Lusts a Delightful Mania (Flash Fiction)

This week’s Chuck Wendig challenge. I can’t say I love the title, and I’m not sure I quite did it justice. Where’s the delight? Where’s the mania? Well, at least there’s some lust, right? Anyway. This was my take (and about 200 words over the 1k limit). Contains some adult themes, but then what did you expect?

I circle my finger around the rim of my glass as the bass thumps through my ribs. Up on the stage, the girl who calls herself Seraph grinds her hips down low. Her dress has already been kicked to one side, her breasts pointing high and proud as she works the pole.

I sip my drink as I watch her, trying to feel something for her. Well, part of me feels something for her, but that’s a physical imperative. Despite everything else, well maybe because of everything else, I’m still a man. Mostly.

The song ends. Seraph sprays down the pole before the next girl, Montana, takes the stage. She picks up the dress, exchanges a few words with Montana then descends the stairs, careful and balanced on her five inch platforms. Hypnotized, I watch her ass sway back and forth. I lick lips gone dry and sip my Cuba Libre.

“Everything okay man?” Carlisle slides into the seat next to mine. He’s got the slicked back hair of a telemarketer manager and the ethics to match. He owns this place, Lusts, and has since his uncle retired a year ago. Last I heard , the uncle was down in Key West drinking mojitos and trying not to have a heart attack staring at all the hard bikini bodies.

“Hmm?  Yeah.”

Seraph walks by, clad in nothing but fishnet and a g-string, and drapes a hand on my shoulder. “Buy me a drink, honey?” Her voice is sweet and low, her breath in my ear. It’s been a long time since a woman touched me like that. I almost forget she’s a professional more interested in my green than my company. Montana, dusky skinned, heavy breasted Montana is bouncing her ass to some rap song. For an early afternoon crowd, I feel she’s trying too hard.

“Baby.” Carlisle brushes Seraph’s hand off my shoulder. “The man is here to talk business. You see him talking to me? Maybe later he’ll get a dance.”

Seraph pouts at me, and I shrug at her. She walks away, with a slap on the ass from Carlisle, looking for another mark.

“You know why I called you?” Carlisle waves over a waitress, orders a bourbon. He looks at me, but I place a hand over my glass.

“You’ve got something here you can’t explain, is that right? Your uncle, he knew he could call me if he had something he knew he couldn’t explain to the police, something more than the locals coming around for their protection money. You’ve got a problem like that, don’t you?” I swirl the ice around in the glass, enjoying the clink of the ice.

Carlisle’s mouth splits into a broad grin. “That’s it exactly! My uncle said you were sharp, and man he wasn’t kidding, was he. Look, Mr.-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I say, holding up a hand. I point with my finger, then circle it around the club. “No names in public, okay? And don’t tell me it’s secure and you know no one is listening.” As it is I can barely hear myself talk above the music, but that’s not my point. “You don’t know, you can’t know, not for sure. If you have to refer to me, call me your uncle’s friend. Okay?”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.”

“That’s right. So what’s your problem.”

Not saying anything, he points at Seraph. “Right there. My uncle said you’d know what to do.”

I nod, and finish my drink. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Carlisle goes to shake my hand, but I turn back to the stage and watch Montana shake her moneymaker. He grimaces, but gets up and heads to the back office to do whatever it is strip club managers do. Interview new talent maybe.

Seraph’s talking to another member of the clientele, but struts over when I wave.

“Change your mind, honey?” Her hand finds its way around my shoulder. I can feel lust pulsing off her like a gentle wave, all warm and inviting.

“How much for a private dance?”

“The lady is otherwise engaged.” I look around, see the guy Seraph had been talking to. He’s big with hands like ham hocks. The kind of guy that usually works muscle for places like this. I catch sight of a bulge under his too tight sportcoat. Off-duty then. “You feel me?”

I smile, all teeth and pleasant. I see Montana strut down off the stage. I missed the name of the dancer taking her place. “There’s been a misunderstanding. This here’s my cousin, Paula. Her mother asked me to check up on her while she’s in the hospital.”

I see the doubt creep into Off-duty’s eyes. “Your cousin?” The gear’s turn slowly for this guy, so I add a little grease and wave Montana over.

“Hey, sweetheart. How much for a private dance?” I ask.

“For you or him?” I see her eyes light up at the prospect.

“For my good friend here.”

She quotes me a number. I wonder if it would be lower if the dance was for me. I slip the folded bills to her, and Montana smiles.

“Come on, big man. Let me show you how I can move.”

I keep the smile up until they’ve gone. “How much are you going to cost me?”

Seraph leans in and whispers in my ear, the tip of her tongue brushing against my lobe. I nod and she takes my hand, pulling me toward one of the private booths. I follow her, eyes fixed ahead, trying hard to blank my mind ahead for what’s to come.

“Have a seat, sexy,” she purrs. “Get comfortable.” I slide into the booth and she wiggles her ass at me. “That was quite the line you put on that heavy. Your cousin?” She laughs, all husky and sexy. “I saw what you passed to Montana. She’s going to show him a real good time. But she’s not me, and you’ve got me all to yourself, don’t you?” She bends over, places her hands on my thighs.

“You chose an interesting stage name for a lilin.”

She jumps back like I burned her. Her green eyes go black, and the illusion of alabaster skin and blonde hair shimmers for a moment, showing me blue scales and green hair. “How did-?”

I hold a hand up, speak a few words. The air between us shimmers and jolts. Golden bands of energy coil around her, pinning her arms to her sides and her long shapely legs together.

She blinks rapidly, tears starting in her eyes. “Fuck you. What are these to you anyway? They are all lost and damned, so what do you care?”

I smile, let my own facade drop away like thin tissue paper. Her wides widen and her mouth works soundlessly.

“Nephilim,” she whispers. “Half-blood.”

My smile grows wider as I pull out my knife. “You’ve been a bad girl. Time to go home.” The knife bites deep, but then all that’s left is a g-string and some cigarette ash.

As I leave, I see Carlisle sitting by the bar. I tip an imaginary hat to him as I leave, out into the rain slicked streets of the city.