Revenge Ch 01 5

It was one hour after midnight in downtown Dallas. Even though there was barely any traffic, she drove slowly, just under the speed limit. It was her routine to mentally run through the sequence over and over again, until she was one mile from her target. Then she would empty her mind and drive as if she was possessed by a silent spirit. It had worked since her Special Forces days in Australia.

When she spotted the club located in a windowless abandoned warehouse just south of the city, she drove around the building seven times, circling it like a shark circled its prey. As her black BMW crossed the large parking lot, her mind clicked into business mode. She selected a spot under a large oak tree, away from the flashing neon lights that screamed "The Tastiest Girls in Town!"

Killing the engine, she hid the key under the passenger seat, then checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. Her emerald green eyes were surrounded and shadowed by bodacious black ink, as if she was a quarterback in professional football. Her lips were hidden under layers of fire-engine red lipstick. She ran her fingers through her platinum blond hair, letting it fall over her face, partially covering her right eye.

She left the car unlocked. Stepping out gingerly, one leg at a time, she balanced herself on the five-inch stilettos. After a few steps, she wiggled and pulled down her black leather miniskirt, reaching under it to pull up her thong an inch above the waistband. Her milky halter top, knotted behind her neck and ending an inch above her belly button, revealed her chiseled stomach. Her back was entirely bare, except for an elastic band stretching across the small of her back. A black scorpion peeked out from under the skirt, giving the impression it had just crawled out of her.

The bouncer behind the velvet rope thought he saw an Amazon approach, standing over 6 feet with spiked heels. He could not recognize her. But that did not mean much because he worked only on weekends. His regular job was in construction. But with the economy still in the toilet, he had to moonlight on weekends. Because he was not affiliated with any of the gangs, he would later be the only one who mentioned her to law enforcement.

The bouncer looked at her for a split second before opening the door for dancers, which was around the corner, to the left of the main entrance for guests. As soon as she entered the crowded room, the deafening thumping sound of hip-hop slapped her in the face. She stood still for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the dark.

The room was Texas-large, with dozens of girls moving around in various stages of undress. In the middle of the room, four dancers twirled around four separate poles on raised platforms. The bar was on her left and the restrooms on her right. In the far end of the room was a red sign with the three letters V-I-P.

She crossed the room diagonally and headed for the ladies' room. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Don Giordano. He was celebrating with his top three regional chiefs, each of which had kidnapped and shipped more than ten girls overseas in the last year. This was his way of motivating his captains.

Giordano caught sight of her over the rim of his glass. He whispered to his bodyguard, who sprang into action.

"Hey gorgeous, my boss wants you to party with us." The bodyguard came up behind her and held her elbow.

As she turned and went with him, she asked, "Who is your boss?"

"Don't matter. Just know you will be paid big bucks, okay?" His grip on her tightened.

She swayed her hips from side to side and timed her walk to coincide with the music.

"Nice to meet you." She bent down as she extended her hand, allowing Giordano a scenic view of her chest.

Giordano banged the glass down in the low table with a crack that was audible above the music. He grabbed her palm with both hands and pulled her in. At the same time, the bodyguard spun her so she ended up sitting on his lap.

"Let me introduce you to the gang," Giordano rubbed himself against her leather skirt, which had slid up to reveal almost all of her thighs. "This is Uno, Dos, and Tres." He pointed to the three captains. Like the bodyguard, they were all dressed in three-piece suits. Only Giordano was in a polo shirt.

"Hi," she turned around and shook hands with all three. "My name is Milkshake. You can shake me as much as you like." She bopped up and down on Giordano's lap. He dipped his hand inside his pants to bring his hardened manhood back to the center, facing up.

"I will definitely shake you like a hurricane," Don rocked from side to side in his armchair, laughing so violently she thought he might just drop dead with a heart attack, saving her the trouble. The rest of the men laughed along with the boss.

"The girls work only for tips," the music halted when the DJ announced. "Let's be generous and show our appreciation."

Giordano handed a thick stack of twenties and told his bodyguard to spread his love. Four new girls climbed the steps to the stage, holding hands with the previous girls and taking a bow. New music came on. The previous four climbed down and headed straight to Giordano's group. All five men now had girls on their laps.

"Let the show begin," Giordano declared to his top kidnappers. It was a signal to start undressing the exotic dancers. Giordano fumbled with his fleshy fingers to undo the knot behind her neck. She let her top fall to her waist before sticking her tongue into his left ear, caressing it.

The tip of her tongue traced his jawline, down to his chin, then up his other jaw line to his right ear. She toyed with his earlobe before blowing hot wet air into it. "Let's go to the VIP room."

Giordano was familiar with the drill. He snapped his fingers, nodding to his bodyguard. The bodyguard fished out three one-hundred dollar bills. His hand slid along her inner thighs and under her skirt, slowly hooking each bill to the elastic left string holding up one side of her thong. Giordano eased his three hundred pounds out of the large chair, slowly walking to the VIP room, his hand wedged inside the waistband of her skirt.

It was pitched dark inside the VIP room. Anything could happen in the VIP room, which was deliberately designed so that nobody could see what was being done. What happened in the VIP room really stayed in the room. The music seemed to be even louder here, with speakers built into the armrests of the large sofa seats. Sitting on his pleasure organ, she removed her top over her head and tied the straps around his neck.

Half standing and half sitting on his lap, she jerked his face in by the straps, crushing his face against her chest, flattening his nose. Squeezing her breasts together, arms wrapped tightly around his back, trapping his torso as if he was inside a burrito, she stopped his oxygen flow for a few seconds. The move was new to him, propelling him to his promised land. She knew he loved it when his hand started reaching inside her thong. She guided his thumb into her, rubbing, probing, until she was moist and warm.

His breathing struggled. His body started to tremble. She relaxed her grip and allowed him to suck in a deep breath. She was totally in control.

Gyrating to the music, she let his thumb stay inside her. His middle finger started to explore, looking for another point of entrance. She adjusted her weight, guiding the finger to her narrower entrance. With his two fingers holding her like a bowling ball, she drowned his mouth with her dripping tongue and pinched his nose. The deprivation of oxygen turbocharged him as she rode his thumb and finger, increasing the tempo, eventually driving them both into uncharted territory. Before the end of the first song, he exploded inside his pants.

When the second song started, she removed his shirt, her thumb circling one nipple as she licked and bit the other. In one smooth move, she let her thong drop to her ankle, tossed it back up, caught it with one hand, and shoved it in his mouth. Going around him, she covered his face with his own shirt. Then tied the ends so he was blindfolded. He could no longer see her movements, heightening his pleasure. He felt her pull his pants down to his ankles. Rapid strokes on his messy cock brought him close to the edge, then back off so she can repeat the cycle. He was not sure whether it was her hand or mouth that brought him in and out of sexual paradise. Why did you need seventy-two virgins, thought Giordano, when all you needed was one hot blonde?

He felt her hands move behind him, expertly massaging his temples and back of his spine. God, she was good. He felt soft and relaxed everywhere except for his hardened member. She tightened the blindfold, then pinched his nose and pushed her thong further in. He choked slightly, but enjoyed the feeling of near asphyxiation. When she released his nose and mouth half a minute later, he breathed deeply and exploded a second time, soaking his unkempt pubic hair.

The third song was a slow number. She circled around, went down on her knees, wiped off his sticky fluid with her hair. God, he would give anything to stick it into her. It would have to be outside the club because actual sex was illegal in a Dallas club.

In his head, he was making plans on how to enjoy her for the night when he felt the strangulation on his neck. Too late, he realized she was twisting her halter straps tightly around his neck. She was surprisingly strong, lifting up his neck up until his butt was an inch above the chair. He caught her hair and attempted to throw her over. But her biceps and triceps worked powerfully together. He felt as if his neck would be severed. Surely the halter straps was not strong enough and would break was his dying thought. He screamed into the silk of his own shirt, using up the remaining oxygen in his lungs.

The bouncer saw her leave the club. Strangely, she was wearing a crumpled shirt too large for her. The BMW sped out of the parking lot, crushing the gravel under it.

*

to be continued ...