Biting the Bride by Clare Willis Read Free Book Online

eye, advertising a club called Emerald City. He eyed the mammoth doorman and the line of slender young boys and girls in skimpy clothing waiting to have their IDs checked. He wouldn’t fit in at all, he surmised, which would make it all the more interesting. He strode swiftly up the street, bypassed the queue and went directly to the doorman. A few of the more adventurous boys grumbled, but when he turned around every eye was downcast.
    “Sorry, we’re full right now,” the doorman said. “You’ll have to wait until somebody comes out.”
    Richard pinned the man with his gaze and watched his fleshy face grow slack.
    “You would like to invite me to go in right away. ”
    “Please go in right away.” The doorman swept the curtain aside for Richard to step in. He removed his gloves and checked his coat in the cloakroom before proceeding into the dark cavern. The humans, with their inferior eyesight, couldn’t tell that the Emerald Club was a stark concrete warehouse, the walls punctuated with velvet curtains that covered more concrete. A very good sound system circulated music like air throughout the room. Richard paused to locate an advantageous spot to watch the goings-on. He spied a lone stool on the short side of the L of the bar where he could put his chair to the wall. Unfortunately a college fraternity type was sitting on Richard’s stool, with two friends standing nearby, all drinking bottles of beer. Richard slipped unobtrusively behind them, and then waited for a moment, all of his attention focused on the seated gentleman. In a few seconds the man turned to his friends.
    “Dudes, check out the honeys on the dance floor. Three of them, and they’re dancing with each other. Let’s go check it out.”
    The bigger one, as he lovingly nuzzled his beer, said, “Aw, man, I bet they’re dykes.”
    The first man, now standing, answered, “No way, they’re too hot to be dykes. Let’s go before someone else bogarts them.”
    They all drained their beers and headed for the dance floor. Richard commandeered the now vacant stool. The bartender came over immediately, leaning close so that he could hear the order.
    “Would you kindly pour me a Stoli martini with two olives?”
    The bartender deftly mixed the drink, spinning the bottle once for effect, then slid the glass over. Richard nodded politely, positioned the glass squarely on its napkin and looked around. The smells were overwhelming. He had never been in a place where people bathed so much as in modern America, but still they exuded a million strong aromas. Especially in clubs like this, which were full of the desperate smell of the chase. Cigarette smoke, sweat, deodorant, hot breath, perfume, greasy hair, cologne, intestinal gasses, blood. A room like this reminded him of Bangkok, where he had spent time both in the 1860s and 1970s. In Bangkok people lived on the streets in the humid atmosphere, cooking, bathing, defecating, praying. The only smells from Bangkok that were missing in this nightclub were dried fish and incense.
    He had to concentrate to separate one odor from another in this overheated human soup, but soon he was able to zero in on what he was looking for. Over in the corner near the dance floor, but not on it, were two single women. Both were in their late twenties or early thirties, a bit too old for the Emerald Club. He could tell everything about them from their expressions and their posture. They stood facing out but shoulder to shoulder, indicating that they were available but protecting each other, egging each other on. The one on the right came here a lot. She was looking for the elusive Mr. Right in all the wrong places. Richard honed in on the one on the left, the reticent one, the one who didn’t believe in second chances. Her girlfriend had put her up to this, lent her a sexy red dress, encouraged her to apply extra makeup and put up her hair. He could tell she wasn’t comfortable with herself this way. She looked awkward