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Nexus

Chapter Three: Into the Second Circle of Hell

After finishing their meal Flynn directed Ryan, who insisted on driving, to a district on the edge of Uptown. It was a trendy neighbourhood that was separated from the 'rundown downtown' by only one city block, but the streets were well lit and there were plenty of taxis and ride share drivers available, so it was considered safe.

The first club they stopped at was named 'Lady's Choice'. Its marquee featured the silhouettes of several muscled Anthros: a bull, a horse, a wolf and a tiger. Each silhouette had a prominent bulge in the groin area.

“This place caters to human women?" Ryan asked, just to confirm what seemed obvious.

“Yes." Flynn answered as she stepped out of the car and adjusted her suit. “Birthdays, graduations, retirements, bachelorette parties … any excuse for a girls' night out."

While they were standing there an extended limousine pulled up in front of the club. A distinguished looking male feline, a furry if the human dress shoes were any indication, hurried around to open the oversized door. A half-dozen already drunk twenty-something women stumbled out and headed for the door of the club, which an over muscled Anthro Doberman in a tight leather suit held open with a toothy smile. The women were dressed in short, tight dresses and high heels and they dripped with jewelry.

“Probably returning from a winery tour." Flynn commented as the young ladies entered the club. “The limo drivers get a kickback for bringing them to specific clubs."

They followed the women to the door, flashing their badges and paperwork when the frowning Doberman blocked their way.

“You'll have to talk to the Maitre'd." The canine said after laboriously reading the inspection demand. “But first," he added as he loomed over Flynn with a wolfish grin on his face, “I'll have to verify that you're of drinking age, Miss. How about you show me your ID?"

Before Ryan could object Flynn grabbed the Doberman's necktie and jerked his head down to her eye level. “How about I check your pay records against your bank deposits and tax returns?" She snarled before releasing him.

“Right this way, Officers." The bouncer stepped aside and held the door open for them.

“What was that all about?" Ryan asked in a low voice as they let their eyes adjust to the dim interior.

“He was just hitting on me." Flynn answered, not wanting to elaborate as to why. “These bouncers never report their tips as income, so a mild threat was enough to put him off."

“Yeah, same for the human bouncers. Ryan admitted. “The same threat and a small bribe are usually enough to get them talking when they ought not to."

“I'll remember that." Flynn said, then lifted her muzzle as the Maitre'd hurried toward them. They had their badges and paperwork out before he reached them, but that did not wipe the frown from his face.

“You should not come in the front door." He said, scowling. “It's bad for business. The By-Law officers always came around back when they wanted to go over the records."

“We're not interested in your records tonight." Flynn injected before Ryan could say anything. “My, uh, partner is new to the club scene and he wanted to see the show."

She could not keep the corners of her mouth from curing up in a smile as she spoke, Ryan noted. He also caught the look of distaste the Maitre'd threw him before the fellow shrugged and said, “Okay, just stay out of the way. You don't want to be mistaken for dancers." Then he slid away to greet a group of newly arrived women that looked like they were from a knitting club.

Ryan turned to Flynn. “What did he mean by that?"

“You'll see." She replied as she pulled him aside.

They were in a dark corner of the main room, on a higher level than the tables and the stage so they could see everything going on. The stage was empty but several Anthros wearing nothing but tights and bow ties were circulating through the room, taking drink orders or dropping them off at the tables.

Most of the servers were from larger species, horses, bulls, wolves and the occasional large feline. All were very fit, with bulging muscles and rippled abs. Their fur was trimmed short, even shaved down to the skin in some cases. They all had perfect, white smiles that never left their faces as they served and chatted with the clients.

Occasionally one of the ladies would slap one on the ass or grab a handful of bulging crotch. When they did the servers would dance away and chide them with a smile and a waggling digit. It usually ended with them getting a bigger tip and, sometimes, a huddled whispered conference at the table.

As Ryan watched one of these exchanges an elderly woman in a fancy dress and pearls signaled a roan horse over and pressed her thumb to a credit device hanging around his neck. The horse set his tray down on a nearby counter and took her by the hand, helping her up and leading her to a curtained area off to one side.

“The champagne rooms." Flynn informed him when she saw Ryan's eyes following them. “For those that like privacy."

Ryan was about to ask what went on behind the curtain when he was distracted by an announcement.

“Put your hand together ladies, and welcome the next dancer to the stage. He's big, he's black, he's the Bull of Crete. Let's hear it for … the Minotaur!"

Loud music filled the room, drowning out the sound of clapping but not the occasional loud whistle. The curtains at the back of the stage parted and a huge, black, Anthro bull emerged.

His head and neck were huge with short, curved horns that looked deadly sharp to Ryan. He had a gold ring through his nose and a gold chain around his neck. His broad chest heaved as he danced enthusiastically around the stage, clapping his big hands together to get the audience going. Below his chest his wait narrowed quickly before flaring at the hips. Thick thighs tapered to slim calves and broad black hooves. He was wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist that fell to mid-thigh.

The bull posed, pumped his muscles then posed again. The ladies screamed for him to drop the towel. He didn't drop it, but as the music of his first dance faded he began to give them a peek. Just a flash at first, but as the music of his second song went on he exposed his ass, cock and balls for longer periods.

“Jesus Christ!" Ryan exclaimed when the bull swung around with the towel behind him and thrust his hips in their direction. “I thought you said that you Anthros all had human reproductive organs? This guy's cock is as long as my arm!"

“Genetically he's compatible with some Furries but not humans, although he's probably been sterilized to prevent accidental offspring with anyone, given his line of work. As for his, uh, … organ … the males bred for the sex trade are coded for … large ones … often matching their animal counterparts. The guys and gals that come to these places seem to appreciate them."

Ryan turned to her with a look of shock. “Guys come to these places?"

“Sure." Flynn shrugged. “Tuesday Night is boys night here, but some clubs cater exclusively to the gay crowd."

Ryan shook his head and turned his attention to the bull, who had wrapped the towel around his neck and was strutting around amongst the clients. Unlike the waiters he was not trying to avoid the women at the tables. When they reached out to him he slid over so they could caress his lean flanks, rub his solid thighs and occasionally press either a five, ten or twenty credit token that he wore on a band about his waist.

Between tables he would pose, often twirling his ponderous cock around in circles close to their faces. Sometimes he came up behind a shy one and draped his heavy cock over their shoulder, or their head if they were short enough. The affected lady would scream while their friends squealed with delight.

The bolder ladies started to take his cock in their hands, showing their friends how they could not circle it with just the fingers of one hand. Others hefted his hanging balls, pretending to weigh them. With a little encouragement some began to stoke the massive organ, and soon it was standing semi-erect, bouncing in time with his dancing.

Some ladies made as if to kiss it. The bull whipped the towel off his neck and shielded them from the other's view and urged them to go ahead. From their vantage point Ryan and Flynn could see that the first few just gave the tip a few quick pecks, but one of the knitting club grannies took the whole head in her mouth.

The bull whopped, and pulled the towel away for a second so that the rest of the audience could see what the old lady was doing. It did not deter her, and the bull had to dance away before she choked on it.

He continued to work the audience, letting the ladies suck and lick his cock and balls, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in trios. He made a show of covering up with the towel at first, but less and less until he finally flung it back to the stage.

It was almost an orgy on the main floor now, with women going down on him hard or exposing their breasts for him to rub his cock between them. He was fully erect, and he had to squat so that the ladies could reach the tip to suck it or rub it, but whenever the bull got too hard or too close to cumming he would dance away, leaving disappointed mouths gaping and silicone-enhanced tits flapping.

The older ones were the worst, Ryan noted. Some joined him on the floor after ripping off their panties so that they could straddle his meat club and grind their cunts along it while trying to tease it inside. The bull did not let them though. He fended each one off with the grace of a Matador until finally strutting back to the stage, his cock proudly bouncing at waist level in front of him, for one last pose before disappearing behind the curtain as the music faded away.

A wolf took the stage and Ryan turned away. He had seen enough for one night. He saw the bull emerge from a door to one side of the room, dressed in the standard bow tie and tights that did nothing to hide his still swollen member. Several women scrambled and fought to reach him. He picked up the one that got her thumb on his credit token first and carried her off to the Champagne Rooms.

AS he swept open the curtain the older woman that had gone back there with the horse emerged. Her fancy dress was off kilter with the zippered back halfway open. She was walking a little unsteadily, but she had a big stupid smile plastered across her face. It wasn't the only thing plastered on her, Ryan noticed. Unlike when she went in, her hair was slicked back and glistening, like she had applied some kind of gel. Her face was shiny and wet too, like she had wiped it after eating something greasy.

Then the roan horse stepped out. His tights were thrown over his shoulder and he had a satisfied grin on his face. His limp cock, also glistening wet, hung down to his knees. He waved to the table where the woman's companions were howling and laughing as she sat down. The nearest friend ran a finger through the gunk in the woman's hair, licked it and howled eaten louder.

Suddenly Ryan realized what it was that was all over the woman's face and hair.

He grabbed Flynn by the elbow. “Let's get out of here."

They drove in silence. Flynn didn't even know where they were going, or if they were going anywhere in particular. She was beginning to think that she had pushed Ryan too far when he spoke without looking at her.

“They wouldn't have, you know."

She shook her head, confused. “Who wouldn't have what?"

“The women in that joint. They wouldn't have mistaken us for dancers."

She was unsure where he was going with this. “How so?"

“Well, you're to cute to be dancing in that place, and you're female."

“Don't be too sure." She said with a grin he probably couldn't see. “Some of these rich humans have strange tastes. But what about you? You're a big tough guy."

“Other than being obviously human, once the towel came off they would see that I'm not suited for that line of work." He said, then he turned to her. “Unless the docs can do that genetic coding thing retroactively?"

“Uh, no. Not yet, I don't think."

“Good thing I chose the career I did then." He replied, turning his attention back to his driving. “We got a couple of hours left before we can clock out. Let's hit another couple of your Anthro clubs, Flynn, but this time … let's go in the back and stick to checking their books … okay?"

Flynn realized that Ryan knew that she had tried to embarrass him, to get one up on him. His joking about it, rather than chewing her a new tailhole for her insubordination, showed that he had taken the lesson in reality for what it was and that there were no hard feelings … she hoped.

“You got it Sarge." She said in a neutral tone, not daring to let satisfaction or worry show in her voice. “Take a left at the light and you'll see a club called 'Beauty in the Beast'. We can park around back."

“Gotcha."

* * * * * * * *

After visiting two more clubs and issuing a couple of citations that he considered just so much bullshit Ryan called it a night.

“This car is assigned to us for the duration." He told Flynn as the left the last club. “It's too late to sign it back in to the motor pool so I'll keep it overnight."

Plus, he added to himself, he had lost his car in the settlement with his Ex. It was also too late to catch a bus from the Station to his apartment, and a taxi would be expensive this time of morning. If working Clubs and Cabarets kept them out until oh-dark-thirty every night he didn't mind taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Where can I drop you?"

“Take Forty-third into the old city centre and I'll direct you when we get close."

They rode in silence for a few blocks.

“That Tactical Officer at the diner," Ryan said out of nowhere, “he your boyfriend … male friend … whatever you call it."

Flynn had a moment of panic. Can he smell it too? No, of course not, she told herself. He probably just picked up on the vibes that the other German Shepherd and every other Anthro male they had encountered tonight had been throwing off.

“No." She said evenly. “He's just a colleague. A guy I used to work with."

“Oh, sorry for prying."

“No, that's okay." Partners should be able to ask such things, she supposed, in order to get to know each other better. “I'm not seeing anyone in particular at the moment." She added. “You?"

Ryan barked a laugh. “God no. Not after … well, it's too soon on a number of counts."

“Yeah, I guess. Hang a left here."

He turned and slowed as they entered a section of rundown apartment buildings.

“This is me." Flynn told him as they approached one of the few that still had working security lights.

“Okay." He said as he pulled up close to the entrance. “You okay from here?" He asked as he examined the seedy exterior.

“Sure." She replied, bristling a bit. “I have a gun and a badge and five years experience as a Tactical Officer. I can take care of myself."

“Yeah, I suppose you can. You want I should swing by to pick you up tomorrow?"

“No, but thanks. I have to go in early and do some paperwork for the transfer."

“Okay. See you at the office."

“Yeah, see you." She said as she got out and closed the door of the car. Ryan wasted no time in leaving, it really was a bad neighbourhood and some of the punks that lived here would steal the tires right off your ride while you waited for the light to change.

Flynn sighed as she used her key and code to open the outer doors of the entrance foyer. All the security features of this building worked because she and several other Anthro Police Officers that lived her made sure that they did, and woe betide the punk that tried to mug someone within a block of this building. The word had gotten round, steer clear of Elm and Forty-third if you want your skull to retain its dome-like appearance.

Flynn had to walk up four flights of stairs; elevator repair was beyond the skills of her and the other officers.

There were six deadlocks on her door, only four of which were actually locked, and it was a different four every day. And thief trying to break in by picking the locks would end up engaging the two that were already unlocked and by the time they figured out which was which one of the off-duty officers would have responded to the silent alarms they had set up.

None of the thieves they caught ever went to court, but none of them ever came back again either, and not just because it's hard to climb stairs with both legs and your head in a cast. “Stay away from Elm and Forty-third" they told their friends, and “Hey, I got a place you should hit. A real cherry" they told their enemies.

By the time Flynn had four of the locks on her door she was tired and irritated. She was tired because she had been putting in long days to get the Club and Cabernet files in order. She was irritated because Ryan did not seem to appreciate the effort. There was a couple of other reasons also, she had to admit.

The first was the position that Chief Fanning had put her in.

Her first day as a detective, before even meeting Ryan, Lieutenant Lawson had taken her aside and informed her of her assignment.

“There is one other thing." He had told her. “The Chief is worried about Ryan going after certain people, the same ones he was after when all the shit went down. The Chief wants you keep an eye out for a few names in particular."

Lawson had given her a short list to memorize then taken the paper back.

“If Ryan starts looking into any of these people you let the Chief know, through me of course." Lawson had said before escorting her to the Chief's office to meet Ryan. “The Chief doesn't want Ryan to see you going direct to him and getting suspicious. Capiche?"

“Got it, Lieutenant."

Ratting on your partner was not something she looked forward to doing, even if Ryan was not the warmest or most forthcoming of partners. The reason she had to go in early was not to file paperwork but to give Lawson an update, and she still had not decided what to tell him.

She had checked the files that Ryan had been reviewing while she digitized the files and one name in particular kept coming up, Noah Gunderson, but Ryan seemed to have lost interest in the guy lately. Gunderson did own a sex club though, giving Ryan a legitimate excuse to review his files, but the question was, how far was Ryan going to take things?

That left Flynn with a dilemma. Should she tell Lawson that Ryan was looking into Gunderson but had done nothing out of line, or should she trust her partner and just say that had not shown any special interest in anyone not connected to the Club and Cabernet files? She didn't know what she should do, and that wasn't helping her attitude.

The other reason she was irritated was that she was in heat … again.

The bastards that played at being geneticists while breeding the first Anthros were to blame for that. The mix of human and animal DNA had strange side effects that the traffickers never bothered to fix. One of them was that canine females still went into heat, but in some, Flynn included, it occurred on a monthly basis.

Much like with her canine ancestors, being in heat created an insatiable desire to breed. It also caused her to emit an odour that male canines could pick up easily. That was why the Doberman had been hitting on her earlier.

To add to her problems the visual stimulation of all that prime male flesh on display at the Lady's Choice had only made things worse, and it was all that she could do not to drag the nearest male into a corner and fuck his socks off. That would have been unprofessional, especially since the nearest male was Ryan, and she certainly did not need to add sex to an already complicated situation.

It wasn't like she could just hop in the shower and rub it away, either. No, the urge went deeper than that.

Flynn signed and selected a contact on her personal communications device.

“Help Desk." A sleepy male voice answered.

“Hey Clark, it's Flynn."

Clark was an old friend, a Great Dane whose family had been emancipated at the same time as hers. He had no romantic interests but having been breed as a stud he could perform at the drop of a hat. He was currently working towards a degree in Computer Science and paying for it by doing client support for one of the big tech firms. He tended to be on call at odd hours because of it.

He also helped out frustrated females in heat for a small fee.

“Oh, hey Flynn. How's things?"

“Oh, you know. Working my ass off to get ahead."

“Yeah, I heard you made Detective, congratulations."

“Thanks Clark. How's school going?"

“Same old, same old." He paused. “I assume that you didn't wake me up at this ungodly hour to go over my latest exam scores?"

“No, it's my girl problems again. I had to sit through a couple of performances at one of the Anthro ladies' clubs and it's hitting me hard. Can you help a girl out?"

She could sense him checking the time. “I'm on call for another half hour, but I can take calls in the car. How about I head over there and knock on your door in exactly thirty minutes?"

“That sounds perfect." It would give her time to shower and put out some snacks. Because they were friends Clark didn't charge her much for his service, but he did appreciate a tray of sliced cold meat and cheese after.

Maybe after quenching the fire inside I'll be able to think straight and decide what to tell Lawson, she thought as she headed for the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind her.

* * * * * * * *

Ryan drove to his bachelor apartment in an area of town just as run down as the one he had dropped Flynn in. It was all that he could afford after the settlement with his Ex, but it did have underground parking, and the duty vehicle was old and ugly enough not to attract any competent car thieves.

His apartment was on the second floor, so he didn't need to worry about whether the elevator was working or not. His door was also locked with multiple locks, some of which were biometric, requiring a fingerprint and voice codes to open. Rather than the standard thumbprint though, he used the ring finger of one hand and the pinkie of the other for the print verification.

The apartment was tiny, with just a shower stall and no tub in the bathroom and a kitchenette smaller than his desk at the station, but he had managed to squeeze in an elliptical trainer. Usually he did an hour on it before bed but the events of the night had left him drained physically and emotionally, so he just heated up some leftovers and got ready for bed.

Sleep did not come easily though. The smell of alcohol from the clubs and the images that were burned into his memory haunted his thoughts. After an hour he gave up and got out of bed. Naked, he mounted his elliptical trained and set the timer for an hour.

At this rate, he thought as the sweat began to flow down his brow, it would be at least another week before they visited Gunderson's club. He would not charge right in there like … like a bull … he added as the image of the dancer known as the Minotaur came reluctantly back to mind. No, unlike their last encounter he would take his time, keep his cool for the first few visits. Maybe find a minor violation her or a petty infraction there. He would treat them just like the ones they had found in the other clubs, no more lenient and nor harsher than anyone else.

He would also be putting a little extra time in himself, and by himself. Checking the background of Gunderson's employees, looing for someone with a weakness he could exploit … someone he could turn into an unofficial informant.

Keeping it cool should convince Flynn that he was not out for revenge, giving him time to wean her over to his side. Maybe some of the Anthros in his clubs would open up to her … once he had her on board. Then, when the evidence linking Gunderson to some major crime emerged … as he was certain would happen … he could act surprised and suggest that they go after him cautiously, because Gunderson, with his ties to the Mayor and the DA, was sure to have a mole in the Department, he would explain.

Who knows, he thought. It might even be true.

He was pumping the elliptical harder and harder as he plotted his revenge against Gunderson. The blood was rushing to his head … and other places. He paused his routine and looked down on the first erection he had had since getting shot. Okay, he admitted, since several months before getting shot.

His mind immediately went to Flynn. He had never been attracted to Anthros but compared to the skinny, drug ravaged woman stripping in the human clubs she was a goddess. Plus, there had been something about her tonight … something he could not quite put his finger on … like the way all the male canines were trying to get close to her.

He shrugged and went back to exercising. The hardon would go away on its own, and he certainly did not need to add sex to an already complicated situation.

He just needed time and patience, he assured himself as his cock swayed in time with his efforts on the elliptical …lots of patience.