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Vice's Virtues 27: Impulse; In which Lou breaks several Ohio laws and nearly ruins a wedding
Topic Started: May 28 2016, 09:28 PM (20 Views)
DSI
EWA Tag Team Champion
Cleveland, OH
Yesterday


Lou popped out of her room, her teal hair in her usual twin pigtails; a cutoff Captain America tank top, red and blue Harley-style short shorts and fishnets over a pair of black boots. Jared had been there, drinking, and she didn't much want to deal with his bullshit.

“Again to voicemail. What the fuck, Marisol?” He took a swig from the bottle of rum, and redialed.

“Maybe she finally got sick of your shit.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck off, dick face,” she answered, slamming the door.

She needed time to herself. Jane had been hitting up Tinder a lot over the last few weeks (likely a result of wanting to get away from Jared as well), and after Jared’s escapade on SHOOT television a few weeks back, she really didn’t want much to do with him. So she had spent a lot of time at Valhalla, her port in the storm. After all, thanks to her friendship with Jada, she tended to get in free, especially since nights when she showed up ended up being extremely good for Valhalla’s bottom line.

However, since she was in Cleveland, Valhalla was a world away. She’d have to make do with some other place. The legendary Crazy Horse seemed to be the way to go.

She flashed a wink and a smile to the bouncer, who, either from recognizing her or just thinking she was cute, let her in without charging her. She smacked him on the ass. “Come find me later, maybe we can have some fun, huh?”

He blushed, which was hilarious, since he was a large black man.

She didn’t normally wear makeup outside of the ring, but today she had decided to put on a black lipstick and eyeliner, along with fire-engine red eyeshadow. It did nothing to cover the scar on her left cheek (which, truth be told, she considered one of her best features) or the freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, but the little boost to her femininity made her feel that much more attractive. And at the moment, she was looking for attention, so it worked out.

The Crazy Horse was packed, as it usually was, but Lou hadn’t been used to this particular crowd. She hadn’t looked up the strip club laws in Ohio previous to coming out, but to be perfectly honest, she didn’t really give a shit anyway. She was here to do what she wanted to do, and if that meant a law or two got broken, even better.

Lou found her way to the bar, barely finding an open spot. Her head only made it about a foot above the counter, but she smiled at the bartender. He was in his early 40’s, if Lou had to guess, and in a black dress shirt with a red tie hanging loosely around his neck. His black hair was meticulously spiked although thinning, and his round wire-framed glasses sat on his nose, constantly sliding down. “Evening, sugar. What can I get you?”

“Captain and Coke, neat, thanks. Looks like you’ve got a busy bar tonight.”

“Eh, not as busy as some nights. You from Boston?”

Lou was mortified. “Oh Jesus, the accent’s catching? Give me three more shots of vodka. I’d rather be Southern.”

The bartender chuckled, throwing three shot glasses in front of her, pouring the vodka, and letting her down them quickly as he made her drink. She chased the shots with the rum and Coke, letting out a groan. “For a little lady, you’ve got quite the tolerance.”

“You have no idea, buddy,” she said with a smile.

~~~~~

She’d been there for a couple of hours, and a couple of hundred dollars in drinks and dances, but she was starting to get bored. She headed to the bathroom, noting the paper on the door telling patrons about the “no touching” law she had violated several times already that evening.

There were only three stalls inside, all occupied. A woman was standing at the sink, a small compact mirror in front of her. It didn’t take Lou long to realize what she was doing.

“Is that…?” Lou asked with a smile.

“Maybe,” she responded with a side-eye.

“Can I get a bump?” Lou bit her lower lip excitedly. “I’ll pay.”

The woman (clearly a patron, not one of the workers) looked behind her to the occupied stalls. “Of what?” she said, nodding her head. “Stop being ridiculous,” she added, motioning for Lou to come closer, and making a hand signal for “50”.

Lou smiled big, pulling a $50 bill from the tiny red devil-lady clutch she had been carrying, and slid it into the woman’s cleavage. She gave the woman her hand, and the fine white powder was poured onto the back of Lou’s fist. “Oh well,” Lou said. “Worth a shot.” She mouthed “thank you” as the woman nodded, stepping out of the bathroom.

Lou snorted the bump as quietly as she could. The burn was intense, but it brought back memories.

Still, nobody had exited the stalls. She sighed, sliding her shorts down and hopping onto the sink.

~~~~~

She had conned her way into the VIP room, drink in hand, and had been throwing lots of singles toward the beautiful dancers in her vicinity. One of the dozen or so men in here with her had told her it was a bachelor party, and they were clearly enjoying the view.

The coke had kicked in, and she was starting to feel incredibly aroused. “Hey, best man, c’mere.”

The best man, a large guy with a long black beard, stumbled over to her. His gut was huge, and he sort of looked like a marshmallow on two toothpicks. “What’s up, sexy?”

“I’ll suck the groom-to-be’s dick for 50 bucks. You guys can watch.”

He seemed taken aback. “But the law--”

“I don’t work here, guy, I just need some. Take it or leave it, man.”

The best man walked over to where the groom-to-be was receiving a lapdance. They whispered to each other, and he looked over at Lou. Lou slowly lifted her shirt, showing off her braless chest, pierced nipples and all.

His enthusiastic nod made her night.

She walked to the two ladies, still dancing, and whispered to them. “$200 bucks extra each if you stick around, dance for the other guys, and don’t say a word about this.”

They looked at each other. The short-haired brunette responded first. “Sure, OK.”

“I’m down,” said the blonde with the obvious fake tits.

Lou straddled the groom’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He had a shaved head, damn near to glistening in the black light of the VIP, but a full, neatly-trimmed beard. She took his Coors Light bottle away, handing it off to one of the groomsmen. “What’s your name?” she whispered into his ear, letting her lips graze his earlobe.

“John,” he whispered back.

“Well, John, you ready to make your soon-to-be wife seem inadequate in comparison?” She ground her hips into his, and was already very aware of the answer. She grabbed his hands, sliding them up her shirt, using them to pull the tank top over her head.

He smiled, letting his hands wander over her bare chest, tugging ever so slightly on the rings.

She pushed him backwards, so his head was leaning against the back of his chair, and slid to her knees in front of him. He wasn’t wearing a belt, so getting him out of his jeans was an easy proposition. After unbuttoning his fly, she reached her hands under his butt, grabbing the waistband of his pants from the back, and tugged them under him. Standing to her full (not very tall) height, she pulled the jeans, his underwear, and his shoes off in one fell swoop, tossing them to the side.

He eyed her with the kind of look a starving man gives a T-bone steak, a predatory smile on his face. It was exactly what she wanted.

She bent down at the waist, putting her hands to the floor, and slowly walked her hands out, laying flat before coming up between his legs again, taking him into her hand, and letting her tongue run up the length of him, before wrapping her lips around him. She’d had bigger, but he wasn’t anything to sneeze at, and honestly, the feel of any dick sliding into her mouth at this point was everything she hoped for and more.

His moans and groans were like music to her ears, as she passionately ran her mouth up and down on him, taking the time to look him in the eye. His hands were on her head, running over her hair, and the feeling was spectacular. So much so that she ran her own hand between her legs, sliding into the red and blue shorts.

Then suddenly, his hands forced her down, pushing him to the back of her throat by surprise. She tried to slap his hands away, but he pushed his hips up into her face simultaneously. He thrusted harder, and she gagged, her lungs screaming for air for what seemed like an eternity. He finally let go, and she gasped, pulling up.

“John, don’t interrupt an artist at work, baby,” she said, smiling sweetly. She wanted to hit him then and there, but he was drunk, she was drunk… she felt like a warning was more than enough for now, and opened her mouth once again, letting her tongue glide across him.

She could almost feel him smiling and winking at the rest of his party when he pushed her head down again, holding her there for even longer this time. She worked hard to hold back the vodka, rum, and Coke in her stomach from coming back up, although a part of her wanted to let it. Finally, as he loosened his grip on her head, she smacked his arms away, getting in his face.

“Listen, John-boy, I get that maybe your fiancee is the type of frigid bitch who doesn’t do this kind of thing for you too often. I told you to stop once, and if it happens again, I’m just gonna bite your dick off, got me?”

His smile went south very quickly. “What the fuck kind of whore are you, anyway?”

She stepped back, looking at the suddenly angry looking crowd around her and John. “The type who’s gonna need that 50 bucks, now, and another 200 if you expect me to continue after this.”

John shook his head. “Get back here, we’re not done.” He grabbed Lou’s arm. He was easily 250 pounds, not all of it muscle, but still twice her size. His grip was powerful, but she yanked her arm away.

“Get the fuck off me. We are completely done. Give me my money before I get really mad.”

The best man (Chris, she learned) reached into his pocket, but John stopped him. “No, fuck that. We’re not giving her anything. We’re not paying for a service we didn’t receive.”

Lou shook her head, and stepped over to where John’s pants were, pulling his wallet out. “You received more than enough, and the rest is an asshole tax.” She pulled what appeared to be $300 out of his wallet.

Before she could turn around, John was behind her. “Gimme that money.”

“Fuck off, noodle-dick.”

He grabbed her arm once again, and before he could say anything else, she drove her knee into his still-naked groin. He fell to his knees, and she drove a headbutt into his face, putting him on the ground.

One of the other groomsmen (a shorter, lankier ginger with a beard; one of the most sleazy people she had ever seen) pushed the blonde dancer out of the way, trying to get in Lou’s way. “Listen, bitch, you’re gonna do what we paid you for.” He reached for Lou’s arm, but Lou grabbed his hand and forearm, spinning him around, and driving him into the pole in the corner of the room. His head hit the metal with a clang, and he dropped to the floor.

The groom was starting to stand, but before he could get up, Lou smashed his Coors Light over his head. He collapsed, broken glass and watery beer covering him and the floor.

“Anyone else?” Lou looked around at the stunned faces of the other men, and the two dancers, who had by this time stopped dancing.

She took her phone out of the clutch, rolling the groom back on his back. He wasn’t entirely flaccid yet, and she snapped a selfie with his dick in her mouth.

Then she grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket. Luckily, he was dumb enough not to have a password. A quick check of his Facebook, and he had the name of his fiancee. He scrolled through his contacts, finding the number, and putting it into her phone. (She named the contact “blackmail,” just for good measure.)

John was starting to come to, blood slowly oozing from a small cut in his head, a big goose-egg already starting to develop. Lou grabbed her shirt.

“You listening, asshole? Go ahead. Call the cops. Press charges. And this picture goes to your fiancee. Got it? Any of you other guys come after me? I will END YOU.”

The room was silent, other than the thumping of the music. She pulled out an extra $100, and handed the agreed upon price to the dancers. “Thanks. Not a word about what happened, right?”

“Something happened?” asked the brunette.

“The boys got rowdy,” said the blonde. “Probably had too much to drink.”

She slid her shirt on and made haste out of the Crazy Horse.

~~~~~

The hotel room was inviting after the hell she’d been through tonight. She was starting to come down off the coke, and the whole scenario had left a bad taste in her mouth, literally and figuratively. She needed a place where she felt safe. She needed someone to tell her it would be OK.

A small package was left on the kitchen counter in the suite. The lights were on, but Jared was gone. Jane wasn’t in the room, either. There was a card and a small wrapped box, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized Ryan’s handwriting. She tore it open, ignoring the birthday greetings on the card itself. Inside was a check for $5000, and a note from Ryan.

Enjoy the book. You deserve something good to have come from Boden’s legacy.

Inside the plain brown wrapper was a box, and inside the box was an Illustrated Kama Sutra. Lou smiled… Ryan really did know her pretty well.

“Jane?” Lou called through the room.

“In here,” came a response from the bathroom. “Door’s open.”

Lou stepped through the bathroom door, where Jane laid in the bathtub full of bubbles, eating popcorn from a plate next to her and reading a leather-bound, gold-leafed copy of Sun Tsu’s The Art of War.

“Jane… why are you eating popcorn in the bathtub?”

She looked confused by the question. “Because I finished the nachos?” She pointed at Lou’s wrist. “What happened?”

Lou looked down. She hadn’t noticed that it had started to bruise. “Oh, nothing important. Someone got a little too handsy, that’s all.” She slid her shirt off. “Mind if I join you?”

Jane giggled. “Not at all. You’re little, so there’s plenty of room.”

~~~~~

(The camera fades in on our duo, Jane Doe and Lou, the Vice Squad. They’re in their ring attire, with Lou’s hair in her twin short pigtails, and Jane’s done up in a pair of braids that make her look not unlike a slutty Anne of Green Gables.)

Lou: Y’know, I’ve heard a lot recently about how we’re the destroyers of the tag team division here in the EWA. That we let our loss at Asylum drag us back down to the bottom of the ranks.

Jane Doe: And honestly, as much as we hate to admit it, they’re right. We faced a tough loss from a tough team at Asylum. I think Lou’s face can attest to that.

Lou: Don’t worry, X, I’ll get mine back for that eventually. Won’t take 15 years like Jared, either.

Jane: But let’s put this on record: never again. This is where it stops. The Vice Squad is putting the EWA Tag Team division on notice.

Lou: Particularly our new champions, Alex Haven and Chris Kage. Masks or no masks, we’re coming for our belts.

Jane: And unlike CJ and Jared, we’re not going to play along with your idiocy.

Lou: But it all starts at Battlelines XIII, against El Chupacabra.

Jane: Isn’t it El Chupacabras?

Lou: Is it?

Jane: I dunno, I thought chupacabras was singular.

Lou: Nerd. Anyway, it starts with these two. A pair who want to make a name for themselves in the tag division. And who do they go after first? Is it the new champs?

Jane: Don’t be silly.

Lou: Is it the transitional champs, the Hierarchy?

Jane: You know better than that, folks.

Lou: No, they, like every tag team in the EWA that came before them, started off by talking shit about yours truly. The Hierarchy challenged us personally. Fuck Money came straight for us, too. Vermont’s Finest, the Ghetto Warriors, the Lonestar Outlaws… we were their first destination.

Jane: That said, for a lot of those teams, we were their last destination, too.

Lou: But they knew that if they wanted to be the best in the division, they needed to find us. The team with one tag team loss, the team that put the division on the map, the team that broke Public Enemy’s record in their first five months in professional wrestling.

Jane: Here’s the thing, though, Diego, Hector… for all your talk of owning the tag division, and how you’re ranked wherever on the Power Rankings, all it has been is talk. You’ve walked in, gotten involved in the Warrior’s Trial, bitched about how you’re not on contract for a few weeks, and lost a match.

Lou: When we wanted to make a splash in the tag division, we beat the shit out of CJ Nelson and made LIHC nothing more than a memory.

Jane: And then we took the EWA Tag Team titles, and held them for longer than anyone else ever had or has since.

Lou: We sent legends packing, we gave our blood sweat and tears, and at Asylum de los Muertos, we took the Hierarchy further than they ever expected.

Jane: Seriously, X-Calibur is how old? Do you really think he wanted to dive off the structure at Arena Mexico this late in his career? And we did all this before my 20th birthday!

Lou: But in all that time since the Warrior’s Trial, even through Asylum, which was 2 MONTHS AGO, you have done absolutely NOTHING.

Jane: So please, bring it. Bring everything you have this week and see if you can manage to stop us.

Lou: But understand that this match is a message to the rest of the EWA: the Vice Squad is not out. The Vice Squad is not finished. We are just starting, and we will take our belts back, and we will break our own record.

Jane: And that is a promise, gentlemen. Hell hath no fury, as they say.

(Fade to black.)
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