Even as he thrust his fat body one more time in to the thighs of the little thirteen year old girl, Martin Sloan was thinking about what a fucked up world he inhabited. She was small, about 5 ft. 3 inches tall, plump but well endowed in the breast department, his kind of girl. Sloan pulled out of her, grunting with both satisfaction and fatigue, then surveyed the scene. There was blood on the sheets, she hadn't bled much, not compared some of the other "pure ones" he had had, but hey, he'd still busted her cherry, right? She was now in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, her ebony skinned body trembling as she turned away from the man who had stolen the only thing she had. He chuckled and shook his head.
Sloan felt no guilt. After all, he was not her pimp, nobody had forced her in to this line of work. She needed the money very badly, she had just earned it, it was simply a business attraction. Was it his fault he couldn't get hard for a woman who could legally vote or even drive? Nope. Fuck that, he was one of the good guys. Sloan was one of the most popular judges in the Gotham circuit, known for sympathy for defendants and his refusal to back down from cases involving the prosecution of mob figures. He was one of the most honest men in Gotham politics. So what if he liked fucking virgins, everybody had their vices. He wasn't married, didn't have a girlfriend, so he wasn't cheating on anybody. He didn't consider what he was doing a crime, and if it was, so what. Who the hell was going to tell him who he could or could not fuck. He was like a god in Gotham. Untouchable.
Some compared his amount of power to that of the mayor's, a few even claimed he was superior in that aspect. Sloan was no megalomaniac, his goals in life were not those of absolute power, all he wanted was comfort in life, the finest homes, cars, pussy, and food, the latter of which had recently transformed his body from pudginess to obesities. The doctors were all over his ass about his gluttony in both food and drink, but at 43 Sloan could care less. He didn't consider himself a hedonist, but he felt he had worked hard enough to get to the point he was at to enjoy himself as much as he could. He ignored the girl's sobs and finished the nearby glass of brandy, toasting her sardonically before he did. Sloan was not worried about this leaking out.
He had known the owner of the brothel for a long time, though there were not friends, Sloan was a regular customer and had been for about two and a half years now. In return for the man providing the judge with whatever sexual fantasy he desired at the moment, Sloan not only paid generously but warned the man on the rare occasions when law enforcement got a wind of the rumors about the establishment and made attempts to infiltrate. It was a very satisfying relationship. Sloan slowly put on his boxers and huge slacks, grunting with the exertion, then put on his dress shirt. He tossed the girl a twenty from his wallet and put on his coat, he had slipped off his tie earlier in the day. The girl still would not look at him. It didn't bother him, what respectable gentleman concerned himself with a whore's opinion? He was in a good mood, humming as he splashed water on his face from a nearby sink. He ambled over to the door and stepped out.
His four bodyguards were outside waiting. They were well versed with his sexual deviancy, but three of them been working for him for at least a year, and appreciated their positions and pay enough not to let any of his secrets leave the brothel. For the new one, the money was enough to keep him quiet. The bodyguards were more of a formality than a necessity, though he had received some death threats from the mob before, Sloan knew that he had too many connections for them to even risk such an attempt. The backlash would simply not be worth it.
As soon as his boss stepped out of the room, Riyad Abdallah straightened up and was ready to leave. He was of Middle Eastern descent, about six ft. tall, with a wiry but sinewy frame. His face was rough and weathered, he had formerly been a NAVY seal, was highly trained, and had been recommended to Sloan when the suggestion of a bodyguard had arisen. Abdallah was the oldest and basically the de-facto leader of the bodyguard team, and out of all of them he was the man Sloan trusted the most.
The man standing next to him was Zachary "Zeke" Chapman. He was a black man, about 5 '10, and about 250 pounds of hard muscle. He was a failed NFL prospect, concerns about his height and injuries had derailed his career, and even at twenty nine years old he still harbored belief that one day he would once again be discovered and reinstated to football hero. He was not as highly trained with guns as Abdallah, nor was he formerly trained in hand to hand combat, but he was a menacing figure, and despite his height he exuded a kind of danger that often would be more useful in preventing danger before any attack than during it.
Lucas Morgan was probably the most easygoing of the group, tall and muscular, good looking in the traditional sense with long blonde hair and blue eyes. He had an exuberant personality, was often cracking jokes, and was rarely annoyed even when scolded by his colleagues. Despite his cheerful exterior and the fact that he was disliked by everybody in the group except Zeke who saw him as an interest amidst the boredom, Sloan, who hated him, had no doubt in his skills. Morgan was a former boxer and had even gone pro for a couple of years before he got in to a bar fight and beat his opponent in to a coma. Luckily for Morgan, the man didn't die but he had instantly been ejected from the league and it was only because of his father, a former senator down in Metropolis, that he had not served any jail time.
Andre Guillermo was the latest bodyguard to have been added to the crew. He was average height, with a lean but muscular frame. He was somewhat squeamish, a nervous personality, something Sloan loathed, but Guillermo had been recommended to him by a former Gotham DA who had utilized his services some years prior. Prone to fits of anxiety, even now Guillermo was chewing some kind of pills Sloan had never seen before in his life. Sloan hoped they weren't narcotics, but would not be angered or surprised if they were, He had heard Guillermo was highly trained and capable and good at his job. Sloan had not come to any situations that could fully exhibit Guillermo's skills and was somewhat skeptical, but nevertheless kept him on. Little did he know the very man he least depended on amongst his bodyguards would soon save his life.
As Sloan walked out of the room, the bodyguards stood at attention. Morgan had been smoking, Chapman had been reading a newspaper, and Guillermo had been looking through his phone. The ever dependable Abdallah was the first to notice his boss had come out and he now cleared his throat so his colleagues looked up. The men hastily discarded the distractions and stood at attention.
"Are you ready to leave, sir?" asked Abdallah. He was a married man and the frequent visits to the brother made him uncomfortable and even sickened him to some extent. He tolerated his boss's perversions but secretly loathed the man. Chapman had no qualms and Morgan's only complaints were that they themselves did not get to indulge in the provided services. Guillermo was nervous there, but then again, he was nervous about everything.
"Yeah," Sloan said, tucking his shirt in around his enormous stomach, "lets go." And so the men surrounded him and began to make their way down the stairs. There were some prostitutes and some other workers milling around the rooms but the group moved past them swiftly and headed towards the door.
On their way out, a short, skinny oriental man with short greased hair intercepted them. His hair was greased back and he wore and expensive suit. This was Jimmy Chin, the operator of the brothel. He had a very disarming and charismatic presence and though he was easy to dislike, he was also hard to distrust. Though he was by no means brilliant, he was very business savvy, and personally made almost a million dollars a year from the establishment. Now he came towards the group and the bodyguards parted to allow he to approach Sloan.
"How were the services tonight, Mr. Sloan?" Chin asked, smiling. He already knew what the answer was, he handpicked the girls for his best clients and knew exactly was Sloan wanted: Young teen virgin, preferably a minority, big tits. Those were the criteria and they were fulfilled with a tee.
"Excellent, Jimmy," Sloan chuckled, "If there's one thing I like about you, it's that you sure know how to pick your bitches." Sloan clapped the small man on his arm cheerfully.
Chin mildly flinched at both the expletive and the contact. Though he was considered a pimp, he believed himself more of a provider of exotic tastes, and considered his prostitutes colleagues. Despite this he smiled, "You'll be back soon, yes?"
Sloan grinned knowingly, "Both you and I know you run the best whorehouse in Gotham, how could I not be back?"
Chin shook his hand, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."
Sloan replied, "Of course," and the group parted ways with the "manager". The bodyguards were still standing erect and Sloan saw that Guillermo had again been texting. "Jeez, kid, that pussy ain't going nowhere," he said to his bodyguard.
Guillermo blushed and hurriedly put his phone away. Morgan smiled and Sloan laughed at the man's embarrassment. The group now made their way outside. They had arrived in to cars, Sloan's towncar which was driven by Morgan with the accompanying Abdullah, and then the Escalade which had brought Guillermo and Chapman. They now made their way to the nearby parking lot where the vehincles were located. Sloan was humming happily and the bodyguards moved hurriedly, trying to get their boss back home so they themselves could get some rest.
Sloan was whistling the beginning of an old Elvis tune when the bullet hit him in the shoulder. He stood for a moment in shock and looked down for a moment. Guillermo and Morgan were the first ones who heard the silenced, popping shots. The second shot hit Sloan in the leg and he began to collapse. Now the bodyguards all began to react. Guillermo dove at his boss and he took the last two shots in the back. Abdallah and Morgan protected Sloan's fallen body with their own while Chapman had now retrieved his handgun and was looking up towards the buildings.
Abdallah checked his boss's pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Sloan was still alive, though wheezing in pain. His shoulder and leg were bleeding but they were flesh wounds.
Morgan stood up frantically and took out his cellphone, hurriedly dialing 911. Abdallah now checked his fallen colleague's pulse. Andre Guillermo was no more.