To my defense, when I had entered that bar that night with my friends, I didn't know the true purpose behind the shady looking place and to this day, wish someone could have at least told me. Warned me of my impending doom, not so much. Just told me what this place was behind the smoke and mirrors.
To me, it looked like a crappy bar that was off the beaten path that boasted of exotic drinks for dirt cheap. Of course, I'm a strictly beer kind of guy, but my friend Dave had insisted that this bar was the place to be, not only for the drinks, but the beautiful women and that's why I went.
The place was smoky and Dave had failed to mention that a large section of it was cut off for dancing, but I had little to complain about. Every woman was extremely beautiful in her own right, from the tall African queens that displayed their curving bodies to full show, to the petite pale princess who gleefully flashed her breasts and giggled when the men roared with approval.
I took a swig from my beer with a shit-eating grin on my face.
No, I couldn't object to the amount of beautiful women here.
Especially the half naked women that were in large amounts, dressed from intricate lace corsets, panties and garters to see through cloth and heels and only.
However, half into the night, one of the few men I had seen in the bar had sat down next to me at a stool and started to talk.
A lot.
I took a blurry look at him - I might have been on his fifth beer or so and tried to focus on his face. The man looked foreign, exotic, but old. His skin was wrinkled and thin-looking, like crushed tissue paper and his hands shook when they sat in his lap, one hand clasping and unclasping a fist every so often. He was dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, unwrinkled and looking as if he had just put the suit on rather than had it on all day and then went to this skuzzy bar.
Over the blaring music, I wasn't exactly sure what the old man was saying, so I kept nodding.
He would say something and I would take a swig of beer and nod.
"Is that so?" I would roar over the music.
He would nod and say something else.
"You don't say."
This awkward one sided conversation continued for several minutes, and before I knew it, the man had leapt off his chair, was clapping his hands, laughing and shaking my hands, yammering off in a language I now knew he never could understand and smiling. Then, he was gone, leaving me to my beers and exotic dancing women.
Of course, that was where my memory blacked out.
***
When I came to, I was laying in a bed that was definitely not my own. The sheets were silky against my bare back, I noticed first. I gingerly sat up, rubbing my aching head and taking in the room. The walls were painted red with tasteful art decorating the place every couple spaces between high windows draped with sheer linen cloth and cream silk. Flowers of all kinds of white and creams were sitting in vases around the overly large bedroom, from the sitting room near the windows that appears to be doors to outside balconies, to beside the bed on the nightstand. The carpet was pure white as well as the curtain drapes that acted as a canopy shade in the giant bed I was currently in. Right in front of me was the door that opened almost the moment I woke up with a killer hangover and the ancient man, followed by two other men in black suits wearing those clichéd sunglasses came in.
"Ah, I see you're awake."
"You can speak English," I accused.
He smiled wryly. "Yes, I can as you can hear. Now," he sat down in a chair to my far off right near one of the tall windows. The bodyguards didn't move from their spot at the door and I suddenly felt very nervous. This was quickly becoming like a bad episode of Law and Order. "I have a proposition that you may have agreed to drunkenly, but I want from you again sober and understanding me."
I frowned. "What is it?"
He smiled more. "I am the owner of a rather large company - I won't bore you with the name or such and I seem to have this," he paused, attempting to find the word to put it delicately. "Problem. You see, I'm getting old,"
"No, really?" I interrupted sarcastically.
"And I'm just not able to do the things I used to do anymore. What's more, I just bought my grandson a very large and expensive gift and what does the little bastard do? Come out of the closet." He tsked, shaking his head. "Damn shame, since it is all paid and bought for and I can't return the gift."
I raised a brow, waiting for him to mention where I came in.
"So you see, I need your help and will pay you handsomely for your troubles."
"What did you buy your grandson?"
