Snippet of the Day
Oct. 24th, 2010 03:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdThis is from "Playing with Fire" subbed for the Undead Erotica anthology from Renaissance E-books.
Definitely not work-safe.
There were definite advantages to being already dead, Rick decided as he cooled his heels in a back booth of the 99 Fine Club, waiting to see Sterling. Namely, when his demonic boss killed him, he would wake back up after a few hours.
There were drawbacks too, especially the little point that his death certificate had already been filed when he woke up after the motorcycle crash back in '81. When the I-9 form had been required for employment, starting in '86, there was no getting a job without a Social Security card and a driver's license. Rick had the latter. But the Social Security Administration, in a rare fit of unwonted competence, had realized Richard G. Jax was dead and refused the card.
So, he stripped. Club owners didn't care if he was legal, as long as he showed up regularly and sober, and they paid cash. He blessed his good luck to have died at twenty-three. The tips kept him living in a cheap residential motel and eating off the hotplate. The main difference, as far as he could tell, between being alive and being undead was that he couldn't die or be killed and that breathing wasn't an autonomic function anymore, although it was still a necessity. He sometimes forgot, even after twenty-five years, and went lightheaded.
The five hundred in his sporran should keep him in good shape for a while. Sterling had sent him to the back room to blow an important patron. The guy had been gorgeous, either an immortal or one of the Powers. Rick could tell things like that now. It was something in the aura. He'd done his best, still in the leather from his Roman slave routine. The man had kissed his forehead, slipped him the money over his protests and then gone to talk to Sterling.
Now, just before his Scottish number, he'd been pulled. He knew Sterling was a demon. He didn't know if Ster knew he was undead, or maybe immortal. No dancer was ever fired from the 99 Fine Club; Sterling just killed them. Ate them too, Marissa said. She claimed she'd seen him bite off Terrence's cock before tearing out his throat. Marissa was so dead honest she didn't even swipe rolls off breadbaskets bound for the dishroom, which all the dancers did.
"Rick," came Sterling's perpetually bored vice. Rick wondered how bad it was going to hurt to have his cock bitten off and how long it would take to regenerate it. He went into the office.
"Michael throughly enjoyed you tonight, Rick. He says he wants an exclusive. You'll still dance, but he's the only one you service in the back." Sterling looked him over. "You're very lucky. Men pay handsomely for a single hour with him. So, let me see what's so special about you?"
Rick could almost see Sterling's plan, like a picture in his aura. Ster was going to kill him and let Michael have his exclusive in the form of Rick's corpse. It would piss Michael off for a few minutes and then he'd get the joke. Rick went to his knees anyway, his own joke making him smile.
"Eager little slut, aren't you?” sneered Sterling.
Rick shrugged. "You're gonna kill me anyway. Let's get it over with." He tugged at Sterling's zipper. "I know what you are." When he had Sterling's cock out, he licked it, all over. "I expected spikes. Do you come acid?"
"Just poison." Sterling stared as Rick gave a little smile and sucked him in.
Definitely not work-safe.
There were definite advantages to being already dead, Rick decided as he cooled his heels in a back booth of the 99 Fine Club, waiting to see Sterling. Namely, when his demonic boss killed him, he would wake back up after a few hours.
There were drawbacks too, especially the little point that his death certificate had already been filed when he woke up after the motorcycle crash back in '81. When the I-9 form had been required for employment, starting in '86, there was no getting a job without a Social Security card and a driver's license. Rick had the latter. But the Social Security Administration, in a rare fit of unwonted competence, had realized Richard G. Jax was dead and refused the card.
So, he stripped. Club owners didn't care if he was legal, as long as he showed up regularly and sober, and they paid cash. He blessed his good luck to have died at twenty-three. The tips kept him living in a cheap residential motel and eating off the hotplate. The main difference, as far as he could tell, between being alive and being undead was that he couldn't die or be killed and that breathing wasn't an autonomic function anymore, although it was still a necessity. He sometimes forgot, even after twenty-five years, and went lightheaded.
The five hundred in his sporran should keep him in good shape for a while. Sterling had sent him to the back room to blow an important patron. The guy had been gorgeous, either an immortal or one of the Powers. Rick could tell things like that now. It was something in the aura. He'd done his best, still in the leather from his Roman slave routine. The man had kissed his forehead, slipped him the money over his protests and then gone to talk to Sterling.
Now, just before his Scottish number, he'd been pulled. He knew Sterling was a demon. He didn't know if Ster knew he was undead, or maybe immortal. No dancer was ever fired from the 99 Fine Club; Sterling just killed them. Ate them too, Marissa said. She claimed she'd seen him bite off Terrence's cock before tearing out his throat. Marissa was so dead honest she didn't even swipe rolls off breadbaskets bound for the dishroom, which all the dancers did.
"Rick," came Sterling's perpetually bored vice. Rick wondered how bad it was going to hurt to have his cock bitten off and how long it would take to regenerate it. He went into the office.
"Michael throughly enjoyed you tonight, Rick. He says he wants an exclusive. You'll still dance, but he's the only one you service in the back." Sterling looked him over. "You're very lucky. Men pay handsomely for a single hour with him. So, let me see what's so special about you?"
Rick could almost see Sterling's plan, like a picture in his aura. Ster was going to kill him and let Michael have his exclusive in the form of Rick's corpse. It would piss Michael off for a few minutes and then he'd get the joke. Rick went to his knees anyway, his own joke making him smile.
"Eager little slut, aren't you?” sneered Sterling.
Rick shrugged. "You're gonna kill me anyway. Let's get it over with." He tugged at Sterling's zipper. "I know what you are." When he had Sterling's cock out, he licked it, all over. "I expected spikes. Do you come acid?"
"Just poison." Sterling stared as Rick gave a little smile and sucked him in.
