With no thought for, or show of embarrassment about her naked state, Christie led me out of the room and down another side corridor on the second floor of the club. We stopped at a door marked 'PRIVATE' and listened after she had knocked a few times. With no answer or noise from within she first checked behind, then turned and quickly opened the door, pulling me in after her.

Wallpapered from ceiling to floor in faux leopard skin print, the boss' office, I presumed, certainly oozed a certain je ne sais... crap. A huge mahogany desk dominated the room surrounded by a bank of flickering monitors, each showing a different camera view of the rooms above and the club below. Quickly turning on a small desk side lamp....

***No...there's no response to the light....pupils are fixed***

...Christie began to scan each screen to see if she could spot the murdering bastard, and I found myself looking around the rest of the room wondering what sort of a sick freak her boss really was. Many framed pictures of the sleazy overweight dirt bag with his arms clasped around past and present dancers covered the walls of the office - each portraying the same leering grin on his face and an equal look of discomfort displayed by the lucky girl being groped. A space age tanning bed took up most of the left hand side of the room, and, as I returned to Christie's side, gingerly stepping over a wastebasket filled to the rim with soiled hankies, I caught sight of a table in another corner of the room groaning under the weight of a multitude of sex toys and jumbo bottles of lubricant. Joining my 'private dancer' in her search on the myriad of monitors, I was presented with a voyeurs delight.

One showed a young latino girl burrowing her head in the crotch of a well known judge, replete in gown and wig, as three men looked on and silently cheered. Another showed the corner of the club with the cage where a fight of sorts had broken out between the now-crying construction worker and one of his Mistresses - Jesus... she could teach Harrison Ford a thing or to about wielding a whip! Wincing, I turned my attention to the screen displaying the main stage and saw that the Madonna fan appeared to be having real problems removing her cucumber. The three triplets I had run into downstairs had all joined her on stage creating a moving sea of naked flesh, clenched teeth, bouncing breasts and flailing legs in a vain attempt to free the vegetable from the poor girl's fundament. My head snapped to the last screen on the left as Christie let out a sharp moan and shakily pointed at the lone figure I had earlier encountered sitting at the same table almost hidden in the shadows.

My stomach crawled as I realised that he was looking directly at the camera. Believing that there was no way that he could know that he was being watched, my blood froze as he tilted his head slightly to the side, squinted his eyes, then appeared to mouth out the words,

'No...fucking...way...you....insolent... Pup.'

With a final snarl at the camera, revealing a row of frankly perfectly formed choppers, he reached down to retrieve his bag from under the table then made a move to leave. Shaken into action, I made a bolt for the door but skidded to a halt and turned when I heard Christie shout, 'Be careful'. She stood there naked and quivering, her beautiful face a mask of concern.  As her perfect breasts jutted towards me, her rock hard nipples a pair of wondrous exclamation marks, I walked back towards her. Taking Christie in my arms, after first delicately cupping one of those glorious boobs in my right hand, I passionately kissed her full on the lips. Thanking her for her help, I winked, (Yes...winked)  then ran for the door once again. Hurtling down the corridor then, taking the stairs two at a time, I saw the bastard leave the club through the emergency exit. Barging my way through the throng I reached into the cage, retrieving a black ass paddle as I passed, then burst through the door into the alleyway..

***Debs...I think you'd better call this one***

I remembered struggling to look up and down the alleyway as the rain incessantly pounded. Seeing nothing but an overflowing trashcan and several discarded condoms as they raced by my now rain-sodden shoes on their way to a sewer grating, I cursed in frustration then reached into my coat pocket for my mobile. I rang Big Jeff but there was no answer. Leaving a quick message about what had happened and telling him the address of the hotel and room number I hung up then started to walk to the end of the alley. Too late, I heard the slam of the club door closing, the splish-splash of rapid footsteps behind me, then let out a gargled scream as a sliver of cold steel effortlessly passed into, then roughly scored upwards, at the small of my back. My whole body seemed to shudder and, just before blacking out, I sensed a steel-like grip on my shoulder, felt the tiny sharp pressure of a needle puncturing my neck just behind the left ear, and heard a voice hoarsely whisper,

'Don't worry my boy...the pain will soon be gone...trust me...I am a doctor after all'.

After having passed out for only a few minutes I hazily came to feeling a far away tugging, pulling, wrenching sensation coming from my chest. I opened my eyes to see a stark white hand cradling a glistening lump of pulsating flesh. Feeling completely numb all over, recognition washed over me as the bastard's craggy face loomed in close to mine. He looked me straight in the eyes, his tongue slowly snaked out and ran up then down the length of my stolen heart. With a trail of blood running down his chin, Valentine grinned wide and squeezed, saying,

'Not long now dear boy...such a shame it had to end this way...you had such...potential' 

And that was the last I saw of him.

And here I am now...whats left of me.

As I lie in this alley with two sad looking EMTs looking down on me I feel the last breath leave my body I feel a distant longing for the soft touch of that beautiful dancer in the club, I feel a cold tremor of remembrance pass through me at the memory of my heart's last beat before my eyes, I hope that Jeff gets my message and takes more care than I did...and..,and  .  ..

***Time of death...three a.m..you can stop the siren now John...it's over***  ..