julie folded the clipping and tucked it into her purse. “Well, Elvis, I’m thinking you may know more about Jason’s death than you mentioned to the papers and I intend to find out what it is.”

  She rechecked the directions she’d printed from the internet, disappointment flooding through her when she realized she’d followed them correctly. The businesses along the city streets had become increasingly more run down and the apartment buildings packed more tightly.

  The sign for Starry Knights parking area was little more than a hand painted arrow into an old lot. Warily, Julie bumped the Escort into a rutted parking space, wondering again if she’d completely lost her mind. She was no Miss Marple and this wasn’t some fiction novel. This was real life and there would be no handsome hero to save her from hidden dangers. She had only the can of mace in her purse to protect her.

  Surrounded by brick buildings on three sides, the parking lot had only a single streetlamp casting a feeble orange light over the cracked and worn pavement. Fear tickled the fine hairs on her neck. She couldn’t imagine Jason coming to this part of the city, let alone being a regular at the nightclub. And now that she was here, seeing the rundown building, Julie wasn’t sure she had the guts to go through with her plan.

  The shrill ring of her phone scared a gasp from her.

  “Julie, here.”

  “Hi, honey. It’s Mum.”

  The comforting sound of her mother’s voice was a sharp contrast to the unfamiliar surroundings. “What’s up, Mum? Everything okay? I thought Dee was there. I thought the three of you were going out tonight?” The questions fell out of her mouth in rapid-fire succession.

  Her mother chuckled. “Our Julie. Always the one to worry.” Alice Tilling let out a feathery sigh. “Everything’s fine, dear. We already went out. Your father isn’t feeling well, and he’s gone up to bed. It’s only nine-thirty, for goodness’ sake.” Julie caught the twinge of exasperation in her mother’s voice. “Deirdre left about a half an hour ago, and I guess I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. It’s such a beautiful night. I’m sitting in the backyard, sipping iced tea alone and listening to the crickets. Just wanted a little company. You’re not busy are you, honey?”

  It didn’t matter that the parking lot gave her the heebie jeebies. Her mother needed her and Julie didn’t have the heart to disappoint.

  She locked the doors, pulled the mace from her purse and settled into the seat. “No, Mum, never too busy to talk with you.”

  Chapter 2

  Damon stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the DJ platform. His dark glasses made it difficult to see in the dim lights of the popular Starry Knights nightclub, but they helped disguise his face, so he’d learned to deal with the inconvenience. Raking his fingers through his thick mass of curls, he tried to settle his jangled nerves. As many times as he did this, the minutes leading up to a gig never got easier. Damon was more of an introvert. He suffered through nights like this to keep lights on in his apartment and gas in the Harley.

  “Starry Knights is proud to present our guest DJ tonight!” The owner of the popular bar, Elvis Castonguay, was above him hollering into the microphone. The radio station had done a great job with publicity. The dance floor below was packed with die-hard fans working to drown out the owner’s introduction. “Let’s give it up for Demon Jones.”

  Damon hated his on-air name. The radio station manager had come up with it when Damon had first accepted the DJ job three months ago. “The Demon” they called him. Unfortunately, he had to act every part of that name while he was out in public. The radio station had made it part of his contract.

  Damon ran up the stairs to the thunderous explosion of applause and shrill whistles. People loved shock jocks.

  “How the fuck’s it going?” He yelled into the microphone as he settled his headset in place. “You bastards ready to get your freak on?” Damon hit the pre-set button, and the music boomed through the speakers. Three hours. He only had to insult this crowd and flirt with the patrons until midnight. He looked over the writhing mass of bodies. From his vantage point he had a great view of the crowd. Two women gyrating to the pounding rhythm flashed him.

  Okay, maybe there were some perks to his job.

  * * * *

  Julie hauled up the leather corset that had dropped a quarter of an inch on her rapid walk in from the parking lot. She hadn’t expected the outfit to expose so much of her bosom. But that’s what she got for indulging in fantasies and shopping on the internet. She yanked on the hem of the leather skirt trying to keep it from exposing her lacy thong. But pulling on it only dropped the corset again. She needed to stop fiddling. Sex kittens on the prowl didn’t worry about exposing too much skin. And that’s who she wanted to be tonight—a voluptuous vixen cruising for a wild night of uninhibited sex with a stranger. Hopefully that would get her into see the owner, Elvis Castonguay.

  Standing just inside the door of Starry Knights, Julie caught a couple of guys ogling her. Heat rushed up her neck, and instinct had her hand splaying over her cleavage. They both turned away. Stupid. The bulging eye reaction was exactly what she’d been hoping for when she decided to venture out of her comfort zone and buy the outfit. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out to be Julie Tilling, shameless sex goddess.

  And maybe she had simply expected too much from herself on her first visit to a bar. Julie hadn’t done the usual college experimenting that so many people enjoyed in their carefree youth. Valedictorians didn’t have much time for frat parties and bar hopping. But maybe it was time to change all that, even if it was nearly a decade too late.

  “Just go with it,” she mumbled, trying to boost her waning confidence. No one knew her here. She could be or do anything she wanted without repercussions. Buoyed by that thought, Julie threw back her shoulders and let her chest lead the way. Undulating to the thunderous cacophony of music and voices, the throng of people on the dance floor moved as a single mass of heated bodies. Someone grabbed her butt. Too stunned to acknowledge the intimate touch, she continued to maneuver her way to the bar. How did people do this night after night?

  “I’ll have an iced tea,” she shouted into the bartender’s ear.

  “Long Island?”

  “No, Delmont.” That was a strange question. Why would he care where she was from? Maybe he was just hitting on her.

  “The iced tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She leaned in seductively, offering him a view of her cleavage. The bartender lifted a shoulder and turned away. Story of her life.

  Leaning her back against the bar, Julie scanned her surroundings. The blue, red and yellow spotlights revolving over the heads of the revelers created a pulsing array of color and shadow. She could just make out the outline of people in the far recessed corners of the club. Subdued lighting at her back lit the bottles of liquor and provided ambient work light for the four bartenders, but did little to illuminate the patrons in front of her. Anonymity seemed to be a high priority at this club and that was just fine with her.

  Julie paid for her drink and stood at the bar, trying to get a feel for her surroundings. Sipping the iced tea, she swirled it in her mouth, savoring the unique blend the bar added to the mix. Whatever they did to it gave her favorite drink a nice kick. The pounding beat of the music and the push of people trying to get the bartender’s attention kept her nerves jumping. After the second slurred dance request, she gave up trying to relax into the situation and pressed into the crowd, hoping to blend in.

  She found a w
aist-high table at the edge of the dance floor, set down her drink, casually leaned an elbow and tried to enjoy the music. No sense looking like she didn’t belong. The bold moves of the dancing patrons in front of her caught her completely off guard. Not only were they enjoying the music—but each other. Hands flitted over body parts not meant to be touched in public. Women pressed against women, men danced with men, several groups of mixed sexes sandwiched each other in enticing gyrations that looked more like intimate seductions than casual dancing.

  The same sex thing didn’t bother Julie. Her baby sister was bisexual. Deirdre’s current lover was a wonderful woman and freelance writer named Brianna. What surprised Julie were the sexual overtones of the dances. That, coupled with the fact no one seemed to care she and everyone else was watching both stunned and excited her.

  A beautiful blonde moving in time with the music caught Julie’s eye. As if performing for Julie, the woman ran her hands up her torso and back down to her hips. Her tongue traced the curve of her parted lips. The man behind her, oblivious to Julie’s curious stare, cupped the woman’s breasts and pumped his hips against her bottom.

  Julie broke eye contact, but not before her body responded to the obvious invitation. The heat of embarrassment slid from her collarbone to her hairline as her nipples tightened, sending a warm quiver of need down her core. Gulping greedily from the glass beaded with moisture, she worked to cool the hot wash of arousal coursing through her body.

  Fortunately, the last pulses of music faded away and the dancers left the floor. All eyes turned to the platform above. Two women were cradled in the DJ’s muscular arms. His fingers splayed wide over their hips.

  “You ladies having a good time?” he asked.

  Their blonde tresses and breasts bounced enthusiastically.

  Julie had seen commercials featuring tonight’s DJ, Demon Jones, but nothing compared to the man standing above them on the stage, making her mouth water. She took a long pull on her drink as her eyes swallowed him. His dark hair was slicked away from his face, unruly curls falling around his temples. His trademark stubble accentuated the strong jaw and deep cleft in his chin. Pulling her bottom lip through her teeth, Julie wondered what it would be like to nibble at that jaw. She took several long pulls from her iced tea. Where had that come from?

  Demon Jones was the bad boy of radio. She never listened to the filth he passed off as entertainment. But looking up at him now, she understood why so many women were enamored by the man. He was a dark-haired Adonis. He dwarfed the women in his arms. Their heads were snuggled comfortably into the curve of his broad chest, and their hips pressed into his muscular thighs. The jeans he wore did little to hide his masculinity.

  How would it feel to run her fingers over that bronzed skin? Julie fanned her face, emptying her lungs in a loud rush of air. She drank down more iced tea, hoping to soothe her raw nerve endings. But the drink seemed to be adding flickers of flame to her blood rather than cooling it. Heat gathered between her thighs and Julie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but that only managed to slide the thong along her sensitive flesh.

  “Want to be part of the entertainment?” Demon asked the women.

  “Anything for you, Demon.” One of the blondes pushed her hand into his open shirt, exposing his strong pecs.

  Whistles and catcalls erupted from the floor.

  Demon looked down at the crowd. Even from this distance she could see the rakish smile and raised eyebrow. “Well, maybe later, darlin’.” The man on the platform rotated his hips, causing giggles to bubble out of the women. “You ladies ready to be part of the show?”

  Again with the head bobbing and boob bouncing.

  “Let’s hear it.” Demon raised his arms, and the crowd exploded. He pushed a button on the console, and the music thrummed through the speakers. He stepped back into the shadows, giving the women the spotlight.

  The crowd called out body parts they wanted to see while the women did a bump and grind. They lifted their shirts, teasing their audience with peeks at the soft underside of their breasts. They pushed at the waist of their skirts exposing flat bellies and lacy under things. Enthralled, Julie sipped at her drink. As if on cue, their shirts flew over their heads with the last beat of the song cascading down on the audience. Demon stepped around the women, his thick arms encircling their chests and covering their nudity. He swung them out of the spotlight. The next song pounded out a new rhythm, and the dance floor began moving wildly. Spectators became dancers once again, their rising libidos throwing them into a frenzy of sexual play.

  Julie’s straw vibrated as she gulped the rest of the cool libation. Her head spun in the dizzying heat of the bar. She could use another iced tea, but the bartenders suddenly seemed a long way off. Closing her eyes for a moment, she worked to control the light-headedness, but that only caused another round of vertigo.

  The music seeped into her muscles. She wanted to dance. Make that needed to dance. Julie clapped her hands over her head in time with the percussion of the music. Her legs were a little unsteady as she moved away from the table. If she had had any liquor, she would have thought she was a little drunk. But she hadn’t, only the tea. Had someone spiked it? She’d heard about that. Knowing the drink hadn’t been out of her sight, she dismissed the thought immediately.

  Her body swayed of its own accord, and she maneuvered her way deep into the mass of bodies, losing herself in the crowd.

  * * * *

  Half-naked bodies were everywhere, both men and women. It shouldn’t surprise Damon. That’s what Starry Knights offered its patrons—unfettered public exposure. The local cops knew what happened in the bar, but as long as no one got hurt, they left Elvis and his clientele alone. They probably would have shut down the club immediately if they knew what went on in the lower floors of the building. But they didn’t. He was one of the few people did.

  Only one more set. A mere twenty minutes separated him from his freedom. Then Damon would find a nameless beauty, leave with her draped over his arm and end the night looking like the Romeo of radio everyone believed him to be.

  He’d thought it a great perk when he first took the job at WKOR in Bangor. Female groupies were always looking to sleep with the bad boys of the airwaves. But the whole thing was becoming tiresome. He wasn’t cut out to be a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. Problem was it had become part of who he was. People expected him to be a playboy, especially his boss. It kept people listening and sponsors buying airtime. And when it came right down to it, the bottom line—not his self-respect—was all that mattered.

  Damon turned down the music. He hollered epithets into his mic, insulting and demeaning the crowd below. They went wild with enthusiasm. The more scathing his comments, the louder they chanted and clapped. Damon couldn’t help but laugh at the juxtaposition of his remarks to their actions. As long as he lived, he’d never understand the human psyche.

  “You’re animals,” he laughed out the words. Their howling calls wafted on the hot air currents drifting up from below. “Okay, time for a dance contest. You know the drill, if the spotlight shines on you, you’re on. What you do after that is up to you.”

  Damon raised the volume another couple of notches and the music pounded out, whipping the crowd into a frenzy of flailing arms and exposed skin. Spotlights crossed and flitted over the assembly. The guys in the lighting booth had been through the routine before. They’d been down on the dance floor throughout the night scoping out the crush of bodies, determining the right ratio of men and women. Starry Knights catered to all sexual orientations. Elvis prided himself on keeping his patrons happy. If that meant naked men, he’d give it to them. If tonight was more the heterosexual, lesbian crowd, he’d be sure his people offered them a bevy of beauties.

  Whichever the case, Damon was out of there after this contest was finished.

  * * * *

  Julie had no idea what was happening. The whole evening had been an overwhelming cacophony of sensual overload. T
he music had stroked her body like the bow of a violin, sending her taut muscles quivering with every pulse. She had danced with women and men, sometimes both. Their hands and mouths wandered her body without inhibition.