Footwork

He turn back just to make sure it was her, zooming in he saw her eyes were an angry red with what might have been tears, though it was hard to tell in the rain.

"Fuck! You!" Each word a complete lung filled scream, as she noticed he had turned back towards her.

Daniel hadn't expected, thanks, or anything at all for that matter, it had been an entirely selfish decision on his part and he knew it. It hit him then that he had ruined her hunt, he had taken the prey from her, and she was roaring her compliant, like a true lioness. He didn't know why, but he understood that. There was nothing to be done about it now, so he took a digital picture of her face, and then zoomed in for a retinal shot, storing both.

He turned back down the street, walking to find a cab. He tried to dismiss her. It was time for Biz. His account was leaking funds like a rusty faucet, and the footwork needed done before the fun could begin.

The Haven was placed on the outer reaches of the slums, known as the Gulch. The warehouse neighborhood would never stick out as one of the best nightlife spots in all of Hong Kong. It had no sign, so if a person didn't know where it was they didn't belong. Right off a main highway it was easily accessible, and being on the edge of the Gulch, it had protection from the law as well.

Young, rich kids would come to play. Some with, some without, parents for a night of debauchery. It catered to only the highest ends of hedonism. "Only the best for the best" was its motto. It was printed on the napkins.

The three rules that existed in the place, one No Kids, two Consent is Mandatory, and three Alura is in Charge; were printed in large bold print as a person walked in. She didn't take kindly to child play, or rape of any kind. The one rule that in her establishment a person could be killed over was the third.

She was in charge and she meant it, she had sweated, bled, killed and nearly died generating the cash that was needed for such a business. She had set up the local police chief and was now making sure no cops came into the place without her placing the call. The threat of releasing a video showing him in uniform on the receiving end of a five-man train, begging for more, had gotten his cooperation. He was a regular now.

He saw the waiting lines of people held back by a velvet rope at the entrance and almost chuckled at the attire. It varied from punk to slut but it was all purchased at quadruple rates for a single name attached to it. Some of the clothing wasn't clothing but holographic images of clothing, which with slight modification would even flicker embarrassingly to reveal everything, at the proper time of course.

As he paid the cab and exited, he moved for the VIP line and was almost stopped by a chromed out Chinese man in a black jacket with a SMG slung at the shoulder. Alura's muscle was always good, and with SMG's and tailored red shirts with black jackets, always visible. Marcus, head of security for the Haven and for Alura herself, waved him through. The Chinese man, who smiled demurely and stepped out of the way at Marcus's signal, must have been new.

"Is she busy?" Daniel asked quietly as Marcus led him in, walking past security screening that would have made a bank proud.

"Currently yes, and another appointment after. Is it important?" Marcus asked. A large Japanese man, the kind you always imagine to take up sumo, had been in the employ of Alura's for almost five years. Queer as any flamer on the strip, he was devoted to Alura, and had beaten one boyfriend to death for dating him to get to her.

"Not so much important, as time critical." Daniel responded smoothly, walking past the rules board where the lettering was half a meter in height. She had added a new one it seemed, four, No Press. Daniel looked questioning at Marcus.

"We have had problems with a new tabloid as of late. They seem to want to publish pictures from the Haven," he said, noting Daniel's interest. "I will be handling that problem personally."

He had no doubt what that meant, and was glad he wasn't the editor of the magazine. He had seen Marcus pop a man's eyes out just by squeezing the temples.

"She'll be down in ten, your booth is being cleared as we speak, please enjoy your stay Mr. Waters." Marcus replied politely as he headed back to his station.

His eyes adjusted to the flashing lights, smoke, and fog that were generated for atmosphere. The sound, a rhythmic thumping that caused teeth to jar, was tuned out almost immediately, though the shockwaves from the bass could still be felt.

Walking towards his usual booth, the place was almost empty; barely a hundred in the downstairs alone. He figured that Alura was making the mob outside wait to help build the tension. It always made the clients she had more interested if they had to wait. Forcing the rich to wait only seemed to enhance the experience for them.

The place was decorated in a tropics setting this week, with palm trees, grass skirts and the drink special was a blended real fruit margarita. A long bar on the east side of the grounds, fitted with paper umbrellas, and holographic ocean night behind it, gave a near perfect ambiance The dance floor was covered in soft black sand and there were already people rolling in it, near the north end at the volleyball net.

He had to give it to Alura she was good at this. People came every week, shelling out thousands just to see how the place looked. Her design and fashion skills were highly sought after by those in the Know.

The private booths to the south and west walls were also used for business and pleasure, with a charge time that would have made a banker blush. As he entered the booth, the sounds and vibrations of the music stopped cold, even the flashing lights dimmed to faint twinkles, as the electronic counter measures kicked in. It wasn't until he was seated that he noticed the projected full moon and stars on the ceiling. Nice touch that.

"Sir?" the waitress asked as she walked through the hologram door; a dusky brunette her breasts open to the breeze and grass skirt swishing to show a shaved pussy with multiple piercing. She looked fabulous, but all of Alura's girls did.

"Scotch iced, three vitamin bars, and a liter of water." He said opening the table console and plugging into his NIT jack. He had removed his DNI when the Neural Impulse Translator had come out, it operated in the same manner as a DNI except there was less conscious thought behind the acts, as the micro computer learned to adapt to the user's thoughts instead of a user adapting to the interface, a small but dramatic shift in technology.

Since he had ten minutes, he logged into a back door of the local police network and began a search for his Lioness. The facial feature file came back as no match within seconds, but the retinal was still running, having a lot more characteristic points to try to match.

The order was already on the table, having been left while he was logged into the console. As he jacked out he allowed himself to down the tumbler of scotch. He wasn't a drinker, but he did like the warmth that scotch provided. It was really the only alcohol he allowed himself, and even then one glass was broken down by his bio so that it never had an effect on him.

Swiftly eating his high vitamin protean bars he washed it down with water and barely had time to wipe his mouth before Alura showed. She was dressed in nothing but a sheer white thong and bra that did nothing to hide her form, but actually enhanced it in the pulsing black light of the dance floor, producing the image of moving transcendence.

He stared hard at her firm flesh as she posed for his gaze, loving the attention.

Her striking copper flecked eyes showed only a little of her Asian heritage, with small folds at the corner, while her German/Irish nose, had a slight upturn to it. High cheeks, and narrow jaw showed her Native American decent. Silky black hair hung below her sleek shoulders; her skin a smooth bronze, taunt against an athletic build.

Her breasts, a perfect 34c, had tan aureoles, with smoky brown nipples at the center, hardening at his gaze. Her waist was a slim curve, showing no fat, yet still held the softness of feminine beauty. Her ass was firm yet yielding, and the legs seemed to go forever. Her pubic hair was trimmed and tight in the shape of an exclamation point, the dot ending just above the start of her slit.

He never tried to hide the look of lust in his eyes when she was around. She would be offended if he did. She prided herself on her sensuality, and sexuality. It was a tool to be used, and she could wield it as precisly as a scalpel or as brutally as a broadsword. He had seen her seduce gay men and straight women both; he didn't doubt she could talk them into a threesome while she was at it.

"So what do you think tall, dark, and dangerous?" she asked as she slid onto his lap, throwing her legs onto the table and knocking everything off the table but the console. Even in this greeting game she was professional; those who doubted it, didn't last long.

"You could make a priest go blind from masturbation," he said simply.

" Not me idiot, I meant the club." She giggled into the right side of his neck, wiggling on his crotch, showing that no matter what her words said she was pleased at the compliment. She traced her hands down his stomach, and rib cage, only to fake a pout at the feel of armor.

"Oh, yeah it's nice, but cannot be compared to its owner." He breathed heavily into the inviting cleavage of her chest, his lower lip brushing lightly against her left globe. He could smell her musk, mixed with wildflower perfume, as she continued to wiggle her hips trying to get his hardening cock to press against a more pleasurable spot.

"Oh, your still have your little tool," she said softly, rolling up his body, pressing him back against the seat, having found the sweet spot between her thighs she had searched for.

"You know me, I'm just old fashion on some things," he said. It was a running joke between them. When a man can get a cyber-enhanced, multi-directional rotating cock the size of a night stick with integrated clit stimulator, only an idiot would forgo one. He was an idiot. It was one of his few prides.

"Some of the best things in this world are old. The Kamasutram, has been around for a long, long time," she whispered in his ear, gently rocking her hips on his now throbbing cock. He moaned into the hollow at the base of her throat and was about to respond when the console chirped.

Both of their demeanors changed instantly, as Alura slid off his lap and moved between his legs to sit on the seat, he adjusted as he scooted back to allow her movement and leaned forward to flip the console open.

On it a picture of an attractive young woman popped up, the retinal pic had found a match. Sierra Chang, registered nurse, well on her way to an all expenses paid scholarship to medical school. That had been two years ago when she filed rape charges against a mid-level corporate man with the hospital she had been working for.

"Damn it, now I'm going to have to change panties before I go back up. Last thing I want is a Red Army General to get the wrong idea," she said with a slight pout.

Daniel couldn't help but chuckle at the comment. She elbowed him in the armor for it. Hard. She was so soft and supple he sometimes forgot that she was augmented as well. The chuckle stopped but his grin grew slightly, and he knew his balls would ache for a while after this meeting.

"Yummy," she said lightly, looking at the picture of Sierra. "Personal or Biz?" she asked scanning the screen.

"Personal," he mumbled before switching to the picture of Sierra taken that day. Watching for a reaction from Alura out the corner of his eye, he downloaded the info into his internal drive.

"Still fuckable," she said with a slight shrug, "To bad about her face though, must have been repeated blunt trauma to have altered her bone structure that badly. Steel club, or titanium knuckles would be my guess." Her attitude was as calm and clinical as a doctor in a morgue.

"Sounds likely," he said, agreeing to her assessment.

"Now to Biz," he said closing his console, leaning back to rub her shoulders. She gave a soft moan of relaxing pleasure as his hands started to massage her with years of experience, knowing just the spots to make her sigh. She did some of her best thinking in a massage chair he knew, so he tried put her as near to that center as possible.

"I got a call from an unknown wanting to meet at Grizzly's. Have any ideas?" he asked.

Her back had tightened slightly at mention of Grizzly's, so he knew there was something. He continued to work the muscles of her shoulders and back, waiting for a response.

"Rumor is, a foreign suit is in a bind and looking for someone to do a hard run for little profit. An R&D company specializing in biotech based out of Japan but financed by the American corporation Dupont. Kanto is its name, here to negotiate with Chang Industries. Thought it was lot of hot air but if the suit was able to get a message to you, it might not be so empty." She spoke clearly and with chosen precision. Meat of the data, what she had devised as important. She was good at information gathering and filtering; it was one of her strong points. He trusted her judgment on info more than anyone else.

"Thanks Alura, you're the best. One thing, if you would, track down my lioness?" he asked as she started to stand.

Her eyebrow arched a little at the title he had given, and a small smile lit her lips.

"I'll get my boys on it," she said bending over giving him a full view of her shapely ass, slowly pulling down her panties; moisture clinging to her coated snatch. "Your right, I am the best, and don't you ever forget it." Her statement punctuated by the snap of her wet panties hitting his chest, she left.

His hand unconsciously pulled the panties up to his nose, his thermals showing residual heat from her hot pussy. He inhaled deeply, wanting to capture that sweet musky scent, and know it always. He ran his tongue over the dripping cloth, savoring the taste of her juicy cunt.

He checked his internal clock. 20:57, little more than an hour, a twenty-minute walk from the Haven. He had enough time.

He closed his eyes as he pulled down his zipper, smelling and tasting the delectable juice of Alura. Freeing his throbbing cock, hard from all of her attention, he stroked himself, building his fantasy of her sucking on him. Her full thick lips wrapped around him, sucking on just the head as her tongue starts to dip into his slit, milking more of his precum.

Her teeth supplying slight pressure as she goes down, taking all of him in, he can feel his tip touching the back of her throat as she constricts her muscles there. Making her lips a tight seal as she sucks powerfully at his shaft on the way up his cock. The tip of her tongue was a smooth, warm, firm pressure on the sensitive ridge of his shaft. As her mouth moves off his shaft, she swirls the swollen head with her tongue.

With his cock completely covered from her saliva, and his precum she strokes demandingly at his cock as she gently sucks on one sack. Putting pleasurable pressure on it as she traces small circles with her tongue before pulling her head back and with a wet pop, let it fall back into place not so gently, before moving to the next.

He can't help but gasp at the pleasure pain of the ball play, the pain starting to recede as a comforting tingle of warmth moves to take it's place. He hasn't yet recovered from the second wet pop, when she attacks his cock with her mouth.

Her hand still stroking his slick rod, squeezes and twists to the right as it comes up, while her mouth clamps with suction as her head and tongue twisting slightly left as it goes down to meet her fist, her actions forcing the head of his cock to turn purple and tingle.

He can't help but moan at the mental image, as he brings the sopping panties to his cock, using them to help with the fantasy. The sheer wet fabric, silken smooth as it glides over his gland, before he starts to pump in earnest.

His fantasies never include words between them, soft moans, feral growls, and grunts of ecstasy, just primal, urgent, and needful.

She never looks up as she repeats the movements over and over. Sucking, twisting, pulling, and squeezing all at the same time, the sensations cause him to jerk, thrust, and arch. Her hair draped across his lap tickles his thighs, balls and cock as her head twists and pumps.

Though he watches her every move, as she grunts at the effort, her unused hand hidden from view all this time snakes out to slip into his mouth, covered with the juices of her own orgasm. His hands bunch in her hair, tightening it against her scalp as he sucks her fingers. That's when her gold-flecked eyes meet his, realizing she won this round, he allows himself to cum.

Glob after glob of cum shoots out the tip of his dick, covering panties, table, console, and his hand. Arcs of electricity starting from the bottoms of his feet, the palms of his hands, and the back of his neck all meet at some point near his ass, only to be released by the spurt of his cum. Surge after surge the release leaves him gasping and still twitching, as he milks himself.

It was moments like this that he wondered why he even bothered with high price hookers. A little time with Alura and he jerked off better than they could fuck.

He cleaned himself with napkins, and placed one unsoiled on top of the cum-soaked panties, the logo, only the best for the best, purposely visible.

Leaving with panties in hand, he walks past a waitress, placing them on her tray.

"Leave those on Alura's desk, she'll want them back," he said walking towards the restroom.

"Certainly, Mr. Waters," her tone showing no surprise at the request to place cum filled panties on her employer's desk. The thought amused him.

The place had filled up by the time he left the booth, having let most of the outside mob in. A Hawaiian fire dance was occurring were the volleyball net had been. A small stage had been set up and even had what appeared to be real islanders doing the show. He saw a male gay couple having sex next to the sink he was using. The dominant had residual chemical dust around his nose, while the sub had his face pressed against the mirror releasing steam upon it with his rapid breath, a cloth mask inducing his high. The orgy had begun.

Checking his internal clock he had thirty minutes to make it to Grizzly's. His fantasy had taken more time than expected. Allowing an attendant to dry his hands, he left the restroom to a small stream of newcomers, fresh from the security screening, flush with excitement and drugs of some kind.

Making his way out of the club, he noticed car shows going on across the street, each owner trying to show off as many of its flashing lights, booming music, or screaming engine as possible. He couldn't help but think of peacocks showing off.

As he moved through the warehouse sector into the heart of the Gulch, he noticed the bleed of music from a dozen cultures and genres blending in the echoing alleys, becoming its own hypnotic rhythm. It was the sound of life without hope for today, but with hope that just maybe tomorrow would be different. He understood the sound well.

The smell of destitution and indifference were present with the reek of urine and exposed garbage. He walked on without fear. There was always a hum of danger in the Gulch. People didn't walk alone in the dark within the Gulch without being one of two things, dumb or good.

Feet splashing lightly in newly formed puddles he entered the Gulch, more and more people could be seen standing around the only working street lamp on the street. Junkies, fixers, whores, and johns could be seen in alcoves, flickering neon the only other illumination in the area.