Repentance And Regret “You fucking idiot” Brad looked at Todd MORD with complete neutrality. Neither offended, disappointed or ashamed, as anyone else might when being balled out in front of co workers. “I’ve told you before about your heavy handed tactics, now you’ve got the feds sniffing round the club like pigs snuffling for truffles. I totally agree the bloke needed turfing out Brad, but stripping him naked and jogging him on with two fist shaped welts on his kidneys isn’t exactly low key is it?” Brad grinned with a sadistic satisfaction. “And wipe that fucking grin off your face before I wipe it off with my left foot. In fact get out of my sight you moron” Brad walked out of the office still smiling. As he walked down the dimly lit corridor his nostrils flared with the familiar scent of cheap perfume and baby oil. The black paint flaking from the walls was grating on his neurotic nature more and more with every pass. He entered the girls changing room through the cheap plywood door that was now hanging off its hinges, with a big hole in the top half. He laughed out loud as he recalled how he had put the man’s head through it with ease, whilst the dancing girls looked on with pleasure. Dallas had called him, the guy was drunk, had found his way backstage, and was systematically trying to grope and dry hump some of the girls who were changing between routines. He walked in to find Lexi backed in to a corner, dressed in just a pink fleuro g-rope, tits out with ‘the jock’ trying his damndest to latch on to one nipple like a starved newborn, whilst Lexi rained down rabbit punches on his back. The Jock was so drunk he didn’t even feel them. Brad let fly with a hard as hell punch to Jock’s kidney area and he went down like a sack of shit, crying like the baby he was so apt to mimic. Not surprising when you knew Brad was an ex bare knuckle fighter with hands like chiselled granite. “You fuck...!” The Jock managed to spit, as Brad lifted him by his hair. He was wearing the usual university Jock weekend attire, chinos, a UCLA sweat top tight enough to show off the athletic physique, and gym class plimsoll looking trainers. Brad detested those fucking things. “Don’t swear in front of the ladies” Brad said calmly as he rocketed another kidney punch in to the Jock’s back. This time there was only a yelp as he fought the urge to pass out from the excruciating pain now reverberating up his rib cage. Brad dragged him unceremoniously down the corridor by the seat of his pants and opened the fire exit door by ramming his head in to the release bar. Jock fell to the floor outside and savoured the coolness of the wet ground on his back as it soothed the searing heat in his kidneys. Brad methodically removed all Jock’s clothes and put them into the dumpster, making a point of tugging on his cock, whilst childishly singing ‘pencil dick’ to him like a playground bully. Brad stood still over the Jock as he pondered when the wet weather would end. It had rained continually for the past 11 days and nights and Brad was getting very bored of being indoors all the time. A groan made Brad look back at the jock. He was curled up in the foetal position. “Enjoy the rest of your evening” Brad said as he went back inside gently closing the door behind him. Brad was brought back to the present by a big wet kiss planted on his right cheek. It was Lexi. “Thank you for saving me, again brad, at this rate I’m going to have to think of a way to repay all your heroics?” she teased as she reached out and goosed him. He didn’t flinch, he just smiled, she knew full well that he batted for the other team, and she’d still made it clear on numerous occasions that he only had to say the word and she would unleash a ‘fuck frenzy’ on him as she had put it, that would turn him back in to a ‘raging hetro’. As she walked out towards the stage she shook her ass at him as she winked over her shoulder. The outfit was now a diamante thong and 6 inch heels to match, that meant it was the group Copacabana number, indicating the time was around 1 o’clock in the morning. He usually finished at 2am anyways, so wasn’t too bothered about being sent home early. Nobody else spoke to Brad as he walked out to the car park. Not the staff or tge cops. He got into his metallic blue Camero i-rok and started the engine. The windshield wiper squeaked on the 2nd pass across the window. It’s stopped raining Brad thought as he absent-mindedly rubbed the knuckles on his right hand, just in time to go out and play tomorrow. He smiled to himself and gunned the i-rok out of the car park towards the freeway, a trail of exhaust smoke chasing the tail lights as the rear end squatted with the acceleration.
