Four Horsemen

There was a chill in the April night air in Drayton. The town wasn’t quite far enough south to enjoy warm weather most months. It wasn’t near enough to a beach to attract any degree of tourist. Drayton was a place people just were. There was only one large business in the town. It was home to a very small fabric mill where gym socks were made. A Congressmen brought the plant to the town as pork for some national defense bill about three decades ago. The plant managed to provide jobs for the 300 or so families that lived in Drayton. It was close enough to the I-95 and mass distribution centers, that it made little sense to close. It also managed to stay non-unionized, which allowed it to stay profitable, despite almost all other mill operations being shipped overseas. The town had a peculiarity as well. Despite being a very small town, it was home to a very fancy gentleman’s club. The town inhabitants rarely patronized the establishment, but the owners were shrewd. When the zoning proposal was made for Dark Angels, the proprietors agreed to never serve food or alcoholic beverage in the club. All food was provided by the local restaurants and could be carried in by truckers and other persons passing the exit. A similar arrangement was made with the local liquor store. The business arrangement was good for all interested parties. Despite some initial protests around crime rates, the locals’ fears were soon assuaged when the clubs’ body guards actually supplemented the towns’ police auxiliary. The proprietors were smart, they knew their market, knew that the club would attract much more lucrative business.
Dark Angels stood quietly in the early April evening backlit by a gibbous moon. There was a slight breeze that moved the moist air. A pair of golden wings outlined in yellow neon hummed good-naturedly at the roadside sign. The wings were those of a Secubia, the chosen generals of the angelic army. The front door was padded with maroon velvet; gold button grommets held the fabric tight and gave the velvet a slight diamond pattern. Leading up to the door was an awning with brass poles. The poles were etched in such a manner as to resemble tree branches. The parking lot was very well lit in gentle amber light. There were only about 40 spaces total. This evening there were only four cars in the lot, along with two semi trailers. A Mercedes was parked next to a Ford Mustang. Both bore Maryland license plates. The third car was a classic 67 GT. The final car was a beat up Chevy pickup truck with a missing back gate.
It was close to 3am when a new car pulled into the lot, by this time the GT and Chevy had left. Two men got out of a black car after it had pulled to a smooth stop in a spot under the amber lights. The driver was a small man with angular features. He had a set of brilliant white teeth that were naturally sharp. His eyes were keen and darted between the opposite corners of the parking lot. This was his first mission. He began walking with light silent steps toward the Dark Angels entrance. A slight bounce in his left leg indicated a limp or a damaged knee. The passenger of the black car was very different. He was a huge man. He wore a dark overcoat. The fabric belt was pulled tight and the coat was stretching across his enormous back that bulged toward his shoulders. He wore a large duster that was pulled down over his deep set eyes. The shadows from the brim along with his brow line left his entire face dark and inscrutable. His hands were massive; the nails were bit down to nubs. There rough edges still clearly visible. His skin had a grey hue, although it was neither gray nor flesh colored. He closed the door with a quick movement of his hand and took a step away from the car. His foot landed with a thud that disturbed the quiet April evening. His successive footfalls were just as loud.
“Raif, wait”, the large man said. His voice was gravelly, and seeped out of him like a slow oil puddle on hot pavement. It was commanding and terrifying.
The smaller man hesitated and then spun quickly.
“I don’t have much time, Hank. The bosses said before three, in the Scotch room before three. We are very late, your directions were horrible.”
“Maybe I had different directions,” Hank growled.
Raif glanced back slowly trying to read Hank’s expression. His face was in its usual shadow, but Raif noticed a slight curl to the huge man’s lip. It made him uncomfortable without knowing why. He turned on his heel and continued toward the maroon doors. Hank followed behind him, each footstep thudding duly and dying in the night air. When Hank reached the brass poles for the awning, he gripped one and slid his hand slowly down the right side. The motion was deliberate and smooth. The brass turned warm in his palm. Hank removed his hand and let out a slow breath.
“OK, here we go Raif, don’t f... just don’t screw this up.”
Raif stepped into the lobby area, the bounce in his step a little too exaggerated. Hank followed behind him. His footstep was silenced by the heavy carpet. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small fold of bills. The outer most of the greenbacks had at least two zeroes showing. Hank walked over to the doorman and looked down at the muscular man in a well fitting tuxedo.
“Scotch Room,” Hank mumbled. The doorman nodded and led them to a very posh room with a circular stage. The seats were large with curved backs and heavy casters on the legs that made the chairs easily maneuvered. The stage had two poles, highly polished and glinting from the stage lights that set both stage and seating in a cool blue gel. Around the stage was a table area, with a mirrored rise leading up to stage level. The mirror was both decorative and functional. This simple device allowed you to keep your eyes forward while checking behind you. There were only four chairs in the Scotch Room.
Dark Angels was cordoned off into five rooms. The main room contained the bar and the main stage. Two girls always worked the main stage. The owners tried to mix it up as much as possible and put girls that looked completely different on stage together. Currently, the thrum of the music found one brunette with round full breasts grinding slowly against a pole, bent at the waist and staring with doe eyes at a short bald man sipping a Gin Martini. The other girl was platinum blond, taller than most men, but skinny as a rail. She had a small flat posterior and barely A cup breasts. However, her eyes were deep green and could hold a man’s gaze so intently, that their pricks pushed hard against their zippers. Her subtlety was her sex. The other four men in the main room were pushing in closer and dropping dollars on the stage for her. She would walk away from them, until another bill hit the stage and turn slowly, collecting the four eager men with her eyes. She would then bend on hand and knee and crawl over to them, never releasing them from her gaze. This had been going on for several minutes and the pile of cash on the stage was reaching a ridiculous pinnacle.
The other three rooms were similar to the Scotch Room: The Bourbon Room, Whiskey Room, and Tequila Room. All the spirits needed for a Four Horsemen. The rooms were named appropriately. The private dance rooms so common to most establishments were curiously absent at Dark Angels. The only private dances in the club were in the Four Horsemen. The only way into the Four Horsemen was how Dark Angels stayed in business so easily.
The blond left the stage area as the heavy base dance music came to a stop. She left the pile of cash on stage. Her name was Jalyn, and though she would always split her tips with all the other girls, she never collected the bills herself. It wasn’t her pride. She loved stripping. The very act had inherent power. She just hated the smell of male sweat. Jalyn made her way to the dressing room. The MC jovially called Maria to the stage in that very popular baritone of all strip club MCs. Jalyn barely glanced up as a short redhead she didn’t recognize slipped past her, pulling her costume low over very full hips. Jalyn plucked a white silk dressing gown off a peg near the dressing room and wrapped it around her small frame. She was one of the few dancers who never wore shoes on stage. Her bare feet helped drive men even a little closer to the edge. Besides, the ridiculous platform shoes so common to this type of establishment would have caused her to bang her head on overhead lights if she wasn’t careful.
There was another woman in the dressing room. She was perfectly proportioned, with a round tight fundament and supple breasts that were barely peaking over the edge of her dressing gown. She was applying a light powder of blush to her cheeks. The effect was subtle; an inviting rosy cheeked lass. She was very good at applying her makeup.
Jalyn gave a little cough.
“Two men went into the Scotch Room, Lu”
The woman at the makeup mirror turned on her stool. She held Jalyn with her eyes then gave a quick wink.
“Show time, I guess.” Lu was on staff for special clientele.
“I didn’t see what they ordered” Jalyn sniffed. “They might want me.” But Jalyn knew it wasn’t true. She had seen the large man one other time. Lu was his favorite. She danced for him until Dark Angels closed that night.
One of the large body guards stuck his head into the dressing room.
“Boxcar order at the bar Lu,” the body guard said.
Lu blinked and stood slowly. It had been a very long time since anyone had ordered a Boxcar in the Scotch Room. There were many things about Dark Angels that made it unique. Specialty orders were just one of them.
Lu let the dressing gown drop to the floor. The air constricted the capillaries around her nipples. Her bikini line was shaved in a tight triangle. She amused herself by referring to it as the Bermuda triangle.
“You want to come along Ja,” Lu asked. Jalyn hesitated. She had seen Lu dance on the main stage, but never in the Four Horsemen. It was not normal to have two girls in one of the private rooms. She wasn’t sure she should go and shook her head a little. Lu turned smartly and left the dressing room. While she was making her way to the Scotch Room, every head turned to watch her progression. She walked calmly with slow deliberate strides. She placed her heels on the ground before her toes clicked down. It made her butt bounce in a merry figure eight. It was mesmerizing, and consumed the whole rooms’ interest. When she got to the Scotch Room, she turned and blew a slow kiss to the room at large, then pulled the heavy curtain shut.
She recognized the big man at once, but did not say a word. Hank was a very rare breed. Men like him did not come into Dark Angels very often. The smaller man was a stranger to Lu. She took the stage and began undulating in time to the music. Her movements were slow and methodical. She gripped the dancer pole and slowly lifted her weight above her hands and made a tight “four” out of her legs. She hung upside down for a moment and started releasing a little of the pressure in her legs which caused her to move down the pole in a slow counterclockwise spin. When she reached the stage, her hair splashed away from her in a perfect dark circle. She caught the little man with her eyes, while she lay on her back. He was leaning forward, eager. His eyes had lust in them, but something else too. She couldn’t feel his other emotions. Lu, rolled to her stomach and then to her knees. She arched back slowly in time to the music. Her sex thrust out toward the little man’s face. She slid one of her hands down her chest, tracing one breast. Her hand then moved slowly along the little crevice that had formed between her abdomen muscles, until it reached the top of the triangle. She hesitated there for a moment until she heard the little man’s voice catch.
A dark skinned waitress pulled back the curtain and entered quietly. She placed the highball glass in front of Raif. He barely glanced down at the beverage. His eyes were pleading with Lu to move on. The ice shifted with a light clink. The color of the lights changed from green to a cool blue. Lu got back to her feet facing away from the two guests. Hank was watching as well, but he was bored, he moved his gaze to Raif. Hank smiled to himself. He knew what was coming.
Lu stretched her arms out to either side. The cool blue lighting washed over her skin. When she stepped back into the light there was a dark shimmer to her skin. Her fingers elongated slightly and her hair began to wind itself into two tight columns of hair. Her breasts changed in mass and pulled tighter to her body. Two sinewy horns sprouted from her forehead and curled back behind her ear and then neatly under, mimicking the horns of a Ram, but more supple, feminine. Tattoos surfaced along her shoulders and traced down her back to a neat point above her tailbone. Her tailbone elongated as well forming a mesmerizing moving appendage. She used her tail to brush against the little man’s cheek and then down his chest toward his crotch. While the remainder of the change took place, she used her tail to work Raif into a fully hard little man. When Lu turned, Hank was smiling. Lu returned the smirk and began a dance that moved her midsection like an Arabian belly dancer with no backbone. In fact Lu was completely without bones now. Her cartilage endostructure was rolling over itself as she gyrated on stage.
She bent low over the little man again, dragging her firm breasts across his face. She took his face in her long blue fingers and drew his eyes toward her own. Raif resisted at first and Lu could feel that sensation again. Something was wrong. This little man was waiting for something. Lu placed her hands on Raif’s shoulders and flipped herself over him neatly in a gymnasts’ front handspring. She spun the chair on its casters and checked its rotation by placing one of her feet on the chair’s arms. This gave Raif a very close view of her triangle, still visible, but outlined in tiny tattoos. Raif moved his hand toward a breast pocket, stopped and pulled it back. Lu noticed the motion, but went on grinding her hips into his face. She turned and sat down in his lap. She worked her tail up his shirt and slid her hands along the top of his legs. When she sat up she flipped his jacket open slightly. His inner pocket contained a knife. The cool stone blade could only be onyx.
Lu’s mind kicked into overdrive. Her eyes snapped over to Hank and she made a quick decision. Once again using her extreme agility she placed her hands on the little man’s lap and pulled her weight into a front hand stand. Raif stared up at her, open mouthed. Lu could see the stiff member in his pants; she tucked her chin to meet Raif’s eyes. Smiling coldly she bought her legs down past Raif’s head. She slammed her full weight into his face snapping his neck back neatly and breaking it with a quick twist of her legs.
She looked over at Hank. He was non-plussed. He didn’t even put down his drink.
“He had a blade. Onyx is the only weapon that can kill gargoyles. He was going to kill you.”
Hank stood and removed his trench coat. He smiled with appreciation at Lu, and stretched his wings to the full six foot span. He hadn’t seen her talents in many years.
“No my dear, he was sent here to kill you.”