Family Issues Ch. 07

Just below the gallery, a choir of young men and women dressed as angels gave a heavenly a capella rendition of "Nearer My God to Thee." They were the source of the music Kevin heard when he and Diana came in. Kevin stood and listened for a few minutes, allowing the harmonic chords to wash over him. For a second, he was back home at his parents' church.

"Tequila soda, double," Ethan said to the freckled platinum blonde behind the counter. The girl wore a white robe and wings and was pretty enough to be a real angel.

"Who do I need to sleep with around here to get hammered?" Kevin asked the bartender.

"I'll get you a drink. You don't have to sleep with anyone, sweetie."

"I insist."

"Sorry, darling. You're a foot too short, and a few hundred thousand greens too poor."

"Give me a chance. Get to know me better, and you'll find out I have a rotten personality too."

"Funny," she said dryly.

"Too short, eh? The story of my life."

"Tragic."

"A Tom Collins might cheer me up, though," Kevin said.

"Ooh, a big boy's drink." She winked at him and offered a tall cocktail glass with some pink bubbly fluid. She had rows of them ready to serve.

"I don't know where you went to bartending school, but this is no gin."

"That's what angels drink." She smiled.

"It looks like Sponge Bob did a drug test in my cup."

"That's what angels drink."

"You've said that already."

The pretty bartender gave him another smile. Kevin decided that he didn't like her.

A fat, on the fringe of obese, man in a blue suit shoved Kevin aside, none too gently. "She said this is what angels drink." The man wore a Japanese devil mask with a massive horn protruding in the middle of the forehead. He also had, under his right arm, an Asian-looking angel girl. His palm was on the girl's ass, and he squeezed it every now and again as he leaned over the counter. "A shot of Jack Daniel's with a Coke. You, boy, drink your shit."

Kevin stared at him, a bit shocked.

"Stop eyeballing me, boy, you're weirding me out." Fatso's eyes behind the mask were red. "Like my big horn?"

"I don't wanna answer that. That's just too weird." Kevin gave the pink fluid a sniff and took a sip. It tasted like cherries, and he placed it back.

The man pulled at his horn, grunted, and it came right off. He gave it to the pretty girl he was fondling. She dutifully took it and poured white powder from the blunt end onto the counter. She then took her time arranging the powder into two neat rows.

The man snorted one line and turned to Kevin. The nose on his mask had white powder smeared all over. He looked like a fat toddler with bad eating habits, or a cocaine commercial. "Have you ever snorted snow from the butt crack of a beautiful angel?" he said to Kevin.

"I called in sick when we had butt-crack snorting orientation day at work."

"How about from the giant cock of a futanari?"

"How about we end this conversation?"

"What's your problem, boy?"

"Low salary, low in inches, and low standards."

A futa girl in black dress and devil mask came up behind them. She had an angelic black boy on a leash. The black dog collar around his neck had studded spikes.

"I get the two kinds of people, Ethan," Kevin said. "I think I've got the short end of the deal." He picked the Jack and Coke glass up from under the nose of the bartender and the fat man, gulped it down, and coughed. "Amazing. Give my homeboy here exactly the same." He slapped fatso on his back. "Just say no to drugs. If they talk back, then you're too late."

Before anyone could make a fuss, he slipped away into the mass of guests, ignoring Ethan's angry calls.

-

Suzan Owens dominated the room from behind her desk, and Diana felt six inches tall even though she was standing. There was an empty chair on her side of the desk, but Diana didn't dare take it, because Suzan hadn't instructed her to sit, and the owner of Naogen Tokomi had an air of authority.

Suzan was in her late fifties, slim and tall, even for a futanari. There was nothing accidental about her look. From her tailored suit to her hawkish nose and her salon-perfect grey hair. Her green eyes had a slight slant, and they didn't miss anything. Punctual comes to mind. The kind of punctuality they had in the SS headquarters in 1940.

No, if Suzan Owens didn't say you could sit, you stood.

The room was painted grey, and appeared to be a regular office. Susan sat at a grim, almost spartan desk with a desktop computer and little else. It was in stark contrast to the canopy bed in the other half of the room. Even more puzzling was what was happening on that bed. The naked nymph and two young men were not having an office conference on it.

Diana didn't dare to look behind her.

"So, Ms. Brion. Do you know why you were invited tonight?"

"Nadine said she needed something from me."

Suzan shook her head. A daring curl fell to her forehead, and she tucked it back in its place. "Well, it's partly true. Nadine wanted you to get this." She pulled a box from behind her and placed it on the table.

"What's inside?"

"Some sort of a receiver and a transmitter," Suzan frowned. She made it clear that she wasn't expecting to answer questions, only to issue orders. "I'm not really an expert when it comes to electronic doohickeys."

"I—"

"All you need to know is detailed in the instructions attached to that package."

Diana nodded; she was too afraid to say anything.

"Ayiii, ayiii, ayiii, ayiii." Behind Diana, the nymph on the bed started singing her orgasm. Short bursts of happy squeals. Not a single muscle moved in Suzan's face.

"Following these instructions will conclude the issue of your debt to Ms. Tawfiq."

"On the phone, you said something about an opportunity?"

Suzan frowned, and Diana flinched. "Ms. Tawfiq has a strong opinion when it comes to you."

"I can guess what that opinion would be." Diana blushed, expecting to get another scary frown but Suzan smiled instead.

"Nadine is not a complex creature. She has two tricks up her sleeve, and they are both as crude as she is. She has her uses, I'll give her that. Violence has its merits. But where she can only see a dead end, I can see opportunity."

Diana nodded. She had long ago stopped trying to guess where this conversation was leading.

"So, Diana Brion. Age twenty-seven. Single. Raised in the projects by a single mother. Has an elder sibling. Tutored by our public system." Suzan talked as if she were reading facts from a sheet of paper, but her green eyes were on Diana.

"Applied to Stanford Law School and scored a 180 on her LSAT. Impressive. Applied for federal aid and was rejected. How did you secure the sixty thousand tuition fee? A loan?"

"My big sister paid for my studies." Diana didn't ask how Suzan knew all those private details about her past, but the woman's nosiness made her angry. Anger made her lose her fear.

"You received honors in civil law, contracts, and LRW. Again, impressive."

Diana shrugged.

"Expelled from Stanford Law School your second year after an incident that involved cocaine, damages to the classroom, and a professor with a broken nose."

"And broken ribs. The futaphobic asshole had it coming."

Suzan smiled. "Was it worth it?"

"Ruining my future? I would do it again."

Suzan smile widened. "Who paid the bills? For the trial and the damages?"

"Helen. My big sister."

"Expelled from Stanford Law School in 2014. Went to Beachside Recovery Center that same year. Luxury rehab? I won't ask you who paid for that because I think I already know the answer."

Diana had a hard time keeping herself from snarling.

"Has been working as a clerk, selling clothes ever since. Now that's what I call a waste of a brilliant mind."

"I have plans."

"Let me guess. Party every night and get high?"

"That's Nadine's opinion of me?"

Suzan's smile turned predatory. "She also said you have zero self-awareness."

"I used to party a lot. I don't do that anymore, ever since... I don't do that anymore. "

"Can you speculate why Nadine wanted you here tonight?" Suzan said. "After all, she really doesn't like you. If she wanted to deliver a package, she could have arranged it with a phone-call and a delivery boy."

Diana wrinkled her nose. "I think she wants to see Kevin."

"Is he really your boyfriend, by the way? From what I've heard it's a weird arrangement between you two."

"He's mine." Diana snarled. "What I want to know is why did you call me in here tonight? So you can look down on me? That's your kick?"

"Look at you. Five minutes ago, you resembled a rabbit caught in the headlights, and now I feel like you're about to go straight for the jugular. Sit down, Ms. Brion!"

Suzan's tone turned commanding, and Diana complied.

"You have a serious attitude problem, girl. You'll have to fix that if you want to work for me."

"Work for you?"

"Do you know the Attic dance club near the old harbor?"

"Shitty parking. Bouncers are assholes. Drinks cost too much, and there's little variety."

"I wasn't oblivious to the fact that it was a failing business, though I had no idea why, and I couldn't care less. I purchased the Attic recently, and I'm considering purchasing another club. The current management and I don't see eye to eye, and I'm looking for a replacement."

Diana stared at her, mouth agape.

"I have many people working for me who would love to fill that position. However, I'm looking to pour some fresh blood into the lines."

"I have no idea how to manage a nightclub."

"Do you seriously believe that I'm unaware of that? I'm not looking to invest in a failing dance club for the hedonistic millennial generation. I need a person with something between her ears who is also a go-getter, Diana. Someone who marks a target and goes for the kill. Just like you did with your boyfriend."

"You need someone with flexible morality?"

Suzan smiled.

"Would this job require me to work in the grey areas of the law?"

"That's the wrong question."

"When can I start?"

"That's the right question."

-

Kevin blended into a crowd of young boys dressed as angels. He saw Ethan searching for him on the floor below and decided to disappear into one of the lesser lit rooms. He didn't fancy meeting Nadine. Last time they talked, it ended with a bang.

Inside the room on an elevated stage, a guy dressed as a harlequin was giving the "Friends, Romans, countrymen, I've come to bury Caesar" speech from Julius Caesar. Kevin wasn't sure if the few guests in this room were watching him or the two futa girls who were having animalistic sex on stage. There were three rows of seats, most of them empty, and since it was the first time that Kevin ever saw a dickgirl being on the receiving end, he sat down to stare.

The Indian girl on the pitching end of the cock was wearing a leering devil mask. The mask had fiend's forked tongue that lolled with her thrusts. Her powerful body was wrapped in a crimson silk robe, open, her curves glistening with sweat. Her hips moved sensually when she was balls deep inside her partner. Every now and then she pulled back, waited for a second and then pounded, doggy style, her naked partner, a chubby blonde futa with a milk-white complexion. Her massive cock came out, dripping, and then plunged back in fast.

The blonde arched her back and howled. Her own cock moved like a bell, its head purple and leaking with each thrust in her bowels. Her bosom heaved and bounced, clapping each time her partner bottomed inside her.

The round mass of the blonde's ass started moving backward in rhythm to meet the thrusts. It possessed enough meat that each time brown and white collided, it made the sound of a drum.

"Is this seat taken?"

Kevin turned around. Sugar and spice and everything deliciously nice. Sin stood above him. She looked a bit disheveled, but Sin disheveled was still hotter than a supernova. "Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah. It's dating the couch over there. Kind of serious. I think the couch is about to pop the question."

Sin placed her shapely ass on the seat next to him. She gave a tired sigh and raised her leg to rest on the empty chair in front of her. "Did you find your girlfriend, Kevin?"

"And lost her again."

"Two fights in a single night?"

"Give it a chance; the night is still young. We'll have another two before it ends. Why aren't you wearing your devil mask?"

"It's uncomfortable, and I'm not that important that I need to hide my face."

"Are there important people in here tonight?" Kevin said.

"At least four judges that I know of, and some high-profile businessmen. The asshole I saw you bump into at the bar is a congressman."

"That dude was high as a kite."

Sin shrugged.

"Warms my heart to know that my tax money is being put to good use."

On the stage, the Indian girl's grunts of sexual effort had an animalistic quality, while her partner answered with heaves of a man on the last miles of a marathon. It was evident she was exhausting herself, and that she usually didn't work that hard in the bedroom. It took her a short while before she was panting and breathing hard. Her partner slapped her ass hard, making it quiver like jelly.

"Do you mind being a gentleman and massaging my feet, Kevin? They're killing me. New shoes."

"I..." She was too hot to refuse. "Sure." "You're sweet." She moved her chair closer, kicked her high heels off, swiveled, and rested her feet on his thigh. Either deliberately or accidentally she pressed her heel to his cock. Kevin was already hard because of the show, and he squirmed uncomfortably. "Hmmm... that's nice," she said as he started rubbing her toes.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" he asked.

"Does it involve sex?"

"No."

"Crap."

"I have no idea where I am, who you people are, or what am I doing here, and no one is willing to explain. Not even my girlfriend."

"Sometimes ignorance is really bliss." Sin stared at him for a few seconds, smiling.

"So, 'fuck off' with a smile. That's the same answer I got twice already, minus the smile."

Sin's smile got bigger.

"Please. I'm just...I feel lost. It's like I'm in the Eyes Wide Shut mansion and I...my girlfriend, she...look, it's not like I'm going to call the police and tell on you."

"Go ahead. There are two police commissioners in here tonight."

"Figures."

"Have you heard of the syndicate, Kevin?"

"I heard the name Naogen Tokomi thrown around."

Sin shook her head. "Naogen Tokomi is just a company name. A straw company, actually. A respectable front. The syndicate is just a fancy name for a bunch of organizations that decided, not so long ago, that instead of stepping on each other's toes, it'd be best for everyone's interests to cooperate."

"Organizations, like criminal organizations?"

Sin smiled at him again. "You stopped massaging my feet."

"Sorry."

"It's more like a committee that handles conflict of interests. Eliminating competition. It defuses a lot of situations that would otherwise turn ugly. It decides who gets which sphere of influence."

"So Nadine is in charge of sex workers, illegal boxing, and extortion, and another guy gets the drugs and bank robberies?"

Sin turned her head sharply. "You know Nadine?"

"A little." Biblically, he thought. Actually, he knew very little of who she was and what she was. He'd only caught glimpse of that.

On the stage, the dominating futa pulled her cock out entirely with an obscene plop. She motioned a petite brunette waitress in an angel outfit to come closer. She then took the tray of drinks from the delicate hands and spilled wine on the blonde futa's back.

"Lick!" She ordered the waitress. Her voice through her devil mask sounded alien.

The little angel kneeled and started licking the broad back of the blonde futanari from top to bottom.

The standing futanari spread the blonde's massive ass cheeks, in the process letting everyone who cared to know that she had widened the blonde's tunnel considerably with her cock. She picked up another cocktail glass and flooded the gaping orifice.

"Drink!" she barked.

The petite waitress moved on her knees to the end of those fleshy white globes and buried her head between them. Everyone could hear her slurping.

The standing futa wrapped her palm lovingly over her pointing cock. She aimed at the petite waitress' winking buns and sank her cockhead in them. The waitress shuddered and turned her head.

"Did I tell you to stop drinking?"

The girl turned her head back to her obscene cup and resumed licking. Her fingers dug into the pliant flesh of the massive ass as the futa's cock slid a little forward, then retreated. Back and forth within her, spearing her core. Both bodies tensed and moved in a rhythm, forward, retreating, flowing through. The cock went deeper with each thrust. The Indian futa's growls filled the room as she increased the pace further, hands on the small hips as she plowed into the waitress. Then she buried herself deep, fingers curled around her outer thighs, balls against her perineum.

Kevin stared at the stage with his mouth open. "I'm not sure if I'm more aroused or repulsed."

"The syndicate arranges these nights every now and then. It's mostly about sex." Sin motioned with her head at the obscene show. "Well, people also use the scene to shake hands. Make things happen. Big money will be moving tonight. But it's mostly about sex."

"Sex? With people wearing angel costumes?"

"Sex of every kind you can think of and some that you probably can't. Sex is a strong incentive. Only selected people ever see these events from the inside."

"I feel so privileged."

Sin snorted.

"So you're here to have fun?"

"I'm a freelancer, not a syndicate woman. I'm here to offer my services."

"What services?"

She pressed her heel hard on his cock.

"Oh, that kind."

"And more. Much more. Lean closer and I'll tell you."

Kevin did, but instead of whispering she swallowed his ear and munched on it. Her tongue went into his ear and Kevin giggled like a schoolgirl and pulled back.

"Don't!" Her tone changed and turned commanding.

Kevin smiled, but when he saw that she didn't, his smile turned to bewilderment and then he felt his heart beating a little faster.

"You've been eyeballing my body from the second you met me, and now you're trying to pretend that you don't want to?!"

"What? No, I didn't."

"So, you're saying I'm not hot!"

"No, you're...I mean..." Her beautiful eyes were frighteningly angry, and he turned his head to the stage to avoid looking at them.

She leaned closer. "Don't look at them, look at me!" Kevin's heartbeat rose to a drumbeat.

"Maybe you're saying that I'm delusional and that I can't interpret the simple signs you've been sending me?"

"What? No! I...I'm sorry that I made you angry. I didn't mean to...I'm so—" He stopped in mid-sentence because her eyes were smiling again; her mouth joined in a second later. "What the fuck?"

"That's the service I supply. "

"Multiple personality disorder?"

Sin laughed. "Domination."

"And people dig that?"

"It's an adrenaline rush to some. Sexual high. Want me to show you?"

"I..." he stumbled. "I think I'll pass."

"Afraid you'll like it, Kevin?"

"Afraid that you won't."

"I'm getting wet just thinking about you naked."

Kevin coughed a little to clear his throat. Not that his throat needed clearing, he just couldn't think of anything to say. The direct approach of these women made his skin red with desire, but sometimes it was an overload.

"You're shy?" she said.

"Didn't you say you came here to work?"

"I'm done working tonight. It's fun time. Look, Kevin, I can have my pick of lace boys and lace girls, but frankly, I would rather have you. You are, hands down, the hottest thing in here tonight." Sin placed her hands behind her neck, which accented her perfectly round mounds.