Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse

“There was no need for a wash and press. It was already together.” Pavel kissed the air. “Is there a reason why you’re so rude this evening?”

My men made it down to us and flanked our way.

“Why am I rude?” I tilted my head to the side. “Do you know why I’m at the theater tonight?”

“For your ballerina.”

“Good.” I held out my hand to the closest man. He pulled his gun from the holster and gave it to me. I walked over to Pavel and stopped two inches in front of him. “I am here for my ballerina. I enjoy watching her dance. In fact, she’s on stage right now. And nothing would piss me off more than her looking up from the stage and not seeing me there.”

Unrattled, Pavel gestured at my hand. “What do you think you’re going to do with that gun?”

“For a year, I’ve barely missed a performance. I can only think of one time and that was when I thought Kazimir was dead. I rushed to Prague to console my father and deal with my own grief.”

“This is a great story.” Pavel’s eyes went dead. “Why don’t you finish telling me on the plane?”

“You have two options.” I held up one finger. “First, walk out of this alley, head to the airport, and leave my city. I’ll see you in Paris in the morning. We’ll laugh about this over a nice stiff vodka.”

“I don’t like vodka and you’ll leave with me now.”

I held up a second finger. “Or the next option is for me to shoot you. It won’t be deadly. I like you too much for that. You’re comical.”

“You won’t shoot me.”

I checked my watch.

Ava should be on stage now.

“Goodbye, Pavel. I’ll see you in Paris tomorrow.” I walked past him.

He grabbed my arm. “I don’t care about how many men you have in this alley. The Lion asked me to get you. I won’t leave without you.”

“Kazimir chose his lapdog well.” I frowned at his hands on me. “And I don’t need my men.”

“You do, Mosquito.”

I gave the gun to Maxwell. “Hold this for me.”

Maxwell took it. “You sure you don’t want to just shoot him?”

I shook my head. “He needs a short lesson.”

Pavel smirked.

I glanced back at my men. “Put your guns up and step back. Give us room.”

Pavel fisted his hands at his sides. A small breeze brushed through his long tresses.

I scowled. “I won’t slap you. It’ll be like hitting a female.”

“I prefer a nice punch to the jaw.” Pavel pointed at his face. “If you can get your hand there fast enough I might let you stay for a few minutes to watch your ballerina.”

“Interesting.” I tilted his way. “And what if I can get you on the ground?”

“Then I’ll give you the whole evening.”

Pavel’s men appeared confused. They were all tensed up in a shallow semicircle around him.

Fast, I punched him in the gut. Grunting, Pavel hunched over from the impact and then grabbed my balls in one hard grip.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I slammed his arm.

He kept his grip on my balls but loosened the pressure. “Relax or I’ll rip your cock off.”

I kept my hands in the air. “Have you lost it?”

Smiling, Pavel gestured at my cock. “No. It’s right here.”

“What type of man grabs another’s cock?”

“A smart one.” Pavel tightened the grip on my testicles.

Pushing through the pain, I lowered my voice. “If you wanted to touch it, all you had to do was ask.”

“No way. Sometimes, I like to take what I want.” He twisted them a little.

I grunted in pain.

He tightened his hold, squeezing the shit out of my balls. “Many men don’t think of the testicles as a weak spot for men. I find it to be the number one spot to bring down an opponent.”

“Yo.” Maxwell handed me the gun. “This is getting weird.”

I grabbed it.

Pavel squeezed some more. “Drop the gun.”

I pointed the gun at his leg and shot. “Fuck you.”

The bullet hit him good.

“Ah!” He let go of my testicles and fell to the ground. His men went to him.

I rubbed my balls. “Get his perverted ass out of here.”

“Give me a gun!” Pavel yelled at his men. “Give me one now!”

I signaled at my men. “Take their weapons. If they don’t hand them over, shoot them in the head. I’m done with this.”

Pavel looked my way and gradually rose. But he couldn’t do so in a normal fashion. It was a slow-motion affair, lasting several seconds, and complete with a hair flip of mega proportion. His strands rose and flowed in the air as if someone had a blow dryer in front of him. And only when those strands gently fell past his shoulders, did he glare my way. “You shot me.”

“You grabbed my balls.”

Someone helped him stand.