2. Over-muscled Doorbitch
Vodka Freeze was built inside a converted warehouse - lots of steel girders, and chains dangling from the ceiling and the like. A neon blue sign out the front illuminated the road with a bluish-white glow. There was a fairly long line of people waiting to get in and at the head of the line, a muscular fellow in a tight black T-shirt and tight leather pants. Hope he wasn't planning on having kids. I didn't have all night to stay in line so I circled around the back and found a service entrance. I stood in the shadows and waited. Soon I heard the faint thump of a heartbeat draw closer and the door opened. A man came out with a bag of rubbish which he tossed in a nearby dumpster. While his back was turned I quickly sprinted inside the door.
Inside the club was as you'd expect: lots of pretty young things gyrating around, an overrated DJ at one end shouting in what I assume was Russian into the mic. The bar girls were keeping a constant supply of overpriced vodka flowing and generally, the humans were too drunk or high to notice me moving among them. I looked around the large room, seeking out a door that would lead to the back office area - that'd be where they'd be keeping the hostage.
There was a roped off door flanked by two bouncers. Overhead was a sign reading Staff Only. Bingo. Of course the hard part would be convincing the two goons I was staff. Either that or somehow sneak by them. Then I had an idea. I took note of a few drunken girls staggering towards the VIP lounge and figured there'd have to be an entrance from in there into the offices. Snagging a VIP pass likely would be easier than talking my way past Goon 1 and Goon 2. I followed one of the girls who broke off from the others and began heading towards the ladies room. Her VIP pass was swinging from a lanyard around her neck. Oh but this was going to be too easy. I got ahead of her and politely held the door to the toilets open for her. "Thanks, honey," she slurred and almost fell through the doorway. I followed her and shut the door behind me.
There were a few other drunk young things cluttering up the room. One was reapplying makeup by the mirror, another was snorting cocaine off the bench through a rolled up twenty. A third I could hear throwing up in the number three stall. Welcome to the nightlife.
My VIP girl used the facilities then tottered to the sink and splashed water on her face then she turned to leave. Bumped into me as I 'accidentally' walked into her.
"Oops. Sorry, love," I said as I unclipped the VIP card from the lanyard. I turned and quickly exited to the dance-floor. I figured I had less than five minutes before she realised I'd swiped the card.
The VIP entrance was barred by another velvet rope and over-muscled doorbitch. "You have VIP pass?" asked the doorbitch in accented English.
"Da," I replied, "I have VIP pass." I held it up and he unclipped the rope, allowing me through. As I entered the private area I heard my girl protesting at not being allowed entry.
"No VIP pass, no entry," the doorbitch said. Then something in Russian and I watched over my shoulder as the girl was escorted out.
The interior of the VIP area had comfortable couches scattered around, soft mood lighting, curtained off little nooks where loved-up couples could get all touchy-feely.
Another roped off doorway was set into the rear wall, a sign overhead reading Staff Only. Finally.
I figured I only had a few minutes at most before the VIP lounge began to fill up and crossed the room to the Staff Only door, my footsteps muffled by the carpet. At the door, I pressed an ear to the wood and listened. I could hear three faint heartbeats - two nice and relaxed, the third, doing about a hundred beats per minute. I could hear rapid respiration as well and figured that the heart rate and hard breathing belonged to either Elissa the Amazing Hostage Girl or somebody pleasuring themselves and really getting off on it. I really hoped it was Elissa.
I turned casually as a trio of young women and one guy came into the room, reeking of alcohol and a chemical odour that had to be drugs. The four started tearing each others' clothes off and began exploring each other with hands, fingers...and tongues. Geez, get a room, people. One of the girls, perhaps overcome by a modicum of modesty, pulled her blouse up over her breasts and dragged the others over to one of the small privacy nooks. The curtains pulled closed and very soon I heard moans of ecstasy that just had to manufactured.
"Kids today, with the drugs and the alcohol and the hip-hop music," I muttered and turned back to the door. Trying to look as though I was a staff member, I tried turning the door handle. It was locked. Of course. I removed the small leather case containing a set of lockpicks from my hip pocket and bent over the lock.
Alright look, I admit, I'm no angel all right? Even before I was turned into an unholy creature of the night, I had a few vices and learned the fine art of lockpicking from an ex-convict friend of my father's. Turned out to be handy though. After a few seconds' work with the pick, I was rewarded with a metallic click as the lock disengaged. I gave the door a gentle push and it swung partway open on well-oiled hinges. The sounds of the heart beats became clearer. Still three, two still at rest, the third still hammering like a pneumatic drill. The two relaxed hearts were over to the left. I peered carefully around the doorway and saw a short hallway with one door at the end and a second door set into the left hand side of the hall.
The hard-hammering heart was behind the door at the end of the hall. I hoped fervently that it was Elissa. Otherwise I'd be committing a B & E for nothing. I entered the hall and shut the VIP door behind me, making sure it was unlocked this time. Sidling up to the other door, I listened. Besides the heart beats I heard the sound of a TV. Nice, professional outfit, these mob guys. Watching TV when they should have been watching their backs.
Now, how to get in, disable the guards, get the girl and get out without alerting all and sundry? I stood for a moment, head down, thinking. Place like this, they almost had to be involved in illegal prostitution. I smiled, my blood-red lips pulling back from my teeth and decided to try my hand at the ancient art of trading sex for cash.
Or in this case, luring a couple of goons away from their post with the promise of sex for cash and then rendering them unconscious. I quickly unstrapped the Kevlar vest and shoved it to one side with my foot and pulled off my T-shirt and bra for good measure. In for a penny, in for a pound right? The leather jacket I zipped up about half way, the better to display my womanly assets. I took a deep breath and dived in.
