Bionic Chapter One

Thanks to Rach for all of her help with this.

Bionic – adjective. Having superhuman strength or capacity.

Listen to Not Myself Tonight by Christina Aguilerawhen he hits the club.

It had been a miserable day, but what did I expect? I spent it with my family, a baptism for yet another niece. We were nothing if not prolific in our continuation of the family line. I was one of five. There were two boys and three girls. Each of my siblings had at least three children, my sister Celia just having her fifth, hence the baptism and mandatory appearance with the family. Even I, the black sheep of the family, had managed to father a child, unintentional as it was.

I loved my family, really I did, but today was simply a reminder of how different I was from them, and how the life I led required it. My life didn't lend itself to relationships. The all American dream of a house, wife and 2.5 kids were not compatible with the man I've become. Even today I was wearing two guns and a knife - not really daddy material. Which is why the one daughter I did have lived several states away, why she didn't have my name or any contact other than financial. To her, I was no more than a name on a check and a signature on a birthday card. That was the way it had to be. I was a dangerous man, living a dangerous life.

As often as I reminded myself of that fact, I was caught off guard today at the twinge of regret I felt tug at my soul while I'd held my god-daughter as the priest poured the holy water over her head. I had no right to feel this way. I had given up all rights to my own child and there wouldn't be another. Because another child meant another mother, a woman, and with the exception of my housekeeper and my family, there were no women. I had given up even picking up the occasional one nighter. No matter what they claimed about knowing it was only for one night – just a good fuck – inevitably they wanted more. They always wanted more from me. Maybe it was the Latin lover vibe, the money or just the simple desire to tame the bad boy. It always ended badly. It was trying to make a jungle cat into a family pet. They liked what they saw on the outside, but none of them would be able to handle the darkness or danger that was always simmering below the surface.

So I gave up. My hand was a poor substitute, but it wasn't like I had lots of time to worry about it. I was busy with work seven days a week and out of the country and incommunicado for months at a time. I was not in the potential boyfriend category; I was more crazed mercenary material.

No matter how many times I tried to explain this to my family, they failed to understand. There were endless questions about if there was anyone special in my life. After years of saying no, single women began to show up at family functions invited by some well meaning relative. It was like I was a contestant on The Dating Game. One time two of my sisters each brought bachelorettes; a catfight broke out. Luckily, I was able to slip out unnoticed during the scuffle. I'd hoped that would put an end to their match making. When I arrived at the next family dinner and found a couple of male suitors, I put my foot down.

I'd finally escaped my mother's house, not without a bag of leftovers of course. I'd driven to Newark with my cousin and employee, Lester. He'd hooked up with a friend of the family who just happened to drop by. Better him than me. I'd planned to just drive back to Trenton, but after the loud rambunctious energy of my parents' house the idea of returning to my own, silent and empty, didn't seem that appealing. Today, surrounded by people who loved me, I realized how truly alone I was in the world. No matter how much I told myself that was the way it had to be, it did nothing to lessen the dull ache in my gut. Instead of hitting the highway to take me back to Trenton, I turned my car towards downtown Newark and the club district. Maybe tonight was a time for an exception to the rule, maybe tonight I didn't have to be alone.

I pulled my black Porsche Turbo up to the valet at the club. It was a Sunday, not a huge party night, but tomorrow was a federal holiday so lots of people had a three day weekend which equated to a line at the door. The pimply kid who took my keys couldn't hide his excitement about climbing behind the wheel of my newest toy. I handed them over with a look sure to discourage joy riding. In fact I'd be lucky if he managed not to piss himself in the front seat. I bypassed the line of wannabes and shared a complicated handshake with the bouncer before slipping into the club.

There was a reason those people were all still outside. There wasn't room for one more person inside. All of the tables were taken and the dance floor was packed. I made my way to the corner of the L shaped bar and encouraged the guy on the last stool to give up his seat. The position allowed me to keep my back to the wall as well as eyes on the front entrance. I ordered a Corona and sat back to people watch. There was something for everyone I guess: Metrosexual men looking to pick up someone who was as into them as they were into themselves, women who looked like they were barely legal and looked to be sporting none of their original parts, and lots of other people looking none too particular, just wanting to get laid.

There was one table that held my interest. It was a group of women in their mid-twenties who appeared to be having a bachelorette party. I groaned internally; someone else who will have what I never will. God I sounded pathetic. I wanted to kick my own ass. But I couldn't make myself stop watching this little party. I was trying to figure out what the connection between them was. There was an extremely busty Italian woman who looked a little like Betty Boop. Next to her was a short, black, plus sized woman who was spilling out of her neon, spandex ensemble. She looked like a hooker. Those two were fighting for control of the party; they both seemed to think they should be in charge. There was a blond who looked a little like Meg Ryan and seemed embarrassed by her companions' behavior. Lastly was the guest of honor. She was wearing a veil, but it was black and it sat atop a mass of brown curls. She had on a printed t-shirt that I couldn't read from where I sat, paired with a black skirt and legs that went on forever and shoes that made me want to fuck her where she stood.

Christ, where had that come from? The woman was here celebrating the fact that she was getting married. What a good way to ensure she didn't want anything more from you, the little devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear. I told him to fuck off and went back to watching their party.

The Betty Boop look-alike pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it over to the bride. After a quick glance over the list she screamed, "Are you kidding me Connie? I can't do that," she pointed to a line on the paper, "or that!" She pointed to another line. The black woman handed her a drink, which the bride downed and said, "Fine!" and turned to make her way to the bar, her eyes blazing. And what eyes they were. They were blue and sparkled like sapphires with anger, embarrassment and determination. She approached the bar and ordered loudly, "I need sex on the beach and I need to give someone a blow job." All of the men at the bar turned to her and a part of me twitched as if to volunteer.

When the bartender handed her the drinks she quickly downed the mixed drink and turned to the Frat boy who sat on the stool next to her. "Would you like a blow job?" she asked him innocently. He just gulped and nodded, completely out of his league. She took the shot glass topped with whip cream from the bar and placed it between his thighs. She dropped to her knees and placed her mouth around the shot glass and tipped her head back emptying it. Taking the glass out of her mouth she stood, set it on the bar and licked the remaining cream off her lips. His eyes were glazed over as she kissed him on the cheek. I knew how he felt.

She made her way down the bar, checking things off of her list, collecting business cards, matchbooks and condoms. She was about three stools away from me when I turned my attention to the front of her t shirt. It said, Kiss Me, I'm Divorced. Oh Dios! How I wanted to. I must have drifted for a minute because the next thing I knew she was in front of me.

Her huge blue eyes looked at me and she blushed as she asked, "Could you help me with my divorce party scavenger hunt?" Divorce party? I simply nodded, anything to get to spend a little time with this beautiful woman. She scanned the list, blushed harder and then asked, "Um, could I have your underwear?" I flashed a grin at her and she teetered slightly on her heels.

"Can't do that one Babe, not wearing any." Her eyes kind of glazed over and she went from blushing to more of a flushed look and I swear I saw her nipples tighten through her thin little t-shirt. "I could do that though," I nodded to the lettering on her top. She shook her head as if to clear it and then looked down at her chest, trying to figure out what I was talking about. Her breath hitched as she read the words again on her own shirt.

Her head snapped up and her eyes caught mine. She mumbled something about needing to have truth in advertising; she took one step closer to me, which put her between my legs. I put one hand on her hip and threaded the other one through her curls, pulling her face to mine. Her hands went to my thighs to steady herself. A current of electricity zinged through me at her touch. As I lowered my lips to her mouth, her eyes fluttered closed. At first I just lightly brushed my lips back and forth across hers. When I traced the seam of her lips with my tongue they opened for me as a soft moan escaped her. My tongue plunged into her mouth and tangled with her own. I felt her shudder and she tightened her grip on my thighs. When I finally pulled back she was breathless and dazed. I was pretty much in the same state, I just hid it better.

Moving my lips to her ear I whispered, "Anything else I can help you with?" She slowly slid her hands from my thighs. I suppressed a shudder.

Still a little dazed she asked, "You're really not wearing any?" It was a foreign concept to her. Glancing quickly at the list still sitting on the bar I leaned in again to whisper, "Algunas cosas que tu necesita para descubrir por ti mismo Babe." (Some things you need to find out for yourself Babe.) I pointed to the line on her list that read, Have a guy speak to you in a foreign language. "Let me know if you need any more help." She nodded and walked unsteadily back to her girlfriends who let out a shriek as she approached them.

They all huddled around the table with the occasional glance thrown in my direction. I felt a little bad for teasing her, but it looked like I was the one about to be teased as she tossed me a saucy look over her shoulder as the whole crew headed to the dance floor. I downed the rest of my beer, ordered another as well as a shot of tequila. Slamming the shot and chasing it with the beer, I settled in to watch the show.