Dark Awakening Ch 02

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Thanks, love Lilla

Hannover had been burning a hole staring at her thighs now for the past five minutes. Ava had slinked away taking a seat on a chair in the far corner. Watching Hannover's blood pressure increase with each heart beat.

"Take off the dress." So demanding. Like there was a chance in hell she'd give him anything else. Oh yeah, he didn't know that.

"You should relax. You don't look so good." Yeah. He looked like he'd just eaten the mystery meat from Jorge's cart. Hannover's eyes rolled back into his head, splitting him from the here and now and her version of reality. It wouldn't be so bad, really. He would just need to breathe. They were so up-tight now in days. Hannover was imagining her as he imagined all of his darling gussies, with bruises. They would beg and plead for him to stop, but only until he'd gotten his fill. Hannover's favorite weapon of choice was his belt. It had so many options.

Proximity had everything to do with it. Hannover was in her maze now. He was envisioning taking his belt, slipping it off of his waist band, making sure she was facing the opposite direction. He would kiss her neck, comfort her bare arms with his warm hands, as she would sway against him, he would strike. Her scream would excite him, knowing that it was for no one and that it would only last a second or two before the belt could cut her off. Hannover liked this moment the most. He could gently tug on the leather, watching her squirm beneath him. Her legs could kick, a heel would fly off and her dress would be torn in the process exposing the supple softness of her breasts. The nipples would get hard from the blast of cold, he'd smile.

Ava watched Hannover slip away. His eyes tightly shut, his body vibrating like a dog dreaming. Now she could move. Ava slipped off her heels and crawled as close to his trousers as she could stand. Her nimble fingers sliced and diced through the contents of his wallet, his credit cards, his cash. She didn't like to stay to long in their heads. It got messier as they got closer to finishing. Hannover flinched, his body rocked over onto his back and Ava's heart jumped in her throat. For as long as she'd been doing this, that always scared the shit out of her.

It took another minute or two to remove his memory of her and involved more touching. Ava grabbed his face with both hands, willing his eyes to peel open, glazed over, but fully operational. Hannover was in the middle of treating her like a piñata. In his mind, her features became less defined. He would remember a woman with silky pouty lips. He would remember how much fun he'd had with her, but the frame of her face would always be blurry, the color of her eyes was debatable, and what was that perfume she wore?

Okay, let's go. Ava hopped up, not waiting another second to get the hell out of Dodge. Hannover would wake up, barely remembering his own birthday, let alone a pretty girl with plump lips. She tapped the wall, stepped over Rip Van Winkle, and waltzed out, five thousand dollars heavier.

********

"I'd do her." Dem would do her on a plane, on a train, on a bus in Spain. There was no limit to what Dem would do or who he would do it with. Rowe chugged the rest of his beer and kicked Goofus in the shin. Dem didn't take notice, probably because he was logged on to find his next cock warmer.

The cherry pop tart he was referring to winked back at their table. It looked like her first time away from home. Welcome to the big city, honey. Meet Dem. Dem blew a kiss in her direction and she giggled. They always giggle for Dem. He was a fucking giggle making factory.

"Are you going to eye fuck her all night? I've got places I'd rather than be then watching you two take each other's clothes off from thirty feet away." Rowe grunted staring down at his empty glass and wondering if the waitress was coming back or if he'd have to keep grabbing at an empty glass all night. Dem motioned for the waitress and Barbie came prancing back. A shot of Jack for Dem, a pitcher of Sangria for the table of house wives behind them and nothing for Rowe. C'est la vie.

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, I'm having a good fucking time so don't ruin it." Dem stood up, letting his full height take effect on the room. He had gotten his mug from his father, another rascal of sorts, and his cocky demeanor from every damn girl in the tri-county area swooning at his footsteps. It would take more than a football to the nose to break this guy's libido. He 'd probably have the entire club donating ice.

"If you're not back in ten minutes, you're buying." Rowe sneered, grabbing a bottle neck from a nearby waitress's tray who wasn't paying attention. Dem threw up a poster boy smile, and sauntered over to Cherry.

"Oh, you're so strong and handsome." Rowe imagined her saying. "I'll let you do me six ways till Sunday if you'd like." That was enough of that. Rowe tipped his hat to their waitress who had taken notice of Dem's departure and had resorted to espionage.

Dem was a big boy, he could handle his own way home. Rowe left as unnoticed as he had arrived. The night was still young, maybe he could get some work done. Stepping out into the sultry night air, he'd forgotten how much he hated summer. His leather jacket weighted heavier, the streets were loitered with horny Dicks and Janes running, jumping, and getting into each other's pants. Brats. Rowe adjusted his ball cap and slipped away into an alley. The fastest way to travel, and easier to disappear. The alleys around here rarely smelled like roses. They reeked of Yumo's day old noodle surprise and piss. Not the best combination, but better than hormones and Cherry Pop Tart's perfume. This particular gangway divided Renegade and Nicko's, a Greek owned night club known better for its prostitution than it's gyros. Nicko's had the whole she-bang including secret rooms where customers could get their fix on without fear of the NYPD busting in. Rowe liked to think of it as his second home.

Digging through his jacket looking for a goddamn smoke and something other to think about then hookers and Dem's cherry popping, Rowe noticed the girl slipping through the steel door leading out of Nicko's club. Uh oh, another escape artist.

"You going somewhere?" he asked, watching her struggling to balance and put her elaborate Jimmy Choo's back on. She wasn't his type. His type came with leather and were usually blindfolded.

"What the hell do you care? Are you some sort of sentry?" She slid in and grimaced and what had to be the most painful looking stiletto he'd ever seen. Why women put up with that shit was beyond him, but it sure did make her ass look good.

Rowe took a drag and pointed at her with his cigarette, "Just an observer. Cute girls like you, with shoes like that don't leave through that door unless they're running away."

She plastered a big fake smile, tiny square teeth and no bubblegum. Her eyes drifted to the exit path. She'd have to pass Rowe if she wanted to get by.

"I'm not what you think," she strolled up more or less in tune with the heels now that she had them on both feet. "I'm not running away either."

Yeah right. The closer she came the easier it was to make out her features. Gorgeous brown puppy dog eyes, button nose, freckles. . ., everywhere, pouty lips, and luscious auburn hair. Gotta love them red heads.

"You know how to keep mum, Rowe?" she asked staying her distance but close enough to pick up her fabulous aroma. It wasn't a perfume. It was. . ., different.

"I hear it's the word." Rowe took another drag taking his eyes off of her and back to the street to watch a shrieking gaggle of girls. When he turned back she'd vanished.

She'd known his name. Curiouser and curiouser.

**********

"You look like a model." If he had a penny for every time a toasted sorority girl said that, he'd have five cents. She tipped forward, trying to lift up onto her tippy toes to kiss him and instead falling into him, spilling her drink. "Oh my gosh, I am soooooo wast-ed."

Well at least one of them was. Demetrio put the spaghetti strap that had slid off back into place. Her skin was soft, supple, and baby smooth. Must be the farm girl in her. Girls from these parts were hard on the outside. Her fingers were dancing around the button on his pants. Slipping one little pinkie in then out, mocking exactly what he wanted to do to her. Dem closed his eyes, letting the sensual touching do its magic. The girl was dangling herself from a string and he'd be dead or close to it if he didn't take her.

They streamlined through the crowd and into a remote bathroom. Magazine photographs were decoupaged onto the wall, graffiti and call-me numbers scattered throughout. His little minx was dropping either sides of her tank top, pouting pretty strawberry flavored lips and letting her body undulate to the club's overhead beat. This would only take a second.

"I have a condom," she purred drifting her delightful little fingers into her denim pocket and pulling out a Trojan. He wouldn't need it. She wasn't ovulating and he didn't carry diseases. Now how to convey that without looking cocky. Perhaps the neck, no her tits. Dem rushed her, planting her into the wall and massaged one rock hard nub between his fingers. He let his lips trail from the base of her ear to the sweet crevice at her collar bone. She was writhing in three seconds flat. He was making good time.

Standing and fucking required a shit load of strength on his part, and a whole lot of work on her part. She didn't look the type to just get up and go. Her instructions read "batteries required." The sink jutted out just enough to place her tiny tight ass on the edge. The second her toes left the ground she started cackling, thrashing her head back, nipping at his neck, slipping deeper down the blood alcohol rabbit hole. A sane man would step back, assess the situation and disengage. Fuck it.

He hiked up her denim skirt, ripped apart some Hello Kitty panties, and crammed his family assets into her with one sweep. Her giggling ended there. She flipped back on with a whip of her head, and wrapped her legs around him. Well what do you know, she has a brain.

"Call me," she said tugging on his button down and blowing him a kiss. She'd written her number on the back of his arm, while they were fucking. Fantastic, she was a nice place to visit. Like fuck he'd live there. Demetrio watched her sashay out of the bathroom to join the gossip girls at the far end of the bar. Tucking himself back in and sweeping his hair back in the mirror, Rowe's grim face was the last thing he needed to see. One day he'd like to see a smile on his puss, one day.

And in one sentence he ruined a perfectly good night, "We have a problem."