Vegas Savages

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

“BOOM. BOOM. BOOM .” The music boomed.”

Maybe we can make it alright

We could make it better sometime

Maybe we can make it happen baby

We could keep trying but things will never change

So I don’t look back

Still I’m dying with every step I take

But I don’t look back

Just a little little bit better

Good enough to waste some time

Tell me, would it make you happy baby?

We could keep trying but things will never change

So I don’t look back

Still I’m dying with every step I take

But I don’t look back

Jane here, and that’s how I roll. I just love Sharissa’s vibe, she is the total real deal, man I dig her music.”

One AM cruising done Sahara Blvd. in my doll 58 Buick, wires from my Apple I-Pod plugged into my brain, boot on the dash, Marlboro slotted between my lips and singin’ along with my girl Sharissa to her Every Beat of my Heart.

“And it hurts with every heart beat.”

And it hurts with every heart beat

And it hurts with every heart beat

And it hurts with every heart beat.”

“Boom Boom Boom…Boom Boom Boom.” The music thumps.

“And it hurts with every heart beat.”

Yes it does, as I smoke, and plug from a small bottle of Wild Turkey as I cruise along the desert night in my Buick feelin’ fly and just so right.

I’ve always been a boulevard girl and love the road.

Got a new bail fail contract, that’s what I call it from Biffs’ Bail Bond, a friend of Hanks over there in Pahrump Nevada. I am heading to another one might call a fetish club in N. Vegas named Candy Land.

Candy Land is pretty much the demented twin sister of The Bent Club.

Though a class joint it is in-habituated by fringe clans of society. There is a little more of the aroma there of b**m and Bondage and the place, though very cool most of the times, does have it moments of complete madness.

There are lots of EMO kids, as well as Punks, Hip Hop girls and Goth girls hanging their black lip gloss there and also some skin heads and anarchists and also like The Bent Club it’s a Vampire Bar.

Which means some of the cute kids that hang there are blood drinkers. With their fake Dracula fangs and cute getups well, there usually on the fringe and are corner hangers.

It’s also a hangout for the rich mixed genders, bisexual, lesbian, gay and transgender folks, all looking for something. Basically, it has the same cliental as her sister The Bent has.

I just got this new Bail contract from Biff, and he’s worried about this dangerous and very lethal f*****g dirty blond piece of trailer trash called Candy (Pit Bull) Barks.

Great f*****g nick name.

She got that name de pleura because the doll always travels with this f*****g pit bull that could eat a stainless steel freezer door if ya gave it a chance

She famous in the lesbian rough trade community because she killed a girl once and men, rumor have it, before. She is a tough, brutal street dealing coke queen.

She’s mega dangerous and I have the Bail Jump contract on her from Biff for her almost killing a girl at Lizzie’s, a notorious Butch dyke bar last week.

Tina Flicks had f****d the moon light out of my cunt and I could feel that tinkle, tinkle, tinkle wet feeling in my cunt. That usually told me that s*x or a beat down would soon be visiting. Of course those two coin flips are two of my most fav things in the world.

I’m always testing myself, and usually will put myself in some dicey situations, you know, just to see if Jane still has it. I had a plan tonight to capture Candy, and it involved s*x, danger and of course my 357 Magnum Python hand gun.

Anyhow, Wong, the giant Asian 6ft-8 mountain doorman my good buddy had rung me up telling me that Candy had been hanging her dildo at Candy Land lately.

Wong’s street creds are solid as his huge d**k must be.

He’s one of those ex NBA monster guys, and came out of the Chinese pro league.

He played for the Utah Jazz for a couple of seasons. With the d**k the size of a Zebra, he found little use for it in Salt Lake City. It’s didn’t take long for him to figure out the Mormon bitches there wouldn’t f**k a guy unless he had a Book of Mormon in one hand and some ass lube and a marriage contract for their three sisters in the other.

No dummy, Wong soon found Vegas sweeeeeet. An odd place where the whores, strippers, runaway’s, crazy young girls, druggie party girls had lined up silicone t**s to silicone t**s to suck his monster c**k and from naked end to end would have made a line of cocaine long enough to hit Bangkok.

Life in Vegas sometimes for a playa can be f*****g Perfect.

When I had toddled up in my Buick, I felt phat, loaded and ready.

Layering a C-note off on Mr. Wong, I got that sexy kind of Chairman Mao smile from him and I did the usual Euro Trash thing. You know, kisses on both cheeks, and got a lot of love back from him. He totally digs my vibe, me being so blond cute and all.

My street-creds are impeccable and everyone knows my word is concrete. People dig that in a wild child.

I was decked out in the usual Jane, PI threads. Black, skin tight leather hip huggers, just above my laser beamed cunt, black camisole sleeveless tank and on my feet were the usual kick ass black men’s, steel toed work boots. I was wearing a knee length black leather jacket, just to conceal my Python magnum stuck into my shoulder holster. I also was wearing my gold chain and small gold cross.

I don’t believe in God, but I do love the Latina image of it all.

Vanity, f**k, I’m working on that, really I am.

It was 1 AM, and the place was kickin’ it.

The dance floor was happening, lots of moon beams eyes from the children of decadence dancing to Usher. That’s how the place rolled.

There were lots of older men dancing with gym boys, and debutant older woman waltzing with semi naked show girls. Lots of the strippers were completely naked, just stilettos, and I recognized a few bull dykes, very stylish, in men’s Cardin suits pirouetting around the dance floor with the stunners.

Like I said, there were also lots of Goth, Punk and EMO girls (My fav, there so waifish adorable) with their huge eyes, rimmed in mascara so thick you could pave the Hollywood Freeway with it.

The booths were filled with rich old men and gals, and with them were semi naked boys and girls.

They were drinking Dom, Johnny Walker Black, X-ing and coking and everyone seemed to be having a respectable and lovely time.

You know, it’s the kinda place some Pentecostal Preacher can pick up some leather clad gay boy, road bump abs, go to The Desert Dream motel, f**k I’m in the ass, then get back to the burbs, wife and three kids, just in time to attend church, and thank God for the inventor of K-Y- Jelly.

Anyhoooo, at the back lit blue neon bar, racked with the finest liquors on the planet, there were several semi naked girls in heels in G-strings, kissing, grinding and loving each other like sexed up boa constrictors.

All the girls were pierced, lips, noses, t**s, ears and clits I imagined. To a one they had Japanese dragons, snakes and Korean calligraphy tattooed down their arms, back, breasts and legs, just like Glenda.

I have always been more than a little partial to Goth Girls like the one Glenda from The Bent I f****d the other night. I feel even stronger about EMO Girls.

No one has to tell me I can be a bit of a hooligan at times and over the top with guy qualities.

Therefore I like the femininity of those itsy bitsy little EMO girls. There just so tiny, t**s, cunts, height, and they all have these giant eyes. Never could figure that one out.

Anyhoo, I’m joasing on EMO chicks lately because there she is their doll queen tending bar and usually she is transfixed with Moi, well almost.

Her name is Zoe and isn’t that just adorable.

In reality she could be named Sheba the Elephant Girl and I wouldn’t have cared, for look at her.

What?

I’m a f*****g tramp with the s*x drive of an Alabama State Pompom girl.

I can’t help myself.

Let’s see, twelve to twenty orgasms with a girl over 6 hours eating p***y, playing with strapons, vibrators and axe handles, or disappointment with some mooch, who would rather be in the Lazy Boy, watching the Packers play.

No Contest.

There she is. f**k, she is perfect.

She’s what, 21, 5ft 5, EMO 105 lbs, with those huge mascara/eyeliner raccoon rimmed blue eyes and with perfect skin the color of paper all set off by her midnight colored Liz Taylor hair doo. She’s topless, just a red leather mini skirt hanging low on her tiny hips, tatted everywhere, neck, arms, tummy and back. She’s not like a lot of EMO’s for she’s just pierced with gold rings on her lip, ears, and n*****s, which look f*****g exotic on her small t**s.

Did I mention I’m a tit w***e, just love them.

I don’t think she has seen me yet, otherwise and because she has told me over and over that she wants to eat my cunt, and also f**k me nutso, she has ignored me to the moment.

I could see that she was busy as several dyke’s and dominate males, were chatting it up with her at the bar and with two semi-naked strippers.

Blast Jane, the world does not revolve around you, pleeeease.

IT DOESN’T?

So I sidled up to the end of the bar because I wanted to be close to the Scene Area of the club.

On the dance floor, one bull dyke, stylized out in an Armani suit, white shirt, black tie, and men’s brogues’ seemed in love with a topless stripper painted out in a pair of white leather hip huggers. She had those small t**s dykes loved so much.

The girls looked in love, that’s always a sweet thing.

Peek-a-booing down the bar, I saw Zoe disappear somewhere. I expect for a toot of something white. I don’t do drugs, but most of the kids do.

Checking out the Scene Area and wanting a vodka martini, Stoli will do, I gasped as another femme fatal girl bartender smiled and stood before me.

GOD, she’s Kim this 21 year old British blond Pixie, blue eyes stunner that always has a smile on her f*****g Keira Knightly looking face. She’s what I call a whisper girl. Tall, thin like a windswept willow, snow white hair cut in a Pixie cut. Huge lips, small nose, large oval green eyes spread wide on her once in a life time face.

I’ve never kissed her before, but that’s on my girl list of things I have to do before I die.

She’s always laughing and has that wonderful sharp British wit, and I have never seen her depressed.

Is that at all possible with a beautiful female? Don’t know.

She’s kinda Punk and has a single small British Union Jack tattooed on her stomach on that white skin of hers. She’s got just a few gold piercings’. You know, one on her lip, nose and gold twins on her ears and n*****s that are connected to her t**s, which are small and f*****g amazing.

Topless, and like moa, she’s wearing a pair of skin tight, black leather stove pipe hip huggers which connect to a pair of men’s work boots.

Are we twins that have found each other? I don’t know.

But golly I can taste her skin and lips already as I give her my best Jane smile. You know, adding to my s*x bank account for future withdrawals like I’m hoping I will later make with Zoe.

I’m always thinking ahead when it comes to s*x, and with Zoe the bartender on my mind, well I don’t want to mess it up.