“Sorry, Ash, but you are totally on your own with this one,” Christopher said as he eyed the little postcard the librarian had given to his band mate.
“Damn, stop being a pussy and come with me. I need a wing-man.”
Christopher shook his head, giving the postcard back to Ash, laughing as he did so. “No way in hell you are getting me into a fetish club. Sorry, buddy, but no way.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Jacob, you’re into this kind of kinky shit, right?” he asked as the band’s lead guitarist joined their group backstage.
His brow wrinkled as he took the postcard from Ash. He laughed. “Um, not that kinky,” he said as he handed the card over to his friend.
“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Ash asked in exasperation.
Seeing Andy walking toward him, Ash held up the black and gold card. “Andy, I know you are into this shit. You gotta come with, prove you are not totally pussy-whipped like the rest of these limped dick bitches.” He glanced over at Christopher and Jacob, both of which flipped him off.
Andy shook his head. “If I get the urge to be tied up and flogged, I’ll let Nicolette do it,” he said, jerking his thumb towards the short red-head standing beside him.
Nicolette grinned at Ash, nodding her head. “Damn, now I have all kinds of ideas floating around in my head. And I just bought this cute little leather bra and panty set with the crotch-“
Ash threw his hands over his ears, groaning loudly. “Oh my fucking God, woman, nobody fucking cares what you do to our singer during your alone time, but for fuck’s sake, we all do not want to hear about it!”
Andy laughed, pulling Nicolette to his side and kissing her. “Yeah, babe, don’t be giving Ash any ideas. I don’t want anyone knowing our little secrets just yet.”
Ash grunted. “Fine, since this band is apparently populated by bitches these days, I’ll go by myself.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Jeremy asked him as he slung his guitar strap over his head.
“Yeah, why not?” Ash asked.
He friend shrugged. “I dunno, just seems a bit risky to go to some fetish nightclub you’ve never been to before in a strange town with no one to vouch for the place.”
He snorted. “I already Googled it. The place has over three thousand five-star ratings. Besides, I’m a fucking vampire. It’s not like I have to worry about getting shot or anything.”
“Guys, you’re on,” their manager said as he moved away from the side of the stage, motioning for them to hurry up.
“Good luck, babe,” Nicolette said as she gave Andy a quick kiss and swift smack on the ass.
“That settles it,” Ash muttered as he took the stage to the sound of nearly ten thousand screaming White Coffin fans. “My ass is totally getting laid tonight. No strings attached.”
Ash pulled up to the very nondescript building which supposedly housed The Leather and Lace Gentlemen’s Club. He popped out the kickstand of his Harley, allowing it to come to a gentle rest as he killed the engine. His brown eyes looked over the warehouse, feeling vaguely uneasy. If it were not for the several dozen Mercedes, Jags, and Beamers parked in front of the place, he would swear the postcard with the club’s information had been nothing more than a fucked-up joke created by the uptight cunt of a librarian who had given it to him.
He pulled out his phone and double checked the GPS coordinates and the address. There was no doubting he had the right place. He dismounted his bike, feeling a bit out-of-place among all the sleek, black vehicles as he walked toward the door. He sure hoped the inside of this place was more impressive than the outside.
He turned the doorknob, surprised to find it locked. A second later the little rectangle peek-a-boo hole in the middle slid back, a set of dark eyes appearing.
“Yes?” the man asked as he eyed Ash, his voice even deeper than the black eyes and ebony skin.
Ash lowered his sunglasses, staring back at the man. He held up the little black postcard. “A friend of mine said this place was a must-visit before I left town.”
The man looked over Ash, taking in his biker boots, ripped jeans, tight White Coffin tee, and long, layered black hair which he had recently had tipped with a dark honey-maple color. He glanced briefly at the card in Ash’s hand before turning his attention back to his face. “I’m sorry sir, this is an exclusive club and is by invitation only.”
“Uh huh,” Ash said as he pushed his glasses up onto his head. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, reaching in to pluck out several hundred-dollar bills. He held them up along with his AmEx card. “I’m pretty sure you know my friends,” he said, giving the man a bored look.
The bouncer eyed the bills and the card. “What did you say your name was, sir?”
“Ash. Ash Pardue.”
The man’s eyes disappeared from the tiny opening for a brief moment before it closed completely. Ash could hear the sound of several deadbolts being pulled back before the door opened nearly silently on its well-oiled hinges. The large man behind the door gestured to Ash. “If you please, sir, right this way.”
Ash tucked his wallet back into his pants pocket, following the man inside. A young woman dressed in a bra, g-string, and garter belts rushed toward them, offering up a plate of drinks. “Jack Daniels over ice, sir?” the man asked, taking the drink off the platter and offering it to Ash.
Fuck, does this place get me or what? Ash thought to himself as he took the drink. “Don’t mind if I do, thanks.”
The man nodded his head slightly as he continued to lead Ash deeper into the building, the two of them walking down a broad hallway. There were doors and rich, red velvet curtains on either side of them as they walked, the sound of women’s laughter and lightly clinking glasses periodically rising above the somber elevator music.
“Where are we going, man?” Ash asked after several seconds of silence from the bouncer.
The man glanced back at Ash. “Your Mistress is just this way, sir.”
Ash stopped. “Mistress? What the fuck are you talking about?”
The bouncer turned around, moving to take Ash by the elbow and propel him further down the hallway. “Your Mistress, sir. Unless you would prefer a Master for the evening instead?”
Ash felt his undead heart flip over inside of his chest. “Dude, I think there has been some sort of mistake. I thought this was a strip club.” He jerked his arm free, turning with every intention of getting the hell out of there.
Just as he crouched down to propel himself back down the hall, a large, hairy hand with extended claws reached out and took hold of his upper arm again, the grip nearly crushing the bone beneath the hardened flesh. Ash turned in surprise, looking from the giant paw-like hand to the man who owned it, his rounded face having become more angular as he began to phase right in front of him.
Goddamit. Fucking werewolf, he thought to himself.
“Sir, you are being charged by the hour and your tab started as soon as you crossed the threshold, with a three-hour minimum. You are welcome to leave, but you must settle your bill first,” the bouncer said, holding firm to his arm.
“I don’t fucking think so, man,” Ash said, trying to jerk his arm out of the werewolf’s grip. “I didn’t agree to any of this shit. Some uptight cunt at the local library gave me that card. I thought this was just a strip club. Obviously that bitch needs a serious lesson in manners, as well as what constitutes as a joke.”
The bouncer kept hold of his arm, nodding his head toward someone behind Ash. A second later, his entire world went black as someone tossed a sack over his head. He struggled, but a quick prick in his arm soon had him nearly incapacitated.
Was that fucking heroin they had just dosed him with?