The Fabulous Ladies Night Club (7/8)
Title: The Fabulous Ladies Night Club
Author: ubiquirk
Rating: R
Genre: genfic: action-adventure, humor, drama
Word Count: ~14K
Character: Xander
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
AN: Set between S3 and S4 of Buffy. Written for
spring_with_xan . Lots of thanks to my lovely beta,
firefly_124 . There’s a Spanish Glossary to have open in another tab for easy reference.
Summary: The road trip that wasn’t. After graduation, Xander only makes it to Oxnard before his car breaks down, and he finds himself washing dishes at The Fabulous Ladies Night Club. Forty miles to get back home might not seem that far, but sometimes, it can take a lot to cross.
Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
7.
Reality returns via pain, the burn of cheekbone, the ache of awkwardly placed limbs.
Xander fights down a whimper, tries to keep breathing even. Cracking one eye open, he can’t see Kit, but Jorge hangs before him, stripped to his underwear, head slumped, arms slack in the chains. The shape farther to the left is … Martin? The body’s shrunk in on itself, reminding Xander of withered apples, so the face looks strange - Martin as the old man he’ll never grow to be.
A bit of movement in his peripheral vision makes him jerk a little, no matter how much he’d schooled himself not to. But instead of Kit, it’s one of Jorge’s feet twitching.
He’s alive! … Or he’s undead. Damn, I wish I hadn’t thought that.
“I know you’re awake. Little heart goes pitter-pat, pitter-pat.” Her voice comes closer. “Wasn’t this place just made for fear? It reeks of it!”
Moving to prop himself up, he grunts when his left elbow touches the concrete, fire shooting up his arm. It’s out of whack but not broken, and everything else seems to be okay - hurting, already beat up, but okay. Once sitting, Xander runs a quick hand over his right pocket. The chopsticks feel like they’re still whole, the fact of bamboo’s amazing strength finally manifesting for him.
The curtain had hidden a wall containing racks of gear that look way more serious than any of the S&M stuff he and Jesse had giggled over in a catalog they’d found in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven. There are the requisite whips, of course, but what really draws his attention are the knives - big ones, little ones, lots of ones - and things with spikes and something that looks like a bear trap. A water drain sits in the floor next to each of the three sets of shackles, and a hose hangs from a tap on the far wall. This isn’t kinky fun! It’s … it’s … The sour burn of vomit coats the back of his throat. And God, I wish I couldn’t imagine why anyone would need to hose the area down easily.
“Do you like it? The man who was here before that new lady was a naughty, naughty boy, playing nasty little games with his girls - his toys.” She walks along the wall, dragging one hand across it until she grabs one of the empty shackles to shake it, discordant clangs echoing in the damp space. “He did do all of the decorating for me though. Very thoughtful. Perhaps I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly.”
“You killed him.”
“Oh, yes! He was the first one after Mummy made me. He was …” Her hand rises to grasp at something in front of her, hovering in the empty air for a few seconds before falling back to her side.
“Oh, God. You were one of the ones locked up down here, weren’t you? One of his ‘toys.’”
Kit whirls on him, laughing. “One of his toys? Oh, no. You have it all wrong.” She straightens, walking over to pick up one of the manacles attached to the bed before sitting. “I was the toy … his favorite.”
Xander’s too stunned to speak. The chains on the wall, the chains on the bed, the whips and knives and things the curtain had hidden.
“His favorite. He took me with him when he traveled. Showed me off to all his big contacts. Bragged about what I could take - what he could do to me.” She rattles the chain. “Then he’d prove it to them.”
“Prove?”
Suddenly she drops the shackle and in a blur is squatting by him before the clang of metal hitting the floor has finished ringing. “What part of show is it you didn’t understand?”
He stares at her lips, almost able to meet her eyes now - she’s still beautiful, but it’s only beauty instead of an overwhelming conviction that she’s perfect. So she can turn the mind whammy on and off? Cool! Oh, wait - not cool. Mind whammy bad. Bad, bad, bad.
“Kit -”
“Do you like my name? My mummy named me when she made me. Said …” Kit laughs, something brittle and sharp breaking in the sound. “Said that I should be named Kitten since I’d lived for years by my pussy.”
Oh, God. Somebody poured crazy milk on her crazy flakes this morning. And made her eat it at the crazy table. Maybe with a crazy spoon. And okay, someone stop me before I extend that metaphor anymore.
“I met my mummy in LA.” A dreamy expression crosses her face, eyes unfocusing, and she stands, walking back over to the bed. “He’d set up his biggest show there. I was the main act. Then Mummy rescued me, said I’d be no one else’s pain-dolly but hers.” Kit picks up a chain, petting its links. “But after a few months, Mummy left, and he was gone, so …”
“So you came back here.”
She spins to face him, eyes shining, hands clapping in glee. “Yes! And by the time I came back, there were so many pretty, pretty toys for me to choose from.” She walks over to Martin, picking up and dropping one of his chains so it clanks against the concrete. “So easy to get, toys. I smile, and they think of only one thing. But even when I try to pick carefully, the toys don’t last very long.”
Her kick at Jorge makes him groan a little, and Xander still doesn’t see any forehead bumpies, so he thinks his friend might be alive alive.
“So, toy, dance for me.”
“No.”
“Do you want more money?” A harsh laugh, something dark echoing in it that has nothing to do with humor. And she’s on him again, one hand picking him up by his throat. “What will you do for money? That’s what he asked me, when he … when he …” Her face crumples, then grows fierce as she tosses him back to hit the wall beside Jorge. “Dance!”
Gasping for air, Xander can only cough, and she stomps to the bed, back to him, shoulders raised high in tension.
A warm touch on the back of his hand, and he glances over to see Jorge looking at him out of one slitted eye. Jorge gives him a small nod, and Xander grins quickly before reaching into his pocket to palm one of the chopsticks, pushing its length up the inside of his shirt sleeve against his inner forearm.
She turns, eyes blazing. “Don’t make me make you.”
And she’s beautiful and perfect, and why wouldn’t he want to do anything and everything she wants?
Xander half stands to go to her, to be for her, his arms reaching -
The force snaps off, sending his head reeling - literally. It hits the wall with a thunk as he falls back against the hard surface.
Keeping his eyes closed, he shakes his head. Damn, I’m not going to be able to do anything if she turns on the mind mojo. Okay, nothing but die locked in chains, that is. He sneaks a quick glance at Jorge. And even if all the cool kids are doing it, this is one bridge I don’t want to jump off of.
“Okay.” He raises his left hand and pats the air with little placating movements. “Okay, I’ll dance. Just give me a minute.”
Seemingly satisfied, Kit sits on the bed, smiling beatifically and humming to herself. It sounds like “Hot Stuff.”
Jorge’s voice so faint, Xander leans over, pretending to have trouble standing. “The bruja, she is …”
“Loco?” His quietest whisper. “Yeah, and also a vampire.” Then he sees the bite marks on the insides of Jorge’s thighs. “But then, you probably knew that.”
Straightening the rest of the way, he feels pain shoot across his lower back. Not so much with the pretending after all. And is that supposed to be some kind of cosmic justice? ‘Cause it’s not like I’m the one who chains people up here.
Kit begins humming louder, and Xander starts dancing, linking the moves Doris showed him almost randomly, trying to get the kinks worked out of abused muscles before he has to abuse them again.
Just when he lifts his arms and begins to swivel his hips to the chorus, Kit stands. “You’re not doing it right.”
“Huh?”
“You’re not doing it right! Do it like you do it upstairs!”
He raises his hands to the top button on his shirt, and she sits, humming again and smiling, eyes flashing as she watches.
Oh, God. I’ve got to work fast enough that she won’t see the chopstick.
Thus begins the tease to end all teases. Every button takes forever to undo, every pause in between comprised of excessive ass shaking and enough twirls to make him a little dizzy. And all the time, he inches his way closer to her.
Once the shirt hangs open, he slides it slowly off his shoulders, turning to look back at her coyly while his hips swivel and snap.
Her humming grows louder.
He shakes the chopstick down into his hand, shrugs the shirt back up to free his arms, and kicks into a spin, using his momentum to carry him around and forward and into her.
The chopstick strikes her chest, hits the resistance of bone, and splinters to the side.
When he looks at Kit’s face, her smile seems the most lethally beautiful thing he’s ever seen, lips pulled widely back from gleaming white teeth. Then she changes form, forehead ridged, eyes uncannily yellow, canines lengthened, and it becomes simply lethal.
Oh, shit.
Feedback appreciated.
Part 8
Author: ubiquirk
Rating: R
Genre: genfic: action-adventure, humor, drama
Word Count: ~14K
Character: Xander
Disclaimer: Not mine; no money.
AN: Set between S3 and S4 of Buffy. Written for
spring_with_xan . Lots of thanks to my lovely beta,
firefly_124 . There’s a Spanish Glossary to have open in another tab for easy reference.
Summary: The road trip that wasn’t. After graduation, Xander only makes it to Oxnard before his car breaks down, and he finds himself washing dishes at The Fabulous Ladies Night Club. Forty miles to get back home might not seem that far, but sometimes, it can take a lot to cross.
Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
7.
Reality returns via pain, the burn of cheekbone, the ache of awkwardly placed limbs.
Xander fights down a whimper, tries to keep breathing even. Cracking one eye open, he can’t see Kit, but Jorge hangs before him, stripped to his underwear, head slumped, arms slack in the chains. The shape farther to the left is … Martin? The body’s shrunk in on itself, reminding Xander of withered apples, so the face looks strange - Martin as the old man he’ll never grow to be.
A bit of movement in his peripheral vision makes him jerk a little, no matter how much he’d schooled himself not to. But instead of Kit, it’s one of Jorge’s feet twitching.
He’s alive! … Or he’s undead. Damn, I wish I hadn’t thought that.
“I know you’re awake. Little heart goes pitter-pat, pitter-pat.” Her voice comes closer. “Wasn’t this place just made for fear? It reeks of it!”
Moving to prop himself up, he grunts when his left elbow touches the concrete, fire shooting up his arm. It’s out of whack but not broken, and everything else seems to be okay - hurting, already beat up, but okay. Once sitting, Xander runs a quick hand over his right pocket. The chopsticks feel like they’re still whole, the fact of bamboo’s amazing strength finally manifesting for him.
The curtain had hidden a wall containing racks of gear that look way more serious than any of the S&M stuff he and Jesse had giggled over in a catalog they’d found in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven. There are the requisite whips, of course, but what really draws his attention are the knives - big ones, little ones, lots of ones - and things with spikes and something that looks like a bear trap. A water drain sits in the floor next to each of the three sets of shackles, and a hose hangs from a tap on the far wall. This isn’t kinky fun! It’s … it’s … The sour burn of vomit coats the back of his throat. And God, I wish I couldn’t imagine why anyone would need to hose the area down easily.
“Do you like it? The man who was here before that new lady was a naughty, naughty boy, playing nasty little games with his girls - his toys.” She walks along the wall, dragging one hand across it until she grabs one of the empty shackles to shake it, discordant clangs echoing in the damp space. “He did do all of the decorating for me though. Very thoughtful. Perhaps I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly.”
“You killed him.”
“Oh, yes! He was the first one after Mummy made me. He was …” Her hand rises to grasp at something in front of her, hovering in the empty air for a few seconds before falling back to her side.
“Oh, God. You were one of the ones locked up down here, weren’t you? One of his ‘toys.’”
Kit whirls on him, laughing. “One of his toys? Oh, no. You have it all wrong.” She straightens, walking over to pick up one of the manacles attached to the bed before sitting. “I was the toy … his favorite.”
Xander’s too stunned to speak. The chains on the wall, the chains on the bed, the whips and knives and things the curtain had hidden.
“His favorite. He took me with him when he traveled. Showed me off to all his big contacts. Bragged about what I could take - what he could do to me.” She rattles the chain. “Then he’d prove it to them.”
“Prove?”
Suddenly she drops the shackle and in a blur is squatting by him before the clang of metal hitting the floor has finished ringing. “What part of show is it you didn’t understand?”
He stares at her lips, almost able to meet her eyes now - she’s still beautiful, but it’s only beauty instead of an overwhelming conviction that she’s perfect. So she can turn the mind whammy on and off? Cool! Oh, wait - not cool. Mind whammy bad. Bad, bad, bad.
“Kit -”
“Do you like my name? My mummy named me when she made me. Said …” Kit laughs, something brittle and sharp breaking in the sound. “Said that I should be named Kitten since I’d lived for years by my pussy.”
Oh, God. Somebody poured crazy milk on her crazy flakes this morning. And made her eat it at the crazy table. Maybe with a crazy spoon. And okay, someone stop me before I extend that metaphor anymore.
“I met my mummy in LA.” A dreamy expression crosses her face, eyes unfocusing, and she stands, walking back over to the bed. “He’d set up his biggest show there. I was the main act. Then Mummy rescued me, said I’d be no one else’s pain-dolly but hers.” Kit picks up a chain, petting its links. “But after a few months, Mummy left, and he was gone, so …”
“So you came back here.”
She spins to face him, eyes shining, hands clapping in glee. “Yes! And by the time I came back, there were so many pretty, pretty toys for me to choose from.” She walks over to Martin, picking up and dropping one of his chains so it clanks against the concrete. “So easy to get, toys. I smile, and they think of only one thing. But even when I try to pick carefully, the toys don’t last very long.”
Her kick at Jorge makes him groan a little, and Xander still doesn’t see any forehead bumpies, so he thinks his friend might be alive alive.
“So, toy, dance for me.”
“No.”
“Do you want more money?” A harsh laugh, something dark echoing in it that has nothing to do with humor. And she’s on him again, one hand picking him up by his throat. “What will you do for money? That’s what he asked me, when he … when he …” Her face crumples, then grows fierce as she tosses him back to hit the wall beside Jorge. “Dance!”
Gasping for air, Xander can only cough, and she stomps to the bed, back to him, shoulders raised high in tension.
A warm touch on the back of his hand, and he glances over to see Jorge looking at him out of one slitted eye. Jorge gives him a small nod, and Xander grins quickly before reaching into his pocket to palm one of the chopsticks, pushing its length up the inside of his shirt sleeve against his inner forearm.
She turns, eyes blazing. “Don’t make me make you.”
And she’s beautiful and perfect, and why wouldn’t he want to do anything and everything she wants?
Xander half stands to go to her, to be for her, his arms reaching -
The force snaps off, sending his head reeling - literally. It hits the wall with a thunk as he falls back against the hard surface.
Keeping his eyes closed, he shakes his head. Damn, I’m not going to be able to do anything if she turns on the mind mojo. Okay, nothing but die locked in chains, that is. He sneaks a quick glance at Jorge. And even if all the cool kids are doing it, this is one bridge I don’t want to jump off of.
“Okay.” He raises his left hand and pats the air with little placating movements. “Okay, I’ll dance. Just give me a minute.”
Seemingly satisfied, Kit sits on the bed, smiling beatifically and humming to herself. It sounds like “Hot Stuff.”
Jorge’s voice so faint, Xander leans over, pretending to have trouble standing. “The bruja, she is …”
“Loco?” His quietest whisper. “Yeah, and also a vampire.” Then he sees the bite marks on the insides of Jorge’s thighs. “But then, you probably knew that.”
Straightening the rest of the way, he feels pain shoot across his lower back. Not so much with the pretending after all. And is that supposed to be some kind of cosmic justice? ‘Cause it’s not like I’m the one who chains people up here.
Kit begins humming louder, and Xander starts dancing, linking the moves Doris showed him almost randomly, trying to get the kinks worked out of abused muscles before he has to abuse them again.
Just when he lifts his arms and begins to swivel his hips to the chorus, Kit stands. “You’re not doing it right.”
“Huh?”
“You’re not doing it right! Do it like you do it upstairs!”
He raises his hands to the top button on his shirt, and she sits, humming again and smiling, eyes flashing as she watches.
Oh, God. I’ve got to work fast enough that she won’t see the chopstick.
Thus begins the tease to end all teases. Every button takes forever to undo, every pause in between comprised of excessive ass shaking and enough twirls to make him a little dizzy. And all the time, he inches his way closer to her.
Once the shirt hangs open, he slides it slowly off his shoulders, turning to look back at her coyly while his hips swivel and snap.
Her humming grows louder.
He shakes the chopstick down into his hand, shrugs the shirt back up to free his arms, and kicks into a spin, using his momentum to carry him around and forward and into her.
The chopstick strikes her chest, hits the resistance of bone, and splinters to the side.
When he looks at Kit’s face, her smile seems the most lethally beautiful thing he’s ever seen, lips pulled widely back from gleaming white teeth. Then she changes form, forehead ridged, eyes uncannily yellow, canines lengthened, and it becomes simply lethal.
Oh, shit.
Feedback appreciated.
Part 8