Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
The words sent a jolt of lust straight to Valenti’s groin, and suddenly the situation wasn’t funny anymore.
“Don’t, Sean ...” He wet his lips; suddenly, his mouth seemed too dry to talk. “Don’t joke about that. Not here, okay?”
“What’s the matter, Nicky? You look like you seen a ghost. I’m just kiddin’, ya big lug. Put it outta your head -- never gonna happen. Now, c’mon, we got work to do.” O’Brian clapped his partner on the shoulder and led the way to the end of the hall and through a black door with the words The Dark Knight scripted in dripping red.
Chapter Nine
“Well, they didn’t spare any expense with the decorations in here,” Valenti said sarcastically. Actually, the Dark Knight appeared to be a kind of a bar, and it was more simply furnished than any room he had seen yet at the opulent resort.
Dim lighting picked up the black walls and ceiling, making the room sweatingly claustrophobic. A long, polished counter of black marble ran the length of the room, and behind it a brooding bald man with biceps the size of Valenti’s head was morosely wiping at shot glasses with a tiny white towel. A few tables were scattered around, and several men sat at them, sipping various drinks and talking in low voices.
“This is it?” Valenti whispered to his partner, pretending to lean down and kiss him on the neck as he spoke. “This is the scary place Twonnie warned us about? There’s nothing going on here.”
“Uh, babe, I think all the action’s in there.” O’Brian pointed to a corner of the room Valenti hadn’t noticed before. He saw a doorway covered by a long, black leather curtain. Now that he listened, he could hear what sounded like music and other noises coming from behind that ominous length of leather. “You comin’?” O’Brian was already moving toward the doorway, and Valenti sighed in resignation.
“Right behind you,” he said, squaring his shoulders. Together they pushed back the surprisingly heavy curtain and entered another world.
The first thing Valenti saw when he entered the dim back room was a wide movie screen that seemed to cover most of the back wall. On it, somewhat predictably, a gay porno was playing. Guess Heidi wasn’t available, Valenti thought, grinning a little. The two men on the screen certainly seemed to be enjoying their jobs. The dark-haired actor was sucking and licking his blond partner’s dick enthusiastically, and as they watched, he engulfed the entire shaft in his mouth down to the balls as the other man moaned and grasped at his hair.
“Wow, they’re really goin’ for it.” O’Brian sounded awed -- maybe even a little impressed at this act of sexual bravado. “Wonder how he does that?”
“More to the point, what’s the Viewing Room for if they show movies like this in here?” Valenti whispered back.
“Dunno, maybe it’s for ...”
O’Brian didn’t get to finish his thought because suddenly a huge meat hook of a hand engulfed the back of his neck and a low, growling voice behind them said, “Well, if it isn’t the little tease from yesterday. I got a present for you, blondie, and I promised myself I was gonna give it to you if I saw you again.”
Valenti looked up the arm connected to the beefy hand on his partner’s neck to see its owner. Standing over them was the most enormous man he had ever seen; he made the bartender outside look like a lightweight. A low hairline and a jutting shelf of a jaw made the man look more than a little like a Neanderthal, and small, piggy eyes of indeterminate color reinforced the image.
Turning his head further, Valenti could see that this fine specimen of primitive man was wearing no shirt. Tattooed across his heavily muscled chest were the words “Jesus is coming- Look busy.” Boy, Sean, you sure know how to pick ’em, he thought with resignation. They stood no chance against this guy in a fight; it would be like throwing a punch at a brick wall. But Valenti had to try.
“Back off -- he’s mine,” he said as confidently as he could. The bullet head swiveled on its thick neck, and Valenti could’ve sworn he heard tendons creaking as the man moved.
“He’s yours, huh? Well, I’m sure you don’t mind sharin’, now, do you?”
“I said, he’s mine.” Valenti’s hand itched for his Python. The snub nose of Valenti’s pistol jammed in his ribs might have given Mr. Cro-Magnum second thoughts about this kind of action. But, of course, they couldn’t go armed inside the resort, and his fist clenched on empty air -- they were on their own here. The enormous man let go of O’Brian, who was glaring at him, and moved toward Valenti, who braced himself.
“Come on, Harry -- you know the rules.” A tiny man with a puckish face and a shock of bright, carroty hair was suddenly between them, a hand on either chest, although he really had to reach to get higher than the Neanderthal’s belt buckle. He was also dressed from head to toe in leather, as was nearly every man in the room, Valenti realized. Mutt and Jeff, he thought dazedly, looking from the midget to the giant and back again. “If the twink has a sponsor, you can’t touch him.”