Man, this is nice. I can forget everything when buried in the warmth of a woman. Even my illusory shadow becomes irrelevant.

But my mind floats like a cloud, and my thoughts scatter into an incoherent mess. The world feels distant, immaterial. The city noise dulls to a faraway echo, as if I’m underwater, sinking deeper with every pull of Alyona’s talented mouth.

Until a woman’s screeching plea cuts through the fog like a chainsaw. “Help! Help!”

2

My eyes spring open. Did the shout come from farther down the alley? It’s hard to tell. My head’s a mess of swirling mist.

“Ignore it, Michael,” purrs Alyona. “They are playacting. Be with me.”

I peer down at the woman who holds my dick in her fist. Her eyes glint orange in the dim light. Her face seems morphed somehow—cheeks sunken, brows more pronounced. An ugly fierceness dominates the pouty elegance.

“Yes,” I hear myself murmur. “Be with you.”

Wait a minute. What the hell am I saying? I shake my head. Try to push away the fog creeping into my thoughts.

“Help! Please, someone.” The woman’s cry punches straight through my gut. That isn’t playacting; it’s distress. I can hear the gruff voice of a man too. The sounds are coming from farther down the alley.

I pull out from Alyona’s grip, awkwardly tuck myself away, and zip up my trousers. “I need to check that out. Someone needs help.”

She bares her teeth, anger flashing across her eyes, and snatches at my T-shirt, but I step out of reach. What’s with her?

“Michael,” she snaps. “You will stay.”

She doesn’t raise her voice, but the order ricochets through my head like the blast of a megaphone. My body twitches, feet shuffling to follow her command. Who is this woman?

Walking backwards, I shake it off. “I’m going to check it out. You can do what you like.”

Her eyes—definitely orange now—widen with shock, then narrow. “How did you do that, little man?” The seductive voice she used in the bar has gone. She sounds more like a pissed-off Medusa than a sultry siren at this point.

“Do what?” I don’t know what she’s talking about. What the hell is wrong with everyone tonight? I feel like I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.

I turn away, figuring I can deal with Miss Demanding in a minute, and stumble down the alley toward the location of the woman’s cry. My limbs feel heavy, as though I’ve spent three hours with a kick bag.

Alyona follows. “He’s broken away. Come in now.”

I glance behind me. She isn’t using a mobile, so who’s she speaking to?

Whimpering and guttural breathing greet me from the far side of the next dumpster. When I turn the corner, I find a man holding a woman up against the wall by the throat. Her ripped shirt hangs open, exposing a crimson bra. Smudged makeup streaks her cheeks with black lines and scarlet blotches. Blonde hair falls in a tangled mess around her face. She’s sobbing.