Cthulhu
Viking
Registration Date: 11-29-2007
Posts: 726
Location: UK
Race in game: Absorber
Clan: HL
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| In a gadda da vida kind of night |
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It's raining, K is working on stuff & I'm bored; so I thought I'd write something as I haven't done so for a while & I need to get back into the habit or that novel just ain't gonna happen!
Warning: this will be quite graphic in language, imagery, & content - if this offends you in any way, please do not read any further. You have been suitably warned, so don't complain. 
It's not meant to be a completed thing; it's just for fun. Enjoy.
Friday night – 11.26pm
“Kiss me Sarah.”
“Beg.”
“Please kiss me. Please, you know how much I want you...”
“Suck my tongue.”
Estelle’s lips closed around the tongue. She sucked and flicked at it with her own inside their shared mouth-space. Her auburn hair spread around her shoulders, shinning under the bright strip light of the toilet cubicle.
Sarah was older than Estelle; her face showed the hard signs of a life that had seen the wrong side of too many parties, but her full lips and carved, slim figure gave the impression of youth. She ran a hand down her own body, fumbling with her sleeveless, fitted body warmer until she found the pocket she wanted and dug out the small pill-box.
Blindly opening it, she emptied the contents into her left hand and dropped the box on the cistern of the toilet. Placing one pill in each of her hands, she raised them level with Estelle’s eyes. She released the tongue.
“Which one do you want?” She asked.
“What do they do?” Estelle quizzed.
“The left will fuck you up in the most trippy-hippy-high you’ve ever had, sending you along the corridors of a psychedelic wonderland, mild hallucinations, some paranoia, an intense feeling of power, and will set your crotch on fire.” She smiled ruefully. “The right is a cluster-fuck; allowing Lucifer to rise in your head and drag you screaming into a nightmare ride of sex and carnage.”
“Which one do you want?” Estelle inquired.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders; she’d been on both these rides before.
“I want both.” Estelle pleaded. She was only a baby, a seventeen year old who had fallen so far between the cracks that the light was all but faded. Her heart was solid stone, and her mind was in constant flux between hatred and love. She hated everything except that which she loved, and right now she only loved three things; the mottled white pill on the left, the slightly pink pill on the right, and her lover who stood in the middle.
Sarah smiled as sweetly as a schoolgirl and raised the pink pill to her mouth.
“You’re not ready for both just yet.” She said, slipping the white pill and two of her slender fingers into Estelle’s mouth. “Now before we hit the floor, why not show me just how dexterous that baby tongue of yours can be.”
11.45pm
When the pubs around London Bridge and the east end of the City close to the thronging mass of drunken, rich, out-on-the-town Friday-nighters, the streets usually clear quite quickly. The revelers opt instead, to make their way into many of the late night bars and basement clubs, carrying on their drinking at a slightly more extortionate price than they were allowed in the pubs.
Club Infernus sat on the south side of the river Thames behind a string of newly renovated waterfront office blocks. In a small, one way road that cut through from Tooley Street to Tower Bridge Road, lurking in the split basement of two shops.
It was seedy; it was expensive; its clientele did more trade than the club itself; and it was in full swing. The women dressed to be sassy, sexy and independently free, and the men dressed because they had to. The bass was distorted; overpowering the high end of the Hardcore House, but the music was only an added bonus to the late-night licensing hours, so no-one really minded.
The small dance floor was in the center of the basement, with a bar on the left and a chill out room on the right. There were bodies all over the place, limited chairs and bean bags, meant you either stood your ground, dancing on the spot near to the bar. Or forgot about how much you wanted to drink, because the drugs are so good they’d keep you happy and high for the whole night.
The dance floor pulsated with writhing flesh, like a mating ritual of some snakes; they mass their bodies and descend upon one small cramped hole and mate by squirming, twisting and knotting themselves together, until it resembles a giant twelve tonne ball of sexual vibrancy.
Mike had never been here before, but he knew this kind of place quite well. Five hard years in the Met before promotion to detective and a consequent four years in the Vice Squad meant that he’d seen a lot of basement bars in his time.
Tonight he’d been invited by a woman he’d met a week ago on a raid at a club in north east London. It wasn’t something he did regularly, dating women that he’d cautioned. But she had been particularly attractive, and when he was considering his options, he thought that even if nothing came of it, at least he could try and get her on his list of contacts – he felt sure she knew the circuit and its dealers quite well.
They’d met around nine at a bar on the river, he’d decided he wouldn’t get too drunk and had been casually drinking vodka and tonics. She on the other hand was sinking glass after glass of red wine, and was now quite lucid. Her name was Nikki, and when they’d got down into this club, where she apparently knew the owner, she’d started to wrap herself around Mike at every available opportunity.
As his watch edged towards twelve, he found himself pushed up against one of the walls of the club with Nikki pressing her eager lips to his mouth, and her hands slowly moving around his waste. He couldn’t help think that tonight was turning out to be quite successful.
11.52pm
Sarah pushed her way through the crowd. She didn’t care who she upset, her head was alight with a fire that could burn-out the sun; anything else being taken in this place was candy in comparison. The pill had been pink, and Lucifer had well and truly risen, and was waging his war inside her body.
At the bar, she cleared a spot by wedging her fingers between two tall men in suits, forcing them apart and squeezing her elbows onto the bar surface. The men looked at her and then at each other for support. She looked at neither. Her eyes had caught her reflection in the mirror, amidst a forest of cocktail spirit bottles and collection of bar debris.
She stared intently into herself. She could still feel the easing throb of the orgasm sending tingles through the muscles in her legs, and her clitoris felt pleasurably tender as her knickers rubbed against it. Yet along side this sense of bliss, a wave of anger had started to crest. Her eyes glowed like white hot, steel marbles. She saw through them, but she couldn’t actually see them. The man on her left kissed his teeth, and looked down at her with disgust. She felt the boiling acid pump like a rush from the floodgates of her heart into her stomach, churning, then swimming, and passing through into her spine, climbing one vertebrae at a time.
“You could just say ‘excuse me’ y’know?” The man said, leaning down to talk close to her ear.
The sound was like a murder of crows screaming in the dawn sky, piercing clarity, breaking through the constant, comforting rhythm of the music. Sarah closed her eyes. She tried to fight the rage that was close to spewing out of her mouth like a jet of molten lava, coating the whole bar with deadly, liquid rock. The man stayed low for a moment as if waiting for an answer, but when none came he stepped around her and continued his conversation.
11.55pm
There was a small lift, which acted as a ferry for the clubbers to get into the club from street-level. Once you’d paid your entrance fee and your person had been fleetingly searched, or groped, by the bouncers, you could enter and descend into the murky, sweat filled air of the ‘Friday Night Massive’. As you left the lift, two more bouncers stood watching, eyeing the dance floor for women to charm, or men to frighten.
Estelle stood rubbing herself up and down the body of one, whilst caressing the hand and blowing kisses at the other. Both believed they were going to join in a spit roasting.
But not one of the bouncers above or below ground had done their job well. Women in this club were rarely searched thoroughly, their breasts and bottoms were happily felt and squeezed, their mouths sometimes inspected by whatever they allowed the bouncers to stick in there. But their bags, their clothes and any other hiding place they wished to use, all could be easily adapted to smuggle anything that they desired. That is, after all, why Sarah had picked the place.
Estelle eyed her wrist watch. Her brain was bubbling in a world of swirling colours and pastel excitement. Everywhere she looked was a discovery of new, vibrant textures throbbing into a tactile dimension just at the end of her outstretched fingers. Her left hand wandered all over the undiscovered wonderland torso of the bouncer who stood behind her, while her crotch throbbed against the thigh of the one in front.
She let her tongue find a button on his shirt, it felt like brittle silk and as she played with it, her mind drifted back to Sarah’s deliciously tasting pussy. Once again she was knelt before Sarah’s spread labia, closing her lips around the clitoris and alternating her movements between rapid, hard flicking, and slow, ice-lolly strokes. Sarah’s hands on her head, buried in her hair, gently pulling at it and pushing her head deeper into her crotch. Estelle relived the taste of the orgasm, heat bursting into her mouth and the thick, viscous trickle of Sarah’s cum running down her chin and neck.
Then she was back, almost at orgasm herself, as she ground her body into the bouncer’s hip. The pulsating coloured lights on the ceiling above her head dazed her, and then focused her mind. It was time to go to work; she could almost feel Sarah getting ready to act.
11.59pm
At the bar Sarah had managed to stop herself from exploding too quickly, and now contained the seething, resonant storm that resided inside her belly and head. She stood with her eyes closed and her fingers wrapped around a small bottle of water. Her head twitched occasionally from the muscles in her neck, which made spasms every time another wave passed from her spine into the base of her cerebellum. The back of her head was now a pool of warm, glowing brain pulp. Behind her eyelids she had been counting down, second by second, for the last five minutes.
Thirty seconds to go.
12.00am
Estelle felt an assembly of power grow inside her; she felt in tune with her lover as she let one of her hands slide into the top of her denim skirt. The bouncer she was draped on thought his luck was firing on all cylinders tonight, and it was time to take this girl into the private office. But before he could usher her away to the comfort of an old, well-used sofa, where he had raped more women than seduced, she whipped her hand out again.
It shot out behind her, towards the bouncer who was standing there. He was looking the other way as the seven inch torpedo knife, which until a second ago, had been securely resting in the back of her knickers, now ejected into its full length. In one fluid motion it slid into his temple. Its blade went into the hilt, slicing through his right frontal lobe and most of his cerebrum.
If he survived, he may well have been a more docile person for the action, but as she twisted, and wrenched the blade out, the bouncer fell with full force to the floor face first. The electronic pulses in his body twitched and worked his nerves, but the brain was rapidly losing all connection of its control.
While her right hand had been so precise, her left was less successful. It had worked its way up to the throat of the bouncer she had been caressing, its intention to squeeze his Adam’s apple. However he had been more alert than she had given him credit for, and as the first bouncer’s dead body was toppling over, he had grabbed her left wrist and started to twist it around her back into a lock.
Estelle closed her eyes and watched a rainbow of colours spiral, spinning like water into a plug. When she opened them again, she was facing the crowd of dancers, with her left hand pulled tight up behind her back, and her neck enclosed by a massive, thick arm.
But she still had the blade in her right hand. Without thinking, she thrust it hard into the elbow of the arm around her neck. The bouncer screamed a deep, violent scream. She yanked the blade out, twisting and cutting as she did so, severing several tendons and an artery. Then he made his fatal error and released her. As he grabbed his injured arm, attempting to staunch the spray of blood that followed the blade’s exit, he also lashed out, trying to back-hand her with his fist.
But Estelle was fast, even with her brain jellified by the drug, especially when she was getting higher from the rush of her adrenalin and thrill of the kill. She side stepped his half hearted attempt at a punch, dropped low under his swing, and with the force and speed of a cat launching itself onto an injured bird, she leapt up.
Stabbing the blade into the underside of his jaw forcing his head back, and his body started to follow, lurching backwards into the lift door. She landed, clinging onto his torso with her legs. Her left hand grabbed his hair while her right repeatedly stabbed in the frenzy of the moment. Their bodies entwined like lovers at the height of ecstacy, tumbled to the floor and as they landed she released him, standing up. His blood had saturated the front of her top, and was forming pools around the dead man’s head.
12.01am
As the first shocked screams started to sound, Sarah leapt onto the bar and over the other side, releasing two catches at the base of her small rucksack. As she dropped to the floor, a barman began shouting at her, and started to walk towards her. From the bottom of the rucksack, expertly hidden in a compartment, she pulled out her Glock 36, a small slim-line .45 pistol.
She raised it high into the barman’s face, he stopped in his tracks. The people around the bar, who had been watching with some intrigue as to what this crazy girl was doing, all ducked or turned to run as she stood up with the barrel leveled at the barman’s head. She walked him backwards, to the corner of the bar where the DJ’s booth was, and where two other bar staff had quickly retreated.
There was rising panic around the club. The people near the lift exit, who had witnessed Estelle slaughter two bouncers, were in states of shock and indecision. She stood facing them with her back to the lift door, with a knife in her hand, and a see-through haulter-neck top glistening with a kaleidoscope of blood.
Others, who had witnessed the assault at the bar, were trying to push through the dance floor towards the lift. But they were confronted by the wall of bodies, refusing to move closer to the nightmare in front of them.
Sarah pistol-whipped one of the bar staff, pushed her way behind the DJ, and dragged the needle across the surface of the record; Pendulam’s “Slam” stopped in mid flow as Sarah fired off a round into the ceiling.
Silence slowly descended on the club, as all seventy newly acquired hostages realised what was happening. The only people left on any kind of buzz were the two girls holding all the weapons. Sarah pushed the DJ back behind the bar with the other staff and leaned low to the microphone.
“I want everyone to lie down on the floor. Quietly and without fuss,” she huskily ordered, her voice sounding brazen through the PA system. “Don’t do anything stupid and this will all be over in a matter of minutes.”
She walked around into the bar again, whacking the DJ on the head with the pistol because he was too slow to kneel on the floor. She pulled another pistol from her rucksack, and tossed it to Estelle, who watched the whole club lower itself onto its belly in unison. In her head it had really started to look like an orgy.
“Now, that over there...” Sarah said pointing towards Estelle “is Bambi. She doesn’t talk. She’s cute and cuddly, and she’ll cut the nose of your fucking face if you don’t do as I say, when I say. Understand?”
Sarah didn’t expect or wait for a reply, she pulled a small compact hold-all from her rucksack and started to empty the tills. Her head pulsated with an amphetamine rush, every nerve in her body was wired and ready for action, but her brain was calculated. It was similar to the sensation of a rollercoaster going around in her head; there was fear, excitement, energy, all enhanced to their full capacity, but there was also control; safety in the knowledge of knowing exactly where this ride was going.
She was still counting to keep herself focused; everything else her body did was automatic. They had another four minutes and twenty seconds before the police arrived. That was if any of the bar staff had remembered to press the silent alarm. She didn’t really care if they turned up or not, she could easily get both of them out a situation, but she was taking no chances and wasting no time.
Out on the dance floor, no-one moved. A few whimpers and sobs could be heard through the silence, but after each one there was a gentle hushing noise from someone close by. Estelle glided around the edge of the prone bodies, staying near to the lift doors. Her eyes were wild as she passed the gun in front of the terrified audience. Then she stopped.
One man, who lay just behind a woman at the front of the throng, was staring intently at her. He lowered his gaze as she caught him. She cleared her throat.
“Problem Bambi?” Asked Sarah, who turned to look.
Estelle shook her heard in a ‘maybe’ kind of fashion. The man kept his head down, deliberately. She leant over and tapped him three times on the back of his skull with the muzzle of her gun. He slowly raised his eyes.
“Pull him out babe; make an example if you have to.” Sarah continued, turning back to the last till.
Estelle smiled at the man, and motioned with the gun for him to come out of the crowd. As he began to stand, she tapped him again on the head, but harder, he stayed on all fours and crawled over the woman in front of him.
When he was in clear space, she stamped her foot hard into his back, collapsing him onto the floor. He whined sharply, but looked over his shoulder at her. She motioned for him to turn over and he did so. She leant down, placing the mouth of the barrel in the center of his forehead, and tucked his arms under his body.
As she stood up again, she stepped forward, placing her feet either side of his head. He looked straight up her knee high skirt, up into the dark, shady hint of light coloured knickers.
Estelle slipped her left hand down between her legs. The man below watched as she lifted her skirt slightly and pulled at the knickers by the thin elastic strip at the side. His eyes could barely make out what was underneath, but he knew that it was not human. He closed his eyes, trying to stop his body from flinching as the stream of hot fluid sprayed his face.
12.03am
Half way along the right-hand side wall of the dance floor, a man’s head raised itself from the crowd. It scanned the scene and quickly lowered again.
“What’s going on?” Asked Nikki, who lay beside him. “Please Mike, don’t do anything… ” She stopped herself from saying ‘stupid’, because she thought that would make him react for sure. “…work related.”
“Looks like just the two of them.” Replied Mike. “I think I can move forward under that table and…”
“Mike!” The woman hissed, then was silent, but neither of the robbers had heard. “I’m asking you not to do anything, and I mean it. You are off duty. Just lay here and stop me from pissing in my pants. Please.” He looked at her without emotion, and she returned the look with one of mixed fear and worry.
“I’m sorry. I’m never ‘off duty’.” He replied with a sense of bitterness in his voice, and with that started to slowly edge himself forward, under the table.
Estelle was laughing to herself as the last drops of her urine stung the eyes of the man below her, when Mike dived forward from out of, seemingly, thin air. He slammed into her waist in a rugby style tackle. His weight carried her back, and landed them both on the body of the mutilated bouncer, which lie on the floor in front of the lift.
They struggled frantically, slipping around in the thick blood; Estelle pounding his back with the butt of her gun, until he managed to grab that arm and force it above her head. As he did, he punched her as hard as he could, twice in the face with his other hand.
Sarah heard the commotion and turned away from the till. She blasted two shots towards her lover’s assailant, but her vision was impaired by the drug, and the bullets went astray, both finding a home in the back of a woman who had been lying on the right of the ruckus.
The shot woman wailed in agony as Mike rolled over, dragging the almost limp body of Estelle on top of his body for cover, and used her gun-hand to shoot back at Sarah. But Sarah had already moved. Seeing her first shots go astray, she had ducked below the bar, and was stalking, crouched and unseen towards the end just in front of where he and Estelle lay.
Mike tried to re-adjust his sight but, to his amazement, the girl he had pounded with all his strength and had expected to be out cold for some time, was now fighting for control of her gun-hand back.
Mike watched dumb-founded as the girl forced his hands, with what seemed like an easy strength, down to the ground. Her legs were astride his waist, and her face just inches from his own, blood dripping down from the tip of her broken nose. He tried desperately to move, but she had him pinned down with a force that felt almost gravitational.
Estelle breathed heavily into his face. Her eyes swam in and out of focus; partly from the punches and partly from the drug. She knew he’d probably busted her nose, she felt a slight tingling there, but there was no pain. She smiled.
“You OK sweety?” Sarah called out from behind the bar.
“Tickety-boo.” Estelle replied, just loud enough to hear. She stared down at the man, his face was roughly chiseled, what some would call rugged. She felt his body beneath hers, muscular and tight after the exertion of their struggle.
Leaning forward, she licked her blood from his cheek, grinding her hips against his crotch. With her heightened senses she knew he was turned on before he did; she could feel rush of blood around his waist, and the smell of his hormones broke through the clotting blood in her nose.
She pushed harder with her hips and recognised the surprise in his eyes as he realised his libido had taken control. He re-newed his effort to break free from her grip, but she already anticipated this response and was focusing her mind on holding him down as her body played.
12.07am
Sarah felt the pressure of time. She worked quickly to finish the last bar till, before moving out towards the pay desk next to the lift.
"Bambi, sweety?" Her voice finally giving way to the boiling rage inside. "What did that fuck do to you?" She stepped around the end of the bar onto the mass of bodies, striding without falter into the middle of the dance floor using the crowd as a human carpet.
"It's ok. I can't feel a thing." Estelle let out a small giggle. Her knees were now wedged hard down onto Mike's arms, which had lost all sensation of feeling, and rapidly losing the strength to move. She was playfully moving the tip of her knife around the edges of his eyes, while firmly holding the gun muzzle under his chin. "Besides," she continued "I made a new friend. Isn't that right?" She said staring insanely down at Mike.
Just as Sarah cleared the throng of the bodies, the lift made a timid ringing noise, and the doors started to open. Sarah squared up the pistol and waited, as Estelle half turned, placing one foot onto the throat of the man below, and keeping her gun aimed at the crowd.
The bouncer’s confusion was the first thing to leave the lift, as he stood dumb founded by the vision confronting him. Sarah motioned him to step forward.
“Hello darling.” She mocked in bouncer fashion, and then pushed the muzzle into his upper lip, squashing it into his nose. “Just stay there a minute will you, Bambi here is just gonna take care of some business and then we’ll leave.”
Estelle had slowly stood up, keeping the gun trained on Mike's face. Her face was mockingly sad.
"I'm sorry," she mewed "my poor brave, big, strong man. But I gotta go, the lady-boss says so. No hard feelings?" She smirked, putting a foot gently on his crotch. "But I do believe that all is fair in love & war. So, to even things up for you breaking my nose, I gotta break something of yours."
Mike's brain didn't even register the movement, it happened so fast. Estelle dropped from above, driving her knee into his genitals. The instantaneous pain was everywhere in his body at once, all his senses went white for a split second, and as they started to return, he realised the sound of his scream was wrong, as it turned to a hacking cough that spewed out blood. The whiteness returned. Everything was muffled, and mute. His hand fumbled, they wanted to clutch at his crushed balls, but they seemed to be working on their own, and went to his chest. His eyesight focused through the blur. The knife. She had stabbed him with the knife at the same time & he hadn't even felt it. His head swam in mottled shades of dark & light, all he could hear was his own rasping breath gurgling through the blood in his flooding lungs.
12.11am
“Now,” Sarah called out into the club, “I’m afraid we’ve gotta run. It was a really special night, and I wanna thank you all for the wonderful time you gave us. I think Bambi really enjoyed herself.”
She walked the bouncer backwards to the wall beside the lift door, and then kept the gun wedged into his face as she stepped into the lift and held the doors open. Estelle stepped off the man on the floor. She turned to the crowd, who had all raised their eyes to stare at this nightmare vision of blood sprayed psychopathic beauty. She struck a coy pose, and waved the gun above her head, laughing, and then with dainty grace, she leapt into the lift as the doors started to close.
When the lift opened onto the street, the bouncer outside turned to find two muzzles pointing out into his face. The slender arms behind them ran down into two small, messy looking girls.
“What the fuck?” Were the only words he could muster before Sarah, who stepped out of the lift, cracked the hilt of her gun into the side of his head. He fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding head, and Estelle finished him off with a full forced kick to his face.
Sarah looked in both directions; there wasn’t a soul in sight. Estelle still held the lift door open.
“Can I do it this time?” She asked, in a voice that could have come from heaven. Sarah lit a cigarette and swung the rucksack from her back, passing it to Estelle. Who, while stopping the door from closing with her foot, turned and dropped the bag onto the floor.
Sarah watched the street, as Estelle pulled the bouncer’s semi conscious body into the lift. She took out one of seven water bottles inside the bag and unscrewed the top. Finally she reached back into the bag and took out the small sack of money, throwing it out to Sarah.
Carefully and without rush, she poured the clear, diisopropylamine from the bottle, all over the floor, the bouncer and the bag. Then leaned back out into the street and took the cigarette from Sarah’s outstretched arm. She stared at Sarah intently as she took a long, hard drag on the butt, and small wicked smile played at the very edges of her lips but never broke.
She tossed the cigarette in as she jumped free, letting the doors close.
“Maybe next time he works the door of a club, he’ll think about fire safety.” Sarah said, and the two of them ran off, laughing into the night. As they weaved their way back towards Tooley Street, the low rumble of an explosion was masked by the passing of an N47 bus.
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HBS
ENCHANTMENT
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