Getting in Harms Way
#1 of Tales from The Hub
OK boys and girls, this is the first story of a new possible series. If you read it, please do me the favor of commenting; good, bad or ugly. The background of the world and characters will develop over time.
They
say either ya love the city or ya hate it. As the joke goes, if ya hate it,
move out. Where's the joke in that? There's nothing else but the city. Yeah,
sure, there're the Outlands, and people do live in those forsaken crap holes,
raising Mords and crops and the like. But there is only the One City. It's the
center of everything. Without it, there could be nothing else. If it helps, think
of it as the heart and brain of the world all wrapped into one.
Since
you've never been there, which I would find hard to believe, I'll tell ya a
tiny bit about it. It's big. I realize I have nothing worthy enough to compare
it too, which to me automatically makes it the largest community around.
Outland settlements may have a few hundred Expers, but the city has hundreds of
thousands. Nothing happens anywhere that doesn't first start here. A name?
Mine? Oh, the city's. Well, that's a cause for debate. It goes by The Hub,
though others call it Grecksperity. Me, I call it home. Any other name is
pointless. All arguing about it will do is get ya on the bad side of someone you'd
rather have as a friend.
Me?
Well, I don't often give out my name. Ya see, a lot of people know it, but they
don't usually associate it with my face anymore. That's to my advantage as well
as theirs. If ya must know, I go by Veracity Harms. Yes, as a matter of fact,
that is my real given name. The last part, my family surname, is pretty old. My
first name is thanks to the algorithm. Don't ask. I'll explain it later. My
father, bless his soul, was a relative unknown on this world. He liked it that
way. I learned well from him. Anonymity has a lot of advantages to it,
especially when ya have a lot of wealth.
Money?
Money ain't wealth, ya idiot. Information is wealth. Oh, I've got money, but I
don't flaunt it. No point in tempting people into doing foolish things. That
was why, when I set out on my present project, I chose to get a companion. I
needed someone who would compliment me; someone who could go where I couldn't
go and who could deal with the people who refused to deal with me. It was a bit
tricky, interviewing the applicants. I didn't inform them of what the job entailed
until I had one I liked. In the end, it turns out he was way over qualified.
Now
we're never seen apart. The suave, stylish, short and furry one with his
impossibly tall, dark and muscle bound partner. The descriptive terms I just
used don't do us justice, but for your benefit, think of us as a gray fox and a
stallion. It's not a proper identification, but it will do for the moment. I
find there to be no advantage in boring ya with details right now. You'll get
the blanks filled in as the story goes.
This is
the last little bit of preface. I can't leave you hanging in all regards. The
city had a police force, such as it was, but they were corrupt and often
useless. They were nearly as bad as the Brotherhood of the Truth and the
various criminal organizations that flourished here. An honest person rarely
survived unscathed, an evil person rarely lived long, and death was your only
sure friend.
I took
it upon myself to right the wrongs, leastwise those I saw as the most outlandish
and evil. Sure it's rather one-sided and inconsistent, but it's better than
nothing. It's peculiarly pathetic on the face of it, but if I could help even
one person, then I could feel I did some little good for this world. It turns
out I got myself in for more than I bargained for. What? Who? Oh, my partner. Goes
by the name of Bolshoi Way. His first name was like everyone else's, a matter
of fate. The Creator had programmed the machine to work that way. No one argued
with it, even after a thousand years.
My
partner and I had worked out a system, whenever we were working on a case, to
keep the information flowing. If it happened to slow to a trickle, or if
someone caught on to us, then the blood flowed. If we were lucky, it was the
whiskey that flowed instead. We weren't usually that lucky, even if we were
buying. Regardless, the questions got asked and one way or another, we got
answers. When we cornered our quarry, it was time enough to dole out the
punishment. If they were fortunate, we killed them outright. Their luck was
often on par with our own however. They weren't usually that lucky.
This was
the first case I worked on with my new partner. The details of it were sickeningly
hideous. The cops were ignoring the crimes, even though the newspapers were
plastering it all over their front pages. There was a rapist/murderer hitting
the dark pockets of The Hub. He wasn't particular in his tastes; of the twenty
three victims attributed to him, few had anything in common. They were all
different species, and their ages ranged from fifty six years to eighteen
months. Of course, some species aged differently, and some cubs were bigger
than others, but the whole thing made me nauseous.
Since
no one else seemed interested in apprehending him, I made it my prerogative to
take this creep out. If, and I say if, I happened to wipe a few others off the
streets at the same time, then so be it. There's something satisfying about
mayhem; uncontrolled mayhem is extremely gratifying. My partner and I each had
our own way of dealing with adversaries. You'll eventually figure it out.
This
creep had been dubbed by the newspapers The Vivisectionist. He cruelly hacked
his victims to death after repeatedly raping them for hours or days on end. The
only reason the police would turn a blind eye towards a criminal like this was
because he worked for one of the syndicates. Someone was paying huge sums in an
attempt to cover it up. It was a surprise that the newspapers ever got wind of
the crimes at all. That was my first clue.
Newspapermen
usually got their intel from a reliable source and lacking that, they would
publish any innuendo that came dancing in front of their eyes. If the police force
was trying to put the kibosh on the matter, the papers had to be getting their
story from a less officious source. I had mulled over that for a while before coming
to a conclusion. I needed to verify my deductions. That's where I needed a
partner.
We
walked into the offices of The Spoke. It wasn't the largest rag in town, but it
had a reputation for exploitive reporting and tabloid style news. I was here to
see Charlo, aka "The Ear." He had his nose in everyone's business even if they
didn't know it. In fact, I was the only one who was aware of his network of
spies and informants. It always shook him up when I dropped in. I think this
was because he knew who I was, but never could dig up anything to use against
me. It was well known amongst the criminal and lawful alike that he had files
hidden away that could ruin most of them. It was also known that if he was
murdered, that information would go public.
On me, he had nothing.
I sent
in Bolshoi first, just to get ole Charlo pissed off. I found him easier to deal
with when he was off his guard. My partner had picked up the tricks of the
trade with preternatural speed. Within a few minutes the editor was foaming at
the mouth and raging at my partner. When his rage turned to threats of bodily
harm, I glided into the room.
Now
Charlo was no fool, but he wasn't a coward either. Cowards didn't survive here.
His skin went white (as much as his fur would show) and he dropped back into
his chair. "Uh, Hello Veracity. What the hell are you doing here?"
"Hello
Charlo. I was accompanying this fine little fellow here, who so wanted to ask ya
a few questions. It seems to me you've been a bit harsh towards him. Don't tell
me I need to shake ya down again." I looked at him with narrowed eyes. I flared
my nostrils for effect.
"Listen
you freak, I have the right to keep my sources anonymous. The rules say I do!
So get the hell out!"
"Oh,
you're right about that! Just between you and me though, I don't think anyone
gives a shit. I know I don't. So save us both a lot of time and frustration and
answer my friend's questions."
For an
answer, the editor pulled open his desk drawer and pulled out a formidable
sized pistol. He waved it around frantically before aiming it at me. His arm
quavered like a reed in a wind storm. "Goddammit you nosy asshole, I said get
out. Out! Out! Out!"
I
examined the gun down the length of my face to my nose, where it was presently
aimed. It was a good make, a hand crafted piece with a large bore. Nice! It was
about the same size as the one I had just had to retire. I still carried my
other one, but it was a special needs only piece. "I've looked at a gun from
this side more times than you have from that end. Do me the favor and spare us
the mess of me plastering your carcass all over the wall." He was suddenly
looking down the barrel of my remaining gun. He recognized it immediately and
dropped his like it was molten metal. As I happened to have my hand clamped
over the barrel; I considered his release of it a sign I could keep it. There
weren't too many fifty caliber hand guns around. Few had the strength the fire
them and keep their arm attached to their shoulder. They were only good at
intimidating those who didn't know any better, unless you had the muscle to
wield them.
"That's
a good boy Charlo. Now, my friend here asked ya a question or two. How about an
answer or three?"
He
looked like he had just been told the meal he had eaten had been laced with poison.
"Good luck finding this guy. I assume you've already figured out he's being
protected. The cops are lame and degenerate, but not even they would avoid
investigating this unless there was a lot of dough involved. Before you ask,
no, I haven't any idea who this sicko is. He could belong to any of the mob
families, or even be a high priest in the Brotherhood. Fact is, he could even
be a cop, though I doubt it. The chief would have put a bullet in him
personally to save himself the public embarrassment."
"Yeah,
I figured that much out already. What I need to know is who your source is. I
know for a fact that every other newspaper is copying everything ya print.
Since they aren't intelligent or lucky enough to have their own source, yours
must be the only one. I need a name."
"If I
give you his name, he'll be dead before sunset and so will I. I may have a lot
of information on these jerks, but if I push them too far, they'll find no
reason to keep me alive. They'll have an all out war if they find out who my
informant is. This person is a model citizen."
My cock
stiffen imperceptibly. "Thanks Charlo. I'll send over a replacement gun for ya,
something less showy and a bit more lethal for your hands. There's no point in
holding something ya can never fire." I turned to go.
"Wait!
What are you thanking me for?"
"The
information we needed."
"But I
told you nothing!" he screamed.
"Correct.
But it was in what ya didn't tell me that I ascertained what I needed to know.
I'll have the pleasure of making a social call on Charise Morou."
The
editor fell back on his chair with a cry of despair. "But you can't, you just
can't! If her husband finds out, we'll all be dead! Why do you think I said he?
I was trying to throw you off."
I
laughed a little too loudly. "God forbid that we should die! It's one of the
few luxuries we have, ya little tight-assed bastard. Besides, remember the old
words; do onto others before they do you. I think I have a shot at evening any
odds the bookies might place on my future successes."
Charlo
slumped back in his chair. "I hate you. I don't mean that lightly Veracity, I
really, truly hate you. But...if you're going to pursue this, at least don't be
an idiot." He opened another drawer in his desk. He removed a wooden and brass
box. "Here's the rest of the ammo for that gun. And I had better see a
replacement in my office before sundown!"
I
pocketed the box, finding that it fit, if only barely, into my jacket pocket. The
gun slipped into the empty holster like they had been crafted by the same
hands.. As we left, my partner fell into step beside me. Looking up he said,
"So, who exactly is this Charise. The name sounds vaguely familiar."
"Charise?
She and I are old friends. Do ya recall the actress and model Charise Fellows?"
The
little fox's eyes lit up. "Oh, that Charise. I was aware she had dropped out of
the limelight, but never the reason why. Married to the mob huh?"
"Yeah,
you could say that. Wasn't much her decision. When someone gives ya a choice
between a permanent chunk of lead in your brain and a cushy but illicit
lifestyle, only an intelligent person takes the bullet. Carise has looks and a
bod that won't quite, but she hasn't got the wits to think ahead. Last I heard
she was pretty miserable. That has nothing to do with me, of course. She made
her choice and has to live with. However, if she's leaking information on
Blackmantle Morou, then she has just piqued my interest again.
Bolshoi
let loose a long whistle. "I didn't realize that this job was going to get me into
so many situations. Are you sure I'm cut out for it?"
I loved
the way his voice was high pitched compared to mine. It was one of the reason's
I chose him. No one looked at him and said; this
fellow is dangerous! He was perfect for getting information on a more
subtle level than I myself could do. Oh, I could be subtle, but it did little
good. When you're over four hundred pounds of equial bone and muscle, even the
Carns pay attention. The black hair over a black hide didn't help ease the
average person into accepting me as more than a crazed murderer. I didn't mind.
That kind of reputation kept most of the maniacs off my case. That in turn
saved me a fortune in ammunition.
Then
there was the leather. Normally, only the Carns wore the stuff. The average
Exper refused to soil themselves with the reputation associated with it. Exper?
That explanation can wait. I'll just say that all of the intelligent beings
living here are descended from the original Expers. The Mords are what we were
or something like that. They're just dumb animals that look remotely like a lot
of us. The only reason they're still around is because the Carns need something
to eat. However, an Equial wearing the skin of another animal is considered
sacrilege.
So
anyway, back to the leather. I had a full length outfit made. The coat falls to
my ankles, and has enough steel banding sewn inside to make it weigh eighty
pounds. It isn't bullet proof or knife proof, but few know that for certain. I
have pants of the same material. My shirt varies with my mood. It too is
usually black.
Bolshoi
is always properly dapper, with ruffled collars, velvet and cotton. He wears
glasses to give him an air of distinction, but in reality his eyes are a tad
better than mine. He's light on his feet, quiet, good with a sword and better
with throwing knives. He's an inventor and usually has something hidden up his
sleeve at all times. As I found out later, he was damn good at keeping secrets.
Ya can't pull the wool over my eyes too often. This little sneak pulled a major
one. It taught me to never assume anything about anyone ever again. But that has little bearing on the case at
hand.
Finding
Charise wasn't going to be a problem. Getting to her without causing a minor
skirmish was. I needed to draw her out in the open, yet somewhere where she
wouldn't be seen. Like I said, she was one hot dame and even if ya didn't
recognize her for who she was, ya still couldn't help notice her nice tits and
ass. That meant there was only one place that was fit for me to see her.
My
partner proved invaluable in so many ways. First, he took my letter straight to
her. I left it up to him to figure out a way of avoiding the thugs and
cutthroats that peppered the Morou Estate.
If he managed to do that, he then still had to approach the lady herself
without getting a knife in the gut. She wasn't likely to take kindly to
intruders into her boudoir.
In the
end, he performed swimmingly. He never told me how he managed it, nor did I
ask. The letter he brought back was genuine. I knew her delicately flourished
script anywhere. She agreed to meet me at Liatra's. We used to have dinner there,
back when she was a rising star. It was a nice enough place. The food was good.
And it had private dining rooms. That was more important than a meal in this
situation. It had been important back then too.
I know
the owner, so getting in the back way was easy enough. Bloshoi dressed as a
waiter and posted himself by the front door to make sure she wasn't followed.
She wisely took a cab, though as it turned out in the end, two different ones.
She got in one, rode it to the tram station, walked in the front and out the
back to a different one. She had learned caution. That was good.
My
partner escorted her to the back, locking the door behind him. No one was going
to get in, not easily anyway. I hoped to get the information I wanted quickly
and be on my way. Each extra minute with her pushed the situation farther into
the danger zone.
She
didn't immediately see me. I know; how could she miss? I blend into the shadows
quite well, and I left one half of the room in the dark. While she was staring
into the shadows, I cleared my throat from the booth in the corner behind the
door. That's the other trick. Let them think you're in one place when you're in
another.
She
jumped. "Dammit Veeeracity! You how I hate to be frightened!"
I had
always loved the way she lingered on the "e" in my name. I was looking her over
from top to bottom. I had no intention of getting mixed up with her, not that
way. But it was fun reminiscing. "I know ya do. Doesn't explain how ya got
mixed up with a jerk like Morou. I would think every day would have ya looking
over your shoulder, just waiting for something bad to happen."
She
smiled thinly. "Oh, I have my penances to deal with. You wouldn't believe some
of the punishments I've had to endure. But then again, I didn't see you
stepping up to save me from myself!"
I
sniffed, blowing out my hot breath in her face. "Ya knew I would never marry. I
told ya that from the start. It never stopped ya from climbing into my bed
every night for a year."
She
pulled off a glove and ran her fingers across my chest. "Yes, I suppose you
did. An Oryx can always hope, can't she?"
Now,
before ya get too confused, I likely need to clarify. She wasn't like the
original animal by that name any more than I was a horse. She was bipedal, like
all Expers. She had some resemblance to her namesake; she was graceful,
beautiful and I was getting a hard-on just thinking about her naked. She pulled
off her hat to reveal her diminutive horns. They were neatly filed down and
covered in gold. I didn't approve. I liked her better as she was meant to be.
But then again, I had no say in the matter.
She
sensed my dismay. "What? You don't like my jeweled horns? I remember when you
used to use them to keep me from falling to the floor when you pounded the..."
"Yes, I
remember quite clearly Charise! All I want today is some information. Once I
have it, you're free to go."
She sat
down, forcing me back into the booth. "Is that all I'm good for anymore? I
haven't heard a word from you in three years and you arrange this wonderfully
romantic meeting, and all for some information? You've changed Veeeracity, and
not for the better. But I haven't." She
stared at me for a moment and then sighed. "You can have your information."
"Just
like that?"
"Of course not, you big fool! I
want something in return.
"What?
"Nothing too difficult. I want you
to show me you still care for me. I want you to do it now, here, and I want it
until I cry for you to stop. Then you can ask me anything you want."
"Is that it? The last time I looked
you were married to the worst hoodlum in town. I don't think he'd be too
pleased to find out his wife was getting hit on by an old flame!"
"I'm not going to tell him; are
you?"
I have to admit I snorted out an
undignified laugh. "Tell him?! By the time I'd be done with you, that old Carn
will be able to stick two cocks his size into you. To be honest, I had you pegged as ruined for
the average guy."
She grabbed my nostrils and
pinched. I never flinched. "Listen, you big jerk. I'll have you know I trained
myself to keep my muscle tone intact. Otherwise, I could have rented out my
poor cunt as storage space. If I did it before, I can do it again. So either
shut up or put out. If you want your information so badly, get those disgusting
leathers off and show me the joy I haven't had in years."
I was really reluctant to do this.
All I wanted was to get a name and get out quickly. In the back of my head, I
had known this was a possibility. She still secretly craved my companionship.
After all, it was I who had broke off the relationship, blaming it on her
career. As I once said, "All the men will fall for a girl they think they have
a chance with over one who is obviously smitten with someone they could never
be." It was true. However, I had said it more than once; I would never get
married. It hardly mattered if it was to some old hag or the most beautiful
person I had ever met.
As it was, my pants weren't going
to fit comfortably for much longer. Her hand ran down my chest to my crotch.
Her eyes lit up. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"
I was faced with making a snap
decision. I could sit here and argue with her for an eternity, or I could
comply with her demands, get what I wanted and get out. Given her propensity
for sex and mine for endurance, either situation was going to take longer than
I wanted. However only one would get me my answer. I pushed her out of the
booth and stood. My coat dropped to the floor with a leaden thud.
That
was followed by my gun belt, my shirt, boots and my pants. I know some guys drop
their pants around their ankles, but that's just stupid. I can run faster naked
than I can half dressed. Besides, I was in no danger. Charise on the other hand
was keeping her clothes on. I wasn't surprised. We had played this game before.
It was one of the reasons I loved a dame in a dress. You could do what ya
wanted and a minute later they could walk away like nothing happened. Well, not
all of them could do that. Some had to walk a little bow legged out the door
when I was done.
Her
eyes lit up when I was done stripping. "Veeercity darling, I'm so looking
forward to this interrogation. I promise you, whatever you want to know, I'll
happily tell you." She pressed her fingers against the joints on either side of
her jaw. It was a trick she had perfected just for me. With a slight pop, it
came undone. She kissed my cock with those sweet lips just before opening wide
to take it in her mouth. There aren't
many folks, male or female, regardless of the species, which can take what I
have to offer in such a manner. Hell, there aren't many that can take
it...period!
She was
a one in a million. She took it slow, not because she had to, but because she
knew I loved the feeling. It wasn't often I got the treat of having someone
giving me their all just because they wanted to. Besides, I hadn't gotten laid
in weeks. I hoped she knew what she was in for.
Her
pale fingers caressed my throbbing meat as she slowly engulfed as much as she
could. I once choked a Carn to death in a similar manner, but here she bravely
worked it in nearly a third of its length before she could take no more. I
could feel her slim tongue working the shaft from underneath while the tip of
my cock had to be staring at her stomach. I can tell ya, I didn't last long. I tried
to warn her, but she sank her nails into my tender flesh and held on for the
oncoming storm. I blew so hard she gagged and lost her grip. I came loose in a
spray of foamy white.
It took
her a moment to get her breath back. "I say darling, you've been neglecting
yourself. I never allowed you to get yourself in such a state. And I think
you've ruined my dress!"
Indeed,
she was covered in cum. But if she was truly bothered by it, she didn't show
it. She grabbed the edge of the table with one hand, flipping up her dress with
the other to reveal a pale bare ass bisected with a hot pink slit. "I didn't
bother with the panties. I tend to lose them when I take them off in strange
places." She turned her head back, grabbing the table solidly with the other
hand. She remembered how this routine went.
"Are ya
sure ya want this? Ya know how I can get!"
I
couldn't see her face, but her voice betrayed her smile. "Darling, I hoping you
haven't changed one ounce in that regard!"
I ran a
hand down across her buttocks. They were as firm and perfect as I remembered. I
slid one finger into her pink moistness, eliciting a shudder. She was excited,
of that there was no doubt. I only hoped that after all this time, she hadn't
lost her ability to handle what I was about to give her.
Now,
before ya go thinking horse again, remember that I'm not a horse. However, I am
hung in a similar manner. Trust me, I've seen real horses during a trip to the
Outlands; I even dabbled in trying out a mare or two. But a true horse stallion
has got me by a few inches, both in length and width. Still, as far as Expers
go, I sit at the top of the hierarchy when it comes to cock size. Poor Charise
should have stuck to something more in her line. Luckily for me she's tougher
than she looks and hornier than a teenage Lago.
I
grabbed her hips and lined up for the kill. That's not a joke exactly; I've
done in a few of my victims in this manner. The head of my cock pressed tightly
against her taut lips. I wanted her pretty badly by now, but at the same time,
had no desire to do her unnecessary damage. She apparently knew what I was
thinking. With a well timed backwards push, she forced her hot crack over the
tip of my meat. I finished the job with
one gigantic thrust. She let loose of cry of mixed pain and delight.
It was
loud enough to attract the attention of my partner. I heard a light rap on the
door and a faint, "Is everything OK in there?"
"Yes,
just fine. Things haven't gotten out of hand yet."
She
groaned a little. "No not yet. I'm hoping that will come later!" I hoped
Bolshoi didn't hear that.
I
pushed in harder, forcing her hips forward, despite my grip. She collapsed
against the table, allowing my hands to be free for other things. Like
clockwork, I moved my grip from her hips to her horns. They used to be a bit
longer, but my oversized hands clamped on to what was there with the strength
of a vice. She grunted at the force of my actions, but followed it up with a
coo.
Gawd
Veeeracity! I've so missed your grand entrances!"
That
much was true. She could never get enough of me, physically anyways. We didn't
always see eye to eye on other matters, but on this one we were dead on. I
pushed frantically deeper between her legs, gaining an inch or so with every push.
It was like prying apart the shells of an oyster. And just like an oyster,
getting into her insides was like finding a pearl. I was glad she had gotten me
off already. Had she not done so, I would have blown my wad way too soon.
As it
was, I was getting little crazy. I do that sometimes, when it doesn't much matter.
You'll see what I mean later. With Charise, I was glad she had experienced me
in rage mode more than once in the past. Not only had she survived them fairly unscathed,
she seemed to enjoy them. Most who suffered through them didn't. She appeared
to relish the abuse. At the moment her head was pulled backwards at an
uncomfortable angle as I banged the hell out of her. I could feel the tip of my
meat grinding roughly against her womb. Given enough time I just might force my
way past her cervix and gain myself a few more inches of working room.
I could
hear the vertebrae in her neck creak and grind as I pounded away. Most gals I
know would have called this rape, but not my lithe little Oryx. It was what she
used to live for. It was nice for me to be able to cut loose on a willing
victim again. Usually this performance was reserved for; well, I'll tell ya
later. Anyway, I was giving her the first real fuck she'd had in years. That
pussy mobster husband of hers might think he was a big deal, but I had more on
him in any category he could come up with. He certainly couldn't outperform me
in this one.
It was
a good thing she could produce copious amounts of lubrication. At the rate I
was pumping her, the lack of it would have caused her to burn up from the
friction. As it was, we were both beginning to overheat. Sweat was beading up
on my neck and tricking down my back. Even my lover was starting to perspire.
It was one of the reasons I used her horns. It was the one spot that didn't get
slippery.
She was
pushing back against me, probably more to ease the crease in her belly (from
the table) than anything else. I wasn't completely unfeeling towards her
position. I stopped for just a moment, let loose of her horns and wrapped my
hands around her slim waist. My fingers sank into the material of her dress. I
hauled her into the air, leaving her feet to dangle above the floor. I turned
her into a washboard; my cock being the laundry. We had done this before.
Before
I could get going, she shakily blurted out, "Turn me!" I did as she commanded.
I lifted her up and turned her in an about face. She lifted her legs until they
ran up my chest and then dug her nails into my shoulders. Needless to say she
was still quite flexible. It was a fun position, but a dangerous one for her.
Once or twice in the past I had slipped out and re-entered the wrong hole. That
was fine for me but not so good for her. I was cautious to make sure I hit the
right spot this time
I slid
back in and returned to banging the shit out of her. I'm sure it had to feel
like I was trying to drive a fence post with her body, the fence post being my
cock of course. I could feel her clamping down around me. It was a tossup who
would let loose first. I figured if she wanted this so badly, I'd hold off
until she cried for me to stop. I put more force into my slams, driving her
down ever harder. Her head began to rock back and forth violently in time to my
aggressive, churning motions. A couple of times it slammed into my face. This
was getting out of hand, which is my way of saying I was getting off on it.
She
clamped up tight around me, going into a gut wrenching orgasm. As it built, she
started to scream. I only hoped it wasn't so loud as to distract the diners.
Five minutes later she was still going. She managed to spit out "Stop!" I
managed to ignore her plea. She started this little liaison; it was up to me to
finish it properly. I picked up speed, slamming even harder than before. A
trickle of blood escaped her nose and splattered across my chest. I had a
feeling there was a bit of the same showing between her legs. It was just as
well that my own climax was building again.
When I
cut loose, it was a hot load pressed right up against her cervix. The pressure
of it had to force it past that tight little aperture and straight into her
uterus. I held her down in a painfully tight embrace while I blew and blew and
blew. She let out a weak cry and slumped back, her head dangling back past her
shoulders. I felt pretty good right about then. I only hoped that she would
regain consciousness soon enough for me to get my information. The noise we had
made was likely causing a stir out in the main part of the restaurant.
As if
on cue, there was a knock at the door. I slid my lover onto the table and
cracked it open. A little foxy face peered up at me. "I say big fellow; was all
that noise necessary just to get a little information?"
"Uh, in
this case it was. Hold the fort down for a little longer, if ya don't mind."
"Sure,
I can do that. But why?"
"Uh,
because I haven't actually got my information yet. I've been pumping my source
this whole time."
Bolshoi
actually tittered. "I believe that. Ya shook the entire building. Is your
friend still alive after all of that noise?"
"Yes,
she's fine, thanks for asking. Now, if ya don't mind, I'd like to finish this
up."
The fox
lifted his glasses and peered at my midsection. "From the pearl white fluid
dripping from that monstrosity you dare to call a cock, I'd say you are
finished. Now get your information and let's get the hell out of here. I think
we're overstaying our welcome."
He was
probably right. The restaurant had once been a seedy eatery, but over the years
it had gained a classier clientele. The sooner I got my information, the faster
I could slip back out the back and make everyone happy. I closed the door and
returned to Charise. She was out. I picked up a pitcher of water and dumped it
on her. She flew off the table with a screech.
"You
stupid motherfucker!" Then she collapsed on the floor. "My damn legs won't
work, you bastard. My cunt is on fire! And my nose is bleeding!" She glared at
him for just a moment. Then she grinned from ear to ear. "God how I've missed
this. What are you doing tomorrow?"
"That
depends on you. Remember? I need information."
She sighed. "Yes, of course. It always
business with you. Fine, what do you want to know? The combination to my
husband's safe?"
"No. I
want to know who The Vivisectionist is."
Her
eyes bulged ever so slightly. "Him? Leave him for the cops. I have no love for
him, but if I tell you his name, it will fall hard on anyone connected with his
death. That would seemingly be you and I happened to prefer you intact."
"The
cops aren't doing anything about it, and ya know it. I fulfilled my apart of
the bargain, now you do yours."
She
sighed again. "Archimedes."
I
started. "You're kidding me, right?"
"No. I
wish I was. My husband let it slip a few weeks ago. I acted like I didn't hear
him. Everything points to him being the culprit."
This
gave me pause for thought. Archimedes was Blackmantle's first cousin. He was
also the family hit man. He was good; good enough to keep yourself clear of his
sights. I would have thought that contract killing would have been enough to
get him off. Apparently making a neat, clean death wasn't tickling his jollies.
He had turned to darker, more sinister things. I didn't care about the contract
killing. Usually, it was a matter of one family taking out members of another.
It was like they were doing the world a favor. But this; this couldn't be tolerated
"Thanks
my little pale beauty. I hope my payment for that information was sufficient."
She
smiled thinly. "Your payment was just wonderful, my big black hunk of
masculinity. I only hope my information doesn't lead to your unfortunate and
premature demise. I'd happen to like another round or two before that
eventuality."
I
extended a hand to pull her to her feet. She grasped it with a delicate touch.
She looked at me with an obvious disapproving glance. I had little to say in
regards to my future mission. "Thanks
dear, but I intend to take this bastard out. Never fear. I intend to be the one
who walks away from this. All I need to do is get him somewhere where I can do
him in without alerting him or the Morou family. On the other hand, if I make
it look like one of the other families did it, I'll escape free and clear."
She
looked up at me with big brown eyes. "I suppose you'll do what you'll do. Don't
worry about me. I doubt they'll know it was me who blabbed, but if you have any
feelings for me, try to keep the rest of the family out of it. I know they aren't
great, but not all of them are bad. I'd hate to be the cause of relative
innocents getting picked off because of something I did."
"Alright
Charise. I think I can do that for ya. Take care. You're still as good a fuck
as ya were when we first met. I think you'd better start those exercises, or
whatever ya call it, the moment ya get home. You're going to need tightening up
before your husband lies with you again."
She
giggled. "He hasn't bedded me in months. Do you know how hard it is for a Carn
to lay with a non meat eater without taking a bite out of their flesh? He has a
little tan puma girl he stick's his dick into these days. It doesn't bother me
much. It's just that it gets lonely at times. Thanks for curing that disease,
even if it was just for a little while."
"The pleasure was mine. Now, let's
get dressed and part ways before we're discovered." She had little to do except
straighten her dress. I smiled as she stuffed a cloth napkin between her legs.
"Oh quit grinning like that you bastard. You know that your cum will be flowing
out all the way home."
I did. It took me a few moments to
pull on my leathers. I gave her a kiss. She returned it passionately. "Good bye
Charise. If it's any consolation, I miss you too."
She smiled, turned and slid out the
door. Bolshoi stepped in and shut it again. "You've got your name?"
I just nodded grimly.