Gift Horse - Cover

Gift Horse

Copyright© 2002 by Maxicue

Chapter 5

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A demented thriller about a guy a gal and a bar. Don't look a gift in the mouth, it might just bite.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Drunk/Drugged   Lesbian   Heterosexual   CrossDressing   Humor   Interracial   Voyeurism   Slow   Caution   Violence  

I taxied to the sleaziest area I knew. Just around Penn Station were some bars where any vice you wished to procure was available for the asking. I began to bar hop. I glanced around looking for the same faces at each bar, looking for my tail. I perused the scantily clad women. They all wanted a date with me. In my state of mind I wanted the sleaziest woman. And there were those who just wanted to watch me. Men in dark suits. Eyes unclear behind glasses. I couldn't shake their gaze. I found the skankiest junky whore I could find. She took me to an hourly hotel. Hopefully the followers didn't know I had chosen the hotel.

In the room filled with the stench of dampness, mold and human excretion, I paid her enough to get her off a few times, that is off on drugs not sex. She remained in the corner of the sex cell while Mary, still dressed in her party girl outfit, sat gingerly on the unclean bed. I sat beside her.

"I think we're safe," she said.

"I don't think that will ever happen again," I replied, deeply depressed. "Being safe."

"They sure had Union Square covered. There was even a van that looked too suspicious for words. Probably recorded everything."

"He didn't take the paper."

"He's got a copy. Probably some digital camera broadcasting to the van."

"He's on their side!"

"I know." I looked at her. How could she know? "I could see it in your face and body language in the park and in the bars. I could tell you were getting nowhere with him."

"Yeah. He threatened me. And he was fucking righteous about it. Said the whole fucking thing was for the good of America. Said if I fucked it up I was worse than a communist or something."

"I guess it would be a terrorist these days."

"Yeah. Shit. What are we going to do?"

"Go buy us some wine. I'll get some nice take out. I'll meet you at Bradley's."

"Okay. Shit." I kissed her. "Thanks."

"See you in a little while." She slipped out the door, checking the hallways first.

I dropped some more cash on the slouching spring bed, glancing over at the whore settled into the corner of the drab, stinky room. I imagined she would get some good dope to inject, or at least a good quantity. I almost envied her ability to purchase a powder that would enable her to forget, to nod off this mortal world for a moment. Could she get me some? I glanced again at her thin face, scarred with bad skin and the abuse of a shitty life. I walked out the door.

When I arrived at Bradley's, it occurred to me how distracted I had become. It was past eight, and the place was filling. Hazel was wondering where the hell I'd been. I didn't explain, just apologized. I told Stuart the bartender I'd be right back after changing.

Savita looked beautifully relaxed for the first time since I met her. She was asleep on my bed. Another first. I didn't wake her, but couldn't resist kissing her on her lovely dark tan forehead. Pulling off the formal look of my button down shirt and slacks, I replaced them with the casual chic of a black t-shirt and black jeans, my weekend night attire. I joined Stuart at the bar.

"What about the door?" asked Hazel as she ordered from me.

"I don't know. I have a friend who should be here any moment. I'll see if she can cover the door."

"She'd better be here soon," Hazel said. "It's looking to be a crazy night." The last words carried out into the club area as she took off with the drinks. Moments later a leather clad beauty of Amazon proportions leaned against the spot which Hazel had just vacated.

"Hi," said Mary Margaret with a smile. I leaned over and kissed her.

"Think we've been followed?"

"Probably."

"Shit."

"Don't worry. Let it play out. They know we know something and we're still walking this earth."

"I wish you hadn't gotten involved. I'm..."

"Fuck that, Jack. I'm having a blast."

"You look real fine," I said, but her tight leather gave me goose bumps. Flashes of Angela's sexy outfits flitted through my mind's eyes.

"I need another favor." I leaned forward and shouted. The club had gotten loud. "Maybe a good cover, so to speak. Can you work the door? Just a second." I rushed over to the middle of the back where the metal tackle box we used for collecting the door was, and rushed back with it. Without getting a word of ascent I handed her the box, pointed to the table at the door. "Five dollar cover. And grab Hazel for me. Thanks. You are a godsend. A hot godsend." She winked at me. I watched her big beautiful ass sway away.

"What you want Jack?" said a harried Hazel after rolling off her newest drink order.

"I want you to collect from everyone already in the club. Well not everyone. You know."

"Sure. Okay. Hurry with the drinks. You sure you're okay? I wish Angela was around. She'd get you back on the ball."

"Yeah," I barely said before I was hit by sighs and tears dripped down my face and my nose was flowing. I was suddenly a mess.

"Oh my god Jack. I didn't..." I raised my hand. She looked at me with her deeply caring brown eyes. I manifested a smile through the despair. Eventually the smile won out. I swallowed down the tears and the mucus and got back to business.

The night was a blur. I would break through my teary eyes, trying to concentrate on something else to distract my mind. Occasionally I enjoyed the punk funk band that opened. The power pop trio that headlined were especially fine, which helped the distraction. Once the headliners ended and the forty five minutes passed before the sexy fun and games started I had wandered out to the back of the club area. I didn't even notice the difference from that Friday night and all the previous ones. The crowd had not dispersed as they usually did. I didn't notice the big guys, including Anders, keeping them in the club.

When Rachel took the stage looking fabulous in her tight white blouse and tight black skirt, I could see she was a little uncomfortable as she scanned the room. I thought I was projecting my discomfort on her. She found me and smiled. "This one's dedicated to Angela," she said as her eyes stared across the space and into my eyes. Tears trickled from the corners. Both hers and mine.

Rachel began the sexy narration as she bumped and ground her hips. Connie had joined her onstage for some guitar work, and Hazel, sitting behind the drum kit, accompanied her with cymbal crashes and rim shots.

Rachel slowly pealed away her clothing, eventually removing her lacy white bra and skimpy white panties. Two regulars, a guy and a gal climbed on stage. The guy was a transvestite who removed his clothes to reveal his hard on, a massive cock. The gal was one of Don, the coke dealer's entourage, and thus was a lovely thing. Her high, sexy tangle of brunette hair shook and played in the light, and her lovely blue eyes looked confident as she danced and stripped. She too was soon naked.

As Rachel's narrative continued, the two beautiful people danced near each other, closing in. Touches with hands and hips and lips became more frequent. The guy was a pretty blond with strong features, both in the face and in the musculature. The brunette was tall, as tall as the guy, and well shaped, on the slim side. Her breasts were small but her rigid nipples projected into the space nearly an inch. The guy concentrated on touching those fine nubs. His hands slid across her breasts. His tongue would lick. At last they embraced.

The guy carefully lowered himself onto the floor, the gal slowly following. The grace and the slowness of the descent made it seem beautifully choreographed. Then, once he was laid out, I watched his huge cock slowly disappear behind the brunette curls of her pussy.

"Angela, Angela, Angela," repeated Rachel, purring my love's name at the rate of the couple's fucking. Rachel's one hand stroked her pussy, fingers disappearing, her other hand caressed her fine ivory breasts. I wished desperately to have Angela beside me so we could fondle each other like we always did at this point in the proceedings. I was beginning to shake. My eyes were flooded. The mucus flowed. I turned to go.

Anders was beside me. "Get out of my way," I yelled.

"Fuck you," he said, pushing me. I nearly fell but somehow kept standing.

I rose onto the balls of my feet so my face was in his. "Fuck you, you fucking murderer!" My energy was so extreme that I was out of his reach and out the door in a breath. I felt hands trying to hold me. Big hands. Anders sized hands. They might as well have been tree limbs tearing at my clothing as I ran outside.

I rushed to the stoop next door. There were a couple of whores and johns nearby, but I had a sense of emptiness, empty street, empty universe. Unlike Rachel's orgasmic sighs when she spoke her name, my voice yelled violently, tearing at my throat. "Angela, Angela, Angela, Angela, Angela, Angela." I repeated her name for at least ten minutes. By the end my voice was ragged.

The door opened. A glass storm door remained between us. I tried it. It was locked. Angela was speaking to me. I couldn't hear. She was wearing a see through negligee, off white, almost beige. The body I had enjoyed and studied with glee so many times was visible, taunting me. Her eyes were puffy and unfocused. The firm gaze she always had was gone. I wanted to hold her in my arms, envelope her like I never had before. For once I wanted to be stronger than her, carry her away to a good safe place. I stared at her. I watched her lips. "Go home," she seemed to be saying. "Go home." She gave me a sad smile. She stepped back. The door closed. I slammed my body against the glass and fell down the stoop. Cement tore the skin on my arm, leg, and the back of my head. I was bleeding. I was stunned. Wavering to my feet, a made myself tall and started at the door again. But I abruptly stopped.

I wanted to pound my body again and again into that fucking door. I wanted more than anything I ever wanted to break through and save her. But two goons decided for me. They held me in their giant hands. It felt like lead restraints on my arms and legs. "Look," said one goon as they faced me towards my club.

Busted. Cops everywhere. Paddy wagons hauling off people I knew. Don. Connie. Rachel. Hazel. Others. I couldn't move. I didn't know if I wanted to. The goons held me down anyway, one holding my legs, the other keeping my arms behind my back.

A half hour later a large black limousine I recognized pulled up to the curb near me. Rising from the back seat was the old rat face man. The automatic hung impotently in his hand. The little man stood over me. One of the goons pulled my head back by the hair so I was looking up at him.

"You don't want to get me out of bed again, understand?" Fast Freddy said. He was perhaps a little more cranky than usual. It was hard to tell. The man was not happy anytime I met him. "You keep your nose close to your face, and it will stay there. No poking. You're done with poking. All this, I think you'll notice a set back. It was nice the percentage we got. It won't be so much. Too bad. We gotta lose some on your stupidity. We'll live. Point is you'll live. You keep the club. We need you there. You keep it, and that's all. Anything passing through, you got no notice of. None of your fucking business. You sell your drinks and whatever else. That's your business. Understand? Understand?"

"Yeah," I croaked out quietly. He reentered his limo and drove off. The goons kept me down for another half hour before they released me and vanished.


I walked over to Bradley's entrance. The place was deserted. Then I saw Mary Margaret coming out of the shadows on the opposite side of the club. We hugged silently.

In my zombie state, I felt like the walking dead, Mary took my hand and guided me to the entrance to my apartment. The space was a mess. Things were flung all over. My stereo was on the floor covered with opened cds. The computer was still sitting on its table with the monitor, a quiet sanctuary.

"Savita?" said Mary with concern, talking into the devastation. Savita emerged out of nowhere like Mary had in the club. She immediately headed to the computer and turned it on.

"They took all the floppies," said Savita. She motioned me to her. She kissed my ear gently and whispered. "The ones they could find." Turning my head to face her face, she kissed my lips. "You okay?"

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