The Road To Hell Part 9

No-brainer. Of course I could. Having lots of s.e.x was as natural to me as breathing was to humans. When I was in my groove, I made bunnies look like prudes.

But going back to h.e.l.l meant two things. One, saying goodbye to Paul. No matter how upset I was with him for using his cop wiles to get me to confess my infernal past (and then not believing me), I loved him. I'd chosen a human soul so that I could be with him. I wasn't about to walk away from that, not even for rough-and-tumble s.e.x.

Two, the reason I ran away from the Abyss in the first place was still there, squatting on the throne of Abaddon. The King of h.e.l.l had already pa.s.sed judgment on me, stripped me of my role, my purpose. Sitting on the can, I s.h.i.+vered, remembering the feel of His words in my mind.

You are too soft.

A stab of pain wrenched me away from the memory. I glanced at my hand, unclenched my fist. b.l.o.o.d.y crescent outlines formed a dashed path to the meat of my thumb.

I couldn't go back to h.e.l.l, not with Him presiding over all the d.a.m.ned. I refused to spend eternity as a Nightmare. And I would sooner get tarred in angel feathers than acknowledge Him as my sovereign ruler.

It could be that after time, Meg's voice said, the memory still painfully fresh, you'll embrace your new role.

Never.

Come back to h.e.l.l, Daun's voice chortled. Think of all the s.e.x we'll have.

Screw you and your desires, Daun. I'm not giving up my life, or my soul, for you.

Meg whispered, We all do what we must.

And screw you, too, Meg. You were supposed to be my best friend. You chose duty over friends.h.i.+p. You broke my heart, and you left me for dead.

My, aren't we just wallowing in self-pity today?

Get out of my head, Meg.

I'm not Meg. I'm you, Jesse.

Great, now I was talking to myself.

It's called a conscience, Jesse. It happens to mortals. Nothing to freak about.

f.u.c.k this.

I tore off a wad of toilet paper and did the blotting thing, even though I'd already dripped dry. Panties up, skirt down. I flushed, wis.h.i.+ng my own worries could get sucked down the drain as well.

Wish in one hand, s.h.i.+t in the other. See which one filled up first.

I exited the stall and sauntered to the sink, pausing to frown at the tall blond angel standing by the door. A quick glance told me we momentarily had the ladies' room to ourselves. Talk about a miracle. I turned to the mirror, reached into my purse to grab my lipstick. "Can't you take a hint? I don't want to talk to you."

Her silence was far stronger than any words. Despite myself, I looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face held such suffering, such unmitigated sorrow. Her big blue eyes looked lost.

No. I wouldn't feel sorry for the scab who'd stolen my job. I lifted my chin, filled my voice with scorn. "What? You can't really be that upset over groping my guy, can you?"

"I..." She looked up, perhaps looking for a sign from Heaven. "I have no desire to be a Seducer. All I ever wanted was to sing with the Seraphim. And now that will never be."

"You don't want it?" I barked out a laugh. "How could you not want to be a succubus?"

"Why would I desire such a thing?"

"You get to have s.e.x. Lots of s.e.x. Who wouldn't want that?"

"I've never engaged in intercourse," she said, her voice so very proper.

"Who said anything about intercourse? I'm talking about good ol' f.u.c.king."

She flinched, as if the profanity stung her.

"Bless me," I said, staring at her reflection, "you mean you're a virgin?"

Eyes large and wounded, she nodded.

"Man, the King of h.e.l.l is forcing virgins to be temptresses? That's just Evil. Nicely done." I shook my head, appreciating the irony. "And here I'd thought we were being replaced by others who could do the job better."

"An angel could never be better at s.e.x than a succubus."

Brownie points, huh? Sony, I wasn't buying any-she was strictly angel food cake, and I was more of the devilish variety. "Well, good luck getting your celestial cherry popped." I touched up my lipstick, slas.h.i.+ng crimson over my mouth. "First time's going to hurt like a b.i.t.c.h. Unless you rode a lot of horses in Heaven. How about it, Cherub? You ride on your high horse up there in the Sky?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said, her voice soft, filled with embarra.s.sment.

"Horses. Come on, the bouncing." I blew out a sigh. "For f.u.c.k's sake, you do have hymens, don't you? Or are you not built that way?"

"I don't know. I never asked."

Something in her voice sliced a hook in my heart and tugged. Glancing over my shoulder at her, I watched her rub her arms, which did nothing to hide her s.h.i.+vering.

"You're afraid," I said, disbelief overriding my contempt. "How could you be afraid of having s.e.x?"

"I wasn't meant to be a succubus," she whispered. Fat tears rolled down the angel's cheeks, and I thought I saw Stardust in the salty liquid.

Bless me, I made her cry.

I should be throwing her an evil look right about now, taunting her and sipping her pain. Instead I said, "Look, what I said before, just forget it. s.e.x is fabulous. Try it. You'll like it."

"I hate this thing I'm supposed to be," she said, wiping away her tears. "All I ever wanted was to sing with the Seraphim. But that dream has been ripped away from me. There's no way out for me. I'm trapped."

c.r.a.p.

"Come on," I said, dropping my lipstick into my purse. This sympathy s.h.i.+t was going to kill me.

She sniffled. "Where?"

"We're going out. I'm going to show you that loving isn't anything to be frightened of."

"Are you..." She darted her eyes about, as if nervous that others were overhearing. "Are you making a pa.s.s at me?"

I couldn't help it: I snickered. "Sweetie, you're definitely not my type. I don't do angels."

"Then what...?"

"I'm going to take you to a place where you can see l.u.s.t at work without any Sin being committed." I smiled, already picturing the stage, the sound, the audience. "We're going to my day job. It's a strip club called Spice."

Chapter 7.

Spice "Hey, Jezzie! Thought you had tonight off."

I grinned up at Joey, the world's nicest bouncer. He was also fiercely protective of his "little sister" dancers and had been known to show customers how to fly out the door when they got too grabby. "Heya, sweetie. My friend here isn't too happy with her current job. She may be thinking about a new line of work. Thought I'd show her around, let her see what the action's like."

I turned to the angel. "Joey here's one of the last of the good guys. He worked with me at a previous club, then after it closed, he and a few others from the old place landed jobs here along with me."

"Spice is more posh than Belles ever was," Joey said. "More dancers. More customers."

"More expensive drinks that are more watered down," I said with a wink.

Joey grinned, holding his hand out to the blonde. She reluctantly took it and let him pump her arm in a h.e.l.lo. "Any friend of Jezzie's is a friend of mine."

"Thank you," she murmured, staring up at his face. Something lit in her eyes, and she turned on her smile. "You have a very strong grip. Do you work out?"

The man had the proportions of a pro weight lifter; even magic couldn't have given him that sort of body without any help. "Wasting your time practicing on him," I said to the angel. "He plays for the other team."

She glanced at me, her mouth set in a frown. Even that was pretty. b.i.t.c.h. "Other team?"

Obviously, the cherub's shoe size was larger than her IQ. "He's gay."

She deflated so completely that I could have folded her into a box.

"But if I wasn't," Joey said, kissing her hand, "I'd be begging you for your phone number."

Either his words or his smooch seemed to perk her up. "Really?"

"Come on in, ladies," he said, avoiding her question. "Welcome to Spice."

He stepped aside and opened the huge black door for us. Even though the sound from within the club was muted from where we stood, vibrations from the blasting rock music pounded out a backbeat, coaxing my heart to thump in time. I felt a grin spread across my face, heard my breathing quicken from antic.i.p.ation.

Honey, I'm home.

Bless me, I loved my job. True, I didn't get to have s.e.x with my clients. But I got something almost as good: the look in their eyes that told me just how desperately they wanted to hear me cry out their names as I let them f.u.c.k me.

There's no greater turn-on than knowing that everyone in the room wants you.

As I sauntered past Joey, I offered him a ten. He plucked it from my hand and tucked it away with a soft "Thanks." Even though I didn't have to tip the doorman-whether I was on s.h.i.+ft or not-I liked to keep my posse happy. The doorman, specifically, was the customer's first contact with the club; a happy bouncer was more likely to mention my name to clients who asked which dancers were worth their while. And those clients tended to search me out for private dances in the VIP lounge or the Champagne Room. So a tip was more like investing in my career. And like any businesswoman, I appreciated a good return on investment.

Especially when it stuffed twenties down my G-string.

Over the m.u.f.fled rock music, I heard the angel's stilettos clicking behind me as we walked down the short, dark hallway that separated the action from public view. Couldn't have little old ladies shaking their liver-spotted fingers at us for flaunting mostly nude dancers where anyone could see them. Not for their lack of trying; once I'd caught a blue-haired grandmother peeking inside, her nose pressed against the stained black gla.s.s of the front door, trying to kickstart her heart by viewing-gasp-l.u.s.ty men fawning over scantily clad women.

"What's that smell?" the cherub asked.

I inhaled deeply, taking in the orange scent of the floor cleaner. Beneath that, the faintest whiffs of tobacco and alcohol clung, fighting against the citrus tang. The ghosts of colognes and perfumes rode the air, tickling my nose with hints of J'adore, Eternity, and Dolce & Gabbana.

"l.u.s.t," I said with a grin, "wrapped up in negligees and five-dollar bills."

"Oh. I thought it was Swiffer."

I opened the thick door that separated us from the club proper. The heavy synth of The Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams" rippled through my body, making my head bop along and my hips roll with the beat as I walked. Beneath that, an undercurrent of conversation and laughter from the men in the audience floated-sucking me in if I stopped to listen, was.h.i.+ng past me like audible flotsam if I ignored it. On the main stage, aglow from yellow and red spotlights, a woman s.h.i.+mmied. Stripped down to her lacy green thong, she jiggled her small t.i.ts in time to the music, moved her arms over her body in quick jerks. Even though Kelly wasn't the best dancer at Spice, she had her avid following-based on the bills tucked into the garter on her thigh, some of her harem were here tonight. Maybe it was her Irish coloring that did it for the guys: mounds of orange-red hair, skin milky pale. Or maybe it was her blow-job lips and bedroom eyes.

Throughout the showroom, cl.u.s.tered in threes around small round tables, men sat in red plush chairs, grins on their faces, happiness in their pants. Maybe thirty customers were scattered around the room, talking to or about the dancers who left precious little to the imagination. A number of the house girls were working the floor-some flashy in their spandex gowns and rhinestone earrings, others more elegant in their c.o.c.ktail dresses and pearls. All wore enough makeup that they'd need to shovel it off. Hair was up, down, pinned back, curled, teased, glued with hairspray-you name it. Clas.h.i.+ng perfumes battled above the eye-watering mix of booze and sweat that permeated the room.

And s.e.x, of course-beneath everything else was the spice of s.e.x. The s.e.x of Spice.

Yum.

I breathed in the excitement of the crowd, the intentions of the dancers. My nipples hardened, both acknowledging the air conditioning chugging at full throttle and reacting to the various smiles and remarks from customers waving and motioning to me as I led the angel to the bar. Kelly wasn't the only one with a harem.

A grin stretched across my face. Men dripping with desire and trembling with unspoken pa.s.sion... the promise of s.e.x, even if that promise wouldn't be kept-ah, bliss! I blew kisses at my regulars, put an extra wiggle in my step as I sashayed to the back of the room.

Jezebel's here, avid fans. Let the l.u.s.ting commence.

At the bar, I smiled at the lovely man who offered me his seat, then stared at his friend until he vacated for the angel. "Thanks, boys," I said, my voice husky with amus.e.m.e.nt. They seemed to think it was from wanting them: one man preened and flashed his capped teeth, and the other hemmed and hawed and made a big show of staring at the stage.

Capped Teeth asked me, "Can I buy you a drink?"

I winked. "Thanks anyway. But I'm here to show my friend a good time." I draped an arm over the angel's shoulders, letting my fingers brush lightly over her left b.o.o.b. Already sitting ramrod straight, her spine stiffened even more, nearly popping my shoulder from its socket. She looked like she wanted to find a rock, crawl under it, and die.

Heh.

"Oh. Oh!" Capped Teeth seemed to get the hint. Muttering something about comfortable shoes, he led his buddy to an empty table on the showroom floor.

"Hi, Jezebel. Thought you had tonight off."

I pivoted in my seat to face the bartender. "Heya, sweetie. My friend here's never seen a gentlemen's club from the inside, so I couldn't resist bringing her here. Hey, Angel, say hi to Andrew."

The angel slunk down in her seat, mumbled something that could have been a h.e.l.lo.

Andrew dropped me a wink. "Seems nervous. Honey, can I get you a shot, help you loosen up?"

She blinked her celestial blue eyes at him. "A shot?"

"J.D.," I told Andrew. "And make it a double."

"She going to audition?" he asked as he poured the whiskey into a shot gla.s.s.