‘Ninety-eight percent, Mr. Blake.’I climb woozily to my feet, blinking away a river of blood from a cut above my eye.“Got ya now, fucker,” the...shadow croons, leveling a futuristic shotgun at me.‘100%, Mr. Blake.’Luminescent muzzle fire billows out in a scattered blue dance of distorting, sulfuric flame a mere flaccid penis length from my already too fucking scarred face and its once roguishly good looks. I reel futilely back in slow motion as I feel the nauseatingly familiar tug on my. Dance with me before you go.” “I can’t.” His grin grew wider. “Yes you can.” And he pulled her onto the dance floor. She was shocked by his smooth forcefulness, and a little turned on. He pulled her body close to his. He was right, her body fit perfectly into his. His hips were swaying to the music and she was a little stiff. It had been so long since she had danced with anyone. He leaned close to her ear, so close his lips brushed her skin and it sent chills down her spine. He whispered. More

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