Free The Dark Communion (The Midnight Defenders) by Joey Ruff Page A

the far side of the room. Suspended from the ceiling on cables, each was purple velvet and large enough for a small half-circle sofa while still offering a little space to move around in. Grouped together as they were, the tents looked like they belonged to a herd of Arabian nomads.
    As the music faded into Nine Inch Nails, I passed the third table. Saw where at least three of the curtains had been tied shut, meant dances were underway. Knowing Seven, that’s where he’d be.
    Of course, behind the tents, a hallway led to private bedrooms for the more hands-on, higher-priced services the club offered, but Seven was a fuck-hole…he didn’t have that kind of disposable income.
    I approached the first, grabbed hold of the curtained door flap, and yanked it open. A green, toady looking guy sat on the couch and instinctively hunched over to hide the bulge of his erection. His large grey eyes darted nervously around at the floor. The woman he was with had long, wavy black hair and pale white skin. I recognized her. “Hey, Noelle.”
    Although completely nude, she made no move to cover herself the way Toady did, but rather, grabbed the flap from my hand and closed the door.
    “Really, Swyftt, wait your turn,” she said.
    I could feel the bartender’s blue-green eyes on me from across the room. I wasn’t trying to draw attention, and took a more subtle approach to the next tent, simply popping my head in without exposing the confines to the room at large.
    A bald, black woman danced over a pair of what looked like high school girls. She swayed back and forth, twisting like coils of smoke from burning incense, her eyes glowing with a flash of azure light. The girls on the sofa, both blondes, looked like cast members from some teeny primetime soap, save for the pointed ears and vibrant, violet eyes. While they watched the dancer, their hands roamed inappropriately.
    “Sorry,” I mumbled.
    I pulled my head out and heard the blondes giggle. Shook my head. What the fuck had I just seen?
    Having narrowed my options, I approached the third tent with renewed vigor. Grabbed the flap, opened the tent to a chorus of, “Lucky Number Seven.”
    For a half-Goblin, half-something-or-other, Seven didn’t look like you’d expect. He didn’t have any skin discoloration, horns, or excessive outcroppings of hair. Actually, he kinda looked like Steve Buscemi, the actor, especially his profile, which is how I saw him: arms out to either side, reclined back and sitting on the edge of the sofa, a feathered boa around his neck. A topless woman in a thong held either end, teased him with it as she gyrated and shook in his lap.
    Imagine his surprise when I plopped down beside him, threw an arm around his shoulders.
    Imagine the surprise on the broad’s face, green eyes widening nervously. She wasn’t bad looking. Cute face with long blonde hair and just the right kind of underwear to let you know the color was a dye job. She had thousand-foot legs made to look even longer with the addition of the red stilettos.
    “Jesus! What are you doing here?” Seven gasped, jumping as I got closer. He didn’t try to mask his pecker like the other guy, I just wished he had, especially with my arm around him.
    “I’ve been confused for many things, Jesus never being one of them. Speaking of which, I thought that was one name even you guys didn’t throw around flippantly.”
    “I, uh,…what the fuck are you doing here, Swyftt? This is a private room.”
    I ignored him, peeled the boa from around his neck and said, “So nice to see you Seven. How’s things been, mate?”
    “I’m…umm…I’m kind of, uh, busy…at the moment.”
    “Right,” I said. I pulled a ten dollar bill from my jacket and tossed it at the girl. “Dance is over, Love. Go buy yourself a bigger cup size.” I turned back to Seven, noticed the erection he still sported, said “Put that thing away, you’re making me uncomfortable,” and thumped his cock head with my middle