Chapter 8
Gemma Rox had a little difficulty adapting to a New Orleans way of life when she first came here. Of course she still considers the United Kingdom to be home, especially Cardiff, Wales. Once she got into the swing of the Big Easy lifestyle, however, she was a natural fit. I mean where else would ghouls and goblins congregate upon coming to America? She fits right in.
It is odd trying to explain our relationship. We have gone from trying to literally beat each other to a bloody pulp, to being partners, to being on and off lovers. I know I belittle her and talk about her behind her back, but in a strange way, I really like her. I even think deep down she cares for me too. But on the surface, we hate each other. At least that's the image we want people to see.
When Jenn hired us to do the evil deeds we do so well, she though we would make a terrific team. She was right. We are a great team! When we don't get in our own way...which we sometimes tend to do. Then the finger-pointing starts and we are at each others' throats.
Jenn looks across her desk at me for a long time, a quizzical look on her face. “You got into a fist fight? With your mother?” With a cynical, almost confused, expression in her eyes, “How the hell did that happen?”
I start to say something, but she cuts me off, “No...wait.” Holding up her hand, palm outward, “Stop. I really don't want to know.” I raise my eyebrows but she continues, “I'm sorry I asked. Let's move on.”
I sit back in my chair, but Jenn says under her breath, “Buncha damn rednecks.”
Jenn shakes her head and drops another Alka Seltzer into her water. “Look, I've got some information I want you two to check out.” Gemma and I both look away and focus on anything in the room but Jenn. “It has to do with those bikers and your Batgirl.” Suddenly my attention settles on Jenn with pinpoint accuracy. “There are rumors that Batgirl has been dancing at a club on Airline Highway. Some kind of a redneck looking joint called the 'Dew Drop Inn.' Joni, you should be right at home there.”
“How reliable is your information?” I say with a little more enthusiasm than I intended.
Jenn eyes me for a moment then replies, “Very good. Those bikers have been staking the place out. I think there may be something to it.”
My heart races as this news sinks in. This may be our best lead yet in finding Batgirl, but if the bikers already know about the place, we have to be careful not to arrive too late.
Reaching over to Gemma, I shove her shoulder and say, “Let's go!” with exuberance. She was half-asleep and almost fell out of the chair.” As we head to the door, Jenn calls us back, “Joni, find her and fix this. If you don't, I will.”
The ominous threat rings in my head as we drive out of downtown toward the airport. Airline Highway is like the stretch of road in every American city where pawn shops, car dealers, cheap motels, and the drug-addled lost souls call home. Between each car lot, there are restaurants, service stations, shade tree mechanics, and auto parts stores. There are also numerous bars and clubs that are usually filled with patrons all hours of the day. The Dew Drop Inn was one of the seedier nightspots. Oddly enough, there were only two cars in the parking lot when Gemma and I arrived.
“I don't like this babes.” Gemma says as she gets out of the car. I walk behind her to the front door...I can't help but admire her in her black tee, jeans, and boots. The front door of the club is open and we walk on in. There is no hostess at the greeter's podium, nor are there any bouncers. I ease the vinyl covered door open and peer around the interior. Inside, a short stage covers three walls of the bar. On the stage directly across from where I stand is a brass pole. No one seems to be in the dark room. But our attention is immediately drawn to a large bowl shaped object in the middle of the room. The bowl is covered with a slippery blue liner.
“Looks like oil wrestling tonight,” Gemma says with a giggle. I guess that is an oil wrestling ring. I wouldn't know. I've mud wrestled a few times, but we did that in mud puddles back in the Atchafalya Basin.
We walk into the room and stare into the oil pit with curiosity. I never notice the door behind us open and close until a pistol touches my cheek.
“Don' do nuthin' stupit, you.”
I try really hard not to do anything stupid. A glace at Gemma shows that she isn't wanting to do anything stupid either. Especially considering the sawed-off shotgun pressed into her back.
“What you two bitches want?”
“We...uh...we're...uh....looking for someone,” I manage to stammer.
“My my, looks like you found someone, you did! Turn around.”
I slowly turn around, making sure to keep my hands away from my small purse. The large Cajun behind me yanks my purse away and opens it. “Well, lookie here, boss! Lil' girl is packing a big gun.”
I blush a little as my Baby Glock is pulled from my purse and given to a rather large black man walking up behind the Cajun. Gemma is the roughly frisked and the other Cajun finds her Walther PPK (just like James Fuckin' Bond, I say to myself).
The black man takes that gun too and looks at both of us with curiosity. “Now why would two fine young ladies such as yourselves come to MY club armed with pistols?” The man asks with an accent I can't quite place. New Jersey? New York? Somewhere like that, I think to myself. “Are you cops?”
“Dey ain't got no badges, boss.” The first Cajun says.
The black man hands the pistols to the first Cajun and says, “Thanks boys, I can handle things from here. The Cajun takes the pistols and leaves through what would almost be an invisible door next to one of the stages. His partner is behind him. That must be how they sneaked in behind us, I think to myself.
“Okay, now who are you looking for?”
I take a long look at the man, and I am immediately intimidated by his size. It's not that he's tall, he is just HUGE! He looks like he is carved out of a chunk of granite. It's obvious he is no stranger to a weight room. He is also incredibly handsome. I could imagine him as a body builder on ESPN or as a serial killer holding a bloody knife.
“We are looking for Batgirl,” I reply as Gemma looks at me. For once in here life she is perfectly content to let me lead the conversation.
The black man tilts his head sideways and with a sly glint in his eyes, “She hasn't been here in awhile. I don't know where she is.”
He is lying but if I call him on it he could pinch my head off. But I miss Batgirl. “You're lying. Where is she? Is she in the building?” I turn to walk toward the door the two Cajuns left through, but the muscular man grabs my arm. “You ain't going no where, missy.”
I try to yank away from him, but he grabs on tighter. With one flip of his wrist, he forces me to sit in a ringside chair. “Stay there bitch.” He turns to Gemma and says, “And where you going, Margaret Thatcher?”
Gemma was sneaking toward the main entrance. Most likely she planned to ditch me although she says she was going to call for help. I don't know whether to believe her or not. She is soon sitting in the chair next to me. The black hulk looms over both of us like an ominous bird of prey stalking his victims.
“Who told you Batgirl was at my club?”
I can't tell him how I found out, Jenn would have all of us killed, but I have to think of something fast. “A hooker told me.”
“What hooker?”
“I don't know her name.”
“Bullshit.”
“She's not lying,” Gemma adds.
“What does this hooker look like?”
Images of a million prostitutes race through my mind and I blurt out, “She's a Creole with long hair.”
The huge man cocks his head sideways with a strange expression on his face. I realize I described a hooker he may know. Oh fuck!
“Is that so? Well, Batgirl isn't here. By the way, I know who sent you, and I know why. Your biker friends aren't getting her back. If you fuck with me, I will have all of you chopped into fish chum and tossed into the river.”
The look of sincerity on his face causes me to turn ghostly white.
“We aren't bikers,” I say, “Look at us, do we look like bikers?”
He eyes me from head to toe and finally replies, “You don't, but she does,” he turns his head towards Gemma. I look at her tattoos and I know what he means.
“Look, we really aren't bikers. We want to find Batgirl because she is my friend. Well, maybe more than I friend,” I blush.
Suddenly a light bulb goes off in his brain. “Is your name Joni?”
I don't know whether to lie or tell the truth. We don't carry identification when we are on the job for Jenn. But something in his eyes tells me it might be best to tell the truth. “Yes, my name is Joni.”
“Batgirl said you would come looking for her.”
“Then you know where she is?”
“Yes I do, but she also said not to tell you.”
My heart sinks because I know I will never get it out of him. I look around for an angle to try and use but nothing comes to mind....until I look at the oil pit. “When are you having oil wrestling?”
“Tonight, why?”
“If I can beat your champion will you tell me where Batgirl is?”
“Well, that is an interesting offer.” He says with a mischievous grin, “But Batgirl is our champion.”
I sigh in desperation and slump into the chair. A single tear runs down my cheek.
Suddenly I see a softer side of this hulk emerge. “I tell you what though. One of my girls is in the back. If you and Spuds can beat her, then I will give you a hint where Batgirl is. That's the only offer you will get.”
I immediately nod my agreement.
The man disappears for a few minutes and Gemma and I argue, of course.
“She's your fucking girlfriend!”
“You heard Jenn! We have to find her.”
“Only because of you!”
“Fuck you, Gemma!”
“Oh, I’m going to babes, count on it.”
I start to get up and slap Gemma, but the door opens and the club owner emerges with a rather beautiful blonde wearing a black robe following him. “Ladies…ladies…calm down and meet your opponent. This is Chrissy. Chrissy, meet Joni and…uh, Spuds. You can call her Margaret Thatcher.”
“My name is Gemma, mother fucker.”
“Didn’t I tell you, Chrissy? Plenty of attitude from these two. Now let’s get you oiled up.”
I watch in reverent awe as the blonde removes the robe and lets it drop to the floor. All she is wearing is a white thong and a smile. She winks at me then steps into the oil pit. I can’t believe what I’m seeing as the black man opens a bottle of baby oil and rubs it all over the blonde’s incredibly fit body. She almost coos as he caresses every inch (and I mean EVERY inch of her flesh) with the warm oil.
“Well, you two gonna oil up?” He looks at Gemma and me with a sly smile. She and I look at each other and Gemma shrugs then begins removing her tee. We strip down to our undies…Gemma in a dark red thong, and me in lime green Hanes Her Way cotton panties. I suddenly feel inadequate compared to Gemma and the blonde.
“Well, you two gonna get in here, or not?”
Gemma and I shrug again and step into the oil pit. We look at the black hulk who laughs and says, “Oil up bitches!” and tosses me the bottle of baby oil. We awkwardly rub the oil on each other, and I must say the sensation of touching Gemma’s flawless body isn’t entirely unpleasant. The feel of her powerful (but soft) hands on my body excites me in ways I could never describe. Soon we are both oiled up and staring at the blonde as the black hulk goes over the rules….
“The rules are their ain’t no damn rules. It’s two on one until both of you are pinned, or Chrissy is pinned.”
I look at him quizzically, “What do you mean no rules?”
“He means this, bitch,” the blonde says before hulk can respond, then she kicks me in the belly while I’m not looking.
“OWW FUCK!!” I scream and double over but Gemma is already moving. She grasps at the blonde’s waist but slides off and falls to the floor of the oil pit. The blonde has her sights squarely on me. Her fist lands hard between my shoulder blades as I double over, and her knee lift into my chin knocks me out of the pit completely. I can hear the hulk laughing as I land hard on my back with lights swirling behind my eyes. This isn’t quite what I was expecting when I thought of oil wrestling.
I lie on my back moaning and gasping for air when I hear Gemma scream, “Watch it you nasty whore!” Then I grunt as she lands on top of me. Her breasts mushroom on mine as we lie facing each other, “I’m gonna kill that blonde slut!” she growls as she gets to her feet. I hear her get back into the oil pit, then “OWWW FUCK!!” and she lands on me again.
This time she rolls off me onto her side. The hulk and the blonde find this extremely amusing. “I think we’re in trouble babes,” Gemma says as she gets to her knees. I finally catch my breath and sit up as Gemma climbs back into the pit. The blonde rushes her but this time Gemma is ready. She drops to one knee and the blonde grasps empty air. Gemma fires a one-two combo into Chrissy’s exposed belly. The blonde grunts and falls onto her butt. Gemma launches a side kick at her head that would decapitate Chrissy if it were to land. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. The blonde leans back as the foot narrowly misses her chin. She sweeps her legs outward and knocks Gemma back to her butt with a thud.
Her next kick explodes into Gemma’s chest, knocking the tattooed girl almost out of the pit again. But I am on my feet by this time. Chrissy apparently thought I was out of the fight because she looks shocked when I dive into the pit and slam my shoulder into her side. We collapse into a heap on the floor of the oil pit and I slam punch after punch into the blonde’s side and back. Soon she is gasping and screaming for me to get off her. I grab her hair and slam it into the pit wall, but she throws a wild elbow that catches me on the left ear. For the second time I see stars and bright lights. I roll off my opponent but I am soon pulled to my feet by the hair and hoisted to chest level by the blonde. She effortlessly tosses me on top of Gemma. Both of us lie on the oil pit floor moaning. I hear her coming, but I can’t move. The blonde’s butt smashes into my back and knocks the wind out of both of us. She rolls me over onto my belly, and puts me across Gemma…our bellies touching. She puts her foot on my back and I hear the hulk count to three then declare Chrissy the winner.
The blonde dances a little victory jig in the oil pit then strips both of us of our undies. I can’t believe how humiliating this is! Plus I lost my chance to find out where Batgirl is. Dejectedly, I sit up and stare into the pit until the hulk says, “You two losers can clean up in the dressing room behind the stage. He is laughing as we gather our clothes and head that way.
Neither of us speaks as we use towels to wipe the oil off our skin. I want to cry, but I manage to hold the tears back.
“Joni, I’m sorry.”
My eyes lift slowly to meet hers and I can’t stop the tears this time. The flow down my cheeks as she cradles my head against her bare tummy.
“We’ll find her, I promise.”
My hands go to her hips and I pull her closer. Before I know it, I have pulled her into my lap. My lips part and I kiss her throat. She runs her fingers through my hair and our eyes meet. Using her thumbs, she wipes the tears off my cheeks. I can no longer control myself. My lips go to hers and we clutch each other in a mutual embrace. She shifts around in the chair so that she has both knees on either side of me. Her body pins mine to the chair as we kiss passionately. My hands caress down her shoulders, down her back, and onto her bare butt. I pull her closer until we are entire bodies are touching. As if on cue we begin grinding against each other.
A short time later, our drained bodies separate and I lie back in the chair gasping. Heat leaves my body as I watch the full body blush leave Gemma’s flesh. She sits up and kisses me hard on the lips, “We’ll find her sweetie, that’s my promise to you,” she whispers then stands up.
I am startled from my reverie when the hulk walks in clapping, “Damn! Now THAT was an impressive display!” he says pointing at the two-way mirror on one wall. “If there is nothing else you two need, you are free to leave.”
I bite my lip to keep from asking, knowing full well he will never tell me where Batgirl is now. But Gemma takes care of the problem for me. She walks over to the muscular man she shoves him as hard as she can. Much to my surprise, he stumbles and falls backwards into another chair behind him. Before he can react, Gemma is on him tearing at his shirt until his powerful chest is exposed. I get out of my chair and go to help when I realize what she is doing. I unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants and pull them off one leg at a time. We coax him onto the carpet where Gemma straddles his hips with a gasp, “OHHH…hello big boy!” and I straddle his chest pressing my crotch to his chin.
A short, sweaty, screaming time goes by and my body finally relaxes. For the second time today, I feel completely satisfied and totally drained. We get up and begin to dress. The hulk finally breaks the silence and says, “She’s in a safe house across the river in Algiers. The address is…..
