Incubus Nights

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Sam Taylor knew it was a bad night the moment he walked into work.

Most nights were hectic at the Blue Room, New York's busiest escort service. Tonight was just a pure disaster. Erica, James, and Hector had all called in sick. The flu had hit them hard, and it was left that the Blue Room was massively understaffed.

It wasn't exactly the standard brothel. Tamara, Sam's boss, had once been a working girl herself. She discovered that pimping was much more profitable, and she had started the Blue Room on a loan from some unidentified loan shark. She had gotten it paid off in the first few years. Tamara knew how to run a business.

She knew that managing a staff of attractive twenty-somethings and rich clients required delegation. That was where Sam came in.

"Now, I'm going to have to call Mister Hendricks. He usually engages Hector, so we'll see if Robert might perk his interest, or if he wants to reschedule." Sam could have seen why Tamara had once been on the other side of the business. A black woman in her forties, she had aged incredibly well. She wasn't tall, but she had piercing eyes that made Sam feel about a foot shorter than he was.

"Of course, Tamara." She tapped in a few things on his tablet, a memo o himself to call Hendricks at his earliest chance. He didn't want to have to explain to the old shipping tycoon that hector was out, but well, that was life. "Is there anything else?

"No, not unless you want to fill in for Hector." Tamara said. He knew it was a joke. It was a well-established one. It still made a part of Sam boil inside.

"Not a chance." He said and he stood up to exit Tamara's office.

Once Sam was safely outside the office, he let out a soft breath.

The one rule he had made when he started working for the Blue Room was that he wasn't one of Tamra's "stable." He didn't have a problem with the job. Under different circumstance, he might have gone into the stable with head held high. Any of the boys or girls that Tamara employed as her escorts earned more money than he did during a given week.

He was Tamara's assistant for one reason. He had a huge demonic problem.

Sam's father had been a normal human, a perfectly normal guy with some knowledge of magic and the supernatural. Jake Taylor was one of the most knowledgeable folklorists on the West Coast. He had married a succubus, though, which left Sam with his own problem.

He was half-incubus, and while it seemed like a sex demon and an escort service seemed like a match made in heaven, there was a problem. Sam had never had sex.

Sure, he had fooled around at points, but he had never had the one big wham that had awoken his demonic side.

He wanted to be rid of it, but he also knew that side of him could hurt people, could be terribly powerful. Sam had been raised too well. He wanted to be better than his heritage. Succubi could live in society fairly easily. Incubi could be monsters.

Never the less, he adjusted his tie, and he started to walk through the back halls of the club. The Blue Room had dancers out in the front area every night, both men and women. Tamara was very forward thinking. More people had more money to drop on high-class companionship. Why just limit yourself to one facet of heterosexuality?

The public area of the club had a stage on one end, and a bar on the opposite end. Tables and booths littered the space in between and tables were between the two. There were four booths, two on each of the side walls. The first hour tonight was for Tamara's girls, then some males would start to be sparsed in.He made his way over to the bar, to check in on the club's barkeep.

Emily was a perfect barkeep. She kept him apprised of their liquor situation, knew how to mix just about anything, and she expected only the same from any other bartender. She was a short woman, dressed in her usual vest, shirt, and bowtie. She was sporting a slicked back blond hairstyle this week, one of an ever-changing rotation of styles.

"Hey, Em," Sam said. "How's it going tonight?"

"Business as usual, Sam," She had a whiskey-rough voice, always polite. "How's Tamara tonight? Heard we've got a few sick folks."

He sighed. "Yeah. Erica, James, Hector. So that's two dancers and one of our best boys." He shook his head. "I haven't even called Mister Hendricks yet. He's going to get all...emotional." He shook his head. He could see how people liked Hendricks could form attachments to Hector. He was probably the most passable boy they had as an escort. While it was something Tamara prided her girls on, she hadn't ever found a good male she could pass off for the "boyfriend experience"

Hector being out meant that Hendricks was losing his favorite guy, which meant that Sam would spend fifteen minutes listening to him complain. A little sigh escaped him, as he heard his ring tone from his pocket.

He checked the caller ID first, but he could take a wild shot at the dark at who it was. Yup. He answered the call, pressing the phone tight against his ear to drown out the sound of the music onstage.

"Sarah, what did I tell you about calling me at work?"

Out of the two Taylor children, Sam was by far the quiet one. Sarah was the outgoing type. She worked at a surf shop in San Diego. She completely embraced her demonic side. She enjoyed the life as a succubus.

"That you're busy, all the time, and that I never know when to call my baby brother." She let out a little huff. "Gimme a break, butthead. Seriously, though, how're you?"

Sam paced towards an unoccupied corner of the floor, and lowered his voice. "I'm all right. Mayhem as usual."

Sarah chuckled softly. "That's it. Hey, I wanted to ask you if you were coming home for the holidays this year."

There was a restrained groan from Sam. He had almost totally forgotten about the time of year. It was November. The Taylors, not a particularly large family, liked to all come home for the holidays.

"I don't know yet, Sarah." He gave his usual non-committal answer. "We'll see how this goes. I would love to come back for the holidays. We'll see how things go with work. I'd love to get the time off."

He got a snort in a reply. Sarah Taylor was hardly a graceful lady. "Christmas through New Year's. If you're not back in San Diego, Mom and Dad'll be pissed."

"I know, I know." He insisted. "It's only November. Give it a break. I'll figure out the travel plans once I've got the funds." He paused a moment. "Don't you dare tell Dad I'm having money problems."

Sarah had already dropped iunto a mockery of their father's voice, low and rumbling. "New York's a tough town. Come on home, work at the book store, we'll always have a home for you, Sammy boy."

"Uggggh." Sam rolled his eyes even if Sarah couldn't see it. "I need to call a client."

"You still haven't told me what you're doing." Sarah said, accusing.

"Yup. Bye." He ended the call with a jab of a button. He needed to step out back for the call with Mister Hendricks. Heavens knew that after Sarah the Succubus Sister, he was going to need a minute before dealing with old rich people.

Alina Petrov always got what she wanted. It wasn't a boast, it was just a simple fact of life.

Money certainly helped in that, as did an unstoppable drive in life. She had started off as an immigrant, but had risen to the highest levels of New York society. Quite the American success story. Granted, it had taken her a century to do it, but Alina had an appreciation for the long game of life.

Being a were-tiger also helped matters. She had lived for a very long time, over two centuries. It hadn't been until the Bolshevisks that she had left her homeland and come to America. She had been forced to rebuild. It had taken a century to come out on top of the world, fighting her way to create a small ambush of tigers like her. Those tigresses, weres like her, had become her lieutenants, not only in her real-estate ventures, but also in her criminal enterprises.

Alina mused, as she sat in the back of her car, that being a criminal wasn't a problem for her. She had built her empire on the backs of others legally, and sometimes her interests extended to things that conventional law said she couldn't have. Criminal ventures made her good liquid cash, but it also extended her influence. Assets were one thing, but power was what Alina feasted on. A few well-established favors appealed to her more than her racketeering.

She had decided to visit the Blue Room to check on the place. It had been Alina's money that had given Tamara the means to open up her little escort service. Tamara had been an excellent debtor, paying back the loan quickly, expanding her business rapidly. She ran the top girls in New York, and some of the best boys too. Alina wouldn't deny sampling them. A tigress had her hungers, after all.

Hannigan, her driver, pulled up in front of the Blue Room. "Thank you, Hannigan. Find a place to park. I'll be a while."

"Of course, Ma'am." Hannigan said. If it hadn't been a place she trusted, she might have had Hannigan come in with her. He wasn't human. Hell, she didn't know what Hannigan was. But he was definitely useful.

She got out of the car and approached the Blue Room. It was situated on the ground floor of a large building, definitely one of the nicer ones in the neighborhood. The lit sign was, of course, blue, looking over a black door that had a bouncer next to it.

Alina walked like she owned the place. She wore a gray dress this evening under her leather jacket, and had her blond hair hanging freely down past her shoulders. She smiled a closed-lip greeting to the bouncer, Robby.

Robby wasn't a man of too many words. He was masculine, not not particularly attractive. His bulky frame lacked any of the grace Alina sought, but he did have his uses. "Tamara's having a rough night." He grunted.

Alina sighed. "Perhaps I'll be able to lighten her mood." She stepped past Robby, and walked through the black door once Robby opened it. Such a gentlemen. As she passed, she could see the automatic pistol he was packing in that shoulder rig.

The Blue Room was a stop she made every few months. Frequent visits were not becoming, or so she had been told. She stopped at the coat check, and handed over her jacket to the attendant. Her heels clicked against the club's floor as she made her way to the booth that sat against the wall. The music that the dancer onstage was following was some bass-heavy pop song.

The dancer, a brunette with long long legs, was dressed in a leather vest and a short skirt. She was rather athletic, dancing with an ability that had every eye in the place watching. She absently considered inquiring to Tamara about the girl's preferences. A shifter, much like a vampire, had its hungers. Hers were more refined than blood. Sex, violence, power. Her job gave her the last, and occasionally the second.

As soon as she sat, a waitress had seen to her, and came back in a minute with her drink. Alina sipped at the fruity concoction happily.

Tamara's voice caught her attention, taking it away from the booze and girl. "Look who rolled into my joint."

Alina found herself chuckling. Tamara and she were cut from the same cloth. Winners. "Robby tells me that you have a problem tonight."

"Oh, flu bug going around." She sighed. "Lost three people to it, and now my assistant's running around like a headless chicken."

"I imagine it's quite the sight." She took a sip from her cocktail, and watched as a waitress delivered a beer bottle to Tamara. "I never thought you'd get an assistant. You're much too... independent."

"What I am is too goddamned busy." Tamara took a swig from the bottle before continuing. "Sam's a treasure, though. Never would say this to his face, but the kid works his butt off and he's good."

"He?" Alina arched an eyebrow. "Oh, heavens, you've got a wolf in your henhouse?" She teased.

"If only," She rolled her eyes. "Sam's an angel. Never a complaint from the gals. Real sweet, if only he worked for me." She smiled. "Well, as one of the boys."

That caught Alina's interest. "Attractive?"

"Tall. Green eyes." Tamara sighed. "But he seems decidedly uninterested in changing jobs."

Alina frowned. She decided to go to other things. They talked about business, liquor.

After about a half an hour, she smelled something. A were had excellent senses, keened from their animals. After two centuries, Alina had shaped hers that she could identify most things easily.

But this was a scent she had not picked up in a long, long time.

Her head spun around, drawing a "What's up?" from Tamara.

She found the source of the scent. It was warm, earthy, enticing, a natural masculinity, like spice and oak.

The first thing she was drawn to were those green eyes. They were a light color, like old dollar bills. But she immediately knew the magic surrounding them. It was glamour. The man was hiding something. Her eyes took him in. He had dark hair that hung to the nap of his neck, a brown so dark she wanted to just lose her fingers in those waves.

His face was young but shaped well, with a hard jaw. The rest of his body wasn't bad either. Despite his business wear she could see a frame that spent time in a gym and used it.

She knew what he was. It spoke to her like a hidden temptation. Incubus. The word fluttered through her mind.

"Tamara," She turned to face her friend, and she looked right into her eyes. "I'm in need of something."

Tamara froze. Alina liked that. Tamara never expected favors. A chance to remove some of the debt from Alina never escaped someone. "What can I do for you, Alina?" She asked, voice quiet. "A girl?"

"No. I think he's not on the menu." Alina leaned forward, smiling. "But I've got an offer for you."

Tamara looked back to the man. Alina knew it was Sam. She knew it had to be. Tamara froze for a moment. "He won't. I mean, he's avoided-"

Alina cut her off. "Ten times your usual fee."

"That's-that's." Tamara stammed.

"Yes. One hundred thousand dollars." She smiled, like a cat who knew what she was getting. "I'll let you talk it out with Sam. You know how to get into contact with me." Alina finished off her drink, then stood.

She walked from the table towards the check out. She had her eyes on Sam the entire time as she walked. He was leaning over the bar, focused on a clipboard.

She didn't take her eyes off him until she got her jacket back.

"Soon, little demon," She promised with a whisper. "You'll be mine."