Jimmy felt a sense of relief as he walked out into the open. Everything hadn't quite gone as smoothly as he would have liked, but it was done at least. He held his hands up and inspected the scratches on his palms. He'd had worse, so he spat on the minor abrasions and rubbed his hands together. He then looked down at himself, the Wilko shirt he had on had gotten snagged and ripped during the struggle, and there was also some dirt stains on the black jeans he now wore. The hi-top sneakers on his feet were also scuffed, but he couldn't care less.
Pushing his shoulder-length black hair behind his ears, Jimmy quickly made his way across the street, around the corner and up Bridgegate, towards The Angel, a pub he frequented often. Walking through the doors, he glanced around at the gathering of people, most of them aged in their twenties or thirties, chatting, having a drink and passing the time.
Jimmy chewed on his bottom lip, then made his way through the pub patrons, heading straight for a doorway at the back that had an 'Employees Only' sign on it. Jimmy gave two swift knocks on the door, then paused, before banging three more times.more slowly.
The chain that secured the door on the other side slid off, and the door creaked open. "Yeah?" A muscular-looking guy with a shaved head and goatee spoke up.
"Patroclus" Jimmy said, giving the secret codeword.
The bald man stepped aside and let Jimmy in, being sure to lock the door again behind him. Jimmy then made his way down a flight of stairs, and as he did so, the beat of rave music got louder and louder, until he came to another door. Again, he knocked twice... paused... then knocked three more times. The shutter on the door flew open, and a blonde haired woman, about 27 years old, looked through to check who it was.
"Patroclus." Jimmy again said, eliciting a silent nod from the woman on the other side of the door.
"Welcome to the Den mate." The blonde haired woman suddenly said in a deep, booming voice, before heading off back to her seat, where she was snorting some crack and drinking a beer.
Jimmy then walked through the underground club, looking left... then right. Drugs and booze were everywhere, and in every corner of the club, Jimmy saw naked and semi-naked girls making out or being fucked by well-hung dudes. A devilish grin appeared on Jimmy's face when he noticed that every girl in sight had a man's face plastered on her body. Nearest to him was a college girl, her plaid skirt, knickers and flats discarded and her top pushed up over her jugs, but instead of a girl's face... there was the face of a man in his forties with a scar over his left eye. The girl moaned in a masculine voice as she plunged several of her fingers repeatedly into her own cunt.
Over by the bar stood an array of buxom, scantily dressed women, each with a man's face in place of her own. And knelt on a table giving a dirty dance for a guy with his cock hanging out - was a girl who couldn't have been more than fifteen years old. Her long blonde hair framed the bearded visage of a man in his fifties.
"Now don't I look out of place in these rags?" Jimmy chuckled, as he reached up and felt the perky tits on his chest. He briefly glanced at the name tag on his shirt, 'Mona', before walking over to the bar to order a drink.
"What'll it be kid?" The 40-something barman asked, as he wiped the bar with a rag. Jimmy stared at the cleavage the barman currently sported, then peered down to eye up the rest of the young, female body he possessed, dressed in a low-cut top, short black skirt and high heel sandals.
"Nice tits!" Jimmy complimented the barman.
"Yeah she's lovely," The barman grinned, peering down at his breasts. "She's actually my regular mount. Now, what's your poison?" he asked Jimmy again.
"Vodka and coke." Jimmy muttered, removing the dark denim jacket he was also wearing.
The barman looked over Jimmy, and raised an eyebrow. "She put up a fight?" he asked Jimmy, gesturing to his scratched hands.
"Yeah, bitch was feisty. Caught me by surprise." Jimmy nodded,
"Not been hopping long have you kid?" The barman chuckled, as he put Jimmy's drink on the bar. In the mirror above the bar... Jimmy's thin face could be seen attached to the body of his victim, a 20-year old Iranian-born girl who worked in the Wilko hardware store.
"Just over three months. I'm only 19. But hey, a friend told me about this place." Jimmy said, taking a first sip of his vodka. "Nice to see he wasn't exaggerating." he smirked, looking around again.
"Best place for hoppers for miles kid." The barman said, another swipe of his rag across the bar caused his mount's tits to jiggle. "Come on in the back, got some ointment for those scratches, and er... maybe some more fitting clothes for a cute little mount like that." he winked at Jimmy. "The name's Frank by the way." The barman added, in his strong Manchester accent.
Jimmy downed the rest of his drink, then followed the barman into the back.
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