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The music dominated the room and the air was so thick with cigarette smoke and dry ice that it seemed as though I should be able to see the sound waves of the thumping base spread across the room like ripples on the surface of a pond. My arm still ached a little from carrying my over-heavy carry-on bag across several airports, but I was home now. A home that had changed, certainly, in the decades since I left. This bar and its openly gay clientele attested to that if nothing else. Ever since I had heard that little old Nelson had its own gay nightclub I had wanted to see it, not knowing how soon unhappy circumstances would give me the chance. I scanned the room, feeling a wry smile cross my face. The patrons here leaned towards denim and leather. My linen suit would have been outrageously casual under normal circumstances but well… it was a long time since something as unimportant as wardrobe had bothered me. I raked back my hair so it hung down my back and put on my best boardroom face. The bar was mainly empty, and the dance floor mainly full, as I ordered a glass of the house red. I quickly discarded any though of actually drinking it. The smell was enough to tell me how outrageous the mark-up was on this so-called vintage. I pushed the full glass back at the fishnet-clad bartender. "Make that a vodka, double on the rocks." He baulked a little, sparking my impatience. I had been `money' long enough that I was used to better service than this, and the possibility of a terminal disease had chipped into what was left of my capacity for suffering fools. "I'm not saying I won't pay for it, fer God's sake," I snapped. "Just that I have better sense than to drink it. I'm assuming the vodka's a better bet." The bartender scowled in a way that made an interesting tessellation of this peircings and tattoos, but complied. A young man, running equally to muscle and fat, leaned towards me. "Do a less discerning man a favor?" he said, indicating the brimming glass of wine. He gave me a predatory look as he leaned over to take it, and I refrained from returning it in a way that would have cleared up who was the scariest of the two of us. Ever since the first signs of the fading had set in I had lost all interest in such machismo. I had been the perfect vampire. I had risen through my clan and led it well. I had founded a business empire that would set them up for the foreseeable future and I was owed some time alone. Some time to lead nothing, impress no one and… And what? I wondered. Why, of all places, had I come back here, where it all began. The young man downed his glass in one gulp. The slight sour odor rising from my vodka told me that the bartender had spat in the glass, or at least not washed it very well. I sat that drink aside also. For now most of my Kith-given abilities were still with me, the heightened senses, the intuition that bordered in the magical… but my strength and agility had been gradually waning for some time and soon I would have to make that last irrevocable decision. "I have a place near here." I had almost forgotten my companion. I turned to him. He was thickly built, and tall by any standards. He dressed in flannel and denim and maintained the near-shaved look of a man who wouldn't know what to do with hair if he had it. "Bud," he said extending an ironic hand. I had to assume that was his name, rather than a suggestion. I did one better and bowed in reply. "Sam," I said. "Guess we should see that place then." …Ahh, the intricate courtship of the urban barfly. I had not missed it. Yet, some how tonight I wanted what he wanted. A simple transaction, flesh given and taken. I followed him through a winding alley to hedge-lined lane and a rickety wooden stair. His room was a poorly converted warehouse loft, the sky was apparent between the walls and the corrugated iron roof and dirt clustered in the corners of the concrete walls and metal grate floor, but there were clean sheets on the bed, which counted for more. Bud descended on me like a hungry animal. I could almost imagine him grabbing his hapless `dates' and dragging them up the stairs by the neck, growling like a tiger as it pulled its prey beyond the reach of casual scavengers. Which just goes to show that I spend too much time watching the Discovery channel… Not a man for kissing, apparently, he made short work of removing all the unnecessary clothing, his and mine alike. They landed in a common pile in the cleanest, central, part of the floor. His intention was simple and directly achieved. I found myself pushed back upon the bed with a gesture that would do an Australian tango dancer proud. I watched myself with somewhat bemused remove as I submitted to this treatment. Bud wasted no time on words, his height was rather greater than mine so the old legs-over-the-shoulders position was out, he settled for parting them and pushing them up with his hands so that my thighs rode up along his long, well-padded rib-cage. Satisfied with this he moved his left hand to cover my own and raise them above my head. His cock was hard and large, a palpable presence between us. He seemed angry, though I certainly wasn't giving him any cause. I writhed a little to get my arms into a more comfortable position. He looked down at my pale, naked torso. He dipped down and licked a long, wet line slowly from the middle of my chest, up my neck to a position just under my left ear. It was rather like foreplay with a giant slug, but it was brief at that. He used his right hand to guide himself. His thumb digging in and his thick penis immediately following. I concentrated on letting him in, as my readiness certainly wasn't what was setting the pace here. I felt him push the head of his cock slowly and inexorably through first one, and then the other, tight ring of muscle. He hissed and clenched his hand tightly over mine, sweat already forming between our interlocked fingers. Then as he pushed through, he moaned, a strange, almost anguished sound. He drove himself as deeply into my body as he could go, and then kept pressing. He looked down into my eyes in a way I did not care to meet and a closed my own eyes to block out his smile; not of pleasure but of triumph. He immediately fell into a firm, harsh rhythm. I could fell his balls slapping against me with each thrust. Something about this situation, released me. I felt fully out of control, I gave in the surges of his penetration thrusting in sympathy with his tempo. Steadily, like that interminable dance music, endlessly. We found a kind of equilibrium that stretched over many minutes. He grunted, and began to quicken. I lay still now as his thrusts became frantic, quicker, more shallow, until a final quivering ejaculation. After a few panting minutes he reached out his warm, sweaty palm and pulled my erect cock, perfunctorily, but quite enough to bring my own cum bursting forth. He collapsed forwards onto the bed, but I slipped out of his grip. Weak kneed, I walked back to where my clothes lay, entwined with his. He lay, gasping, on his front, as I dressed. As I pushed my palm against the unlocked door I heard him say. "You're in Jess Street, I saw you getting out of a taxi." "That's right," I replied, without turning as I walked out into the warm stale air of the evening. What would they think of me now? Those people that worked for me at Axon. Those of my clan that obeyed my every word…. Well, that part of my life was over now, anyway, and most of the rest as well. I walked on into the night.
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