Davey Dixon couldn't decide if he was drunk, high, or just dreaming. The world around him had a dreamlike quality to it. There was a fuzz to the edges of his vision that covered everything in a soft, ethereal filter. That same fuzz extended inside his skull, making his thoughts feel like they'd been smothered in warm cotton wool.
He didn't know where he was or how he'd got here.
Here
looked like an intimate downstairs bar. Very swanky. Upmarket. The seats were upholstered in glossy red leather. The walls were decorated with scandalous imagery of neon lips and naked women.
Maybe a bit too scandalous.
Wait a minute...
The bar was small--little more than a narrow counter. There was a small wooden stage in the corner with a stripper's pole. Davey was the only patron.
The place looked fancy, but it also had an indelible
grubbiness
to it.
Had he wandered off the street into some upmarket knocking shop?
It had that look to it. A layer of swank and polish to disguise the seediness of its function.
Or Davey was in the middle of a weird dream.
It felt too
real
to be a dream. Smoky, but also solid. Vivid.
Maybe it was just his thoughts that were soft and fuzzy.
What did you get us to try this time, Bennie?
If it wasn't a dream, then Davey was blasted. On about three different things at least. If it wasn't a dream, he'd really mushed his brains this night.
If it was night. There were no windows to tell.
A statuesque hottie in high heels entered and walked over to him. She was dressed in a sexy fancy-dress devil costume that showed off plenty of flesh. It didn't leave much to the imagination when it came to her lovely long legs and the deep chasm of her cleavage. Strangely, her outfit also seemed like some kind of uniform. Like a waitress or hostess costume, but far beyond what normie tastes would allow.
Davey found it hard to focus on her. He wondered again if he was dreaming. His vision swam in and out of focus. He had the impression he was looking at a gorgeous creature with a truly knockout figure, but it was an incomplete picture. When he tried to concentrate and look at her more closely, he couldn't fill in all the details. As if she was nothing more than a dream that would melt away by morning.
"Mr Dixon, Sutruyasa is ready for you," the girl in the devil costume said in elegant clipped tones.
Very plummy.
Plummy face as well. She was made-up like a whore--plump supple lips covered in vivid red lipstick, eyes accentuated with black kohl--but the plumminess was still there. Posh totty playing at being a slut.
Davey knew the type. Daddy issues. They thought they were just pretending to be a slut to be cool, but it was the real them. They were all sluts at heart.
"Follow me," the girl in the devil costume said.
She turned to reveal an equally splendid ass, and bade Davey follow her through the padded door at the back of the reception area.
Who was Sutruyasa?
She was probably the tart he'd chosen while in his earlier alcoholic or drug-fuelled fugue state.
Fuck it. Davey hoped Past-off-his-face-Davey had chosen with good taste. He followed the devil girl hostess with the shapely ass through the door.
* * * *
The middle-aged man in a dapper waistcoat slipped into a less-than-salubrious side alley that looked at odds with his immaculate attire. He waited patiently there until a buzzer went off in his pocket. Then he walked down a short flight of steps and rapped his knuckles on a wooden door so inobtrusive it could easily have been mistaken as a continuation of the wall.
The door was opened and the man was admitted into an opulent reception area at odds with the grimy alley behind him. The room was decorated to the height of licentious glamour. Sinful paintings of flesh upon flesh adorned the walls. Comfortable, overstuffed sofas upholstered in rich red leather ran along the walls.
The middle-aged man was greeted by a tall, strikingly beautiful woman. Her generous curves were contained within a fancy-dress devil costume. Her outfit--or maybe uniform--revealed enough flesh to titillate without being tasteless. Her high cheekbones gave her elegant face a regal beauty out of keeping with both her costume and establishment. However, it was a vulpine beauty. A little too sharp. A little too predatory.
"Welcome to ValVi's," the woman said.
Her voice was rich and oozed sensuality.
"We are ready for you. Please, follow me."
She led the middle-aged man through a padded door at the back of the opulent reception area. It led to a short corridor with a strange opening at the end. It looked like rubber curtains fashioned into the shape of a vagina, but with strange tooth-like protrusions. It invoked a competing mix of arousal and fear at the same time, being at once both reminiscent of a woman's gaping sex and the toothy maw of a carnivorous plant or deep-sea predator.
The man followed the woman in the sexy devil costume through the aperture.
It was too late for second thoughts. The events of the evening had already been set in motion. There was no turning back now.
* * * *
Davey followed the girl in the devil uniform down a narrow, intimate corridor. The carpet was black and the walls a very dark shade of red. The lighting was also red and barely provided enough illumination for Davey to see where he was going.
"Um, where am I?" he asked the girl in front of him.
He didn't remember... well, anything. He assumed it was night. The whole evening leading up to it was a complete blank. The day before was pretty hazy as well. He couldn't even remember what he'd been celebrating to cause this massive bender.
"You are in St Valentyne's Gentleman's Club," the girl replied.
Valentines? That rang a bell. Was it Valentine's Day? That sounded... sort of right. And this bender... because some girl had blown him out?
Nah, that didn't sound right. Davey didn't give a shit about what any bitch thought. None of them were worth it.
The lights blurred and shifted. The shadows looked like bodies moving together suggestively.
