A man stood in the dark corner of the club and stared almost imperceptibly at someone. He held a glass of vodka with wine in his left hand which was hardly drunk. The hand shook quite obviously and the vodka mix struggled not to spill. In fact, in vodka speak, the molecules were yelling for the man to keep steady. The man, of course failed to hear them. What he heard clearly however, was a petite female’s voice, asking her dance partner to ‘rock her harder’.
Now, he shouldn’t have, because the din and the heat exuded by the bumping and grinding mass of bodies gyrating maniacally, blocked all coherent sound; and the petite beauty was quite far away from him- seven couples away- but he swore he did. And as his right hand which had formed a fist eons ago, flexed involuntarily, he experienced a spasm that whipped his inner phallus man cruelly.
The vodka spilled, mixing with the shards of glass of its former container and the tall bartender who had been watching the man raised his eyes ever so slightly. He watched the man walk carefully and deliberately towards someone.
Sighing at the mess the broken glass had caused, and repeating the action with a flourish when he realized the mess would be blood if some drunken shoeless fella happened in it, the barman made a necessary call and buzzed a cleaner. He kept the man within view.
Three more strides. The man fumed. Three more strides and I’ll get my hands around her whorish neck. He paused and frantically searched himself for a weapon in case he was attacked. Not an easy feat considering that he was in the midst of so many body parts. No weapon. He thought with an involuntary shudder. By the time he reached the petite woman he had been watching, her eyes were closed, lips parted in pseudo pleasure. Her partner didn’t have his eyes closed however. They were slants that looked glazed as he stayed by her backside and guided her butt towards his member, making sure they collided violently with every dance move.
The man paused in sheer disgust at the scene before him, his chest heaving in murderous rage. He wondered whether to tackle the woman’s partner, with a blow to the jaw- letting the woman stagger suddenly when she felt her partner’s hands disappear from their position on her hips- or to drag the woman by her hair and strangle-kill her right then. The former seemed wiser and more in tune with earlier plans.
He raised his left hand and it was grabbed from behind, making him lose his balance and topple in a pathetic heap backwards. While he tried to understand what was happening, the woman and her partner reluctantly paused their sensual oblivion to investigate the cause of the ruckus.
“Peti!” The woman exclaimed, when she caught a glimpse of the hardened face from the heap of old clothes that was just standing up.
“You know him?” Her partner asked, a little worried. All the neighboring dancers had also had a mini break, fanning themselves or just moving slowly to the song; and they looked at her mouth in anticipation. You know him? Their eyes echoed.
The man had gotten to his feet and he took a look at the dramatic scene in front of him. He turned to examine and gauge his assailant’s strength. The man bit his tongue when he realized the other had to be a cross between The Incredible hulk and Batman. He was dressed in black too, as though he wanted to perpetuate the notion. Fucking Batman.
“What, what are you doing here?” The woman gasped, stretching her hands towards him instinctively in fear that he was hurt. Her partner shook his head impatiently. “Who the hell is he?” He asked, a little forcefully this time.
“He’s my son” The woman announced, bathing the man in shame and he looked at her abruptly, a new kind of pain in his eyes.
The neigbors got a little bored at the proclaimation. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the break in their fun, they figured. A jealous lover or husband would have been though and they slowly resumed dancing while the company of three – the man, the petite woman and her partner – tried to solve their crisis above the tempo which seemed to have gone up. Incredible hulk stood just behind them, casting a new shadow with his build.
“You can’t keep being a fool. Mother. We are worried about you at home and this is where you are? Here? In the arms of someone you can birth?”
Now, the woman’s partner did not particularly think that the latter part of this statement was true but he was becoming disturbed. If the son continued, he wouldn’t be able to carry out his graphic plans for a sexual conquest with the willing woman beside him.
“You will stop talking to your mother like that, young man.” The petite woman said half heartedly. She was already exhausted and time was short.
“Indeed, you will” Her partner joined, staring at his opponent and feeling for some reason that he stood no chance against such evident malice.
The man glared at him for two seconds, in the same time, wincing at the overbearing urge to smash his fist against the other’s jaw.
At the exit, which was opposite the bar, two young men slipped out. One after another. No one paid them any attention.
“We’re leaving” The man named Peti said finally, grabbing the woman’s arm roughly and shoving her ahead of him. Hulk watched calmly after establishing that the woman wanted to go. Something in her steps told him so.
The woman’s partner looked after the two but didn’t go after them until he could no longer see their backs. He began to frown in disappointment when a being adorned in scanty red looked up at him behind fake lashes.
“Dance?” She purred.
He shrugged and took her hand.
Outside, four people met behind a truck. Peti, the woman and the two men that had slipped out.
“How many wallets?” The woman asked, anxiously too.
“Fifteen. He got eight and I got seven” One of the two other men replied.
Peti was sullen and because they all knew it, they kept quiet for a while.
The woman’s voice was calm “I know you hate what I do, Peti. But, there is no other way. Really.” She loved Peti and it was important to her that he wasn’t angry. And he always was.
“There has to be some better way” He muttered finally, signalling that they should leave. They turned and began to walk on cue.
He still regretted that his fight had been interrupted. Apart from creating a bigger diversion which generally meant more loot, he would have been more than satisfied to pull out that man’s eyes. And every man who disrespected his mother. And her too for letting them disrespect her.
Today he was unlucky and he knew it.
Blood will accompany the next raid. He promised.
The woman did not hear his thoughts but she was thinking the same thing.
Blood will accompany the next raid.