Chapter One

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Music is My Muse Series: Book Two

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   Gage peered through the tangle of wires and boxes from above, watching as the red and purple spotlights moved across the half naked bodies writhing and grinding in the otherwise dim light on the cheap black linoleum floor.

   Dancing, he harrumphed, one side of his mouth lifting up humorlessly. Just a scrap of fabric was keeping most of them from fucking right there. He had to correct himself mentally, that wasn’t fabric. That was plastic, leather at best. All of it held together with industrial sized zippers or metal hoops and chains, the same sort that pieced the skin of the bodies below.

   Though he appreciated their enthusiasm for the pain that came with the puncturing of skin, along with the endless hours spent beneath the fine point of a needle to imbed that ink under their skin, he couldn’t actually see the appeal. Why bother marring your body in such a permanent way when the body itself was so temporary? It wasn’t like those embellishments would carry over to the afterlife.

   He would know.

   Pity though that the club’s security, hiding in plain view amongst the crowd, knew what was doing and did well to keep the bump and grind routine from turning into full out penetration.  Just such an action would make his boss very happy. Public sex acts, voyeurism. God in all His righteous indignation may have turned a blind eye to certain acts of debauchery in this modern age, but these were not monogamous- if not committed- relationships He made that acceptation for. These were mortals with so little ethics that they would take another in full view of others, uncaring what eyes- or hands even- would join in the fun. No, He wouldn’t take them into His kingdom.

   Just like the pathetic man currently whimpering from his perch about ten feet behind where Gage stood. When his life was over, it was over. No bright lights and pearly gates for him like he had been taught to believe.

   His like were common. A petty thug, all words no actions, lots of smaller sins on their souls that would guarantee them a trip “downstairs”. Disposable mortals really unless they had information to barter. And though this one did have the information Gage needed, there was nothing he was willing to give the man in return, not even his life.

   He just didn’t know that yet.

   “Point him out,” Gage’s rough voice rumbled from him, his low tone making it to the man’s ears despite the heavy thrumming of music.

   It was a blend of trance and house music that was to be expected of a night club of this caliber, just as much as the X and meth that was being passed around to no concern of those same security guards. Of course not, because the same person cutting their paychecks was cutting the drugs as well.

   One would think with the amount of money the owner was making off his tax free endeavors he could afford something other than the drums of black paint used to decorate the place. But no, everything was black. From the bar tops and stools tucked neatly into the alcove beneath the raised VIP section, to the vinyl booths and laminate tables in front of them lining the wall opposite. Anything that could have been met with human hands was thick with years of layers, the cinderblock walls, the hand rails, the metal pipes acting as the divider between dance floor and lounge area.

   The steel rafters Gage and his…companion were perched upon…

   Even the majority of the lights were “black” lights, lending an eerie purple glow to the corners that were otherwise untouched from the rotating spotlights. Highlighting the acts, both legal and not, with an alien quality in the most secluded of areas.

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