The Devil's Mark (Book 1)

PART 3: Intermission

CHAPTER TWO

The Lair

Lower Eastside, New York

Caleb

God what a night. I couldn't wait to go home. I changed out of my outfit and wiped off the beads of sweat from my face before grabbing my jacket off the wall. I said goodnight to my fellow dancers as they tried to persuade me to stay a little while longer and have a drink or two. Slipping out the door down a short hallway that would take me straight to the alleyway behind the club, a hand tapped on my shoulder as I stopped dead and muttered under my breath. Sergei, the club manager, held up two fingers as he wiggled them in front of my face. Which could only mean one thing. Money.

Asshole.

I reached around to my backpocket and pulled out the wad of cash after a hard night's work. Business men, construction workers, lawyers, and even cops were always my best clients. Not wanting to get into an argument with him, I took out two hundred dollar bills from the stack and shoved them into his palm as I brushed past him and bolted right out the door. The sounds of New York City so early in the morning were always a comfort to me. Though I don't know why. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the list of contacts until I found the number for the local taxi service. The line rang twice before a female voice appeared, sounding pleasant.

"Big Apple taxi service. How can I help you?"

"Yes. Can I please have a taxi sent to 3321 Oceanside?"

"Certainly. I've already dispatched a driver and they should be arriving to you shortly."

"Thanks very much."

When the call ended and I snapped the phone shut. I ran my fingers through my auburn brown hair and yawned softly as I stretched with a low groan. Then I heard the sound of footsteps walking up behind me as I spun around and reached for the expandable baton I kept on my person at all times out of fear of being attacked or worse killed. The man dressed in a suit approached me still, smoking a cigarette as he looked me over from head to toe.

"Hey, sexy boy. How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"For a blowjob? How much?"

I scoffed. "You're out of your mind. Get lost jackoff."

That got his attention. In a fit of rage the man lashed out to try and grab me but his movements were a bit sluggish from the heavy alcohol plaguing his system. He even smelled drunk. I pulled out the baton and threw out my arm as the steel rod extended. Changing my body into a makeshift fighting stance, I was ready to defend myself. I just hoped the taxi was on its way soon enough. Catching himself against the wall, the man grinned, tossing his cigarette to the ground before putting it out with the heel of his patent leather shoe. Grabbing his crotch, the man continued to reveal himself to me by unzipping his slacks and putting his hand inside, pulling out his cock.

"Come on baby," he said lethargically. "Service me a little. I'll pay you handsomely."

With the baton still in my hand, I wondered if he even realized what he was doing at this every moment. Sensing with the air around me that I wasn't in any real danger to begin with, I slammed the steel rod into the ground and put it in the front pocket of my ripped jeans. The man was drunk off his ass as he stroked himself, rocking his hips back and forth. Oddly enough however, I hated to admit to myself that I was getting a little turned by this point watching another guy stroke his cock. Lean and long like a snake, raw sexual energy coursed through my veins as I forced myself to look away and walk to the edge of the street.