Bend The Knee

Popping music echoed at every corner of the dim club hall. Laser light illuminated the dance floor while dancing figures clustered throughout the hall. Strippers mounted the poles. The DJ stood on the booth, his headset on; while his head nodded like some agama lizard.

Cheers, loud thuds of music, washed through the hall while people rocked the techno tones like it were their last day on this damaged planet.

The Nightingales local club was always the escape. The beer was satisfying. The DJ were no plug and play wankers but the real deal. The strippers were all pro. The venue was underground.

What else could one possibly ever wish for?

Admit the roar, at a dark corner, Luca reclined on a swivel bar-stool, with a glass of Hennessy in his hand.

He wished for more.

Though he wouldn't dare have it. He had come in every night for the past month and watched her.

Today was no different.

She stood on red booted heels with one of her legs wrapped around the pole. She rested her hand against the pole and swayed her tiny waist sensually. Her mass of thick jet black hair cascading backwards like some enchanted waterfall as her fingers teased the band of her red lingerie.

Luca couldn't get his eyes off her lips. They were painted pure red. And she was also sucking on a lollipop.

Blood rushed to Luca's groin and he shifted on the bar-stool, subtly adjusting his pants. What will he not give to have those fuck me lips wrapped around his cock?

Watching her was enthralling.

For the last month, he had made it his business to study her, even the minute intruding details like stalking her as she led her double life.

In the daytime she was Ravenna. Twenty-three. Orphaned. An overworked Secretary. Perfect girlfriend to Bob.

At night, she was X, sensual, sex on Prada, an overpriced stripper.

As a mercenary, she was his next mission.

She was a mystery. Even to Luca.

Someone named Anonymous had hired Lucas and paid him millions to find Rav and bring her to them. And just recently, he'd noticed Rav had other targets on her back.

Someone found her before him.

Right now on the dark web, they were three other serious bidders. For her.

An unsuspecting woman, navigating through life like anyone else.

He shook his head. Not sure why he did that.

Some groupies flashed him inviting gestures from across the club, he regarded with drowsy eyes, before bring back his gaze on Rav while sipping directly from the Hennessy bottle, relishing how the liquor burned the back of his throat and warmed the depths of his stomach.

He only came for the eye candy. He preferred things that way.

A green-eyed blonde caked with makeup was walking up to him. He frowned; small talks weren't his thing. Looking away, he nursed his Hennessy. The Blondie sat crossed-legged beside Luca, wriggling her pink louboutin heels.

Flickering a finger at Rav, blondie giggled as she said audibly, "Pretty thing, isn't that one? We call her X. I notice ya sit at this same spot every night starin' at her, ya want her, don't ya?"

Touché.

Lucas wanted Ravenna so much his balls were blue. Most times so blue that'd angry fuck a random hookup hard against the wall of the club.

But Luca wouldn't break and give in to his dirtiest cravings. He'd only permitted himself to look, but not touch. Fantasize but not crave the fantasies.

He had a duty. A mission.

He also needed to fulfil his duty to take Rav to her highest buyer without yielding to his yearnings to fuck her. Or worse, claim her for himself.

He could have easily turned down his particular job...

By god, the money involved also gave him a boner.

And his watchword was, 'DO NOT FUCK WITH THE MERCHANDISE'.

At this point both the merchandise and the money were the problem. He wanted both.

He had no words for Blondie.

He placed the bill on the table before clutching his coat and stood to his feet. His towering height marked as he headed for the exit. He caught a few girls swoon as he trod past them. He was conscious of how distracting his godlike look could be. He smirked to himself.

Luca was royally fucked.

"Bluidy hell!" Ravenna cursed beneath her breath while she raked her meticulously manicured fingers through her wavy jet-black hair. The kind of anger and frustration that could burn down mighty historical cities to the ground swelled up on her insides.

Her 1980s milky Ford had broken down in the middle of nowhere. AKA middle of the lonely dark street.

Since she lived in a small village, finding help seems almost impossible. It would take only the grace of the almighty for someone to show up. The street was literally empty.

And she was running late for work!

Darkness enveloped the street since the sky was without stars and the moon hadn't show up today. The only light that brightened the path before her was the headlamp of her car.

Despite stuck in the middle of the dark street, clutching her steering, dressed a brown blouse tucked in a black pencil skirt...peace, perfect peace rushed through her.

Today, she freed herself from her obnoxious boss.

Working as Mr. Remington's secretary was hell.

She worked way harder than any other employee, she spent sleepless nights – even after working at the strip club –cross-checking and preparing cost reports, scheduling and rescheduling travelling arrangements, handling both rude and polite visitors. Well, to crown all her selfless efforts, at the end of every month, she got peanuts.

She couldn't ride a nice car; she couldn't for the sake of Christ keep up the old car she inherited from her grandpa.

Concerning household expenses and utilities, her punk rocker mind mocked her by playing a short video tape based on what had happened earlier in the morning. Piles of bills that almost plucked out her eyes was mailed to her. Comparing the cost of bills with her current credit account balance, she had stuffed the bills in a coffee mug and declared herself in a state of penury. After the evaluation, she had left for work with her resignation letter.

It still surprised her that the tips she got from dancing on the strip club surpassed her monthly salary...

...sounds like a fluke but Rave was a walking testimony that such cruelty indeed existed.

It only made sense to quit.

She unbuckled the seat belt that strapped her against the driver's seat, picked up her shoulder bag that sat beside her on the passenger's seat, unlocked the door, and heaved a sign, before stepping away from the maddening car.

The cold breeze of the night kissed her body with a sharp shudder. She clutched her shoulder bag to her chest and trudged to the footway. She paused there for a while.

After a while, a glowing light shone some distance away from on her. It was luckily coming towards her direction. A glimmer of hope welled up in her heart. As the taxicab drew closer, she shot out her hands and waved down, signaling the cab driver to stop.

Unfortunately, silence saluted her. That was it. The taxicab was gone, the cab driver not sparing her a glance, somehow raising dust at her. The road was untarred.

She lightly patted her chest.

A random but expensive idea chimed into her mind. She uneasily rummaged through the content of her shoulder bag for her mobile phone. She surprisingly found it. Her boyfriend could be the savior she needed at the moment. She quickly dialed in Rob's phone number and pressed the call option. The call directly switched to a voicemail. After trying a few more time, she threw in her mobile into her bag.

"I seriously don't deserve this." She muttered to herself.

She didn't really have a lot of friends. And since she recently transferred to Coshocton, she wasn't sure of whom to call. The landlord of her cottage was an old snub plus it would be unfair of her to call him. It was almost midnight; he must be snoring in his cozy bed. She envied him.

Her cell phone buzzed from inside her shoulder bag. Relief watched over her when she discovered the caller was Rob.

"Babe?" Her favorite voice called, the concern in his tone warmed her heart.

"Rob? Oh my, thanks for calling back. My car-Hello? Rob?"

Hell no, her bluidy phone died.

She restrained herself from smashing her phone on the pavement. Fvck my life, she yelled in her head.

Now, her options of survival were not vast. She had only three choices. She could sleep in her car, stand on the pavement until it was morning, or trek all the way home.

She leaped off from the pavement, jerked open the door to her car, grabbed her pistol. She had found the gun in her late foster-father's closet.

It was necessary that she be on guard. She was a girl; the world is no longer safe for them girls with the lots of pervs lurking in the dark. A pepper spray would've been convenient but Rave always forgot in her kitchen, mistaking the dang thing for some kind of ketchup. She once used it to pepper her chicken.

Luckily, she found a touch at the back seat. She keyed up the doors. Satisfied, she settled her mind on trekking.

For the past ten minutes, she quietly loped on the pavement. The road was now terrifying her guts out. It was narrow. No cars used the driveway. No other person but her walked on the cold street. She glanced at her wristwatch. 11:45pm she accurately observed. She had spent most of the day clearing and tidying up few patches in her former workplace.

The only sounds that went around her were that of the crickets chirping in their warm holes.

A strong wind blew away her loose locks from her shoulder and set it dancing in the air. She folded her arms across her breasts and hastened up her pace.

She adamantly opposed to worry about her 1980s Ford model, the piles of bills in her coffee mug, or her source of income she lost...she was convinced beyond doubts that brooding over spilled milk was a waste. At least Rob promised to help.

She felt being watched.

She paused abruptly and cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Her heart thumped loudly. Her hand reached for her pistol.

Zitch.

She saw no one, heard no invading sounds.

Not open for chances, she began to walk-run. Her cottage was not far from where she was. Just shy from a stone throw.

All she longed for was to walk into her cottage unharmed. Bolt her doors properly. Take a warm refreshing shower. Eat some hot spaghetti. Slip into her cozy bed and have her full night's rest.

Apparently, she was no going to her other work today as she planned. She's call in ill once she got home and charged her celly. Hopefully, she wouldn't get fired.

A moving sound in the bush close by figuratively pushed her legs to fly.

Weird thoughts mingled in her mind. Her pulse picked race.

Thud, thud, thud, her heart pounded.

She dragged her tired leg to buckle up. They must move faster. She wouldn't die tonight. Not on the cold street. Not in her cottage.

As she imagined what the news headline would display like, Tragic Animal Attack in Coshocton: The bones of an unidentified victim. She shuddered at the thought.

She had always to imagined herself to die in her sleep when she's in her late 80s.

Not up to three minutes later, shadows circle her.

Not literal shadows, masked thugs.

They all wore the same mask. A good number of guns pointed at her. She had her pistol pointed at them too. Not until two frightening thoughts jingled in her mind.

The pistol wasn't loaded and she couldn't practically fire a gun.

Amidst fear and the cold chills that wired into her body, she dropped off her pistol, and rose up her hands in surrender.

She immediately regretted her action.

Ear deafening laughter that almost blocked her eardrum ripped through the dark night.

"You can't make anything out of me." She said, struggling to gather her wits. "I have no money. I've legitimately been declared penniless. I could give you all my debit cards if you want. Please, let me go." She panicked. Panicking in the face of death wasn't the bravest action, but that was all she'd got.

She was scared to her bone marrows. These creeps could literally do anything to her and go scot free. Worst. She wouldn't survive what they had intended for her.

She hated this vulnerable feeling coursing through her veins.

One of the thugs came a litter closer to her and a rip sound went. She found her shirt in halves, buttons flying to the floor, exposing her B-cup red bra. His breathe smelled like soured milk when he spoke, "fvck your money."

She heard another rip sound. The pieces of her shirt flew away from her body with the impending wind. "fvck what the boss wants. We are all getting a piece of your pussy. Isn't what we want obvious?"

Only her bra covered her tits from their aggressive eyes. Thank heavens she wore a bra today.

Rave fought for composure. She was used to teasing men and having them around; have them appreciate her body while she taunted them. But sex was sacred to her. Maybe that was the reason she was still a virgin at twenty-three. She loved Bob all the more when he agreed to wait till they got married to go all the way through. Never in her life had she imagined her first time to be in the street in the middle of the night, gang raped by uncircumcised thugs.

But she wasn't about to go down without a fight.

"Not at all clear to me. But if I got what you mean correctly, you could only have what you lust for over my dead body," she said. "Go on. Use that gun. Shoot me. Then you could only do all those wicked things you wish to my corpse. To a dead-numb-helpless-lady. Not me. Not while I'm still breathing. Isn't my offer clear?" she added as she flexed her arms and positioned both her hands and legs in a fighting posture.

Combat had always been her weak point... It was a fact. She was aware of it.

The men laughed.

"She's got a smart mouth, I can't fathom the height of pure bliss those lips will bring me when my ten-inch anaconda thrust in and out of her." A deep voice bragged. "Have it your way then, doll."

Nine hefty armed men against one sharp-tongued unarmed woman.

Hilarious match!

A sharp kick landed on her calf from behind.

She discovered herself on the floor.

She quickly stood up, but was instantly stopped by a heavy blow that banged her chin. Blood oozed out from her mouth. She spat it at one of the men's face.

She had just sprinkle gasoline in a wild-fire.

Punches upon kicks rained all over her body until she was on the floor again. She curled up and shielded her head with her hands.

Blows upon thumps swept her.

She closed her eyes. She winced, whimpered but she refused to cry aloud. All the tears were piling up in her throat. Her whole body was throbbing, arching, and sore. Yet, the blows never seized to rain. She was literally being gutted alive.

Zing. Pow. Zing. Kapow.

She squeezed her eyes tight, ready to embrace the bullets.

A gunshot went off. Another went again. The punching halted. She assumed she heard the hooligans hurriedly stepping away from her.

She heard another gunshot. She tried to welcome the bullet and pain but felt nothing.

When everywhere calmed down, large hands wrapped a piece of warm jacket around her cold bare skin and scooped her off the ground. Able arms bore her weight. She made a lame struggled to run away.

"Easy," The monotone, male tone voice cautioned.

She wanted to fight, but strength failed her. She gave in to weakness and stayed still while he carried her away from the bad people. She dared to look behind her. The bad people were no harm to her now. That was because they were all merely lifeless bodies.

The man gently shoved her in the passenger's seat.

When he got into the car, she curled up like a ball, her entire body arching. Not believing her luck, she had to ask, "A-a-am I my, you know, dea-dead?"

Her savior stranger mutely drove the car away.

Comforting and worrying silence welcomed and responded to her ears for what seemed like ages. She opened her eyes and peeked through the window. She caught a glimpse of a blazing car. Her eyes were heavy and gradually began to glue together.

"You're not far from death." She faintly heard him say before darkness welcomed her eyes in a deep sleep.