„Tijuana."
Observing the guests of LUX drinking and dancing, Lucifer Morningstar blinked in surprise as he had heard the word through the hubbub of LUX. The tall club owner took a sip from the glass sitting in his long, nimble and perfectly manicured fingers and thought about the other times when the word had been mentioned before. Usually, his guests spoke of Tijuana when having drunk enough to acknowledge their darkest, deepest desires and phantasies Lucifer had always been particularly fond of.
The fallen angel let his eyes roam until he spotted the person who had mentioned Tijuana as if everybody would automatically know about it. It was a young woman at the bar, holding onto a cocktail as if it was a lifeline. With her sleek black hair cascading down her neck and framing her discreetly rouged face, she was easy on the eyes. Yet, Lucifer doubted that she was old enough to drive already, let alone to lose all her inhibitions in a night club. Even her outfit, consisting of a skin-tight black tee shirt and a short zebra skirt with black fishnets and white calf-high high-heeled platform boots, did little to veil her immaturity.
If you're older than 19, darling, I'll eat my hat, Lucifer thought, taking another sip of Single Malt and giving a content sigh at the alcohol running down his throat. He licked his lips as he let his eyes crawl along the girl's slender yet curvy body. He couldn't help grinning at her fishnets that were torn open above her right knee. The hole resembled a slightly deformed mouth.
As a new day was dawning, the club was emptying, and Lucifer stepped into the elevator leading to his penthouse apartment. He didn't feel like taking the stairs since not knowing about Tijuana was pressing him harder than he preferred, resulting in violent shivers running up and down his spine and culminating in a rather nasty itch along his shoulder-blades. Shuddering, Lucifer poured himself a fresh drink and sat on the couch before he unbuttoned his ruby-coloured shirt and his black vest to rub his fingertips along the scars earned by losing his wings. But since this didn't soothe the itch, he picked himself up and went for the shower, scattering his clothes all over the apartment. As his underpants had slid down his long legs, pooling around his ankles, he turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. When it had become agreeable, he leaned his hands against the wall to let the hot water pour down on his back. A sigh escaped the fallen angel when the itch started to cease.
The sound of the elevator interrupted Lucifer's recreation. He turned off the shower, toweled himself off and grabbed his black-and-red dressing gown to see who wanted to see him. A huge wave of happiness washed through Lucifer when Detective Chloe Decker stepped through the elevator doors.
„Good morning, Detective," he cheerfully saluted the blond policewoman, invitingly opening his arms.
„Lucifer," came the standoffish answer as Chloe eyed his dressing gown and his wet hair, „I interrupt?"
„Not at all," Lucifer replied, a smile creeping across his face as he moved behind his bar counter. Giving the detective a curious glance, he propped his elbows on the counter, resting his unshaven chin on his interlaced fingers.
„What can I do for you, Detective?" he wondered. Detective Decker sat on a stool opposite of him and said after an almost over-dramatic pause, „I was wondering when you'll be showing up at the station again."
„You'll be the first one to know when I'm available again," Lucifer replied nonchalantly, „In the meantime, I've heard something I'd like to hear your opinion about." Chloe was audibly surprised.
„Pardon me, Mr Know-It-All?" she said, „There's something you don't know about?" She couldn't help laughing to herself. Frowning, Lucifer summed up what had happened.
„Tijuana?" Detective Decker parroted, making Lucifer put his hands on the counter and nod solemnly.
„Tijuana is a place in Mexico, South of the border,"she explained, still unable to bite back her giggles, „People go there for amusement."
„I thought that's what you humans invented Las Vegas and Reno for," Lucifer thought aloud, rolling his eyes and frowning again at the detective's giggles. When Chloe had gotten a grip again, he walked her to the elevator doors and went into his bedroom. After getting to know this rather unpleasant lack of knowledge, he felt like creeping into his bed and pulling the blanket over his head. Opening his dressing gown, he let it glide to the floor as carelessly as his other clothes. But feeling his smooth and cool sheets didn't put his mind at ease this time since the thought of Tijuana being the only sinful place he hadn't been to yet was bugging him almost as much as that Detective Decker had been laughing. Taking a deep breath and shifting into a comfortable position, he remembered his quick side-trips to Las Vegas (always delivering more or less nice surprises), Bangkok (lots of entertainment) or Macau (very refreshing). So far, Reno was the only place he didn't remember fondly.
The sun was setting when Lucifer woke up from his unsteady slumber. He got up and stood at the nearest window to watch the blue sky turn red and finally black. A sigh escaped Lucifer as he pressed a hand against the cool glass and looked at the reflection of his naked body. When the first stars were showing, he was determined to remove his lack of knowledge concerning Tijuana. He took his hand off the glass, leaving a print before he went to collect his clothes and his over-night bag and set off.
Smoothly, the black convertible went along the road towards the Mexican border. Lucifer smiled broadly when he caught a whiff of the remarkable scent of profligacy that made places like Las Vegas, Bangkok and Macao so incomparable. Inhaling deeply, he chuckled lowly and said, „Well then, let's see what's on Tijuana's menu."
After a week of sun, warm tequila and the most satisfying sexiness Lucifer Morningstar had experience since his arrival in L.A., the fallen angel sauntered into the office of Detective Decker. He sat down into the chair in front of the desk, put his feet on the desktop and took a generous gulp from his flask. Even without having slept in days, he looked as flawless as always. Detective Decker gasped when she noticed him. Unable to give more than a muttered complaint, she stared at the red soles of his shoes facing her and her name tag that had been pushed to the side by Lucifer's feet.
„Detective!" the fallen angel greeted her in high spirits, getting up and smiling disarmingly before putting his flask into his inner pocket, „I told you I'd tell you first as soon as I'll be available again. And as you know, I'm a devil to my word."
"I know, Lucifer, I know," the young policewoman said, absentmindedly sipping her first mug of coffee.