"I have vampiric boobies."
The Romanian girl said it in such a solemn manner the table couldn't help breaking out in laughter. The girl, she'd said her name was Acarina, tried to hold her serious expression, but she couldn't manage it for long before her face cracked in a wide grin.
"I wouldn't mind getting my dick up between them and letting them have a good suck," Chris Schreck said, setting off another round of laughter.
They were a very nice pair, he thought. He watched as she scrunched her pillowy bulges together beneath her tight little black dress.
She was perfect. Her figure, especially with those large tits, was on the milfy side. Schreck liked that. He didn't like his girls to be stick insects. Acarina was voluptuous without tipping into fatty. Her slinky black dress clung to her curves like a coat of oil. Long raven-coloured hair cascaded onto her shoulders. Her blue eyes were big, bright and sparkled with mischief. Sure, she looked a little older than the other girls on the table—three perfect blonde Romanian exports—but Schreck was fine with that. There was nothing like an experienced woman for a truly filthy experience in the bedroom.
Yes, Schreck had already decided which girl he wanted to take upstairs. He had a strong desire to press his face right into those big, fluffy breasts.
* * * *
The club was called Villerias. Schreck didn't know where it was exactly—somewhere hidden amongst the back streets of Valencia. Maximilian Blasko, the brash American in their party, had given the taxi driver the internationally recognised signal for strip club—two hands cupped in front of the chest as if holding up a pair of invisible basketballs—and they'd ended up here.
And very fine the scenery was too.
One wrinkly old hag had tried to latch on to their group, but they'd quickly shooed her away and found themselves a nice table with four of the hotter girls, including the phenomenally well-stacked Acarina. Then the beers had started to flow. And flow. And flow.
Why not. Schreck had personally secured a couple of multi-million pound contracts. The company could take the hit for this one. He deserved it.
"What do you do?" Acarina asked in heavily accented English. It contributed to her exotic allure.
Blasko whistled, dove his hand onto the table and made a sound to represent an explosion going off.
"We blow shit up," Gareth Lee said.
"We work for companies that manufacture munitions," Schreck elaborated. "There's a big trade fair taking place in Valencia this weekend."
"We made a killing, baby," Lee said, clinking his bottle of
cerveza
against Blasko's.
"Shock. And. Awe," Blasko said.
"Apart from Francis over there," Lee joked.
"I'm here to drown my sorrows," the short man, Francis Oldman, said. "Because my boss is an incompetent fucking knobhead who can't do shit outside the old tie network."
"Oh baby," the hot blonde with the leopard-print dress sitting next to him said. She put her arms around him. "We'll make you happy."
Acarina leaned forward. Mischievous interest sparkled in her wide blue eyes.
"Who can make the biggest bang?" she asked.
Blasko banged his bottle down on the table.
"I work for Hammer Arms," he said. "We manufacture the M8-97, the most powerful landmine known to man. There's enough bang in one of those suckers to flip an Abrams tank right on its back, and those fuckers weigh seventy tons. If a man had the misfortune of stepping on a primed M8-97, his balls would end up racing his brain to the moon."
Schreck shook his head. "No subtlety, matey," he said.
He knocked a cigarette out of the pack on the table and lit it.
"You'll have to excuse my American friend," he said. "Like most of his fellow countrymen, he has an unhealthy preoccupation with big bangs and bright explosions. The M8-97 might turn a human being into a spray of fine red mist, but tactically it's rather limited...like his concept of foreplay."
Schreck winked at Blasko. The American guffawed.
Schreck took a long drag on his cigarette.
"You see, most anti-personnel devices—the good ones—are designed not to kill. Blow a man to pieces and his fellows will wipe the jam from their faces, say a prayer for their departed chum and soldier bravely on like the good little drones they are."
Schreck leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"However... Maim that man, cripple that man, take off a foot or a leg, now that's a different matter entirely. Your little tin soldiers, well they can't leave their mate behind, can they. They've got to stop, patch him up, tourniquet the stump. Then they've got to get him back to safety."
Schreck stubbed out his cigarette.
"That's the difference. People are dumb. They don't know when to let things go. Leave a man crippled and alive, and you don't take out just him, you take out his entire squad as well."
He tapped his head.
"Subtlety."
The girls giggled. They only pretended to be shocked. Their bright eyes glimmered with bloodlust in the low, intimate light. Years of civilization meant nothing. Everyone was a savage underneath.
"Doesn't it bother you," Acarina asked, "that your company makes weapons that kill people? How do you sleep at night?"
She wasn't accusing him. He could see it in her eyes. She was only teasing.
"Like a baby," Schreck said with a wide grin. "People kill people. Not guns, not mines, not missiles, not bombs. Me, I've never killed anyone in my life."
Schreck raised his arms and glanced upwards.
"Why, I'm as innocent as the angels up in heaven."
Then he burst out laughing and the rest of the table joined in.
"I thought there were international laws against the sale of landmines," Acarina said after they'd ordered another round.
Schreck liked her. She was smart. There was a spark in her blue eyes.
He slapped his wallet down on the table.
"See that," he said. "That's our law book."
The table erupted in laughter again.
"So where are you girls from?" Lee asked.
Their pale skins and accents clearly marked them as not local.
"Romania," Acarina replied.
"You're a long way from home," Schreck said.
