The Black Rose
Entry 24

Exiting the cab, my anxiety intensified. The throng of drunken people boisterously meandering in and around the club’s entrance didn’t help. The thick cloud of noxious perfumes and colognes made me want to barf. Keep calm.

“Alex.”

A familiar abhorrent voice rose above the meandering crowd.

I looked ahead and spotted Damien through the sea of bodies. He wore a pair of fitted navy designer trousers and a baby blue designer button-down and overcoat with the top two buttons left undone.

He hurried over to me. “Are you okay? You look a little pale,” he looked at me uneasily.

The ringing in my ears muffled his voice.

“I need a distraction,” I heaved.

“A distraction? What game are you playing now? ” He breathed exasperated.

I didn’t answer, I just stumbled forward to the front of the line. Damien followed hurriedly, placing his arm around my waist. My skin crawled.

“Don’t touch me,” I seethed under my breath as we made our way to the bouncers who looked more like secret service agents.

“Name?” One said aloud robotically.

“Damien Wells,” he spoke beside me.

I stared at the excessively-cologned bouncer and imagined him with his head decapitated, or a noose around his neck, or a knife in my hands, anything to numb the headache.

“You can pass,” the unfriendly bouncer uttered.

Damien ushered me through the mass of testosterone-riddled bodies and into the club. The darkness of the club, neon strobes, and electronic dance music heightened the fogginess. I needed something to calm me, desperately. My hand reached into my clutch, fingering the vial.

I needed to pull myself together. Damien came to babysit, and thus far, it was warranted.

I scanned the club, my sharp eyes pinpointing…

“There,” I muttered in Damien’s ear, motioning to the back of the club in the largest VIP section.

“By us drinks and then come find me,” I mouthed again in his ear. Damien appeared reluctant but obeyed.

As he made his way to the iced bar with massive glass sculptures, I sauntered towards the VIP section. Lucky for me, the bathrooms happened to be close. As I moved through the throngs of gyrating and dancing elite, eyeing along the way, my head pulsed from my racing heart. “Stay focused, Alex, ” I muttered. My anxiety drowned by the electronic pulsations of the speakers and grinding bodies.

Making it to the corner of the dance floor, closest to the VIP section, I pulled my expensive faux fur jacket closer to my shoulders, hoping the pressure would help. I felt flushed, sweat began to push through my pores. I pulled out the vial and sprinkled another four pills in my hand and swallowed them. I had never taken this many pills in such a short span, but I had no other choice.

I glanced at the VIP lounge in an attempt to get a grip on reality. Zhang had four nicely dressed Asian men, as well as five insanely hot women in dresses that looked painted on. They were busy doing body shots off the women’s stomachs until one looked in my direction. His eyes never looking away, he slapped Zhang on the arm until he too looked. Now they were both staring. I waved with an air of joviality, yet on the inside, I was screaming for relief.

“Two whiskeys,” Damien barked loudly as he too found his way to the corner of the dance floor. I turned to Damien, kissing him seductively on the cheek, reaching succinctly into his coat pocket to grab his phone.

“We have an audience,” I whispered.

As practiced as they come, Damien didn’t look over or give us away. Instead, he handed me my drink and put his arm around my waist once more. This time, however, I couldn’t reprimand him. I was the bait.

I took a massive swig of the alcohol, anything to calm the murder jitters and dissolve the orange pills quicker. I glanced back to Zhang and I could see him whispering to one of the secret agent bouncers.

“How long until this works?” Damien asked, skeptical.

I looked at him with a fake smirk as the bouncer approached us.

“Excuse me, but Mr. Chin, the owner of the club, is requesting your presence in the VIP lounge,” a thick, white, bald man announced.

I looked at Damien with a hint of satisfaction.

“Wow, honey, VIP, aren’t we special,” I drawled lightly my voice airy and shrill like a bleach-tipped southern belle.

Damien looked at me slightly wide-eyed with my sudden new character.

“Whatever the lady wants,” he shrugged glancing to the bouncer for support.

The dead-eyed bouncer didn’t smile. Instead, we followed him through the door and to the partially concealed VIP lounge. My nerves satiated but for the moment.

“Wait here,” he gruffed as he proceeded to pat Damien for weapons, followed by me. My jaw clenched as his ogre-like hands pressed against my dress. I wanted to skewer his hands to the wall with the knife tucked gingerly within my boot. “Is this really necessary?” I aired dumbly. The bouncer didn’t even respond, just nodded seemingly satisfied we meant no harm and allowed us to enter through the side curtain. The drunken women and brazen men turned as we entered. Zhang stepped forward, his light caramel skin glistening in the low light. He wore a steel gray Armani piece suit.

“Well, hello, my name is Zhang Chin,” he beamed extending his perfectly manicured hand, yelling slightly over the electronic beats.

“I’m Jennifer,” I grinned widely excited to be invited into the VIP lounge, “And this is my boyfriend, Mark,” I added, half-yelling in Zhang’s ear.

Zhang grabbed my hand with enthusiasm. I could practically feel the pheromones oozing from his pores.

“Nice to meet you,” he countered, but his eyes never left mine. “Please, have a shot, or a drink.” He gestured to the copious amounts of bottles on the table.

“Maybe when we finish these,” I raised my glass to his in the air.

“Well, then please have a seat,” he motioned, the other women seemingly nonexistent. Probably for the best, not sure they even knew what day it was or where California was on a map. Their vapid eyes were dazed from alcohol and a constant drip of narcotics. Zhang’s friends chatted animatedly among one another, constantly scanning the crowd for the next beautiful fish in the sea.

I took a seat next to Zhang, and Damien eased his way into a riveting conversation with two of the women on the other side. I wagered I had about five minutes to return his phone before he noticed. I stealthily moved my hand to the side and underneath the camel fur jacket. My nerves finally calmed from the pills, I dexterously opened my clutch and extracted my phone, all while keeping conversation with Damien. Placing our phones back-to-back, I installed the untraceable software on Damien’s phone beneath the jacket cover with practiced precision.

“So, Ms. Jennifer, where are you from?” Zhang half-yelled. I could feel his warm breath on my skin as his mouth left my ear.

“We just moved here from Georgia,” I grinned slightly, not wanting to sound too into my lovely boyfriend. “Mark is in the military.”

“Ah,” Zhang continued, taking a sip of his drink, his gold Rolex watch catching my eye.

“And what do you do for a living?” he pressed, his eyes growing wider.

“Mm, it’s my turn,” I shook my finger at him playfully, my other hand working dexterously.

“Fair enough,” his shiny white teeth glistened.

“What do you do for a living?” I grinned down at him sipping the smooth whiskey.

“I am an investor,” he paraded, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Ah, it seems you invest your money wisely,” my brows furrowed with intrigue.

“I do okay,” he smirked, taking a swig of his vodka tonic.

“So, how long have you and your significant other been together?” Zhang asked low, drawing closer to me.

Buzz. His phone vibrated as the software install was complete.

“Just over a year,” I shrugged nonchalantly, placing my hand on Damien’s knee. He didn’t even look over. He drilled the drunken zombies with questions, flirting incessantly. With Damien’s attention satiated, I slipped the phone into between us.

“But we have a very open relationship,” I added, drawing closer to Zhang. That’s it, Alex. The sooner you can kill this prick and his father the sooner you can turn your attention to what matters.

“I see,” Zhang nodded, putting two and two together in his menial brain.

“Would you like more to drink?” he asked. How dumb was he? Trying to get me good and liquored too surely take advantage of my seemingly open relationship.

“Of course,” I sang bubbly. Zhang poured the chilled whiskey into my glass a little too stiffly.

My eyes lowered to his trousers, searching for a bulge that might indicate where his phone might be. I really didn’t want to sleep with this man.

“So, Ms. Jennifer, you never told me what you do for a living,” he took a long, tasteful sip from his glass, moving even closer to me, his arm falling down the backside of the booth. Damien none the wiser.

“I’m in Forensics,” I toyed bashfully.

“Forensics,” he nodded, “Like for crime scenes?”

“Exactly,” I chortled. “I analyze bodily fluids for a living.”

“How exotic,” he beamed his eyes widening.

“It’s not,” I shrugged. “It’s kind of boring, to be honest.”

“Well, if I’m being honest, my job is boring too,” he admitted shyly.

“Making loads of money is tiresome?” I retorted curiously.

“I mostly make loads of money for my father,” Zhang admitted. I could see the ego and pride escape from his flared nostrils. He didn’t like his father.

“Oh, so you work for your father in a company here?” I pressed.

“No, my father lives in Hong Kong, but he will be here next weekend for our monthly meeting,” Zhang poured. Keep it coming big mouth, I thought.

“Why do I sense the apprehension?” I asked eying him widely, moving closer to his ear as to not have to yell.

Zhang stared down at his drink, the saucy player tabled for now. “Nothing is ever good enough for my father. It doesn’t matter how much money I make or how well I do, it is never enough.”

I frowned slightly. “You know what,” I exhaled triumphantly. “My father is the same. He never understood why I wanted to go off to college or get out of the south. Screw fathers,” I continued.

Zhang stared at me with a transient expression. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I had pressed too hard too fast, or if he was about to call his secret service bodyguards over to politely ask Damien and I to leave.

“You know what, are you free next Friday?” he grinned sinisterly.

I pretended to think for a moment, glancing at Damien. “I think I am.”

“Good,” Zhang beamed. “Would you like to be my date for our next meeting?”

“Are you serious?” I feigned surprise, my hand moving to my chest. “Wouldn’t I be an intrusion?”

“Quite the opposite,” Zhang smiled, grabbing my hand.

I shrugged bashfully, “I mean, I hardly know you.”

“I can assure you, I will be the perfect gentleman,” he moved my hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. And that was supposed to convince me?

“Isn’t that what they all say?” I joked.

Zhang arched his head back, exposing his adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he laughed. A vision of blood pouring from a slit in his throat flashed across my eyes.

“Maybe other’s do, but I can assure you I mean it.”

“Well, if that’s the case…” I toyed turning to Damien, “Mark, sweetie, Mr. Chin has asked if I would accompany him next weekend to a business meeting. Would that be alright with you?”

Damien’s face softened, “Of course, dear, you know, I will be gone on my training anyway.”

I served up a forgetful expression. “How could I forget,” I slapped my forehead softly.

“Well, it appears you will be all mine then.” Zhang bit his lower lip. I could practically see his thoughts.

“It appears so,” I winked.

“I would be remiss in saying I wish I could have you all to myself tonight,” he grunted, his finger grazing my shoulder softly.

I swallowed, lucky for me, the overdose of pills mixed with whiskey creating a soothing concoction.

“That could also be arranged,” I bit my lower lip, moving dangerously close to his. I could feel his heart thud wildly in his chest.

“What would it take,” he rasped.

“A few more of these,” I glanced at the whiskey, swirling it in the glass.

“That can be arranged, we also have other party favors,” he winked, ushering for the bouncer to come over. The bald-headed WWE wrestler came over on command. He reached in his jacket pocket and placed a bag of pills in Zhang’s hand. My eyes widened

“What is that?” I shrilled in my southern accent.

“A way to get this party started,” he rang, opening the bag. Zhang took one pill out and handed another to me. I took the small round blue pill, mouth salivating, brain ready for the brief reprieve. “Oh, I’ve never done drugs,” I drawled skeptically.

’It’ll be fine,” Zhang consoled. “It’s just Molly and a small dose. I promise you’ll feel the happiest you’ve ever felt.”

Zhang passed out a pill to everyone except Damien, who refused. Damien looked to me with a scalding expression, but I ignored. We all held the pills up and took them at once, washing them down with alcohol of course.

“I guess it’ll be okay,” I smiled as if Zhang’s confidence suddenly convinced me.

“Now it will be a good night,” he smirked, turning his attention to everyone with a pill.

Oh, he had no idea. I was a sexually-deprived miscreant who had just taken MDMA and a host of orange pills and alcohol to wash it all down. It was going to be a phenomenal night.

“So, what if I can’t wait until Friday to get you all to myself?” he whispered.

I grinned bashfully, “Oh, you’re a bad boy, getting me to do drugs and flirt shamelessly.”

“Mm, maybe,” he moaned in my ear. “Or I just know what I want and go for it.”

I couldn’t knock his enthusiasm, nor his approach. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or anxiety, or both, but I was beginning to feel the effects of the drug.

“Let’s dance!” I burst, rising from my seat pulling Zhang with me.

We all moved in fluid unison to the open area of the VIP room, our bodies bouncing and flowing with the beat. Damien danced with the tallest of the girls, his attention solely on her.

I pulled Zhang close, I could feel his biceps beneath his shirt, could smell his cologne as his body pressed against mine. He ran his hands up and down my thighs, the motion feeling better and better as the Molly high jacked my senses.

I turned to face him, the look in his eyes told me the same.

“You’re a good dancer,” he muttered in my ear. “Is there anything you aren’t good at?” he continued, kissing my cheek.

I didn’t have the capacity to respond anymore. I was riding high on a cloud, my problems floating beneath me.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I whispered in his ear.

Zhang grabbed my hand and ushered me to the back of the VIP lounge and through a thick black velvet curtain. The room had wall-to-wall counters with two lavish sinks. A small chaise took up the far corner, with a shimmering gold bathroom stall door.

My head sick with euphoria, I turned to Zhang, but he was no longer there. In his place was Mia. She was dressed in a red floor-length robe. Her long, dark hair draped sensually over her shoulders. I pushed her down against the plush chair. I wasted no time. Straddling her, I pressed my lips to hers and we kissed.

“Wow,” she exhaled. Her hands ripped the straps of my dress down. We kissed feverishly. I could feel her desire, her angst, her restraint.

“You’re something else,” she groaned in between breaths, the bump of the faded music the only thread to reality.

I never wanted this to end. Her long brown hair was silken perfection, her face one of a goddess, her skin radiating lust and desire.

“You’re so hot,” she breathed, her hands gliding down my back. I kissed her smooth neck, ripping off her robe, exposing her perfect form. I had to be careful not to show too much strength.

Mia wrapped her arms around my back, pulling me firmly to her. She unzipped my back zipper to the small of my back. The top fell silkily down my arms, exposing my breasts. I unbuttoned her pants. Wait, did she have pants?

I pulled them down gingerly. My lust and desire for her was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

“You turn me on so much,” I groaned, her shimmering face clouding my vision.

I gasped as she gave me what I wanted and more, I moved up and down with every stroke envisioning Mia’s hand, her pulse, her smell. I moaned loudly lost in the moment.

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