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Beautiful Twilight: Bible Break Down VI

(I know a lot of this story doesn't make sense just yet, but if you read part V, part IV will make a great deal more sense! =D )

Usually, the Full Moon club was busy every night of every day of every week. Lines formed outside, and males could be seen on bended knee, simply begging to be let in, cash held in grasping paws, foaming at the mouths. It really was the hottest strip club in town.

It wasn't, however, the hottest club because of the inside. The floors were carpeted and a large red strip of it ran to the center stage in the middle of the room. The stage was a giant elevated circle and was shaped to look like a giant penis. In the center of that "penis" was a large red pole, where many a dancer had scuffled their paws around. That "penis" was connected to a "shaft" which lead to the back of the room. At the back was a pair of twin smaller stages on either side of the "shaft" both equipped with poles- and then a small walkway from either side which lead to back stage. Around the head of that "penis" were nice cushy chairs and around there; tables with similar chairs around them

Aside from the bar in the corner, and a few private rooms, the place was pretty bland. It wasn't the greatest strip club because of the drinks either. They weren't great- they'd get you drunk, but they weren't terribly high class.

What made everything work, of course, were the strippers who worked at the club. One in particular, whom had been recently titled "Miss Strip 06" (Best stripper in the world) padded off the stage, still listening to the cat calls and shrill, horny whistles that echoed freshly in her ears.

"Gentlefurs! I hope you all enjoyed that performance from SPICE! The world's finest stripper, right here and the Full Moon! Tell your friends, and come back again real soon!" The announcer called out, and Spice smiled. She always smiled when she heard that. World's Finest Stripper. That was her. She had made it big...

She was a wolf who stood about 5'7 give or take a few inches. Currently, she wasn't wearing a scrap of clothing except her favorite army boots, which was normal for her- she'd always felt comfortable naked and rarely ended up wearing clothes after a show anyhow. It'd been a particularly good show- not a dry seat in the house. (She'd checked herself) and the money she'd made in tips more then covered the final payments of her new sports car. A scarlet colored drop top convertible. A Mercedes with all the options- she was happy with it, cause it went fast.

She walked along the small hallway towards her own private dressing room, slid the door open, and slammed it shut behind her- the sound bouncing off the silent walls of the hall. The room was small, carpeted, and private- which was the best part. No hopping over arms and legs, searching for a messy tangle of costumes- the room was her room and that's all there was to it. There wasn't much to it at that- a vanity mirror in the corner, a big leather chair and lots of lights and her own personal closet. Quietly, she perked an ear, listening for the sounds of anybody in the hallway...It was silent. She was the last one left in the building, save the patrons beginning to drunkenly file out and head home.

Normally, The halls and other dressing rooms would be filled with chattering, giggling idiots who thought stripping was a way to make money and nothing more. They flaunted their bodies about here and there, showing off what they had while all the while working to slip that little extra dollar into their G-string.

But to Spice- it was an art form. She was a dancer and her movements were poetry no pen could ever capture, and no paper could ever hold. She moved with the fluidity of an expert- each dance better then her last, every movement of every limb a hypnotic capture of her very soul; drawn into the light by her desire to perform. To her- Dancing wasn't a job- it was life. She twirled once in her room, a pirouette a ballerina would be jealous of and glimpsed herself in the mirror. She was 23, young and fit. She'd been blessed with looks to kill and an attitude to match, Spice was as spicy as her name suggested, and she loved it that way.

At the top of her head were a pair of large, gray ears, followed lower, by a pretty face. She wasn't plain, or beautiful, but she was cute. She was damn cute, and she knew it. Her nose was cold and coal black , her eyes were red, reflecting a fiery blaze of passion for life that burned in her soul. Below those captivating spheres, was her muzzle: plump and well fed; filled with bright, white teeth. Continuing lower were her breasts: a large C cup, easily more then a pawful for most furs- her nipples stood out bright pink and firm like little bullets; dancing always made her hot.

She normally played with herself on stage- but rarely got a chance to finish. Like usual, she was the last dancer to leave the club, and first to meet the janitors when they showed up. This afforded her some free time before she left- time which she used for a rather important task.

She let herself collapse into her big chair, her plump, firm bottom sinking into the material, while her cunny glazed across black leather, leaving a soft smear of her juices, personally marking her territory. After each performance she sat down in the same position, her fingers sinking into her tight depths and she left a permanent mark- which became a little more permanent with each show. The chair was marked forever and eternity with the soft scent of her sex, smeared and soaked with the naughty desires of a horny wolf- and tonight was no different.

Spice leaned back, giving a quiet moan as she slid her paws down her tender, slim tummy and watched her middle and ring finger disappear into herself. Already damp, dripping with juices from her show only minutes ago, she found no resistance what so ever. She sat back, lifting her legs a bit while her fingers did the work, slowly pumping her digits into her body. It wouldn't take long- it never did. Not after a show, where she bent over to pick up dollars and swished her rump at the patrons. Where she'd twist and maneuver her body to show off her curves and yet maintain the grace and balance of an gymnast, moving to the beat of music in her soul, ignoring the cat calls and hollers, she danced her own dances and Gods it was like sex. But better.

Now she was soaked, her hot tunnel was begging for more then just a few fingers and usually at this point she'd reach into her private drawer of her mirror and retrieve the bright blue horse dildo hidden inside- usually. But not tonight. Tonight she had far more important matters to attend to then herself- but if she ignored this- she'd never get to the bottom of what happened. She'd never find out why her right arm throbbed with a dull pain, or her head ached so terribly. It happened during one of her performances of the night. Everything was fine for a moment, and then suddenly, it was like she'd been shot. Her head suddenly hurt so bad she had to stop and nearly let out a scream. Right over her right temple it felt like her skull were about to split open: which meant something terrible had happened...

She moaned softly, scooting her bottom down on the chair while lifting her legs to give herself more free access to her aching privates. Her fingers caressed in a gentle spiral, massaging the hot, buttery depths of her pussy while she let her mind fade into the lovely sensations of an approaching orgasm...she had to hurry though.

Quickly she changed tactics, shifting her fingers so the disappeared further into her depths, massaging the inner walls of her heated tunnel, twisting her thumb until it quivered and toyed with the hot little nub of her clit. She quickly reached up, and grasped her breast, squeezing at the pink nub of her nipple and simultaneously forced herself towards an orgasm. Like usual, it hit her before she was ready- pouncing like a lion, it erupted inside of her. A balloon burst inside of her, flowing like a river, her juices spilled out, splashing all over her lovely, perfect chair.

"Oooooooo.....FUCK. Yesssss....Yes." The wolf hissed quietly- and for a brief moment, she let her body collapse on the big leather chair. She closed her eyes- and then, just for a neck of a second- she saw herself in her own head.

Only it wasn't her. It was someone who looked a lot like her, only suffering. Only suffering and hurt very badly- blood pouring from her forehead and arms, the red life fluid splattered all over a pair of overalls, and a bright yellow shirt...

It looked a great deal like her- but it wasn't her. It wasn't her- but she knew exactly who it was...

Like a shot she was dressed and out the door, throwing on her favorite pair of cameo jeans, and a olive colored tank top, she blasted out of the club and directly towards her car. The car was in the same spot where she'd left it, the top down, in the shade, and parked in her own parking space. It was the same color, the same model and still very very new, in perfect condition. What was different was the feline sitting on the trunk. He was dressed in some ratty looking jeans, a blue striped shirt, a beat up old cap, and a leather jacket. Spice growled. She was suddenly, not in the mood to be dealing with anyone.

"Heeeeey, pretty thang! I saw ya dancin' toni-

"That's great. Look dude, not in the mood to deal with autographs, or whatever the hell ya want from me. If ya wanna try and mug me, you'll be sorry, and if you want a chance at my cunt, you'll have to wait in line- other wise, fuck off, ok?" The wolf snapped. The feline grinned even further. As Spice approached she could tell he was a simply tabby- black mostly in color with a splotch of white on his paws. She sighed. She really wasn't in the mood for crap.

He turned slightly as she approached her car and grinned even more so. He didn't move and he was in her way.

"Come on sweetie, don't be like that- I'm in a real bind tonight...I just need some help. Ya see, my friend over here has a bad case of the blues..." He explained, gesturing towards his crotch with a grin- and then he grabbed her, wrapping his fingers around her shoulder. Spice sighed. She really wasn't in the mood.

Like usual it happened quickly. A blur of movement, her mind acting before her better judgement could kick in, and she struck. It all happened in a blink of an eye really. Suddenly he was sputtering blood, his eyes wide in shock while his entire body tensed from the single blow. She'd hit him. She'd hit him very, very hard, punching him in the stomach. She shattered his rib cage. Completely.

"Your probably gonna want to get to a hospital. "She whispered, before she side stepped around him and climbed into her car. She sped off with him still standing there- blood dribbling down his chin.

The red mercedes sped down the empty streets with reckless abandon, hurling itself through lights and past signs without the slightest indication it would even slow down for a pedestrian- Spice never liked speed limits. The wolf groaned, her head still throbbed even as she gobbled down the multiple colored tablets claiming to be pain killers and relievers. They didn't help. Nothing would, and she knew it. It wasn't her pain she was feeling anyway, it was just transferred to her. Sometimes, she hated being the second half of a whole. Still, it meant something had happened to her sibling, and she aimed to find out what it was. She pressed her foot to the accelerator and sighed deeply, hoping the burst of speed would help sooth her headache, and while she kept one paw on the steering wheel, she let the fingers of her other paw gently trail about the silver painted plastic of her cell phone. A flip top- unlike her car, it didn't do much other then what it was supposed to do- make and receive phone calls. No e-mail, or instant text, or music or any other crap. It made calls, and took calls. All she needed.

"...Fuck. " She groaned. 15 missed calls. The bitch had been trying to call her...Spice sighed a gentle sigh of relief, closing her eyes. If she'd been trying to call, maybe she was still at home- and if she was still at home, she could figure out what was going on...

She flipped the phone open and pushed redial, biting her lip as the phone dialed....and the other end rang....and rang....and rang. Then there was a click, and someone picked up...

"You dumb bitch!! What'd I tell you about leaving the link up! You know I feel whatever you feel! What the hell happened to you?!" Spice snapped- She expected some sort of snappy retort, they'd yell at each other, they'd hang up, and she could go home feeling satisfied there wasn't a problem...instead there was a muffled sob at the other end of the phone...

"S, Spice?"

"Margie?! ...Margie...?" Spice frowned. She hadn't known Margie that well, and never really talked to the mouse- but she liked her. She was quiet, cute, and an excellent chef- not to mention her sibling's best friend. But something was wrong. She didn't usually pick up the phone in tears..."Margie are you alright?! What happened? Where's..."

"Spice I've been trying to get a hold of you! I, I'm fine, but, but I, I think the church got her. I think they took her..."

"WHAT?! Whadda mean got her?! What happened?!"

"I got here about an hour ago and I tried to call you... Th, there's blood everywhere. The walls...the floor. It smells like gunpowder...there are bullet holes everywhere, and oh God there's so much blood...Spice..."

The phone slipped from her ear and clattered to the floor under the wolf's feet- her eyes wide and starry as she drove along, her speed increasing with each passing second, until the street lights became bright white blurs. It felt like years, but it was only a minute before she snapped back into reality. Something terrible had happened to her sister. Sparkle had disappeared- And Spice Shadowpaw was aiming to find her.