Author's note: I know it may be politically incorrect to refer to a female actress as an actress, and that such distinctions may be deemed wrong, but it's my story, and I'll be politically incorrect if I want to. I'm making a stand against the over-regimentation of our world, and something like Literotica should be simple and straight, at least that's what I think. Power to the people who believe we would be fine without the majority of bullshit laws.
*
The nightclub was absolutely packed tonight. Jason watched warily as the throng of people, most of them supposedly undercover newspaper reporters, danced to the music. The Nhyte was the newest and most popular nightclub in town, and often boasted celebrity wonders such as Tara Reid and Lindsey Lohan if they were in the country, as well as any other brash wannabes whilst they were in Australia. Jason sighed and stretched his shoulders again, and his sister, Lauren, the bar manager, cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned.
At six feet and nine inches tall, Jason Trojus looked much like a refugee from the WWE. At one time he'd tried out for the Olympics in weightlifting, but he was far too tall. He was a solitary man by nature, incredulously preferring a good book or a movie to playing team sports. He was well trained in Baja, Thai kickboxing, and had spent several hectic months in the Australian version of the Ultimate Fighting Championships, winning the heavyweight title four times.
A native of inner city Melbourne, Jason had grown up fighting for respect, and when he hit his twenties, found the easiest way to win respect had nothing to do with fighting. He discovered quite a talent for wood turning, and being a night owl, began to look for part time jobs to help with the income that began to build from his wood turning. Now a quietly wealthy man, he kept his job as a bouncer because he enjoyed getting out every now and again, and the pay was good.
When his sister had called to say that she had gotten a new job managing a night club and needed a head bouncer, Jason had at first been sceptical. He'd gotten his crowd controller's licence ages ago, when he was first uncertain that he'd be able to support himself. Sort of like a plan B. With his immense size, there were very few people who would object to his "quiet suggestions". When the occasion called for it, he was always more than capable of handling any trouble.
Tonight was just like any other night. At least it started off that way. The new show to hit Australian shores was Boston Legal, and some of the cast were doing a whirlwind tour to promote it. Rumour ran rampant that one or two of the stars might drop by the Nyhte and make an appearance. The rumours were given a fair amount of credulity when "inconspicuous" security guards began to arrive at around eight-thirty to give the place a quick evaluation.
Several bodyguards had already begun to give Jason the wary eye, wondering if he'd be an asset to them or if they could take him out should the need arise. Jason's answering grin was rather wolfish, and many of the guards looked away. There was a sudden clamour in the middle of the dance floor as a shout was given, then cameras appeared everywhere, and flashbulbs began to explode. Jason could hear a cultured British voice rising above the others, and the security guards rushed forwards, but could only make things worse as they attempted to push around the paparazzi swarm.
Jason sighed as Lauren gestured to the floor. It only took him about eight steps, and he was in the middle of an impromptu brawl. Calmly, he sorted out the key players, and signalled to the bouncers now ringing the dance floor. As the troublemakers were weeded out, Jason spied a young woman with long auburn hair struggling to free herself from a dancing buffoon's drunken grip. The security guards couldn't get to her, and she looked about desperately for help.
Jason stepped up behind the man and put one of his huge hands on the man's shoulder. The man turned slowly, and the young woman stared. The drunk snarled and to Jason's shock, reached back to hit him. His forearm rose, and the drunk's knuckles bounced off of solid muscle. In a sudden rage, the man backhanded the woman, who spun the floor, and Jason growled. He reached out and took two steps, and the man's collar was in his.
One quick punch was all it took, and the drunk was flattened against the polished steel chequer-plate floor. The woman was holding her hand to her lip, and Jason could see blood. Fire flared in his eyes, and he grabbed the unconscious form of the drunk by the collar, and bodily hauled him to his feet. When the man sagged again, Jason contented himself with lifting him by his collar. He offered his hand to the young woman, who looked up at him.
Rhona Mitra, the young British star of Boston Legal. Indian-Irish parents, and one of the most sensually enchanting people he'd ever seen. He cleared his throat and blushed. She was dressed in a filmy white blouse with ruffled edges and acid washed jeans. Her hair was tied up in a simple bun, with several strands artfully draped around the incredibly smooth lines of her chin. Her white blouse was tied together with a dark blue ribbon, and sat against her dark flesh as though painted there. The actress shyly smiled and took his hand. Jason tried to speak, but couldn't; the noise, he told himself. He gestured to the front door and she nodded wordlessly.
Once they had cleared the floor, flashes began to erupt all around them, until Jason frowned. One look at the unconscious man in his hand, and the photographers magically melted away. Beside him, Rhona laughed quietly, and shadowed her giant protector. In a few moments, they were in the cool night air. One of the bouncers stepped forwards, and Jason shoved the drunk towards him. "Take that piece of shit to the blues, will you? We'll be by in a while to make a statement." The bouncer nodded and hauled the man up the street. Jason turned back to Rhona.
"You alright...?" He trailed off as she pulled her hand away from her lip, and the cut that still bled profusely. Jason frowned again. He looked up and down the street, but as it was only 9pm, there were no taxis hovering around yet. His frown deepened as Rhona shivered. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The well-worn leather was soft and warm, and Rhona inclined her head to him. Jason cleared his throat and took hold of her elbow.
"Come on, then. I'll get you cleaned up, and then I'll take you down to the police station." She nodded and went to follow him, but one of her security guards grabbed hold of Jason's arm.
"Uh, excuse me, sir, but Miss Mitra has her own team, and we'll be happy to..." He was cut off as the young woman raised her arm angrily, her other still pressed to her bleeding lip.
"Like bloody hell, you are," she spat, her fury making her dark amber eyes flash angrily. "You were too busy trying to get laid to do your bloody job. You're fired!" The security guard's lip curled.
"You can't fire me, Miss Mitra. I'm in the employ of the studio, not yourself. I'm your guard for this evening irrespective of your wishes." He smirked at her and Jason hit him. With that, he took Rhona across the road and under the railway line. His house was only a couple of minutes walk, and the chill wind made any attempt at conversation pointless.
Once they were on the other side of the road, he walked quickly to his front door, and opened it wide. He was shaking his head and muttering to himself as she passed, and Rhona stepped into a world totally different from the unassuming front door and small garden she had passed.
