Inferno: Part 1 Page 2

  It’s a buffet for my entertainment, and as one begins to suck me off, the other brings her tits to my face, pressing them together for me to bury my cheeks in. Each breast is a handful, and I suck on the nipples, tugging until they harden and she bucks, overstimulated.

  My cock is so hard, and as they switch Red begins to suck my tip, pumping the bottom with her hand. With each movement her tits stroke my skin, pushing me closer to climax. As the blonde kisses my chest and neck, I reach down between her legs and feel how wet she is.

  The slick feeling takes me over the edge and I come hard, Red swallowing every bit. She makes a show of licking her lips, but it’s just cum and I remember how much of this is for show.

  “Play with each other,” I instruct. It’s a relief, not having to worry about getting them off.

  Blondie pushes Red back—clearly she gets cared for first, since she took the bullet, so to speak. Then she slides up next to her and licks her nipple while massaging her pussy with her hand. I watch as she slips her fingers inside and Red’s back arches. Blondie kisses and licks her way up to Red’s lips. They’re full on making out as Blondie aggressively rubs Red’s clit. In an instant, Red comes loudly while bucking towards Blondie’s hand. She wants more.

  Then they switch places. Red doesn’t bother with her hands, instead burrowing her face between Blondie’s legs and licking away. They make a show of moaning, and Blondie’s breathing speeds up when Red starts licking and fingering her. She comes shouting, “Oh yes,” her face in some ridiculous pose.

  Both look to me, waiting for a score or feedback, but I pull my pants back on.

  “Can I have a shirt to sleep in,” Blondie pouts.

  “Just a minute,” I say. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

  I call Nathan and ask him to set up a room tonight for the girls. He puts me on hold, and a few moments later confirms it’s done. Someone will be up with the key to escort them to another room.

  “Put your clothes back on,” I tell the girls.

  They are visibly irritated, but obey.

  One of the hotel staff knocks, and I ask him to show the girls to their room.

  On my way to the shower, I close the door to the spare room. Tomorrow the sheets will be changed and waiting for my next conquest. It makes me feel tired.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mila

  The sky is still cloudy, but it’s finally warming up and I can wait on a bench for my next class. Other students rush by, and I realize how few people I know at college. No one else walks alone, and I feel like an island.

  Scott took up so much of my time, and when I wasn’t with him I was shut in the library, studying. I love the smell of books, the old brown leather couches, the smell of coffee and tea. It had been my home on campus, but it also gave Scott the chance to cheat.

  I had thought his texts were sweet, asking when I’d be back, telling me to take all the time I needed, encouraging me to focus on my studies. Really, the jerk just didn’t want to get caught with Gabrielle.

  Gabrielle Snow, what a stupid name. The only resemblance I can think of now is snow after a week of exhaust fumes, tainted and wretched.

  My mind is so distracted still, and I’m fighting not to give them that kind of attention and power over my thoughts, but it’s hard. Not knowing anyone means my free time is empty and allows my brain to become frozen in bad feelings that I should have gotten past having by now.

  As if on cue, two girls pause by the bench.

  “Hey—Mila, right?” The girl extends out her arm to hand me a flyer. “I think we have this next class together—I’m Carissa. Anyway, we wanted to invite you to our party. It’s tonight, we’ll have all the booze and snacks, just bring yourself!”

  I smile, unsure of how much fun I would be at a party.

  They see my hesitation, and Carissa says a party is also the best cure for any problem—be it romantic or academic.

  I laugh, taking the flyer, and say I’ll think about it.

  The girl with Carissa waves her hand in an obvious attempt to get someone’s attention. Before I know it she’s gone, leaving me and Carissa behind.

  After a few minutes of small talk we walk to class together at Carissa’s insistence.

  There are only solitary seats wedged between other students so we are forced to split up. I take a seat next to a slender girl with dyed black hair, pulling out my books when the Inferno ad falls out.

  I’d almost forgotten—I need to apply soon.

  She reaches and grabs it off of the 70s looking blue industrial carpet. Her eyebrows furrow as she hands it to me. There’s obviously a question pulling at her mind.

  “Hey, are you thinking of working at Inferno? I work there. My name’s Alexa.”

  I take the flyer from her hand and say, “Hi, I’m Mila. Yeah, I really need a job and I live close by, I’m just not sure it’s a good fit.”

  “Oh, right—the rumors.” She shakes her head and then rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to force you or anything, but I know the owner—he’s great. Takes really good care of the people who work there, and on the off chance there’s an issue, he steps in personally. Plus the tips are amazing. It’s how I afford everything.” She tugs on the diamond pendant on her necklace. I don’t think she’s doing it intentionally though.

  “Really? Because I’m freaking out. I might lose my scholarship and without some other income I’d have to drop out. As if my rent isn’t expensive enough.” I shock even myself with blurting out nothing but the truth about my current predicament.

  “You should come by tonight. I’ll be there, and you can feel it out. But it would be nice to have some more estrogen in that place,” she smiles.

  We’re interrupted as the teacher arrives, asking everyone to quiet down. Alexa slips me a note with her name and the time of her shift. Apparently, if I show the note to whoever’s working the door I don’t need to wait in line.

  As I leave class, the clouds have gone, and the sky’s bluer than I’ve seen in months. I smile to myself, hoping that my luck might finally be turning around.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bryce

  Before the match I have to “meet and greet” per Nathan’s instructions. As a coach, he gives great boxing advice, but the business side is somewhat questionable.

  I’m swarmed with people asking for autographs and pictures. It’s not my safety that I’m worried about, just that if we give away too much then the lure of the club will dwindle.

  I make a mental note to talk to coach about it, before a thin, shady-looking guy leans in close, whispering he heard my brother is back in town. The shouts for a photo or signature fade away, and everything is a humming overtone as the thought sinks in.

  If it’s true, worrying about the business will be the least of my problems. The last time I sent him away, it was supposed to be for good. Either he ran out of money or ran into trouble.

  My expression must be bleak, because a groupie in the typical tiny dress rubs my arm. “I can turn that frown upside down,” she winks. “Take me home tonight.”

  Nathan appears, saving me, and announces it’s time for me to get ready.

  In the locker room, before I change we sit on the pine bench. There have been some concerns with the online pool for the fights, and I need to know how it’s being dealt with.

  “Well, it keeps growing, and it’s really catching on. But of course the bigger it is, the harder every small detail is. I’ve been getting these IRS notices—“

  “What have you done to fix it?” My blood is at a boil. “You have all of the money and resources you could need—there’s no excuse.”

  He goes to say something but I cut him off.

  “I’m trusting you to handle this, but if my name is attached to this or anything else you run on the side, it ends. The money, the girls, the lifestyle,” I say, my head throbbing with pressure as I attempt to control my irritation at him.

  Sam, my bar manager, walks in, and Nathan takes the opportunity to leav
e, saying he needs a drink. Sam waits for him to close the locker room door before saying anything.

  Sam isn’t a tall guy, and he’s getting older. His black hair is speckled with grey, and he’s a little pudgy. He’s at the bar almost all the time.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Bryce, but we’re about to go over capacity. I don’t want the club to get shut down or the fight to be canceled.”

  I shake my head at the absurdity of the warning. “No, I’m glad you told me. Call the agency and ask them to send in two more bouncers.”

  “Absolutely.” Sam starts to leave, but turns around. “Bryce? I don’t want to overstep. I’m just the bar manager, but if Nathan is keeping tabs, he should have told you about the crowd tonight.”

  I look at Sam, realizing how much courage it took him to say something about Coach. Nathan and I go way back. He made some bad choices and was in a bad way when we connected, so I gave him a job.

  “I just want to make sure we’re all looking out for you,” he adds. I realize that this is more than a job. It’s Sam’s life.

  “I appreciate that,” I say, then give him a solid pat on his shoulder.

  Sam goes silent for a moment and I can tell there’s something he’s holding back. “I better leave you to get ready. Have a good fight.”

  He shuffles out, almost bowing. There’s almost a fatherly concern in Sam, and I’m not used to that kind of interaction. But Nathan is absolutely my friend. He understands what our relationship provides and would not want to lose it. It’s a give and take, which is easier to understand than Sam’s employment situation here. He only asks for straight pay. No perks.

  My mind is too clouded with the whirl of concerns for the night, so to clear my thoughts I play loud rock music until Nathan comes to get me to warm up.

  When we walk out the door the crowd booms with applause. Coach lifts a rope for me and I duck under it.

  I practice a few jabs, move around to warm up my legs, and then the bell rings. We circle around the ring, dodging a few punches. I know I got this, I’m going to take him.

  Suddenly I’m frozen. Just over the other guy’s left ear I see a mesmerizing woman, lit by one of the recessed lights. Her face is without makeup, as far as I can tell, and she is wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, but something in her face holds my gaze. She is beautiful, but looks wary. Blue eyes stare back, but they are not impressed or enamored—she looks worried.

  Out of nowhere a right hook catches me in the face, and I fall to the ground. The round is called, and I retreat to the corner where coach rattles off a slew of questions, but all I can see is her face. She looks worried and mad and beautiful.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mila

  He really is reckless. Maybe money or all the women make him feel invincible, but he dropped just like any other man would from that hit. Even while his coach tries to ask if he’s okay we lock eyes, but when the bell rings, he’s back in the circle.

  Before any punches are thrown, an older man with salt and pepper hair taps me on the shoulder.

  “Alexa said you wanted to apply? Follow me,” he motions his hand and smiles.

  Something in his eyes reminds me of my dad. I follow him to the bar, where he produces an application and pen. Lots of it is routine, and I’m halfway done before Alexa comes over, nudging me with her hip since her hands are full.

  “Thanks for hooking me up,” I say.

  “No problem,” she smiles, as she stacks clean glasses under the bar. Once she finishes stacking, Alexa leans on the bar, watching the fight. My eyes follow her gaze to Bryce in the ring.

  “So…what’s the deal with Bryce? Why does he fight here?” I ask.

  If there’s one thing I know for certain from the tabloid stories is that he doesn’t have to. I want the inside scoop, the real reason he chooses to have his face subjected to such potential harm.

  She looks down, avoiding my glance, and begins wiping imaginary grime off the spotless bar. “I’m not really sure. He’s good, so maybe that’s reason enough.”

  “I guess so. Does he get anything else for winning?” I probably should have stopped after the first question. My own curiosity manages to get the best of me at times.

  “I don’t know, Mila. I just serve up the drinks. Speaking of, there are some tables over there that are empty.” Alexa points with a towel still hanging in her hand.

  She tosses the beer soaked towel over her shoulder and grabs four bottles of beer and leaves abruptly. I didn’t think my questions were awful. Why would she shut down like that? The only thing I can rationalize is that they are friends and Bryce doesn’t like people knowing his personal life.

  I’m still hoping I haven’t upset Alexa too much when a tall guy stumbles over. He reeks of beer and sweat and possibly urine. The awareness of my complete discomfort doesn’t seem to dawn on him.

  “Aren’t you pretty,” he mumbles. “Not like the others in here, putting everything on display. Leaves me a surprise when I undress you later.”

  He rests a meaty hand on my shoulder, and I panic. My eyes search for Alexa, and I frantically will her to look my way. Luckily, she does, and I make sure my expression conveys utter distress.

  She walks over in long strides, and without preamble.

  In an instant she takes a full bottle of beer from her tray and smashes it on his free hand.

  He stumbles back, clutching his hand now studded with shards of glass and blood, while the bouncers physically force him out of the club.

  I must have been holding my breath, because a sharp pain hits my chest when I finally breathe out.

  “I’m so sorry,” Alexa rushes, “Really, what a shitty thing to happen your first time here. I promise that does not happen as much as people say. They talk about it over and over and it seems like a nightly thing.”

  “Thank you, Alexa. And I’m sorry about before. I just don’t really know anything about this whole place.”

  She shrugs it off and we’re good, to my relief. Other tables need a refresh, so she weaves her way back through the crowd, but my application is finished so I’m ready to head out after what happened.

  A thin blonde guy begins to replenish the beer stock, and I ask if he could possibly pass my application onto the bar manager.

  “Do I look like a messenger?” he asks, staring me down.

  “I-I-I’m so sorry, it’s just—“

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” he finally cracks a smile, and his blue eyes become playful. “I’m just messing with you. Lighten up, girl.”

  I blush hard, and he takes pity on me, grabbing my application. I notice the scars on his left hand, where the skin is almost crinkled.

  “Hmm, Mila, that’s a pretty name. Let’s see...Columbia University! You must be smart, to get in there. And you live just up the street—must be expensive.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I need this job. Otherwise I will lose that address and my spot at Columbia.” The words slip out easily, there’s something about him that immediately puts me at ease.

  “You don’t need to worry, you’ll get the job. He always hires the pretty ones.” He winks at me and then clicks his tongue.

  “Who, the bar manager?” I ask. “He seemed so nice.”

  “No, not Sam. Bryce.” He nods over to the ring and I follow his gaze, my mouth partially open.

  Bryce’s hand is held in the air—he’s won the match, even after that punch from the first round.

  Amid the cheers and chants, Bryce looks right at me, burning into me with the intensity of his gaze. We might as well be the only two people in the room.

  Others start to follow his stare, leading them to me, until his coach pulls him aside.

  I slide off my stool, ready to go home. “Thanks for your help, um--?”

  “Shayne. Shayne Shultz.”

  “Right, Shayne. Thanks for everything. Have a good night.” I wave and then turn to head to the door.

  “You, too. Get home safe,” he calls after me.

  I fe
el rude for only giving him the opportunity to say his farewells to my back, but it would be awkward if I turned around now.

  ***

  Back in my apartment, everything is calm compared to the atmosphere of the Inferno.

  The smell of stale smoke clings to my t-shirt and I’m desperate to get out of it. So, I change before calling Dad.

  “Mila, how was your day?” he asks, excited for any news.

  “Great! I think I made some friends and I might have a new job.”

  “Make sure you don’t overexert yourself,” he cautions. “School comes first.”

  “I know Dad. How are you?”

  “Today is a good day,” he laughs. His voice sounds stronger, and he explains he is feeling better. No nausea and much less pain.

  We spend the next ten minutes going over the events of the day. He wants to keep moving the conversation to my life, but I’m more concerned about his.

  I hang up feeling renewed. Nothing is perfect, but there are seeds of hope everywhere.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Bryce

  By the time I leave the locker room, the brunette is already gone. Something tells me she isn’t one to wait for a man. There’s a slew of other women, though, so I won’t go hungry tonight.

  Over by the bar a woman gives me her sexiest stare, which basically means she’s open for business, so I walk over and get us a round of drinks.

  “You had me worried there, getting dropped in the first round,” she says in her most earnest voice. Essentially, she was worried I’d get knocked out before she got to see my place and have a night of celebrity treatment.

  “I lost focus,” I admit. “But I can still perform.”

  She laughs, playing with her straw in a way that’s supposed to make me think about all the dirty things we’ll do tonight. We both know the end game and she’s not wasting energy on making this seem spontaneous. A couple of signs anyone could read and we’ve come to an understanding. I’m going to fuck her. She’s going to get me off.