In The Midnight Of His Heart
By AL BRUNO III
September 8, 1993
The room stank of sweat and sex, it brought images to John's mind of furtive couplings and fierce penetrations. He sat on the slovenly-made bed and waited. The Commoner Vlodek were a pessimistic race, with a brutal creed born of brutal lives. It was taught that the most a Commoner could hope for was to die with his teeth buried in an adversaries' throat- anything more was presumption.
Tonight, however, John allowed himself to hope. His allies were standing by, ready to act at his command.
“...Human beings make two basic mistakes in life...” the thought echoed in his mind again and again, “...The first is to believe that anyone can ever truly know us...And second is that anyone will ever truly love us...”
Perhaps that belief had been Victor's greatest error. After all, if not for love they would never have turned on him- Phil's love for Zara, Magwier's love for the future, and, strange as it might sound, John's love for Victor. For the Vlodek the soul was not a metaphysical abstraction, it was a tangible reality and that night almost forty years ago Victor Kovach had been in danger of losing his soul to the Monarchs. Better he dies, John had thought as he launched himself at his Father and Master, better he dies now than lives forever as an abomination.
Footsteps approached, high heeled shoes scraped the carpet of the landing. It took a few moments for John to find his way back into character, to let the mask of a lecherous old man return to his face. The door swung open and she stepped inside
After suffering her absence for so long, how could his pulse not quicken at the sight of her? At the realization of how far she had fallen how could his heart not break? He tried to speak and failed, he nodded and issued what he hoped sounded like a grunt of approval.
Tight black shorts and a lacy white bra clung to her bony frame. John's gaze started at her painted toenails and traced a path up along her willowy legs to the sharp outline of her ribs.
“Hi.” she said, her voice jerking his gaze upward to the crumbling beauty of her face. She flashed him an insincere smile, there was no recognition, not even a flicker, “I'’m Angel.”
“Mike... I'm Mike.”
“Hello Mike.” she approached him, her hands on her hips, “Heard you asked for me special.”
John swallowed hard and reached for the cellular phone clipped to his belt, “Yeah. You come recommended.”
“Want me to suck your cock?”
She dropped to her knees, her hands already at work on his belt, “You want me to suck your cock?”
Arousal set John's mind spinning, he found himself painfully hard at the mere prospect. The sound of his fly opening seemed to fill the room, then her touch made him deaf and blind.
Then her mouth was on him- she was-
“Wait!” John gasped.
“What?” she shot him an irritated glare, her hand still manipulating him, as if by rote.
“This isn't how I want it.”
“What do you want?”
He pulled the padded handcuffs from his pants pocket.
“That's extra.” she eyed him uncertainly.
“I've got extra.”
“You want me to put these on you?”
“No.” he shook his head, “I want to put them on you.”
“Ah-ha.” With a curt nod she kicked off her heels and crawled onto the bed, “Front or back?”
“Do you want me lying on my stomach or my back?”
“Uhm- your back.”
She laid back, her hands crossed above her head, “I'm all yours.”
John shifted on the bed until he was straddling her, he cuffed her hands tightly- she winced when the metal bit into her skin. He hovered over her, knowing that if he wanted to take her now there was no power on Earth that could stop him. He looked down and saw that he was still hard. Shame made his face flush red as he carefully closed his fly and buckled his belt.
“Hey! What's -” Angie dropped her aroused act, the first signs of worry creeping into her deadened expression.
Before she could speak again John's hands were around her throat.