I don’t usually stay long at the after parties, but tonight I’m in the mood to celebrate. I get a bottle of Nevskoe from the makeshift bar and chug it down, buying one for Boom Boom as well, since he had my corner tonight.
The music is pounding louder than ever. Plenty of pretty girls are dancing, along with a couple of tipsy fighters. Among them, I see Five Fists, the fighter that the Rowdy Rabbi knocked out. He looks more punch-drunk than inebriated.
One of the models is giving me the eye from up in the ring. She’s tall and dark-haired. She looks a little awkward dancing in her high heels, like a clumsy gazelle. Still, she keeps catching my eye, biting her lip and pouting at me.
Girls always want to fuck after the fights. It turns them on, seeing the men beating the shit out of each other.
If you win, you can take your pick of the groupies. You’re the alpha lion. They all want to mate with the pride male.
That model’s practically in heat. I could bend her over the ropes and take her from behind in front of everyone, and she’d fucking love it.
I don’t really want to, though. I’ve fucked the groupies enough to know what they’re like. They all want to ask the same questions: Were you scared? What does it feel like to hit someone? Does your face hurt? I bet you’re a jealous boyfriend. I bet you’d protect me.
That’s the fantasy. Having their own personal bodyguard.
The Rabbi comes and pounds me on the shoulder. He’s got his girlfriend with him now. She’s pretty, with curly black hair and green eyes. She’s even smaller than the Rabbi.
“This is Anastasia,” he says.
I shake her hand. It’s so delicate inside of mine that I barely want to squeeze it.
“I saw your fight,” Anastasia says. She cocks an eyebrow. “Do you always pull your punches at the beginning?”
“No,” I say. “Only when the other guy is dumb enough to fall for it. Sharp eyes, though.”
“Sharp as they come,” the Rabbi says proudly. “When I listen to this girl, I never go wrong.”
“How would you know?” Anastasia teases him. “You never listen.”
She rubs her nose against his and kisses him.
It gives me a strange feeling, watching them.
I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed affectionately.
With lust, yes. Affection, no.
I take another swig of my beer. The liquor burns the cuts on the inside of my mouth. Boom Boom hasn’t come back from the bathroom yet, so I crack open his bottle and drink that, too.
“Better not let Meyer catch you doing that,” the Rabbi says. Meyer’s views on over-indulging are well known. If he had his way, I’d live on boiled cod and cabbage.
The model is still staring at me from inside the ring.
I finish Boom Boom’s beer in one gulp.
“See you around,” I say to the Rabbi and Anastasia.
“Nice to meet you . . .” Anastasia says to my back, confused at my abruptness.
I stride over to the ring, pushing my way easily through the crowd. When I get close, I nod to the model. She slips under the ropes, awkwardly climbing down in her short skirt.
“Hey,” she says.
I grab her by the arm and kiss her hard on the mouth. She tastes of cigarettes. A lot of models smoke to stay skinny. I don’t like it, but it doesn’t really matter.
She melts against my body, running her hands over my chest.
“Blyat!” she says. “You’re solid steel aren’t you, big boy?”
“That’s right,” I grunt.
I grab her hand and put it on my cock instead, so she can feel how hard I am through the material of my pants.
“Even better,” she purrs.
I pull her through the crowd, back to the locker room, and then out the back door into the empty concrete lot behind the brewery. They used to keep the dumpsters back here. Now it’s just bare stained brick, and the lingering smell of sour hops and trash.
I push the model up against the wall, kissing her even harder than before. She grinds her body against mine. Her short skirt is riding up, and it’s pretty clear she’s not wearing any panties underneath.
She wants to be fucked. She’s begging for it, humping my leg over my pants.
But I don’t have a condom handy, and I don’t want to kiss her any more than I already have. Her mouth tastes ashy and metallic.
So I put my hand on top of her head and push her down to her knees instead. The rough gravel and bits of broken glass are probably digging into her bare skin, but she doesn’t complain. I wouldn’t care if she did.
I take out my cock, which is indeed hard as steel in my hand. I feed it into her mouth.
My cock doesn’t care if she’s a smoker. Her lips feel warm and wet and eager around the head. I grab her by the hair and thrust deeper into her throat. She chokes and gags a little, but I keep thrusting. I pump my hips rhythmically. Her mouth makes a wet squelching sound around my cock.
When I’m ready to blow, I don’t give her any warning. I just push hard into the back of her throat and release my load. It pulses out in three quick shots. She has no choice but to swallow it down.
When I’m finished, I tuck my cock back inside my pants. The girl is a bit of a mess, lipstick smeared and mascara running down her face on one side. She stands up, still wobbly on her heels. She brushes the gravel off her knees, leaving little red spots where it dug into the skin.
Only when I see her shivering do I realize how cold it is out here. Models are like greyhounds—no body fat to keep them warm.
“You better get inside,” I say.
“Do you want my number?” the girl asks.
“No,” I say.
She doesn’t look particularly surprised.
Strangely, the fact that she expects to be used in this way makes me feel guiltier than if she told me off for being a selfish prick.
Because I feel ashamed of myself, I’m even blunter than I mean to be.
“Your makeup’s smeared,” I say.
I mean that she might want to use the bathroom, once she’s inside.
It sounds like an insult, though.
The girl just shrugs.
“I’ll probably go home now,” she says.
I should offer to pay for her cab, at least. But that would only make this all the more transactional.
The pleasure of my release is already fading. I’m losing the high of the win in the ring, too. I feel like a deflated balloon, sinking down from the sky.
The emptiness makes me turn colder than ever.
Fuck it, I tell myself. I don’t owe this girl anything.
I turn around and walk away, without another word.
