Their visit to the Cock and Ball had yielded very little in the way helping them track down a certain 18th Century English dragoon running amok in 21st Century Manhattan, but it had provided some very sweat producing, if humorous moments that he would never forget. It had all started the moment they walked in the door only to be scrutinized in detail by every single eye in the room.
It was true they made a handsome pair, the Highlander with the instant scowl on his face the moment he realized that they were going to be a very popular attraction this evening, and he, himself, enjoying the excitement of the challenge and the constant mirth that ran like a little electrical current through him, making him want to laugh out loud. Pulling himself together, he put his best poker face on and approached the bartender, a short, balding man wearing leather chaps with built in leather athletic supporter, a short leather vest and little else.
Being careful not to look at Jamie when the man momentarily turned his back on them to grab a bottle and in the process displayed a very white, bare ass with the words "bite" and "me" one tattooed on each cheek, he spoke up.
GMcB: Hey mate. How ye doin' this evening? Any excitement going on around here tonight?
Bartender: (looking them both over) Depends on what kind of excitement you're looking for.
GMcB: Well I suppose ye can start by gettin' my friend here a drink. Whiskey?
Pointing to a whole section of Scotches, the bartender eyes Jamie.
Bartender: What's your pleasure, big fella? A single malt?
JMcF: (eying the selection, he names the first one his eyes focus on) The Lagavoolin will do.
Bartender: Lagavulin? 10 or 16?
GMcB: Give him the 16!
The bartender pulls out a glass and pours the amber liquid out in front of Jamie then turns to Gerremy.
Bartender: How about you, green eyes?
GMcB: Coke?
The bartender gives him a sly look.
Bartender: Now sonny, you know I can't sell you that stuff here. You'll have to find your own source.
GMcB: (grinning) No, I mean a real coke. With ice please.
Looking at him to make sure he's serious.
Bartender: You don't look to me like a teetotaler, but a Coke it is.
Pouring out the coke for Gerremy, he turns to Jamie, who had already put away the first glass.
Bartender: Man, that's a record for a 16. Another one, Red?
Jamie puts out his glass.
JMcF: (nodding silently) Fill it up this time, if ye don't mind.
Bartender: (pouring out a healthy dose) A double for the big man with the big thirst.
He turns back to Gerremy.
Bartender: What other thirsts are you two looking to quench tonight? You new in town?
GMcB: That depends on what you got to offer. Mind if we look around?
Bartender: Help yourself. There's something for everybody at the Cock and Ball. You two a couple or you looking to hook up?
GMcB: Depends on the scenery.
To Jamie's amazement, Gerremy lays down two crisp $100 bills.
GMcB: Keep the change. We'll look around.
Bartender: The more serious stuff is downstairs. We also have a special room for certain appetites upstairs. If you want to venture that far out, knock twice and tell em Howie said you're okay?
GMcB: (winking) Gotcha!
Jamie, having downed the full glass, leans over and whispers to McButler.
JMcF: What the devil did he mean by "that far out?"
GMcB: (shrugging) I've got no fucking idea, highlander...but I suppose we'll find out soon enough.
Hearing the tinkling of a piano playing some serious music, curiosity draws them in that direction. With a stupefied look on his face at seeing the serious, well dressed piano player, Gerremy blurts out....
GMcB: Dr. Avatar? What are you doing in a place like this?
With a look of equal surprise on his face, the good doctor replies.
Dr. Avatar: Gerremy? I seem to be running into you a lot lately. (lowering his voice) The owner of this place is a neighbor and he lets me play here some nights after work. I like to play for pleasure, but it's nice having an audience once in a while, such as it is.
Dr. Avatar looks them both up and down.
Dr. Avatar: I might ask you the same, especially in that silly get up?
Thinking furiously, Gerremy grins at the doctor.
GMcB: (weakly) Some research for a movie role?
Dr. Avatar: (smiling) Oh. Well if you don't tell anyone you saw me here, I won't tell anyone I saw you. (holding out his hand for a handshake) Deal?
Gerremy takes it.
GMcB: Deal. By the way, you haven't seen a slim English guy about your height, with thick, dark hair and eyes and long lashes around here, have you?
Shaking his head, the pleasant looking doctor, with his own thick lashes, discretely studies Jamie McFraser's face, before his gaze flickers back to Gerremy.
Dr. Avatar: No, I haven't... (lowering his voice) But you should book an appointment to see about those crow's feet. You need of a refresher.
GMcB: (hastily looking at Jamie) Sure, but let's keep that stuff between you and me, aye?
Dr. Avatar: (resumes playing) Got it. Good luck with your research.
GMcB: Thanks. You sound great, by the way.
The doctor smiles at Gerremy as he walks away...then his gaze shifts benevolently to the tall redhead's muscular back.
Dr. Avatar: (wistfully sings) Dream...when you're feeling blue....
After checking out the room and keeping an eye out for any signs of the crazy English captain, Gerremy and Jamie took the flight of stairs down...all the time very aware of the lusting eyes and even several wolf whistles aimed at them.
The rooms downstairs were mostly full of antique looking racks with leather straps and whips, several of which were in use by would be sado-masochists who looked like they were trying out new playground equipment.
There was a wall filled with all kinds of vises and archaic looking torture instruments of different sizes.
There were several private rooms and Gerremy quietly opened one of them to peek in to find a very large, muscled fellow strapped onto a table with a short, skinny bald man standing on a stool over him and carefully tightening several of these vises to the more delicate parts of the big guy's anatomy.
Gerremy shuddered and quickly closed the door and nodded to Jamie to indicate no sign of McRandall.
After peeking in several doors with varying themes behind them and managing to remain unobserved by the busy occupants, a stoic looking Jamie lead the way to check out the "far out" room at the top of the stairs.
Trying the door, they found that unlike the others, it was locked. They could hear some moaning and sounds of laughter coming from the room. Deciding they had to take a look to make sure McRandall was not here, Gerremy knocked softly on the door. A moment later he could hear a bolt being pulled back and the door opened a crack. A tall, thin, angular man with a goatee stuck his head out.
He looked them both up and down and a gleeful smile spread over his features.
Man: Oh, you bet. We could use some new blood.
Frowning, Gerremy looked back at McFraser, who was peeking into the room over his shoulder.
The door swung open to reveal about 6 or 7 men, crowded around a table, where a naked man with a very red back and buttocks and a gag over his mouth was being prodded with several extremely large instruments.
As they stood there, speechless, a very mean looking white supremacist type comes up to them.
Man: These guys said Howie sent em up, Joe.
Joe: Why not? The more the merrier. (pointing to Jamie) You wannna be next?
The look on Jamie's face made Gerremy step into the breach.
GMcB: My friend and I would just like to watch a little, if ye don't mind?
Joe: Hey! Do I know you? You look awfully familiar.
GMcF: (nervous) Me? Don't think so. You don't look familiar at all.
Joe: Suit yourself, but your friend here looks like he could take some pain and then some. Look at those assets!
Squeezing even tighter McFraser brought his other hand up and smashing the man in the face with his big fist, sent him reeling into the group around the table..
JMcF: That enough pain fer ye, ye cretin?
Gerremy let out a loud whoop and clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.
Seconds later, they found themselves being pummeled by several musclebound types, who despite their numbers, were no match for one enraged, hot blooded highlander and a six foot two Scottish actor who, having little choice in the matter and no stranger to brawling, found himself hitting first and asking questions later.
Bruised, battered and their clothing torn, they had barely gotten out of there three steps ahead of the squad car's arrival, and fled on foot. Glancing back over his shoulder, Gerremy had spied Dr. Avatar beating a quick retreat to his car just behind them.
GMcB: (laughing) Did ye see the look on the skinny guy's face when ye picked up his friend and hung him from one of the hooks on the wall? He pissed his pants ye know?
JMcF: (grinning) I didna have the heart to hit him after that, although maybe he woulda liked it, ye think?
GMcB: (laughing) I think the coup de grace was ye goin' over and untying the bloke on the table an' pulling the soup ladle outta his arse before we left.
JMcF: (laughing) The poor bastard missed all the fun and there was no one left standing tae cut him loose.
GMcB: (more serious) Well, no sign of McRandall there, but.... well, if he's somewhere tied down like that wi' a soup ladle up his arse, maybe there is some justice after all?
JMcF: The stripes on my back will tell ye that it's most likely he'll be given' the pain, not takin' it. No. Our dragoon is more likely tae be doin' his mischief in private somewhere and I got a feeling we're going to have to smoke him out, if we're going tae find him.
GMcB: (thoughtfully) Uhm. Thanks highlander. You just gave me an idea. I think I may know just exactly how to go about it!
JMcF: Good! Now I need tae get out o' these britches before before they strangled me tae death...and by the sound o' my wame, I need some food.
GMcB: Come on, lets get outta these rags. I know just the place to grab a bite, kick back and enjoy some different scenery.
JMcF: Who are we kicking now?
GMcB: That's just a figure of speech, my friend. Kick back as in relax... and the scenery, in this case, consists of some pretty, naked ladies!
JMcF: (grinning) Oh....
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate
No comments:
Post a Comment