Stripped of her sight, Buffy uneasily made her way through the dark alley, using only the steady rhythm of Quinn’s stilettos hitting the pavement as her guide. As they continued through the alley, Buffy felt her cool starting to slip away. Fortunately, before the darkness drained away the last of her composure, the area gradually lightened, revealing a steel spiral staircase.
Buffy eyed the lengthy climb, grasped the handrail, and followed Quinn’s ascent. When they finally reached the top, their only reward was a massive mahogany door with a wrought-iron latch and hinges.
“So how do we get in? Please don’t tell me there’s a Guardian of the Gates handing out green glasses,” Buffy snickered, sporting a lopsided smirk.
Then unexpectedly, as though it was silently answering, the door opened.
“This is a far cry from the Emerald City, Dorothy.” Quinn playfully winked at the clearly stunned Buffy before entering and leading the way into the enigma that was Concentrico.
They walked briefly down a small dark corridor that suddenly gave way, revealing a vast room. Almost instantly, Buffy was awestruck by the enormity of it: the vaulted ceilings, black lacquer and deep walnut furnishings, and the complementary crimson walls adorned with dozens of abstract paintings with streaks of red and black on stark white canvases. Continuing forward, her senses were further stimulated by a smooth, sultry melody and an unrecognizable, yet appealing and lingering scent lacing the air.
Shaking away the mental cobwebs, Buffy worked to suppress the sensory overload. When she was finally able to focus, she joined Quinn at a secluded table. The service was prompt, and while they slowly sipped their drinks, Buffy took the opportunity to take a good look at Quinn. Between the impromptu hugging, dark alleyway, and the hike up the stairs, there hadn’t been a chance to get a good look at her.
Quinn resembled a curvy fifties pin-up girl posing for the camera as she casually crossed her legs, baring a lengthy expanse of thigh. She had an almost flawless milky complexion; wavy, raven, shoulder-length hair; large almond-shaped hazel eyes, accentuated by dramatic black eyeliner; and pouty lips stained in a deep crimson.
“Good evening, my sweet.”
Buffy’s appraisal of the other woman was interrupted by a smooth baritone voice. The owner of said voice was now standing behind Quinn, languorously kissing her shoulder and neck, with one hand splayed possessively across her abdomen and the other sensually cradling her face. Judging by Quinn’s instant and evidently blissful reaction, it was clear his attentions were far from unwelcomed.
“Mm—and who are you, little lamb?”
It took Buffy several moments to realize he was actually speaking to her. Then, shifting from voyeur to participant, it took her several more moments for her to process what he’d said as his penetrating blue eyes drew her in and his lips resumed savoring Quinn’s flesh.
“I’m Buffy, Quinn’s friend.” In spite of her uneasiness, Buffy steadily maintained a level voice.
He raised a dark brow while his throaty chuckle vibrated against Quinn’s throat, causing her to shudder visibly. With a parting nip to her pulse point, his mouth traveled to the shell of her ear.
“Tsk, tsk, I hope your plans were to share your friend with me, my sweet.”
Even though his gaze was locked with Buffy’s, he obviously was speaking to Quinn, who appeared incapable of responding as he had slid his hand from her abdomen upward to cup one of her breasts.
Buffy noticed him studying her, gauging her for a reaction. She remained stoic, in spite of his hand actively fondling Quinn’s breast and his other hand slowly skimming down her front, heading between her now lax thighs.
“There will be no sharing. And before you ask, no, Quinn and I are just friends, nothing more.”
“Pity, we both can be so very generous.”
At his last word, moving viper quick, he simultaneously tweaked Quinn’s nipple and grasped a handful of raven hair, jerked back her head, exposing her neck and sank his teeth into her flesh. Quinn cried out as her body arched and her hands scrambled to find purchase. He held Quinn firm until she calmed, placed a parting kiss to the area marred with the indentations of his teeth then released her now pliant body.
“I have an urgent matter to attend to, my sweet. You lovely ladies continue your time together, and I will be back shortly.”
His cavalier words and attitude belied what had just happened and the way it affected the two women before him, one cooing and dazed, the other shocked into silence. It took a moment for Buffy’s mind to process everything and to form a string of coherent words when she called out to him as he departed.
“I didn’t catch your name.”
He stopped and turned to face her. She watched a slow, wolfish grin spreading, exposing the tips of his teeth.
“Please except my apologies for my rudeness, I’m Sebastian.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Once he was out of sight, Buffy’s steadfast façade crumbled. She had just come face to face with Sebastian Gallo, a prominent man notorious for his brutality and cunning, but who, shockingly, hadn’t any direct conflicts with the law. He was as much of a mystery as Concentrico itself. Though what truly bothered Buffy more was his clearly intense relationship with Quinn.
Long ago, Buffy accepted everybody had their own way of doing things. She might not totally agree with others’ actions, but just as long as they didn’t break any laws, she didn’t have a problem with them. Quinn wasn’t breaking any laws per se, but there was some major bending going on, and this wasn’t sitting very well at all with Buffy.
Obviously picking up on Buffy’s silent censures loud and clear, Quinn’s demeanor rapidly changed from content to irate.
“A word to the wise—you’ll get nowhere quick if you stay on that cushy pedestal of yours.” Quinn’s tone and expression were equally harsh, far from the joviality Buffy had grown accustomed to in their short time together.
“Quinn, I know it’s not my place to judge you—”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Quinn huffed while smoothing out her dress. “Look, I totally understand what you’re thinking. If this was four years ago, I’d be right there with you. But it’s not, and I can tell you from experience that it’s totally different being on the outside looking in. And I’ll have you know, I didn’t choose this overnight. After almost a year of getting nowhere, I finally decided to do what needed to be done.”
Quinn picked up her drink and slowly swirled the clear liquid around the sides before downing half. Then with a deep breath, she seemed calmer as she lowered her glass and offered Buffy a soft smile.
“Hey, look on the bright side. As you clearly saw, the men here aren’t like all those other losers we’ve, well at least I’ve, dealt with before. Anyway, you have to admit women use sex all the time to get what they want. In my case, it’s not about money, shoes, or a brand new car, but something far more important. So the way I see it, it’ll all come out in the wash.” Quinn lifted her glass into the air in a one-sided toast.
“May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you’re dead. Cheers.” She drained the rest of her martini in a single swallow and signaled the waitress for another.
Buffy slowly sipped her wine, mulling over Quinn’s words and what she’d witnessed. Even though everything was really tough to swallow, it was clearly the hard truth. With every job, especially one like this, you inevitably took risks. At times, you gambled with life, and sometimes, with your very soul.
Author’s Note:
“May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you’re dead.” Is an Irish Toast http://tacomaweekly.tripod.com/Irish-Quotations.html