Seven x Seven x Seven

What is Love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more.

Another goddamned Friday night in the city of Sydney and here I am trying to score some scratch at the Tim’s on Townsend and Charlotte. Gotta time my drop ins between fresh pots or keep running into the constabulary. It’s a busy night and I have not been lucky in collecting as much as I should be. On any other Friday I’d just hit Herman’s and do a little business, but I know for fact that I got some muscle looking to collect on my less than existing collection tonight. My only hope is to drum up some sales at Tim’s.
Gotta a problem though; not only are my regulars not around tonight, Chastity is not behind the counter. She must be out with her new guy, what’s his name, Dobbs? Unlucky for me the new girl taking her shift has been way to quick with the fresh pots and there has been a steady stream of blue and white Crown Vics. I could be wrong, but I might stand out in my fine rayon suit.
What’s a guy to do?
No other options; gotta lay low at the Wheelhouse above the City Lodge. Pretty sure any muscle would not be looking for me there.
I gotta say, things are looking up as I can already hear the Haddaway pumping before I even open the door.
The drinks go down as easy as the beats as I get into my groove. I love the bass cracking in my chest, it’s almost the only thing I feel until I realize there is a very large hand squeezing my shoulder.
I almost don’t hear it over the beat.
Scotch and Players light laced hot breath moves over my face.
“Your uncle wants a sit down!”
So much for evading the muscle.
Before I can blink I’m down the stairs and shoved into the back of an all too familiar Suburban. It’s not a surprise as the ride turns out to be a very short one up to Kingswood.
Anyone else might be pissing themselves right now, but my uncle really is family, so how bad can it be? I’m not likely to be offed, right? Just a talking to.
Uh-oh, Uncle looks more pissed than usual.
Heart is pounding, I can barely hear what he telling me.
I’m being given a choice here.
Door number one seems to have a lot to do with legs and other appendages being downgraded in operating condition.
I think door number two lets me keep earning and living the night life.
This is one of them “No Shit Sherlock” moments.
One is the loneliest number so two it is.
Uncle seems surprised.
That’s right, old man, I can play. Work for another outfit? Pffft, fuckin’ eh! Might even land a pad in Cabot House!
Gotta stay cool; keep the old man impressed by my, whatcha call, thee-mean-or?
What ever. Keep my eyes straight and meet my new boss.
The boys sure cleared out of the office in a hurry.
Fuck them if they don’t have the balls to swim in the deep end.
Someone is behind me now; it’s a chick, right on.
I can handle a chick. I’m going to be running things soon if my new boss is a bitch piece.
This is turning out to be a right on night after all.
She is staying behind me.
Kinda kinky, but I can dig.
Her hands are on me now; kinda cold. She must be strung out on some freaky product.
The fuck?!
Okay, that fuckin’ hurts! A lot!
That is going to leave a mark; freaky kinky bitch!
Fr-e-eh K-in- kin fuh fuh fuh.
Red light, everywhere.
Something on my lips.
Tastes odd; metallic. No. Not right. Tastes good; real good.
Feels good, no, goddamn great!
What ever the fuck this product is I know I can sell it for top dollar; but not until I get a stash of this shit for myself.
Don’t hurt me no more, awesome.



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