My gesture to his mouth caused his frown to deepen.
I retrieved the rest of my clothing and dressed while Cherry tucked up in the corner of his bed. He hugged apillow against his nude form, no doubt getting cum all over the case.
The sight was as sorry as this room—this closet of a space with only the barest essentials and a void of comfort. I’d wanted to flee the moment we arrived because the bars on the window made me feel uncomfortably enclosed. I wondered if this was a room they merely used—shabby digs for Maslow’s venture into the Vegas skin trade—or if Cherry…livedhere.
Once I was dressed, sans jacket since it was being used as a tourniquet, I glanced back at the incubus. I’d thought he looked pitiful in the executive suite, but this was exponentially worse.
I felt sorry for him. That was how this whole thing started, and also how it would end.
Worming my uninjured hand into my suit coat’s pocket, I located my money clip before asking Cherry, “What do I owe you?”
He looked up with his eyes watery and face flushed. “For what?”
I tipped my chin toward his bed. “Pleasurable company. A midnight rendezvous. A tryst…” I trailed off, unsure how I could make it any clearer. “For letting me fuck you,” I concluded flatly.
His mouth made an O shape, and he nodded. “Umm… It’s uh… it’s on the house.”
I snorted. “That’s a lousy business model. I doubt Maslow would approve.”
At the mention of his boss, Cherry’s features hardened. “It’s fine,” he mumbled.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
He hugged the pillow tighter, looking small with his knees tucked on either side of it and his chin resting on top. “Yeah. Positive.”
I crossed my arms, trying to make the bulky bandage of my coat look more natural for my impending walk of shame through the club. Assuming I could find my way out of here. Cherry seemed pretty settled in, and I wouldn’t have expected him to escort me, anyway. His job was done.
Turning toward the door, I made it one step before Cherry’s voice chased me.
“Please don’t tell him.” I glanced back as he clarified. “Maslow, I mean.”
I shook my head. “Kid, I’m not telling anyone about this. Your secret’s safe.”
Retracing my steps down the hall, then the stairs, I skulked back into the crowded club. Blacklights shone on the stage, illuminating the dancer, Hemlock, posed in patent leather with his tail wound around the pole. He had the crowd fully under his spell, so no one paid me any mind.
I emerged from the building and into the muggy Nevada night. Livingston was long gone, but the limo was parked right where I’d left it. Colette was there too, smacking a wad of bubblegum while she lay across the hood, watching traffic crawl by on the Strip.
She stirred at my approach, raising her blonde head and turning toward me.
“It’s illegal, you know, leaving your dog in the car.” Her French accent gave the words a musical lilt, one of a few holdovers from her human life.
I kept my jacket-wrapped hand tucked against my chest as I wandered up beside the limo and leaned against the front quarter panel. “You could’ve come in.”
Her eyes slid sideways, the whites glinting in the club’s glaring neons. “And join the masses ogling nubile demonboys dancing to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!?’” Her nose scrunched. “It’s an experience I won’t miss.”
“You sound like me.” I huffed a laugh.
“Mmhmm,” she agreed. “Spending a few hundred years with someone will do that.” Swinging her legs around, she pushed off the hood to land with a crunch on the parking lot grit. “What kept you?” she asked while dusting off her slacks. “Livingston left an hour ago, looking less than pleased.” She drew closer to me, then sniffed the air. “What’s that smell? Sweat, shame, and… sex?”
My smile turned tart. “Funny, I thought you’d pick up on the blood first.”
“Blood?”
My finger throbbed dully as I unwrapped the jacket, then raised my wounded hand to the glow of the lot light. The flow of blood had slowed, but my skin was smeared with remnants of red.
Colette dipped in, grabbing my forearm and bringing my hand to her line of sight. “Did you get into a fight?” she asked, then bared her teeth in a wolfish grin. “Asexfight?”
“I don’t get in fights,” I replied as she released me.
