Monday, August 30, just before 6pm.

Vito Fontanelli was a human who dealt in many deals with the underworld. No one knew how he got his start, but some said he made a deal with the devil himself to save his life. Some said.

A loud and boisterous man, Vito was middle-aged, balding, and stood approximately 5 feet 10 inches and 250 pounds. He was about as wide as he was tall. The man had no moral center and did what suited himself best, but he was jolly and had a warm heart. He'd stab you in the back as long as it would pay, but was a generally pleasant man with a jovial nature.

Armand pulled into the Garden parking lot. The east side was known for its whore houses and gambling rings, but at least it was well kept. The Garden was a tasteless strip club raunchy to its core, and the girls who worked there had less of a moral center than Vito. They'd do whatever made a pretty penny.

As much as Armand hated its lack of fineness and class, he didn't mind that it was a mostly-topless establishment. Each perky waitress was certainly dressed to impress. He had been here before on business with Vito, and he hoped this would be his last visit; though, he probably hoped in vain. Vito was a dirty old man, but that's what made him a good business man. Vito could slither through anything, probably thanks to his greasy nature.

Armand crossed the Garden threshold at exactly six pm. It didn't take him long to find Mr. Fontanelli. Armand saw the black crown of barely-there hair adorning a balding head right in the center of the action.

The main room of the Garden was a large ballroom scattered with round tables, booths, and chairs all filled with clientele. The far side of the room was a huge stage with poles for dancing, and the near side of the room was a large bar. Currently on the stage was a live band and three shimmying dancers, each thrusting themselves up against their own pole.

Walking around carrying trays of drinks or plates of food were the waitresses whose outfits-or lack thereof-were flower themed, hence the name of the club. Most of the "Flowers" doubled as dancers, and Armand recognized the dark haired girl that passed him from his last visit. She now carried four beers, but the last time he had seen her she had been doing some impressive work involving contortion on the stage.

Armand approached Vito from the right. Both of the man's knees were occupied by a pretty little flower. The woman on the left knee was tiger lily themed. The one on the right had some sort of little pink blossoms all over her-though the little bouquets didn't quite cover her breasts. Vito saw him coming and managed to thunder above the booming music, "Armand, my boy! Have a seat!"

Armand sat on the long booth reluctantly.

Vito addressed the girl on his right knee, "Shamrock, sweet cheeks, go get Hyacinth, would ya? Armand needs some company." The girl stood obediently with a sweet smile and turned to go. When her backside was turned to them-Armand noticed her butt was completely clothed in four-leafed shamrocks-Vito gave her a smart smack on the rear. She didn't react and walked across the large room and into an adjacent hallway. There were several adjoining hallways to the main ballroom, each with its own rooms where the unspeakables happened. But, whatever created revenue for the Flowers created more revenue for the Garden and was allowed; the girls obliged.

"Now, what can I do for you?" asked the old Italian man through a Brooklyn accent.

Armand cut right to the chase, "I'm dating an earth girl-with ulterior motives of course."

'Sort of,' he added in his thoughts.

He continued: "We've been going steady for a few months now, and she wants to see my place. Thing is, I don't have a place. I need a house of my own, and I need you to cover for me. I said you were my uncle and I do phone sales for you." Armand cringed slightly and was embarrassed to have needed Vito Fontanelli. Out of all the earthly scum, why was Vito the one he thought of first?

The more than portly man laughed, causing (he guessed her name was Tiger Lily) to jostle a little. Vito tightened his grip on her waist. "I'm honored you thought of me! I know some guys in real estate. I can fix you up with a place."

At this time the dancer who must've been Hyacinth returned with Shamrock. Shamrock returned to Vito's knee, but Armand stopped Hyacinth before she could mount his lap. "I'm fine," he said, holding up both hands.

"Aw at least let her get close. She's real friendly." And with that Vito gestured for her to sit next to Armand. She did so dutifully and snuggled up to the Necromancer, smiling sweetly and resting her head on his chest. Armand sighed, but got comfortable with the lady. She was adorned in hanging bunches of purple flowers. They swished here and there, covering whatever the wind blew them to cover. She had pin-straight, jet-black hair. Her eyes were beady and dark as night, but her pointed features and waif-like figure made her appealing. Armand enjoyed the warmth of her body next to him.

"Also..." Armand cringed even more inwardly and asked, "She's probably going to want to meet you. Do you think we could stop by your business next week sometime? Maybe Saturday?" Vito thought himself a charmer and was generally nice and polite to women. Armand hoped Vito would behave himself in the presence of Penny. Still, he didn't trust the man...

"Sure, sure, bring her by before 5 in the evening. And," added Vito, snapping to Hyacinth. Without missing a beat the purple clad woman mounted Armand's lap. She started to gyrate, rocking her hips against him to the beat of the music. Armand began to protest, but Vito held up a hand. Armand hushed himself and attempted to relax under the lap dance.

Vito continued, clamping a hand firmly on Armand's shoulder, his voice dropping lower, "...and take notice to how talented these girls are. So willing to be of use." Vito spoke slowly, but Armand could sense the menacing nature in which they were said.

"If I'm to be of use to you, you're going to trade fair," Fontanelli scooched closer to Armand, jostling the Flowers atop his knees even more. He leaned on and dropped his voice sinisterly to almost a whisper, "capisce?"

Armand felt Fontanelli tighten his grip on his shoulder. Armand began to bulge under Hyacinth. The girl skillfully flipped around with the prowess of a gymnast and ground her rump right up against his crotch.

Armand was not intimidated by Vito Fontanelli, but he knew better than to mess with him; he was a powerful ally and could do damage if he wanted. But, Armand was having trouble keeping his own stern and serious demeanor under the current distraction. Adrenaline was racing through him, clouding his mind. He tried to keep his mounting excitement in control, and said through gritted teeth, "Of course. Capisce."

Mr. Fontanelli immediately returned to his jovial self. "Ah, of course! I knew you would!" He motioned for Hyacinth to flip around and pointed downward. The flower let out a little giggle and returned to a position facing the Necromancer. She placed her mouth on his neck and pulled open his zipper, slipping a hand inside. She began working his member, twisting and squeezing. There was no stopping his hardness now, so Armand just tried to relax and grunted quietly. Vito wasn't done with his sinister side yet.

"You said something about paying up front...?"

Armand wasn't going to mess with him this time. He knew there would be consequences if he didn't oblige. He reached in his side pocket, a difficult task under Hyacinth's service, and plopped a small pouch next to Vito. Shamrock picked it up for the old Italian, making sure he didn't have to lift a finger, and opened the bag towards her client. Vito smiled a toothy grin. "I can always count on you, Necromancer."

Hyacinth took Armand's hands and placed them on her breasts. He let them rest limply, except when his own pleasure caused him to squeeze in an excited reaction. Armand detested this old cur of a man, but the old dog did know how to enjoy himself. Armand decided he'd bring Penny to meet Vito at Fontanelli's Auto at 4pm the upcoming Saturday. Then they'd go to Armand's new earth house. He formulated this simple plan in his head despite the distraction. All the blood rushing through his body must've aided his brain, he thought sarcastically.

"Just have me an impressive home by Saturday evening," he said between grunts.

While Vito puffed on a cigar and ogled the dancers, Hyacinth changed her motions from a gentle twisting to a brisk masturbating motion. Back, forth, back, forth, back, forth; Armand gave little cries and tried to keep steady breathing. Despite his physical pleasure he wished to toss the wench from himself, but he didn't dare risk offending Vito Fontanelli. Armand's hands couldn't help but work her ample breasts. Out of the corner of his eye, Armand could see Vito nipping at both flowers' taught nipples. Armand was going to let himself enjoy this forced experience, but he refused to lay his lips on any female in this establishment. No aromatic flower could ever shine close to a pretty penny.

Hyacinth now circled her thumb around the very tip of him, causing intense sensations all throughout him. He would not release, he would not allow himself to spew. But God did it feel good. She added her "dancing" back to her service, and dry-humped while she worked him. Back, forth, back, forth.

"Just good business," chuckled Vito through a cloud of smoke.

"Really good business," added a near exasperated Necromancer. He allowed himself this one pleasure and kept Penny in his mind. Now he'd have a home and a "family."

Just good business.