Silhouette’s putting her clothes back on when I wake up. I assume she is about to split, which is fine; it’s the nature of the rendezvous: no strings. The creak of the mattress when I move alerts her to my waking. She finishes pulling her blue tank-top back on and looks over at me from across the room.

“Hey,” she says.

“You leaving?”

She smiles. “Yeah, you know. I got to get home. I didn’t want to wake you up since you told me you haven’t been sleeping too well.”

“It’s okay. I was kind of crazy tonight, anyway.”

She smiles. “We all have our moments.”

I can’t help but look at her long, toned legs as she stands before me in her skimpy dark underwear. Her messed up hair reminds me of everything we just did and, like everything else, that reminiscence reminds me of Dark Dance.

“Hey, do you know any other women in the Club,” I get the bright idea to ask.

She flashes me an uneasy look. “Yeah. Why?”

“I was just wondering about one in particular.”

Silhouette grabs her short black skirt off the floor and starts to slide it back on. “We’re not supposed to talk about things like that.”

“I know. But, I had a rendezvous with her and now I can’t seem to locate her in the database.”

After her skirt is all the way on, she replies, “That’s weird. Do you think she had a bad experience with you?”

“No. Why?”

“Maybe she blocked you.”

“I don’t know why she would. Nothing went wrong. Even if she did, that would just prevent me from sending her messages or requests. I would still see her name.”

“That’s true. I really don’t know what to say to that. What’s her name?”

“Dark Dance.”

“I never met anyone with that name.”

“Are you sure?”

I don’t quite believe her. Her answer was too quick, as if she expected me to ask her that.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Then why was she just in here?”

The look Silhouette gives me is apprehensive. “Someone’s in here? Is this some kind of joke, Cupid? Are you setting me up? They know at the Club that I came to meet with you. I signed off for our rendezvous.”

Her voice speeds up as if she is trying so hard to talk fast enough to hide her lies. I stand up from the bed. “You know she was in here; don’t act dumb. You can’t tell me you didn’t see her.”

“I didn’t see nobody, man,” she responds as she backs away from me.

I stop at the edge of the bed and hold up my hands. “Relax. It’s okay if you had her waiting here. I get it, now. You and her are friends and you like to play games. That’s cool. You don’t have to hide that from me. Just tell her I’ve been trying to get back to her since that night she and I met up. In fact, all this is actually a relief. I kept having these very realistic dreams about her and it was starting to freak me out. I was beginning to think I was going crazy or being possessed by a demon or something. That’s why I was so distracted tonight.”

“Look Cupid, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t know nobody named Dark Dance. Whoever she is, it sounds like she’s fucking with your head. You might want to leave that shit alone.”

“Come on, Silhouette. The game is over. You two don’t have to keep playing me. I matched with her the same night you and I met up. I ain’t stupid.”

“No, you ain’t stupid, you’re just crazy. Now, I’m gonna go, okay. I think it might be better if we make this our last meeting.”

For a second, I study her to discern if she is lying or not. I’m usually pretty good at spotting an untruth etched on someone’s face. If a person normally looks people in the eyes, you’ll find their eyes darting side to side or looking away; if they are timid and don’t usually look people in the eyes, they will glare at you when they lie; the lips will pucker or tremble slightly, or they will crease their forehead in consternation. There may be an odd expression formed in their eyebrows. The voice gets either thicker or thinner than usual. It isn’t in the pitch like people think, but in the harshness of their words. I also watch for nervous ticks. There are subtle differences in the motions a person makes whether they are lying or they are nervous that the person they’re talking to doesn’t believe the truth they are telling them. Silhouette looks like she is lying, but maybe my judgment isn’t clear, though I think it is.

“So, you’re telling me you didn’t know she was in here?”

“I never saw her.”

“How could you have missed her? She stood right there beside the bed and told me to do everything I could to satisfy you. She’s the reason I was able to perform, so well. When I was going down on you, she ordered me to please you like I would her. She even stood right behind me and made sure I moved the right way during sex. Now, why would she do that if she didn’t even know you?”

Silhouette’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. I can read the shock on her face; she’s been caught in her elaborate scheme against me. I know something is amiss; she and Dark Dance are playing me for a fool and I refuse to sit back and accept it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, growing angry.

“What angle are you working, Cupid?”

“No angle,” I reply and move towards her.

“Back off, Cupid, and put your clothes on.”

I was unaware of my nudity during my interrogation of her. I look down and see my cock swinging.

“Just tell me where she is. That’s all I’m asking.

She shakes her head and says, “I’m out of here. You’re fucking nuts, man.”

When she turns to go, I reach out and grab her arm to stop her. She yanks it away and says, “Don’t put your fucking hands on me like that, again.”

“What are you hiding from me?” I demand to know. “Why was Dark Dance here and why won’t you tell me anything?”

“I done told you, psycho, that I don’t know this bitch.” Her slightly confused decorum suddenly transitions into anger; she squints and wrinkles her brow, and then begins to rummage through her purse. “If this is some sort of scam where you lure me in here to steal my shit, I’m gonna cut your fucking nuts off. And if some crazy bitch is helping you, I’ll slit her throat.”

“There’s no scam and you know it,” I tell her. “You’re the one hiding something. Don’t try and turn this around on me.”

Once she is satisfied that all the contents of her handbag remain, she points at me and says, “You and that crazy-ass hoochie of yours better stay the hell away from me.”

Something then goes off inside me–a warning light, or a bell–and I become enraged. I lunge at Silhouette and push her up against the wall, making a mirror rattle. My hand grasps her chin from underneath, two of my fingers up by her lips, and I look into her eyes. They carry no fear, only surprise that turns to seething anger.

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that. Do you hear me?”

Her mouth opens and my middle and index fingers curl into it. Her teeth then clamp down hard of them both, making one of them bleed. I cry out and try to pull them free but she bites down harder. When she finally lets them go, I back up and she uppercuts me hard right in the chin. I then stumble back and feel her foot slam into my balls and the crushing feeling instantly forms in the pit of my stomach. Surprisingly, I don’t fall, but my hands go right down to cup them.

I don’t even know what’s going on when I feel her fingers tighten around my wrists and pull my hands away. It doesn’t even register with me until I feel the gut-wrenching impact of her foot smashing my testicles upwards, again. This time, my legs buckle, but her hands press my shoulders and I stay on my feet. Quickly, her arms slither under my arm pits, leaving my arms dangling, and I feel something harder rise up to crush my nuts.

“How’s that, motherfucker?” she asks.

My face falls forward, leaning on her shoulder, and a low, beastly moan escapes my lips. I feel a second blow ravage my balls.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” she scolds me right in my ear.

I gasp so hard I feel like I swallowed a part of my throat. Bile rises up and I begin to cough. Drool drips from my mouth and runs down her shoulder blade. A third shot ties my stomach into a million knots.

“How’s that, pussy-boy?” she asks.

I want to beg her to stop, but I cannot talk. The sweat is standing on my forehead and my gut is convulsing. My lungs scream for air but none comes. When the fourth blow lands, I become so lightheaded that I can barely see anything beyond the twirling red and yellow stars circling against the growing darkness of my vision. She lets me go and I crumple to the floor in a defeated heap.

She laughs when I hit the ground. “Aw, did that hurt your vulnerable little balls? I hope so, you fucking scrub. Teach you to put your hands on me.”

I lie on my back, legs bent at the knees, trying to breath, holding my testicles as if that will help. I am easily defeated, but breaking me isn’t enough. Perhaps feeling she still has a point to make, she leans over, grabs my knees to spread my legs apart and stomps once, then rears back her leg and plants it right into my crotch. The presence of my hands on guard only adds more pressure to the assault and I cry out.

“How does that feel?”

“Please! Stop!” I gag.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, you are sorry. You ain’t so tough, now.”

She spits on my face and storms out. As I roll on the floor, hacking up my lungs, I hear the sound of feet sliding across the carpet. When I look up, Dark Dance is standing before me, adorned in black leather shorts and a matching sleeveless black leather shirt. Her elbow length gloves and high-heel boots correspond with the rest of her attire. The room is relatively dark, but all the leather on her body seems to shine as if reflecting the moon.

As always, her sunglasses veil her eyes.


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