King: Cocksure

Tectonic Plates

Chapter XXXIV

3.34

This novel include graphic sex scenes, some involving minors, rape and forced sex.  It is purely a fantasy and is not depicting real people or events.  It is intended as a satire and is meant to be both funny and stimulating. The stories have a political slant as you will see. I hope you enjoy them.  New chapters will be published as they are finished.

(Mffffffffff)

We'd remained in Vegas for four days with no signs of our quarries.    Donna and I were about to wrap up our trip and head back to Los Angeles, when we got word that Negroso was at one of the local strip clubs I owned in Vegas.   We were at the club called the Traveling Circus within 15 minutes after receiving the call, but had to park at the rear of the large parking lot because it was so crowded with the cars of patrons. So much for the recession, I thought.  I wondered if something else was going on at the club this night.  I noticed several large, white limos parked near the entrance to the club.  Donna and I both took separate, circuitous routes through the jungle of cars toward the entrance.

"Donna, you take the north side of the club," I motioned to her as we entered the door. "I'll take the other side."

Donna dashed off in the opposite direction while I worked my way through the rollicking crowd of men and naked or near-naked women. 

A lot of money was spent to make the Traveling Circus look like one of those seedy traveling carnivals that used to cross the American landscape in the early part of the last century, including the back lot tent where sweaty, blue-collar men paid a hefty portion of their wages to see and maybe grasp female flesh.  Dozens of dark, curtained niches where lovers could disappear for a quick tryst were scattered along the outer perimeter of the dimly lit club. In one dark niche, I stumbled upon two naked women rubbing their bodies against a naked man.  The girls had their free hands stroking his cock while his hands slid deeper and deeper into their gaping anal cavities.   His hands crept wrist-deep into those spit-slickened tunnels.

I am always amazed these days how many women like, even prefer, anal penetration.  Once it was a a rare treat when a girl let you stick anything in their back door.  Now, many women welcome and even demand back door bravado from their partners and that suited me just fine.  Although several girls in my youth asked or "let" me stick my dick back up in there, the standard line back them was "that's an exit, not an entrance."  These days, women are hanging neon signs with moving arrows to guide you in.

As I walked past the enthralled threesome, one of the girls looked up and called to me.

"Brad, what are you doing here?"  she said. "I thought you'd be back in L. A."

It was a girl named Cintia who once worked at one of our Los Angeles clubs but had transferred to Vegas to be closer to her first love, gambling. 

"Hey, Cintia," I said. "Nice to see you are still up to your old tricks.  But frankly, I would have thought you'd be at the baccarat table."

"Oh, I'm just taking a break," she said.  "What about you?  I could use another hand back there."

I kept walking without comment.  I liked Cintia.  She was a lovely girl and not much gives me more pleasure than penetrating a girl's rubbery anus.  But I draw the line at shaking hands with another dude in those confined spaces.  She'd just have to understand.

I had nearly completely half the circumference of the outer part of the circular club when I felt someone step up behind me from the shadows and stick something cold and metallic against my right ear.

"Sorry Senor but here is where you must face your destiny," a gravelly voice said.

"Hello, Negroso, nice to see you old friend," I said.  "And I do mean, old."

"Since before you were born, I have been a painful thorn in the side of your family," the Mexican assassin laughed.  "Now I will make this the crowning trophy of my life."

"Not so fast you ancient wetback," I heard Donna's voice call out.  "I have .357 Magnum a foot from the back of your head.  Move and I promise I will decorate the curtains back here with your brains."

Negroso sighed in resignation.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he said.  "I fell for the oldest trick in the book.  You go one way; the girl pretends to go the other.  Then she doubles back to catch me with my pants down."

"You underestimate women," I told Negroso, grabbing his gun from his hand.

"Where's Buckner?" Donna said.  "That fucker killed my brother.  I want to know where I can find him.  Believe me, I've got no other reason to keep you alive.  If I were you, I'd start talking."

"Believe her my clouded-face friend," I said.  "Don't let your disdain for women get you killed."

"Once, amigo, I was quite the lover," Negroso said.  "I can't tell you where Buckner is.  I do have friends I want you to meet, however.  Let me take you to them."

"Now why would we want to let you steer us into a trap?" Donna said.  "You must think we are really stupid."

"One always can hope. senorita."

Most of the club patrons were shouting about something going on near the front stage and there were few people around to see Donna's gun pointed in Negroso's ear. Still, it wouldn't pay to be careless.

"Let's take him out through the center of the club," I told Donna.  "He could have friends waiting for us in one of these dark rooms back here and we'd never see them until they were on us."

Donna cuffed Negroso's hands behind him and pushed him forward ahead of her.  He slumped forward with a hang-dog expression on his face.

"I tell you both, I have friends you need to meet," he said.

"All in good time, you Mexican zombie," Donna said, pressing her gun closer to his ear.

"Aye, you Krilenko's are all the most hard-headed sons of bitches I ever did see," he said in my direction.  "You are worse even than your father."

"What?" I started to say.

But in that moment, our voices were drowned out by a group men surging toward the main stage.  Donna and Negroso were  suddenly out of earshot.

"Drill baby, drill," the crowd was chanting in increasing intensity.  "Drill, baby, drill."

"Drill what," I shouted to a man standing next to me.

"Oh, some guy has one of the dancers up there on stage, fucking her brains out," the man shouted back.  "He's wearing some type of oil rigger's costume."

I looked up at the stage while trying not to lose Donna and Negroso ahead of me, still moving toward the club's main entrance.

"Who is that girl up there?" I said.  All I could see  were her bare feet and spindly legs wavering in the air.

"It's Terry something, you know, the porn star," the guy shouted

"Terry..." I said surprised.   "But she's supposed to be out promoting her new squirting video line."

Could I have been so pre-occupied and out of touch that I had forgotten that one of the biggest stars in my stable of stars, Terry Dendridge, was passing through Las Vegas and I'd ignored her completely?

"Here comes the gusher," I heard her squeal from beneath the overhaul-wearing hard-hat dude on top of her.

A sudden geyser of clear fluid soaked the front four rows of onlookers causing most of them to duck for cover.   Terry's mother, Morgan, and my old friend, Dez, stood to the side of stage cheering Terry on.

"Way to go baby girl," Morgan called to her daughter. "That's some fancy drilling."

"Jesus, that bitch ought to hand out plastic sheets and umbrellas," the man I spoke to earlier called to me.  "I've seen Gallagher's show here in Vegas, but he's nothing compared to her."

"Yeh, and he has to use water melons," I said.  "Terry Dendridge is an all-natural juicer."

I motioned for Donna to wait for me by the front entrance.  There was no way I could not stop by and say hello to Terry, Dez and Morgan.  It had been weeks since I seen them last.  I had no doubt that Donna could handle Negroso without me.  If he was smart, he'd wait patiently and give Donna no problems.  She would use any pretext to knock him senseless.

"Dez," I called out.  Both she and Morgan turned to look at me simultaneously.

"Brad, you no-account son-of-a-bitch," Dez said smiling. "Where have you been keeping yourself.  I called the office earlier this week and they told me you were gone but wouldn't say where."

"Donna and I have been in Vegas a week catching bad guys," I said.  Both Dez and Morgan spotted Donna and waved to her.  Donna waved back but did not crack a smile.  When she was on guard, she was deadly serious.

"Who's that weird dude with her?" Morgan said.

"His name is Negroso," I told them, "but you wouldn't believe me if I told you how I know him."

Terry stepped up behind her mother beaming at me like a cheerleader who'd just gotten a ring from the captain of the varsity football squad.  As slutty as Terry could be (and there was no meter that could capture that metric), Terry always had that fresh high-school girl look that lit up a room.

"Hey, boss," Terry said. "What do you think of my new show?  It was mom's and aunt Dez's idea to do a take off on the Republican cheer from the election campaign.  You know, "Drill Baby Drill!"

"We're having some props built," Morgan said. 

"Props?"

"Yeh, we're having a containment cap built to catch Terry's environmentally destructive 'spill',"  Morgan explained.  "Our political message is that with unrestricted, non-regulated drilling in Alaska and off the Gulf Coast, we'll one-day have an unprecedented disaster on our hands."

"Aw, come-on Morgan," I said. "Do you really think the horn dogs in here care about off-shore oil drilling?"

I shared most of my lesbian friends' political views, but sometimes I think they took their politics into unproductive realms.

"Does anyone really believe the Republicans are so stupid and so corrupted by big oil that they'd take the big oil's side in the event of an environmental disaster?" I asked.

"Brad, you know my view about Republicans," Dez said.  "Stupid, slimy and shadowy."

"Maybe so," I said.  "But how does faking an oil spill in a strip club win you any converts?  Most of the characters in here seemed to enjoy Terry's gusher."

"That's another of our props we're building," Terry said.

"Yes, when we debut this show in New Orleans in April, the drilling dude will be wearing a facsimile of a drill bit on his pecker."

"And I'll have capsule in my pussy that will color the squirt black to make it look more oil like," Terry went on.

I rolled my eyes heavenward.

"I will be the last to stifle creativity," I said, "but mixing porn and politics is never a good idea."

"Well, normally I'd agree, however, the day is coming soon when we will rue our dependence on oil, foreign and domestic," Morgan said.

"Maybe," I said, "but probably not in our lifetimes.  Look, Donna and I have to go now. Let's plan to get together tomorrow for drinks to discuss this, okay."

The girls agreed but I left the club with Donna and Negroso thinking I'd have a tough sale on my hands.   I took custody of Negroso while Donna left me standing outside near the entrance to retrieve our car.

We had several valets sauntering around outside the club but I didn't trust any of them handing Donna's weapons-full rental.   I pressed Negroso close to me with Donna's gun in his ribs to discourage any thought of escape.  He was being surprisingly docile.

I turned to one of the valets who passed nearby.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I said.

"Sure, dude," the kid said.  He was older than he looked, perhaps late thirties, with long, dark stringy, greasy black hair, bad teeth and black-painted fingernails.  Nasty tattoos cover most of the exposed skin I could see.

"What is the crowd reaction to this oil gusher act Terry is doing here at the club?" I asked.

"Terry?" he said.

"You know, the porn star appearing here," I said.

"Oh, Terry Dendridge," the valet said.  "Oh, some guys like it just fine.  Me, I only seen it once 'cause you know Miss Dendrige and her family have only been here three days."

"But most guys like the political message?" I pressed further.

"Political message?"

"About oil being bad for the environment," I explained.  Quite obviously, I hadn't picked the brightest bulb in the pack.

"Oh sure, dude, this is Republican country here in Vegas and most dudes are working-class and Obama and Harry-hating dudes like me," the guy said picking his nose.  "And we don't much buy into that global warming bull."

"So it's okay with you if our dependence on oil and other fossil fuels changes our environment?" I asked.

"No, you might say, my objection to drilling is a lot more practical," he said.  "You see, I really care about them tectonic plates and even with it being the end times don't you know, I think we should do everything in our power to protect the tectonic plates."

"Tectonic plates?" I said.

"Yeah, you know the oil down there lubricates the tectonic plates so they can move more easy like, not so destructive," he explained.  "You know if we pump all the oil out of the ground, there won't be any to lubricate the tectonic plates.  That will bring the end times on jus' that much faster.  Hell, I don't want to die before 2012.  I just hope we get a new candidate for Senate who thinks like me and who will share a new angle on politics this year."

I turned to look at Negroso who was starting at me with wide-eyed innocence.

"Hey, man, don't look at me," he said.  "Somebody you hired, hired that dude."

"Come on," I told him. "We're not waiting for Donna.  We'll walk to the car."

I grabbed Negroso by the arm and pulled him along behind me.

"Owww..." he said.  "You treat me right or I no take you to meet your family."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said.

At that moment, a large white limo pulled up in front of us blocking our path to our rental car where I could see Donna waiting.  She was standing outside our car engaged in conversation with a large man I didn't recognize.

"See, maybe now you will believe me," Negroso said.

The back door on the passenger side of the limo opened and a mature, but still lovely, elegantly dressed woman stepped out.

"Come on Bradley," the woman said. "My protector is persuading yours to let you come with me."

"Donna," I called out to to her.  "Are you all right? Do you need help?"

She continued talking to the large, muscle-bound guy in front of her. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and with his free, open ham-hand slapped her to the ground like he was swatting flies.

"Donna!" I called.  I never imagined Donna could be dispatched so easily."

"I could have told you that would happen, Bradley,"  the elegantly dressed woman said. "He's fought in the gladiator pits of Rome.  She was no match for him.  Now come on, get in the car to avoid anything more serious happening to her."

"And who are you?" I asked, pressing my gun closer to Negroso's head.

"Well, I hope you won't believe everything that bastard Pliny said about me," the woman said. "I once was known as Empress Messalina.  You may call me Valeria.  Now get in the chariot so I can take you to your grandfather."

Suddenly, I felt the tectonic plates beneath Las Vegas shifting below my feet.  Too much oil, I suspected.