Killer Tease Read online

  Eloise barely had enough time to finish her last drink when a brutal looking man who had all the markings of a bouncer grabbed her by the arm.

  ‘Cattle this way,’ he said as he hauled her to a discreet door next to the bar.

  Before she had time to launch a defence she was hurled through.

  The room she found herself in was dank and humid and the walls dripped with indescribable filth. A damp, vomit encrusted mop stood in the corner and the only furnishing in the room was a battered dressing table with a partially smashed mirror on it. The room was illuminated by a single 40 watt bulb which flicked and blinked like it was going to give out at any moment. There was another door on the far side bearing a sign with “Stage” written in manic handwriting.

  There was no sound in the room except for a strange sniffing. It was then that Eloise realised she was not alone.

  In the corner a young girl was hunched, clutching her knees to her chest and sobbing quietly to herself. She was completely naked and seemed to be bruised and bleeding from everywhere.

  ‘What happened?’ Eloise asked.

  The girl said nothing but carried on weeping. Slowly Eloise approached and as she got closer she realised that this girl had been reduced to some kind of animal. Gingerly, she reached out to put a hand on her shoulder but no sooner had she made contact than the girl turned with a gut-wrenching scream, shoving Eloise’s hand from her and holding out her own in defence.

  Eloise guessed that this girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen but it was difficult to tell because all her teeth had been knocked out and her nose was flattened against her cheeks. It was her eyes that were the worst of all; they were huge and bulbous and held no ounce of humanity in them; a clear testament to the terrors she must have seen. Her face was caked in all manner of secretions and she emitted a foul, biological stench like a mix of iron and wet dough.

  Eloise’s stomach seized as she regarded this pitiful creature, unable to take her eyes away.

  The door that she had been flung into opened and the bouncer stood there.

  ‘You got six minutes to get ready and then you go out of that door and dance; no option.’

  He glared at Eloise and then looked at the creature on the floor.

  ‘Don’t worry about that, we got rooms upstairs full of ’em. You’ll be joining ’em soon enough.’

  With that he slammed the door behind him and her heart sank as she heard a key locking it.

  11

  On auto-pilot, Eloise tipped her doctor’s bag out on the dressing-table top and searched for a non-existent cigarette. She turned around but realised it would be fruitless to ask the shivering wretch in the corner.

  Faster than she had ever done before she put on her gig knickers, her suspenders, the corset and then slapped on the pasties, the cold dampness of the room and the quivering being watching her driving her to go faster still. There were two items which held solace for her. She had made the correct choice in footwear; her old vintage closed stiletto boots, sturdy and built to last with eight-inch heels that were long and tapered into a vicious looking point. She remembered how long it took to get used to them. She had not taken to wearing heels naturally. It took a good year and a half of relentless practice that had nearly crippled her before she learned how to walk and dance in them. And then there was the

  heavy-duty riding crop she had brought with her to use as a prop.

  As she was putting her boots on she heard a key being roughly manipulated in the lock. The door flew open and there stood her old friend the bouncer who now appeared to be in the teeth of a bestial rage.

  ‘Right you; get the fuck out there, now,’ he said, flicking his wrist to activate a telescopic baton.

  Getting up carefully, she brushed herself off and glared at him. Showing fear or weakness had not been in her routine for years, though it shook her how much she felt it.

  As she stepped through the stage door it was as if all her troubles were left in the dressing room. She was going to perform; that’s all that mattered.

  She found herself in front of a heavy red curtain and chose her mark. Centre stage. She stood there and formed the pose that she would break out into her routine from, the crop hidden behind her back as a surprise. Eloise could hear men talking and laughing loudly and the sound of glasses making contact with tables. She was ready for them. She was ready to perform.

  When the curtain went up no amount of preparation could have sufficed for the sight that met her. The gloomy room was full of men. They were all laughing and grinning but their eyes were mad and vengeful. Every single one of them seemed familiar.

  There were the men who had been staring at her and pointing in the bar the evening before; there was also the men she had chatted to at the bar, and right at the front was a man with short, blond short back and sides hair and fresh-stitches in his face.

  It dawned painfully slowly on her what all these men had in common. At some point in her long career, she had beaten every man in the room at numerous gigs when they had tried to snatch hold of her, tear her clothes from her, sedate her or overpower her in a car park. But this time, she was hopelessly outnumbered.

  Eloise felt weak and her legs trembled. The crowd surged towards her and, for a brief second, she was reminded of one of those zombie films.

  The short back and sides man was the first up on stage with a smashed Hennessey bottle in his fist. He was nearly upon her when Eloise caught herself. Whatever doom awaited her at the hands of Napoleon Hammerstein she was not going out like this.

  The riding crop hit him in his freshly cut face with such force it broke in two and flew off into the ether. He fell to the floor like a sack of coal.

  With the rest about to pounce on her, Eloise fled to the stage door only to see that the bouncer was standing in its frame grinning crazily and holding that telescopic baton meaningfully.

  ‘You’ve got no chance, love,’ she heard him utter.

  There was no option. She steamed towards him and leapt up, raising her right leg. It had the desired effect as he instinctively raised his hands to protect his head leaving, himself wonderfully open.

  Years of rage, fighting, standing up for herself against the odds and facing the injustice of failure beyond her control mixed with the adrenaline in her system and shot from her throat, down her chest, through her gut, into her buttocks, through her thigh, calf and with all the might and pure, unadulterated anger she could muster, she sank her stiletto into his crotch.

  The bouncer whistled.

  It nearly cost her. Her ankle and knee had twisted in opposite directions and pain set in. It took a mighty effort to unsheathe the full eight-inches of the heel from the bouncer’s groin and the crowd of perverts were nearly upon her. But she managed.

  Leaping over the bouncer, who was doubled up clutching at himself as he wheezed and gibbered, Eloise found that his bulk made for a great barricade between herself and the rest of the men. The undead being in the corner seemed to have forgotten her woes and looked on in apparent disbelief.

  Without skipping a beat Eloise wrenched open the door to the bar. The cool air was heavenly compared to the dank rooms she had just come from, but she had no time to enjoy it. It would not take long for the gang of perverts to disentangle themselves and clamber over the felled heavy.

  12

  Her sudden appearance in the bar and the fact that she was dressed only in her dancewear drew the attention of all the miserable but rich-looking drinkers.

  Bolting towards the door, she was nearly there when something smashed across her neck, knocking her to the ground. Eloise rolled on the floor, choking and catching her breath. She had no time for pain, and using every last ounce of energy, she picked herself up from the floor and was about stagger towards the door. But she couldn’t. Standing in her way and grinning meanly was the pony-tailed man who had blackmailed her into coming to this god-awful place what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Eloise could tell that he really enjoyed hitt
ing women.

  She heard the commotion coming from behind her, almost certainly the gang of perverts, as she smashed her forehead into the nose of the slick bastard. He staggered back clutching his face. His sunglasses were jutting out from behind his hands at a weird angle.

  Gasping, with an almighty pain in her head, her right leg sprained and feeling dizzy, she had no time to stop. Another bouncer who had been at the front door had been watching the whole scene in frozen bemusement but had now come to life, blocking her exit.

  Her arm was grabbed by a firm but smooth hand and she found herself being dragged behind the bar and through another door that she hadn’t noticed before.

  Eloise was facing a stairway. She turned to see the friendly barman bolt and lock the door behind them.

  ‘I hope you like super hero movies,’ he said, passing her a black trench coat.

  Automatically she took the coat and put it on. He grabbed her hand and hurriedly led her up the stairs as the sounds of pounding erupted from the bolted door.

  After leading her through a labyrinth of corridors which were lined with blue carpets and pale walls, the barman stopped her outside a pair of plain double doors.

  ‘My name’s Jez, by the way.’ He held out his hand.

  She took it in hers and shook it gently still fazed by the events of only a moment ago.

  ‘Eloise,’ she said. Her throat was terribly dry.

  ‘Like the Damned song,’ he said as he opened the doors and beckoned her through. Eloise found it strange that someone his age made the connection.

  The wall in front of them had several posters behind Perspex advertising the latest film releases. Jez grabbed her hand and pulled her along another eerily quiet corridor.

  A young boy with lank ginger hair and bad acne stood outside a set of double doors, Jez spoke to him in hushed tones.

  A moment later and they were ushered through the doors. Eloise found herself in the unmistakable dark airiness of a cinema theatre, with a massive screen blaring its garish adverts.

  They chose seats next to each other and sat down, and Jez reached over to press a tissue to her forehead.

  ‘You got cut back there, must have been from that bloke’s sunglasses you broke when you nutted him,’ he whispered. ‘I haven’t seen anything like that before.’

  She took the tissue and gently removed his hand.

  ‘Thanks, I can do it myself,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t take it wrong but…’

  ‘Don’t worry, I understand.’

  Eloise could usually tell a wrong ’un a mile off and she knew when someone was helping her out because they wanted something; but there was a genuine selflessness to Jez. It wasn’t something she was used to.

  Eloise turned to look at the door.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jez whispered, ‘there’s eight screens here and I’ll bet you anything they think we ran out into the street. ‘

  He was probably right and, as she began to relax, she wondered what he was all about.

  ‘How can you work there?’ Eloise asked.

  ‘What do you mean? I was never allowed into that room. They took girls in there, I just thought there was another exit or something they left from.’

  ‘But yesterday you saw that I was all beaten up.’

  ‘Shhh,’ one of the patrons behind them hissed.

  He didn’t answer for a while, just stared at a mobile phone that was jigging insanely on the screen.

  ‘I didn’t know what to think, I never saw anything like that before.’

  Eloise rolled her eyes, but then what was she expecting? She tried to put herself in his shoes for a moment and wondered what she would have done if she had seen the same thing in a bar.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘It’s OK; seriously, it’s fine, I’m just a little freaked out is all.’

  They looked at the bizarre and meaningless adverts in silence for a while before Eloise asked, ‘You got anything to drink? I’m dying of thirst.’

  He sniggered to himself and said, ‘I’ve just done a year out in India, you don’t know what thirst is.’

  Eloise huffed.

  Jez got up but she grabbed him and said, ‘No, don’t leave.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’m going to give that usher a fiver and he’ll sort it out. Don’t worry, he’s cool.’

  Minutes later Jez returned and sat down.

  The film began and Eloise couldn’t help being pleased to see that it was the latest comic book adaptation she had been hankering to watch. She should have been nervous, expecting thugs and perverts to storm through the doors and batter her like a baby seal, but she really did feel safe here with Jez.

  The ginger usher appeared with a large beverage in his hand, grinning leerily at her. The trench coat had fallen open to reveal her pasties. Pulling the coat together, she snatched the drink off him and glared at the screen. The ginger nerd leant towards Jez and whispered in his ear before departing.

  ‘It’s OK, there’s a load of dodgy-looking blokes milling around outside the cinema but none of them are inside.’

  It was good news but Eloise was not about to let her guard fall. Next thing she knew Jez’s arm was around her shoulder.

  In any other situation the general cheapness of this manoeuvre would have caused her blood to boil and earned the perpetrator a dousing in soft drink. But this was very different. Although she tried to fight it she felt comforted and, for the first time in her life, she relaxed in a man’s arms. She didn’t even feel angry at herself for acting like a girl.

  13

  Eloise loved films. At seven-pounds-a-go they were a little luxury she treated herself to. So on any other day, the thought of going to the pictures and getting in for free for a film that she had really wanted to see, only to spend the entire time snogging like a couple of urchins, would be wasteful and revolting to her. Not to mention she had only just met the guy whose lips she was currently locked to.

  The only thing making her feel uncomfortable about this situation now was the lame, doe-eyed way he looked at her every time they broke off for air. She also felt a little uneasy with the fact that, at one point, she had even let him feel her up.

  When the film ended they both sat there for a while, not saying anything. Eloise wanted to ask him something but it went against everything she stood for. Under the circumstances though, she was running out of options.

  ‘Have you got a couch at yours?’ she finally asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, startled.

  ‘Can I come around and kip on it tonight?’

  ‘Sure, but maybe you’d be better off in my room; my housemate’s a right pain. I mean, you can have the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.’

  ‘Does your housemate have anything to do with your work?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then the couch will be fine, if that’s OK.’

  Jez looked bewildered as he scratched the back of his head.

  Eloise felt the fear creep up on her as they left the screen. All the thoughts that had been far from her mind during the film came back in full force.

  Gingerly, she followed Jez through the corridor and then down some stairs. They arrived at a set of swing doors and Jez signalled for her to stop.

  Opening them, he slowly peeked his head through. Eloise’s heart thundered in her chest. She hoped her instincts were right to trust him as he indicated the coast was clear and gestured for her to follow.

  The street outside the cinema was deathly quiet when they hailed a cab. Eloise kept a look out the whole time but, other than her, Jez and the cabbie, there was no one about except for the odd stumbling drunk.

  Jez’s home was not what Eloise had expected at all. A penthouse flat on the seafront, halfway between the cinema and her house, it screamed money. The furnishings were all ultra-modern and definitely not Ikea. It was huge, in fact it was the biggest flat she had ever seen in Brighton. Genuine wooden floor, a breakfast bar attached to a massive kitchen packed with high-end gear
including a walk-in fridge, of all things. Jez also had a sunken lounge, ringed all around by a leather couch. Pride of place was the biggest flatscreen TV she had ever seen with a satellite box and all the next-gen game consoles neatly displayed underneath it. The TV stood before a big bay window that looked out onto the dark sea.

  ‘Such a boys’ pad,’ Eloise observed, ‘but bloody flashy. How d’you afford it?’

  Jez mumbled something before walking into the fridge and re-emerging with a couple of bottled beers. He opened them with some chrome-plated contraption attached to the breakfast bar and passed one to Eloise.

  ‘Do you sell drugs or what? A bar job at that place can’t pay for all this, surely?’ asked Eloise as she sat down on the sumptuous couch and took a drag of her drink.

  ‘I study law at Uni,’ Jez said, joining her. ‘And I make a lot of commission from an internship I’m doing at a top firm.’

  ‘Daddy get you the job, did he?’ asked Eloise, belching.

  He looked funny for a moment.

  ‘No, I’m good at what I do, is that so hard to believe?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Anyway, tell me about you, how did you get into stripping?’

  ‘I ain’t no stripper, mate, and besides, I ain’t about to tell you anything about me; you wouldn’t be able to handle it.’

  He looked at her for a long while as if trying to sum her up but Eloise was in no mood to get into it with him. It was then that she realized that she had left her precious doctor’s bag at the club with her change of clothes and other stuff in it.

  ‘Oh shit, I’m sorry but I should go. You wouldn’t have anything I could wear would you?’

  Jez suddenly sat up and looked like he was about to tell her something.