The Devil Wears Black Leather: Chapter 8

David S. Grant is posting his latest fiction “The Devil Wears Black Leather” while he works on his latest book, the fourth and final installment that follows: Bliss | Bleach | Blackout. The working title is of course, Bleak. Why is he doing this? Because he loves you! (Note: Also, may be drunk, hence the third person intro.) For more information (or purchase/download) David’s books check out his Goodreads (Bleach 4.6 rating; Bleach | Blackout 4.8 rating) or Amazon page.

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Jagger calls and asks what he should wear to Vegas.  “I’m really the last person to ask”, Is my response to which he replies, “So you’re wearing Chuck Taylors?  That’s Interesting.”  Lucy then sends a text to call her so I do and she tells me she has a publisher “one of the big ones” she says interested in my novel and any short stories I may have.  She also says they want me to write a screenplay.  “Isn’t that the devil’s work?” I ask.  She laughs (more of a snort) and then tells me I just have to tell them I’m working on a screenplay, I don’t have to actually write one.  She says they want to add me to their catalog of writers.  Being called a writer makes me feel uneasy, sort of like someone does one adult movie and refers to themselves as a porn star.  In my mind being “in porn” is different than being a “porn star”.  Why do they want me?  Do they think I can write a screenplay?  My palms begin sweating.  Lucy asks me if she can take me out and I agree and then she says she has something “VERY SPECIAL!” planned.

Still in my sweatpants from sleeping I strip my clothes and then do pushups.  I get to ten, stop and then put boxers on because I’m feeling self conscious, and continue my pushups.  After I stare at the MAKING IT RAIN manuscript for twenty minutes I experience a slight bout of writer’s bloc.  I scan my daily journals looking for a story or situation or even a word to inspire me and instead come away with nothing.  Well, that’s not entirely true; I come away with a feeling of boredom, raising my anxiety.  I walk to the door, planning to go to the deli to buy cigarettes, but stop and go back to my computer.   In college I had a writing instructor that used to tell me that the journey of writing was the reward.  I contemplate this and then wonder what the point is.  I browse the internet looking for writing jobs, finding nothing.  I open up my work folder, open up my document for XXX Vegas Girls and type “GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS – all types – WANT TO MEET YOU TONIGHT.”  The journey of writing.  I check my latest blog entry, scanning the comments that range from hurtful to embarrassment.  I bring my knees up to my chest, sitting at my chair in the fetal position.   I text Lucy to ask what I should wear tonight and she responds with a text that reads I’M GOING OUT WITH A BOTTLE IN ONE HAND AND A BABY IN THE OTHER!  I guess I’ll wear Chuck Taylors.

Motto of the Day:  YOU HAVE TO LOOK UP BEFORE YOU LOOK DOWN!

I go for a walk to clear my head.  I walk William Street and am at the corner of Pearl when an elderly woman approaches me.  She points to the cap of her water bottle unable to open it.  I take the bottle and unscrew the cap for her.  “Oh thank you, thank you so much” she says.  She reaches into her purse for a pill.  I feel good, helping her with her medication.  “I can never wash down these pills”, she says and I nod.  She then says, “I’ll never make it through the day without my Ambian.”  She walks away, leaving me standing.  I watch a cockroach with a racing stripe along its side dart across the sidewalk.  Across the streets two Wall Street guys give each other a high five.  There should really be a rehab program for quitting high fives, maybe not give out chips, but there should be a reward of some kind.

I continue to Battery Park where there is a lone “hippie” playing a guitar.  Why is it they are always the worse guitar players?  I grab a seat on a park bench to think.  I am deep in though over my book, my lack of Twitter followers and hippie guitar players when I get a text from Jagger that reads: 911 IZZY BLOOD.

I jog over to Jagger’s apartment and he is out front waiting for me.  He shows me the escalating texts from Izzy that range from TIME FOR BLOOD to THE END STARTS NOW to STICK IT TO ME, I’M DONE.  Jagger thinks we should first check the hospitals.  I ask which one and Jagger looks at me strange and then grins, “Downtown, of course.”  We go to the downtown hospital and it takes thirty minutes to find out he is not there.  While we are there we witness a man who comes in screaming “MOTHER FUCKER’S SHOT ME! MOTHER FUCKER’S SHOT ME!” over and over.  Paramedics rush over to the man, but it turns out he is just crazy and was not actually shot.

Next we go to Tribeca, to the club BITE where the “vampire” crowd is known to hang.  It is dark and strange and no one has seen Izzy all night.  On our way out someone runs out of the club and asks us if we’re looking for Izzy.  We nod and they tell us to check the tattoo parlor at 6th Avenue and Bleeker.  We hop into a taxi and are there in ten minutes.  With ten tattoo joints on the block we split up.  I run first into VILLAGE TATTOOS and then into NY PIERCING and then PINS AND NEEDLES and that is where I hear someone in the back discussing the latest vampire show.  I peek my head into the back room and there is Izzy getting a vampire bat tattoo on his arm.  I sigh, relieved and text Jagger.  I talk to Izzy and he seems okay so I grab a seat next to him and ask one of the artists to touch up the sun tattoo on my left shoulder.  I don’t think he speaks English so I point and he nods and says “thirty dollar” and then I turn and try to talk to Izzy, but since I don’t watch True Blood he’s really not interested.  Jagger shows up and sees Izzy and smiles.  He looks at me and then walks over to look at my shoulder and his eyes light up.  I look down at my arm and see that the artist is not touching up my sun as requested, but rather he is putting a vampire tattoo around it.  He has already completed one wing.  I scream and stand up, cursing at the man and looking at the guy who is working on Izzy.  He shrugs his shoulders and says, “Hey man, it’s Vampire night.”  We wait for Izzy outside and then leave.  On our way out a guy wearing a bowtie walks in and Izzy leans over and says he’s a vampire.  We ask how he can tell and says all vampires have a tell – it’s in their eyes, it’s their Oreo cookie.

Exhausted after chasing down Izzy, I meet Lucy at El Cantinero’s Mexican restaurant.  There is a brief wait for a table so we have a drink on the second level.  The music continues to get louder and the bar area is turning into a club and then Lucy kisses me and says she’s not hungry and we should go.  We jump into a taxi and arrive at the Four Season’s hotel.  “You got a room here?”  I ask.  “I know people”, she says and then I notice the room is hot and say, “You must know someone important”, and she says, “Something like that, stop asking so many questions”, Lucy giggles, “I told you I have a surprise for you!”  This all happens very fast and there is a door man that winks at Lucy and she winks back and then tells me “He got his last night”, and then giggles.  I’m about to ask what she means, but then realize it (probably) doesn’t matter and I’m (probably) not going to like the answer anyway.

We walk into a suite that has three rooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and hot tub.  Lucy stares at me and sighs, “Like I said, I’m not who you think I am”, looks around the suite, “You should really use me for your own good, your own fame!”

Lucy goes into one of the bathrooms and tells me to open champagne.  There are three buckets containing champagne so I grab to one closest to me and open up the bottle.  I find two flutes on top of a dry bar and fill them to the brim.  Lucy comes out of the bathroom and she is completely naked.  She walks up and grabs a flute from my hand and even though she is nude I stare into her beautiful green eyes.  She takes a sip of champagne and then moves closer, kissing my lips.  She tells me to get undressed and walks over to her purse.  I take off my clothes and then ask which bedroom and she says, “All of them!”   Again I pick the closest bed and she follows, carrying her flute of champagne in one hand and a small black case in the other.

I sit on the edge of the bed and grab her legs, pulling her in.  She squirms and whispers, “Just a second, we’re not quite ready.”  She opens the black case and pulls out two small bottles and two needles.  “What the fuck is that?” I ask.  “Just a little insulin”, she whispers.  I move backward, crawling away from Lucy to the top of the bed.  She stops and smiles, “Oh come on, you’ve never?”  She winks.  “Never what?” I ask.  Lucy laughs and moves to the bed.  She puts one syringe into the top of the bottle and fills it with clear liquid.  “Just the right amount of insulin increases the orgasm ten-fold.”  I don’t believe I’ve ever actually gasped in my life. For the first time in my life I gasp.  An actor gasp. A full on Oscar worthy gasp.  “Insulin?”  Lucy kisses my neck, I’m watching her hand holding the full syringe.  “Insulin shock at the moment of release is the greatest gift the world of medicine ever created.”  Lucy’s tongue runs down my neck as her arm comes down hard, pressing the syringe into her ass, releasing the liquid inside her.  “Of course, it takes two to tangle”, she backs up and loads the second syringe.  “What do you say?”  I look into her eyes and say nothing.  She reaches between my legs with left hand and uses her right to plunge the needle into my right ass cheek.  Lucy pulls out the needle and says, “Don’t go too fast, we have ten minutes until it peaks.”  Lucy kisses me and we are just getting started when I black-out.  My last image is Lucy’s eyes.

I wake up an hour later and Lucy is getting dressed.  I ask what happened and she seems very satisfied so I get dressed and walk over to my glass of champagne and drink it down.  On our way out of the room Lucy grabs my arm and says, “I need to talk to you.”  I ask “What, I didn’t know, I-“.  Lucy puts a finger up to her lips, “No, I want to ask you about your arm.”  I look blankly, not sure what she is talking about and then she asks, “Is that a vampire wing on your arm?”

The Vegas Diaries – The Lesson

As disturbing as it sounds, after my first experience I had a romantic feeling toward Las Vegas.  It was two years later and I was dating a girl named Six Bourbon and yes, this was her actual name (verified with two forms of I.D.).  I decided to surprise her on her birthday and take her out to sin city.  I discussed ahead of time with Jagger and he felt it was a bad idea, “she isn’t that kind of girl” Jagger kept saying.  When I pressed him he wouldn’t say more, instead begging to allow him to also come along and he would prove what he meant.  When I look back now, it all seems rather foolish and a dramatic way to show me “she isn’t that kind of girl.”

What’s the first thing you do once you get to Vegas with a girl named Six Bourbon?  Head directly to the Craps table (okay, maybe second thing), and bet six.  After an hour we are up five hundred and then have steaks and champagne for dinner followed by roulette (continue to bet six) and then Black Jack (just to break it up).  Around ten o’clock Jagger meets us and we head to the high stakes Poker room at MGM where the buy in is one thousand and the words “all in” are said confidently, and often.  I stole two pots and was up around three thousand when Six and Jagger both went all in and lost.  I decided to stay and Jagger left with Six.  There was never a detailed plan drawn out on chalkboards and reviewed on clipboards, but this was pretty much the way we expected it to go.

The next paragraph is exactly how Jagger told me the story.  Six and Jagger stop off at his room so he can grab his lucky lighter (the reason he claims he lost during the poker game) and excuses himself into the bathroom, saying he’s going to take a quick shower, will only be a minute.  Jagger leaves the door cracked open and Six opens the door, interrupting him during his shower.  Strike one.  Jagger steps out of the shower and is completely naked.  Six doesn’t turn, but rather moves closer.  Strike two.  Six falls to her knees and begins sucking Jagger while ripping her clothes off.  Strike three.  Mission accomplished.  This is around the time a bouncer from the club HIGHBALL shows up and comes in and also gets naked.  They have a full on savage like threesome during which Jagger texts me to come up to his room.  When I walk in I take in the scene for a moment, grab a bottle of champagne and then leave.

“Why the first night?” Was the first question I asked Jagger.  He looked at me like there was no other way, “So we can enjoy the weekend!”  I thought about this and he was right.  I threw Six out of my room and tore up her plane ticket.  The rest of the weekend was spent playing Craps and Roulette (still betting on six, but we were winning so you know, at least that worked out).  We met two escorts both named Wendy and both wearing large yellow sunglasses who took us out to a club in the downtown area named WEST VEGAS and then a house party where Kid Rock was playing an acoustic guitar and singing about life on the strip.  When the party ended it was morning and our flight was in two hours. 

I never saw Six again and though it seemed a little extravagant, Jagger did show me that there was definitely no future for me and Six, he was right, she wasn’t that kind of girl. 

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About Pulp Scribbler

The Writing of David S. Grant View all posts by Pulp Scribbler

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