This story is dedicated to Scorp, who helped me figure out how to put the bite back in my story.

The bouncer lets me in without checking my membership pass. It's not like the ones the men waiting in the line have paid fifteen thousand yen for tonight; it is a lifetime access card, and although I don't use it often, I find myself coming here enough to make the pass pay for itself.

I go to the booth in the corner, away from the stage where two young women in nurse's uniforms are flogging a salaryman bound with leather straps and a ball gag. The jaded crowd is only paying cursory attention. A waiter in a mask – not one I made, mind you – and a thong brings me a cup of coffee and a carafe of the same. As he turns away, he exposes fresh whip marks on this ass and upper thighs.

I sit there reading Sen Takatsuki's newest short-story collection – a present from Kaneki-kun – on my phone as I wait. Forty minutes later, I'm just getting to the title story, when a woman in a black leather corset slides into the booth next to me. Both of her breasts are exposed and the nipples are covered only in black sequenced pasties. She'd be beautiful if her eyes weren't so empty and cold; her porcelain skin is flawless, despite her years in this trade. Her emotionless façade hides her age like the mask I made her long ago.

"Uta, dear, you're looking…" she flails for words, as I stare at her eyes. She's unused to men looking at anything other than her boobs; I have no interest in those anymore, so she's thrown off for a moment. "I'm sorry, dear, let me try that again. How are you, Uta?"

"I'm well mother," I say, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"Two things, actually. One is I have a new recruit for the Clowns. I'd like you to meet with her and see if you'll consider backing her with me for admission."

"Send her to the shop and I'll let you know what I think. Ask her to call first though; I'm not planning on opening this week as I have too much backlog to finish up."

"Excellent, thank you. And I want to get a tattoo. I hear your human does good work."

"He has a name, mother. He's a person, not a pet hamster I've taught to do tricks."

"Yes, I know, but I can't pronounce his name correctly and I remember what you did to the last person who insisted on calling him 'Crive.'"

"I only crushed his windpipe, he healed after a few minutes of suffering," I dismiss.

"Will you set it up for me?"

"What body part will you have him tattoo?"

"I want to put a –"

"I'm less interested in what, then where. I don't want Clive to have to look at your private parts."

"If he's a professional, then it shouldn't matter where I want it."

"Then no, I won't arrange it. I have too much respect for Clive to make him part of your sadistic lifestyle." I reach out and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. "No one gets to dominate him; I believe I've made that very clear." As I let her go, I'm aware we are the center of attention, as if we were the next act of the stage show. She shivers, which is strange, because I learned that tone of voice from watching her work.

"Do you dominate him? Or do you let him dominate you?"

"Our sex life is none of your business; get your jollies fantasizing about someone else."

"I want a thorned rose on my ankle, alright?" She rubs her jaw. My fingerprints are clear on her pale skin, she'll be lucky if it doesn't bruise.

"Was that so hard to say?"

"I've a reputation to uphold, Uta, dear. You do remember what Mommy does for a living?" She sweeps her arm out to the leering crowd, waiting for the next moment of violence between us.

"I have a hard time forgetting, mother."

"So when can I see your young man? I'm past due to meet him anyway."

I pull up our shared calendar on my phone. Clive is thankfully booked solid for the next three weeks. He only works Tuesday through Thursday at the parlor, and the end of the month is the best I can do. "Do you have any plans on the twenty-fourth?"

"You can't get anything sooner than that? You are sleeping with him, right? Can't you convince him to make room for me while you're… snuggling?"

I want to reach over and shake her, but touching her once was distasteful enough when I'm not sure where she's been or who she's been with lately, so I simply calm my features and glare at her.

I always feel like I should take a shower after leaving the club, because I don't want any of those vibes to somehow contaminate Clive, but he's already home when I get there. Instead of burning away the feelings with the scalding water, I lean into his narrow back and clamp my jaw down on his shoulder with no pressure so I won't break the skin through his orchid-colored dress shirt. He looks so tasty in that color, and after the passionless encounter with my mother, the only thing I want to do is pin him to the floor and fuck. He doesn't react to my touch, bite, or the cold clinging to me from the long walk back to the shop which should shock him, but he's reading a letter written in English.

"Hey, darling –" He stands up and the back of his head smacks into my forehead. "Ow." I rub the point of painful, unexpected contact.

"I'm going out for a while," he says, crushing the paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash can. "I'll be back soon. I have my phone." He grabs his vintage motorcycle jacket and out the door before I know what's happened. I fish out the paper, but I can't read anything, except the one word that looks like Clive's name in English. I only know that word because I had him tattoo it on my body and I see it every time I undo my pants to take a piss.

It's easy enough to follow him, so I shove the paper in my pocket on my way out the door. I dial Renji's number as I linger back about fifteen meters behind Clive, just far enough back to give him breathing room, but close enough to see if he's going to turn left or right at each intersection. He's not paying careful attention to his surroundings.

"What do you want, Uta?"

"Good to hear from you, too, Renji," I quip, dashing between crowds of drunk girls stumbling along the sidewalk.

"You're telling me you don't want anything? It sounds like your walking fast. Where are you?"

"I'm walking fast on the street outside the shop. Well, I was wondering if you could read English. That's not as difficult as some of my requests."

It's fucking cold out tonight, and if the weather reports are correct, we'll be getting another six centimeters of snow accumulation tonight. The cold weather has kept all but the most dedicated drunkards off the streets. Even with my attention split, I have no trouble following Clive as he turns, seemingly at random, every few intersections.

"Me? Where would I have learned that?" Renji's laugh is sad, a little hollow.

"Your sister didn't teach you?" A guy on the sidewalk bumps into me, we both stumble backward. He starts to apologize and then sees my eyes; I can't believe I forgot my sunglasses! I lower my head and push passed him; tracking Clive more by his scent now.

"No, it was hard enough to get me to pay attention to learning to read and write in one language. Touka took English. She might be able to help, depending on what it is."

"Clive got a letter tonight, but…"

"One of these days, he's going to be the death of you."

"It'll be an exciting end, but right now I need your help. You're right as usual, but it's not like I don't call you to hang out, too."

"I know, I know. What do you want?"

"Can you take this letter to Touka for translation?"

"Hell no, it's almost 2:30 in the morning. She's in bed by now. I value my knees."

"Ok, then can you meet me and follow Clive, oh wait, he just turned on the street with Helter Skelter… and now he's going in. I'm going to call Itori and ask her to watch him, can you be on call in case he leaves before I'm done with Touka?"

"Sure, Uta, sure. The fact that Clive puts up with you means he's a saint or a martyr – I can never tell between those two Christian terms – and he deserves at least a couple of dirty faced angles to watch over him."