“Yes, ma’am.”
“Personally, I wouldn’t care. My husband is quite partial to colorful language and I’ve grown used to it. But as long as you and I are on these premises, working with this organization, we’re going to respect the Sovereign’s wishes on the matter. Not because it’s the rules, but because he’s earned the right to set the rules. If I’ve learned anything since being here, it’s that he always has good reasons for what he does.
“Was that clear, Mr. Wakenmann?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then get to the friggin’ mats now.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, and Wakey?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You do have eyes as clear as a cloudless night.”
He spit out a laugh and jogged toward the door to the sparring room.
CHAPTER 7
Halcyon Dimension, Present Day.
Angel was done for the night. When it first opened, Divas Dive had shown some promise as a club. It was a little different in look and atmosphere and often drew yupsters who wanted to check out clubbing in his tawdry neck of the borough. It had even been named in the hopes of drawing uptown curiosity seekers. Come walk on the wild side. He sneered at that. Like a couple of hours of pounding bass and undulating bodies could make you worldly.
It’s not so easy. Real corruption takes practice. For some it even takes dedication.
The ladies had been given a chance to interest him. He’d held court at the bar for an hour while a parade of cartoon tits and well-used tail came and went. They offered the usual, immediate availability and tipsy gushing about his beautiful eyes and broad shoulders. He was almost as tired of that old song as he was of being groped without his permission. Almost.
It was a waste of time, like standing in front of the butcher’s premium case, staring at the strips and filets, when you’re in the mood for fish and not meat.
He decided to hit the men’s room before he left. As he came back out into the dim hallway a girl stepped in front of him. She pressed the front of her body up against him and purred his name. Between the pale blond hair and the white dress, she was glowing like radiation in the semi-black lighting. He’d been with her last week, in a stall on the other side of the men’s room door. Maybe she’d given her name and maybe she hadn’t. It was irrelevant because he couldn’t remember either way.
“Okay look, doll, it’s not happening, right?”
He tried to ease her away, but she pressed closer, thinking she was being seductive.
“What’s the hurry? Stick around. See what I’ve got for you.”
He grabbed her biceps, his big hands completely circling her arms, and swung her around so that her back was against the wall. When he shoved three fingers inside her, none too gently, she went bug-eyed and gasped. The skirt was so short and the thong so tiny that he didn’t even have to work for it.
“Oh, yeah, been there.” The words were vicious, but his actions were even more brutal. He wiggled his fingers around while her mouth hung wide open in shock. “And once was enough. See ya.”
When he withdrew his fingers, she gasped all over again, maybe even louder. “You dick!”
He laughed right in her face. She jerked and squeezed her eyes shut when she felt spittle.
“That’s right, no name. You loiter outside the men’s room and make your twat that accessible, somebody’s gonna take advantage.”
He wiped his hand on the leg of his jeans and walked off thinking that he’d done the piece a service. He hadn't left anything open for misunderstanding. Even though he didn’t remember the details of that particular encounter, he was confident that he’d been honest about his part of the bargain. He never led women on. Never said, “Sure. I’ll call,” or any such shit. It was what you might call a policy of his.
Actually, thinking more about it, he realized he’d just schooled her up on one of the downsides to indiscriminate f**king. Yeah. He chuckled to himself. He should actually be recognized for philanthropy in the area of saving women from guys like him. Like the song says, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.
Angel had never had to work for pu**y. Even when his features were completely at rest, his natural intensity mimicked the look of sexually fueled passion. The promise of something forbidden radiating from those black eyes drew women like a Nordstrom going-out-of-business sale. Of course his perfectly proportioned anatomy didn't hurt either.
When he landed himself on the streets as a young teen, he’d survived at first by stealing. It didn’t take long before other kids on the street gravitated to him. They seemed to congregate around him and then stand nearby looking at him like he was supposed to know what to do next. So he put them to work stealing for him. He liked to think of himself as a community organizer. Angel loved tongue-in-cheek.
It wasn’t a bad gig. He found places where they could be safe to crash, some even had working plumbing. He spent enough of the proceeds on clothes and grooming so that none of the kids would ever be taken for homeless. He taught them how to look and act like suburban kids in the city for a shopping trip, thereby appearing completely non-threatening so that no mark would ever be on their guard.