Subhash enjoyed being a bouncer. He worked at Spartacus, a swanky club in Goa. The pay was good, and the crowds were less rowdy than the other places he'd worked at. Not that it was a problem - he was 6'3", a hulking 250 lbs, and had bulging tattooed muscles that showed through his tight black polo shirt. He cut a forbidding figure, and not many people challenged him.
The club was packed: it was ladies' night after all. The floor was crowded with a sea of foreigners, getting hammered on cheap drinks, and dancing manically to the thumping techno music. Spartacus was a popular haunt among tourists and expats in Goa, a veritable United Nations of drunk sexy girls. Subhash felt extra horny tonight: perhaps it was the new workout formula he had this morning. He had pumped serious iron, and was feeling high-strung all day. He resisted the urge to join a group of busty girls beside him gyrating to the music. He knew he could be patient: if things went the way they usually do, some of these girls would be plastered by 4AM, and open to the suggestion of hopping on to his motorbike back to his place.
Subhash went about his beat, observing the floor for any potential trouble.
He found some, immediately. In a secluded corner, he spotted a group of foreigners rubbing their noses. Subhash knew exactly what was up. People did drugs in the club all the time, but after a few high profile busts, the establishment had to enforce a no-drug policy, or risk getting shut down.
"What's going on here?" he said, announcing his presence at the table of the foreigners, his massive frame like a wall in front of them, almost blocking out the strobe lights. The group of three - two girls and a guy - were dumbfounded by the sheer size of the bouncer glaring at them. The guy stuttered, "uh, nothing, nothing!". Subhash spotted one of the girls - blonde, in a tight black dress - quickly shove something into her neckline.
"You can't do that here," said Subhash firmly, his deep voice menacing in its tenor. "Leave. Now."
"But we want to stay!" the blonde piped up animatedly. She was clearly on something, on top of being very drunk. "Not when you're doing drugs. We don't want that shit here," Subhash said sternly. He waved at another bouncer nearby, Ramesh, and gestured that they'd have to forcibly eject the group. Ramesh nodded, and had-waved at the guy to follow him. Their party was over.
The other girl followed Ramesh and the guy, but the blonde was petulantly staying put. "I paid to get in here, I'm gonna stay!" she yelled over the blaring music. "Tell that to the police," Subhash replied. He grabbed her hand and brusquely dragged her away from the table. "You're coming with me."
The girl tried prying her hand out of Subhash's strong grip, to no avail. They weaved through the dancing throng, her loud protests drowned out by Steve Aoki. Subhash led her to the back of the club, through the staff-only door.
The music was thumping through the walls of the tiny backroom Subhash had brought the girl to. Dimly lit, the room had a couch and a table.
The girl was swaying from the prodigal quantities of alcohol she had had, and something more. She babbled incoherently, her eyes dilated. Cocaine, possibly. In the light, Subhash appraised her. About 5'4", she had a full head of shiny blonde hair, almost platinum. She was wearing a tight black dress, with a plunging neckline that showed off her large breasts. The hem barely covered her crotch, legs were long and toned. She was very attractive, her green eyes glinting in the low light of the room. For a fleeting moment, Subhash pictured her naked, legs splayed, on his bed...
Subhash made her sit on the couch, and grabbed her purse. Fishing inside, he found her passport. She was Hungarian, her name was Carla, and was born in 2004. Quite well-endowed for an 18-year-old, Subhash mused. Eyeing her sexy body, he felt the stir in his loins.
"Let's see what you've got," Subhash said, and patted her down. His hands felt up her breasts. What magnificent breasts they were. Images of her bare breasts getting titty-fucked by his cock flashed in his mind. He felt a little bump in her left breast. The girl, Carla, was muttering to herself, zonked out and oblivious to the world, much less Subhash's fondling. He slipped his hand down her cleavage, to explore the bump. It turned out to be her nipple piercing. He stroked her right breast, and this time felt something bigger than a piercing. Cupping her breast underneath her dress, he found it. He pulled out a little baggie of white powder.
