Seduction "Where've you been?"
Mitch's growl greeted the young Irishman as he let himself into his boss' central but unobtrusive apartment.
"Sorry, am I late?" Nim glanced at his watch, tutting at himself. "Oops."
"When I say 7, O'Donnell, I mean 7."
"Sorry, Mitch," Nim ambled past the scowling, dark-haired Englishman and into the kitchen. "Got caught up." He peered into the fridge. "What's for dinner?"
"I haven't ordered it yet," Mitch Hale stalked up to stand behind him, arms folded in tight disapproval across his broad chest, "I was waiting for you."
"Cheers, boss," Nim grinned, turning sharply to plant a firm kiss on Mitch's lips, startling the crime-boss.
"Don't do that." Mitch growled but there was no heat behind it.
"Why not?" Nim smirked, pressing close, moulding his slender body to his boss' sturdy frame. "There's no one here to see," he whispered against Mitch's mouth.
The man relaxed fractionally, enough to drop a hand to his lieutenant's hip.
"So where were you?"
Nim blinked, then grinned smugly.
"Having a very interesting conversation with a recent releasee."
"Oh?" Mitch pulled back a little but his other hand settled lightly on Nim's other hip.
"Found out something about Joel Canly that might be useful."
"Oh?"
Nim shivered, pupils dilating sharply – Mitch was unsubtly thrusting groin to groin: so much for 'don't'.
"We know he's a right prick when it comes to women – treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen – but have you ever wondered why?"
Mitch shrugged.
"He's just a bastard. Runs in the family."
Nim's lop-sided grin was impish.
"All of that, but I reckon he's queer as well."
"What?" the Englishman stared. "He can't be, he's too much of a... a lad." He snorted. "Just because you've discovered your true leaning you're trying to foist it on everyone else."
Nim let that go.
"This bloke I was talking to was inside with Canly jnr and he had some very enlightening tales to tell."
"Such as?"
"Such as Canly organising 'punishment' for imaginary insults and making sure he watched every moment."
Mitch looked dubious.
"He didn't take part in it himself?"
Nim shook his head.
"No, nor was he ever on the receiving end – his uncle's power and influence protected him from that."
"Bit tenuous, isn't it?" Mitch frowned. "Canly's never shown any inclination... that way... on the outside."
"Well he wouldn't, would he? Uncle Ray's a foaming homophobe."
The broad man's frown deepened.
"That doesn't make sense – it's common knowledge Canly Senior favours his niece to take over the business, and she's a dyke."
"It's also common knowledge he's described her as 'as good as any man'." It was Nim's turn to shrug. "Maybe he's only got a problem with homos."
Mitch shook his head.
"Nah, I don't buy it. Canly's too convincing as a macho lout."
"Overcompensating, p'rhaps?"
"He's a frantic womaniser. He shares his women with his mates!"
"Maybe it's not the women he's watching?"
Mitch shook his head again, unconvinced.
"Look," Nim urged, "might be worth investigating, right? Be another way to get someone close to him?"
The Englishman's blue eyes narrowed in thought. The keystone to his revenge was acquiring as much damaging information about the Canlys as possible, getting someone into Joel's 'brute squad' could speed that up...
"He'd have to look like a regular tough guy – "
"Attractive though, in a very masculine way." Nim grinned.
"Can't act like a faggot."
"Strong, commanding, completely at ease with themself," the Irishman smirked. "I think I know just the man..."The run-down waterside pub looked, at best, structurally unsound. When it was first built early in the last century, it'd been named 'The Golden Bell', now it was more usually known as 'Mushroom Manor.' The building's walls sagged noticeably and it gave the impression it would topple off the pier and into the oily water if all its patrons unguardedly moved to the front at the same time. It wasn't any better inside. The low level of lighting couldn't disguise the dingy wallpaper, or that what was left of the carpet was threadbare and splotchy. The scent of the place wasn't at odds with its appearance either. Damp and mould mingled with old beer, smoke, sweat and the acid memory of fried foods. Mushroom Manor wasn't beloved of anyone, not even its regular customers, but it served a purpose.
Nim loathed the place, he always felt like he needed a thorough, scalding hot shower afterwards, but it was about as anonymous as you could get and more importantly it was somewhere the likes of Joel Canly would never appear.
The young Irishman picked up the two, over-full pints from the sodden bar-top and grimacing - jesus, even the glasses felt slimy - picked his way over to a booth at the back of the establishment's public bar.
"Ah, don't be looking like that," a tall, broadly athletic man with cropped blond hair smirked at Nim's visible disgust with the bench he was sliding onto, "you chose to meet here." He picked up one of the glasses, sniffing its contents before taking a tentative sip. The blond pulled a face and set the glass back down with a finality that indicated he wasn't going to be picking it up again. "So, cuz, long time no see." He leant back and shrewdly appraised the slender red-head. "What do y'want?"
"A favour, Brodie."
"What sort of favour?"
"I want you to seduce someone, get close to them, get some dirt."
Brodie reached for the drink then remembering the taste pulled his hand back. He reached into the pocket of his old, leather jacket instead and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
"Why?"
"Revenge."
A heavy blond eyebrow quirked.
"For you?"
"For a friend."
"What do I get out of it?" Brodie lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply.
"Aside from the pleasure of fucking a good-looking man?" Nim smirked. "Expenses, and I'll owe you a favour."
Dark green eyes regarded him narrowly.
"For how long would I be doin' this small thing for you?"
"Can't say," Nim shrugged, "but it shouldn't interfere with your other commitments."
Brodie took another long drag of his cigarette.
"Who's the lucky man?"
"Joel Canly," Nim flipped a small photo across the table. "You know him?"
"Vaguely," Brodie frowned at the image. "Is he queer?"
"Emphatically not, but I have my doubts." Nim added at his distant relative's arched eyebrows. "Play it by ear, Brodie. Canly's a misogynistic thug, if you're tough and treat your women like shit he's bound to notice you. Whether he'll let his guard down enough to let you get close to him physically...?" he shrugged. "The point is to get his trust so I can destroy him."
Brodie threw back his head and laughed.
"You always were a vicious cat, Nim!"
The Irishman inclined his head in ironic condescension.
"Only when necessary." He leant forward. "So you'll do it?"
"Aye, I'll do it." Brodie stubbed out his cigarette.
Nim handed over a scrap of paper.
"Here's the places Canly can usually be found when he's out. He's a party boy, drugs and alcohol, and he's nearly always got members of his entourage with him. Real bastards the lot of 'em."
Brodie nodded, scanning the list, memorising the names.
"Anything else I should know?"
"You cannot be anything less than a man's man in front of him." the Irishman sliced the air with his hand for emphasis. "Canly despises faggots."
"No feather boas then?" Brodie smirked.
"I'm serious." Nim scowled. "Canly's as likely to have you beaten up and gelded as not if he thinks you're queer."
"And you want me to seduce this psychotic homophobe?"
"That's the ideal."
Brodie chuckled and shook his head.
"Just as well I like a challenge, then..."Brodie was canny enough not to leap into his 'assignment' without some sort of preparation: if he'd taken anything away from his stint in the army it'd been the knowledge that scouting your territory before you moved was a damn good idea. To that end the muscular, undoubtedly attractive Irishman had begun showing up at the clubs his target frequented, partly to build up some sort of straight-forward reputation before he approached Canly, and partly to see for himself how the man worked.
Nim's information appeared to be correct. Joel Canly partied hard, he was frequently off his face before he even set foot in a club, and women were simply something to stick his dick in. That didn't stop them flocking to the man, though, something Brodie privately shook his head over. Sure Canly was good-looking, rich and ostensibly powerful but he was also a selfish, arrogant prick, not over-burdened with intelligence. Couldn't these women see that? Did any of them seriously think they'd be the one to change him? Brodie grinned evilly - no, no woman would get the better of Joel Canly, it'd take a man to do that, and now after a couple of weeks observation he believed he'd gathered enough intelligence to make a start.Joel had noticed the tall blond in the club several days ago, but then, how could he not have noticed? The man oozed confidence and charisma, and an unforced, hard arrogance. People deferred to him, respected his strength, no one messed him about. Joel glanced sideways at Tommy, one of his so-called 'brute squad', sprawled beside him in the booth. He smacked his empty glass down on the table in front of him.
"Drink."
Tommy stirred, blinking muzzily before fumbling a bleary - greasy, it seemed now to Joel - smile.
"Sure, Joel." he raised his hand, clicking his fingers to get the attention of one of the club's attentive hostesses. The junior crime-boss' lip-curled watching Tommy jump to do his bidding, he'd lay odds the big blond wouldn't toady to anyone. A hostess, carrying his refreshed drink, slinked over to Joel's table. She handed over the glass, bending down to give the brunette a good look at firm tits barely covered by black silk. Joel smirked, reaching in to her bodice to roughly squeeze a prominent nipple: he'd fucked her before, no doubt he'd fuck her again. Eyes glittering, she laughed and pushed his hand away.
"I'm working, Joely."
"You can take a break for me." Joel leered.
"Later." she laughed again, wriggling away from the hand clawing up beneath her tight skirt. She prowled away and Joel's smirk dropped into a scowl. Suddenly that little tart was the last thing he wanted. Feeling unaccountably moody now, Joel sipped his drink and idly wondered if the blond bloke would show up tonight.An hour later Joel unconsciously pulled himself up a little straighter in his seat: blondie had arrived, strutting into the thumping, smoky atmosphere of the club with an arrogant smirk. Almost immediately one of the hostesses latched on to him. Joel watched, irritated, as the blond fondled her breast, leaning down to whisper something to the slag who glanced around slyly then nodded. She peeled herself away from him, heading towards the back of the room - after a few seconds blondie followed her. Joel shifted in his seat; they'd both disappeared into the male toilets...
Curiosity, or something, finally got the better of the brunette. After a couple of minutes he lurched to his feet.
"'m going for a slash." he informed Tommy.
"Righto," his 'friend' mumbled, glassy-eyed from another shot of whatever it was he was taking. Joel pushed his way through the crowd, a dark sort of eagerness uncoiling in his gut. He shoved the restroom door open and then – hyper-aware of the primal grunts and wet slapping sounds echoing around the bare space - he stalked the few paces past the privacy screen. The girl's back was to him, her skirt up around her waist, knickers down around her ankles. Behind her, his dark slacks loosened just enough to get his dick out, the blond was powering home, pushing the girl hard up against the wall with every sharp thrust. Joel stood and watched, transfixed; fuck, he was so strong...
Joel had no idea how long he'd been standing there gawping when the man suddenly growled, thrust brutally hard into the woman and came. The woman might have come too - Joel didn't know, didn't care - but the blond pulled out, immediately turning away from her as if she'd ceased to exist. He zipped himself up - incidentally giving the flushed brunette an eyeful of his thick, rosy penis - then smirked at the younger man as he prowled out of the toilets. Once he'd gone Joel turned his attention back to the woman, watching dispassionately as she pulled up her scrap of underwear and tugged down her skirt. He held himself still as she sauntered over to a mirror to check her make-up and hair - he had the strongest urge to stick his fingers in her cunt, while the blond's semen was still warm.
The woman flashed him a sly smile then left, hips swaying provocatively. Joel found himself trembling with an upsurge of fierce lust - he wanted to fuck the little tart, hard, like she'd been fucked by the blond. He held back from acting though, assaulting her with nothing but a leer as she exited the restroom. Alone in the spartan room Joel groaned softly, resting his forehead against the cool tiles and palming his erection through tailored trousers. He'd not come out tonight with the intention of picking any one up - Uncle Ray wanted to see him early tomorrow morning - but after watching the blond at work Joel knew he'd have to fuck something or he'd explode. Remembering the hostess who'd brought him his drink earlier - what was her name? - he pushed himself away from the wall with a smirk. She'd do, but not here, and Tommy as always could get rid of her when Joel had finished.Back amongst the noise and smoke in the main room Joel slid into his seat and punched Tommy's shoulder.
"Wha-?" the thin-faced man jerked out of his stupor.
"Go find whatserface, the little tart that was all over me."
"Sure." Tommy struggled upright, shaking his head.
"Hang on, before you do that..." Joel's fingers dug deep into his compatriot's shoulder; he'd spotted the blond lounging like god's gift against the bar. "Go ask him over first - for a drink. Politely."
Tommy, perplexed, followed Joel's gaze, peering at the muscular man. It was an unusual request - he shrugged his shoulders - but who was he to question?
"Sure."
A bizarre wave of excitement swept over Joel as he watched Tommy approach the blond, and though he was doing his best to look cool and nonchalant he held his breath until the man glanced over at him, only relaxing when he nodded."Brodie Neale." the blond shook Joel's hand firmly before squeezing into the booth beside him.
"Joel Canly." Joel jerked his chin at Tommy, a signal to fetch them drinks, and the hostess, Joel knew exactly how he wanted this evening to end. "You're new in town?"
"Couple o' weeks, aye." The man's soft accent gave him away as Irish. "Here on business. You?"
Joel smirked.
"I'm a native."
Tommy returned with the drinks and a message from the hostess - Felice - that her shift finished in an hour.
"What do you do?" Brodie took a deep pull of his beer, "If y' don't mind me asking."
Joel shrugged.
"Help my uncle with his business." he frowned and amended his statement, suddenly it was important his guest didn't get the wrong impression about his status. "When I say 'help' I mean we're partners."
"You're doing all right for yourself."
It wasn't phrased as a question and Joel preened a little - Brodie Neale could obviously spot wealth and power. The brunette shrugged again, dismissively.
"Import/export. It's a good living if you've got the know-how. What about you?"
Brodie chuckled.
"I bring in labourers from the poorer parts of the Continent. I get 'em over here, pay 'em a pittance, scoop off a fat profit from their employers." He grinned, raising his glass to Joel in a toast. "And it's all perfectly legal. There's other perks too." He leant confidentially close to the younger man, "sometimes they bring their women with them - sisters, wives, girlfriends. Not safe to leave them back in the old country, unprotected..." Brodie didn't elaborate but the gleam in his green eyes told Joel everything he needed to know. He leered lop-sidedly.
"Let's hear it for unprotected women..."The two men chatted easily and by the time Felice put in an appearance Joel felt as if he'd known the big Irishman for years. Brodie pulled the giggling woman down into his lap, nuzzling her neck as his hand slid up beneath her skirt. She didn't push him away, Joel noted, in fact the little slut was breathing hard, opening her thighs for him. The junior crime boss wriggled subtly against the growing constriction of his trousers - Brodie was doing something with his hand that was making the woman quiver. The Irishman fixed Joel with a simmering gaze.
"Hungry?" he murmured, "I fancy a sandwich."
Joel swallowed against a dry mouth while still giving the appearance of nonchalance.
"Sure. My place? It's not far."A bemused and half-sober Tommy drove the trio to Joel's last-but-top floor apartment, stoically ignoring the action in the back seat. He fixed himself a coffee as they disappeared into the master bedroom, then made himself comfortable in front of the television. Tommy was a bit miffed, truth be told, normally he'd be the one invited to share the latest bed toy, not some bloody mick Joel had only known five minutes. He sighed petulantly, putting his feet up on a coffee table still lightly dusted with the powder Joel had snorted before heading out earlier in the evening. Might as well try to get a kip before he was inevitably required to get the woman out of Joel's sight...
Felice was limp and sweaty between them, moaning in pleasure - or pain, Joel didn't much care - as he vigorously fucked her arse. Brodie was in front, big hands holding her hips steady. Joel could feel the man's penis moving solidly in her cunt, sliding against his own through the thin partition of flesh separating them. It wasn't like he'd never done this sort of three-way before but this time it was different, intensely arousing. Joel gritted his teeth, pumping fast for several strokes before coming so hard there were sparks shooting across his vision. He was dimly aware of Brodie's low growl, the same sound he'd heard when the man had climaxed in the toilets earlier. Joel stayed put, not pulling out straight away like he normally would have. In his drug fuzzed, sated state he almost fancied he could feel the Irishman's semen flooding Felice's body. He waited until Brodie withdrew, savouring the feel of him sliding away, before summoning the energy to move himself. Felice whimpered when he did finally pull out, then sprawled bonelessly face down on the wide bed.
"Oh man..." it came out rather slurred but there was no mistaking the satisfied cat-grin spreading over the girl's face. Joel flopped over on to his back, forearm flung over his eyes, drifting lazily on the threshold of sleep. He felt the bed move, then came the smell Brodie's cigarette smoke. Joel stirred reluctantly, sitting upright.
"Get dressed." he slapped Felice's buttock sharply and she winced.
"Too tired..."
"Fucking get dressed or I'll shove you out the door naked."
She shot him a dark look as she struggled off the bed, saying nothing more as she picked up her clothes. Felice knew from past experience she wasn't going to be allowed to stay. Watched by the two men she shrugged into the short black dress and high-heeled shoes.
"Bye, Joely... Brodie." she paused at the bedroom door, her hand resting on the ornate door knob. "I'll see you 'round?"
Joel sniffed, the Irishman grinned broadly - neither of the men spoke. Felice half-smiled and let herself out.
"I should get goin' too," Brodie stubbed out his cigarette and swung long, muscled legs over the edge of the bed.
"Have a drink first?" Joel spoke quickly, reluctant somehow to let his new friend walk away.
"You got coffee?"
"The best available," the younger man boasted.
"A coffee will be fine then..."Tommy had disappeared too, by the time they wandered out of the bedroom, no doubt getting the girl home... and probably his leg over into the bargain. Joel had pulled on a pair of loose, comfortable trackpants but Brodie hadn't bothered with such niceties as getting dressed. He strolled around the apartment confidently naked, tall, strong, magnificent... Joel tore his gaze away from his guest's heavy genitals and darted into the kitchenette, clattering about setting the water to boil. Alone now with the powerful Irishman he was feeling a little apprehensive, a little... excited.
"Where are you staying?" he called out to Brodie, jumping when the answer came from less than three feet away. The man had been in the other room ten seconds ago, how'd he moved so quickly? And so silently?
"A hotel." Brodie purred. "Not as flash as this place."
"Yeah, it's okay," the dismissive shrug didn't quite work this time. Joel was uncomfortably aware of the Irishman's height, and bulk, and there was a light smouldering deep in his eyes that was making the younger man edgy.
"Don't bother with the coffee." the low murmur brought a flush to Joel's face which deepened as Brodie stepped so close he could feel the man's heat.
"I... I think you should go now." Even to his own ears that sounded weak, pathetic.
"Make me."
Joel froze, heart pounding. What the fuck...?
"I don't want to leave," Brodie's eyes were very dark, and his light touch across Joel's chest raised goosebumps on the younger man's skin, "and I don't think you want me to go, either."
"Don't be fucking ridiculous!" Joel retreated into the sanctuary of rage, "I fucking said get out!"
"No."
Before Joel could react to the blunt refusal Brodie had grabbed his shoulder, flinging him face down across the bench separating the kitchen from the lounge. The crumbs left over from the morning's toast rasped against Joel's skin as struggled, fighting the weight pinning him.
"Relax, Joely," he could hear the smirk in the man's voice, "You want this, you've always wanted it."
"No! I am not fucking queer!" the growled protest trailed off into a strangled whimper as Joel's trackpants were eased down over his hips.
"Nice arse." Brodie's purred admiration provoked another frantic struggle.
"Stop it." the Irishman ordered, biting down hard on his shoulder. "Unless you want me to hurt you?"
Joel froze again, panting and close to hyperventilating.
"Good boy."
The brunette stifled his half-yearning moan as a large hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him erect.
"Are you a virgin?"
Joel's face flamed at the intimate question, and that his traitorous body was reacting in apparent pleasure to the abuse.
"I'm going to fucking kill you." he hissed.
Brodie chuckled.
"I'll take that as a yes."
The hand slid away from his penis. Feeling utterly powerless, the younger man gasped as a broad finger probed his anus, pushing inexorably inwards past the tight ring of muscle.
"Hurts."
"Not for long." he was assured and Joel clung to that assurance, realising he'd somehow given up struggling. All he wanted now was for it to be over.
The finger withdrew - Joel heard Brodie spit - and then the finger was back, swiftly followed by a second digit. He dropped his head to the bench, panting hard as he struggled to control his breathing, control the pain. And then suddenly Brodie was pushing into him, stretching his arse to what felt like tearing point. It was a pain unlike anything else Joel had ever experienced.
"That's the way." Brodie rumbled with satisfaction.
"Stop! Hurts."
Joel keened as Brodie pushed impossibly deeper.
"When I'm done." the Irishman pulled out a little then thrust back in again, setting up an agonisingly slow rhythm. Joel bit down on his forearm which muffled his sobbing but didn't stop the tears. Brodie's fucking him hurt, and it kept on hurting until the man's breathing hitched, becoming harsher as he approached climax. Joel hung on grimly; it'd be over soon and then he'd sort this bastard out once and for all! Then Brodie shifted slightly and the rigid shaft invading Joel's body changed angle. The brunette's eyes widened in something close to shock as another sensation rocketed through him. Pleasure this time, intense enough to block out the stinging pain in his arse. Without thinking he lifted his head, pushing back against the strong body behind him. Surging towards his own climax now Joel barely heard his attacker's throaty chuckle, and then he was there, gasping, his semen pulsing over the white laminate of the cupboard. He slumped forward, aware of Brodie's grip on his hip bones and the sudden wet warmth within.
The Irishman pulled out, gently, then leant down to nip the back of Joel's neck.
"Do y' still want to kill me?" he murmured.
"Yes." came the immediate, shaky response but it was purely for pride's sake, there was no heat in the threat.
Brodie pushed away from him, leaving Joel feeling chilled with the absence of the man's blanketing heat.
"Where's your shower?"
"Find it yourself." Joel snapped, grimacing as he slowly pulled himself upright. He ached from his knees to his armpits, his guts churned with outrage and humiliation, and his bowels were telling him he needed to shit, right now.
Brodie gripped Joel's elbow.
"C'mon, hot water'll do you good."
"Get your fucking hands off me!" the younger man snarled, wrenching himself away out of reach - or at least that was his intention. The Irishman not only maintained his hold, he increased the pressure of his grip until Joel was wincing.
"Get in the fucking shower, boy," green eyes were cold and hard and Joel felt very alone in his luxurious apartment.
"Fine, whatever you say." he growled, unconvincingly, and let himself be led to the bathroom.
Humiliation piled on humiliation.
Under the steaming water Brodie washed him, quickly, efficiently, thoroughly, easily batting Joel's hands away if he made any attempt to tend to himself. What was worse though, what was even more humiliating, was Joel's physical response to the man's actions. By the time Brodie was finished Joel was breathing hard again, his cock erect and eager.
"I thought so." the Irishman smirked, plastering himself against the slighter man, pushing him against the spotless white tiles and grinding his own arousal into Joel's belly.
"Bed." he whispered silkily, reaching past the quivering body to turn off the taps.
"No. Please." Joel could hear his voice trembling in anticipation of the pain and it disgusted him.
"'Please', now, is it?" Brodie's grin was good-natured as he tugged the unresisting body out of the cubicle. "Nice to know you're not a complete lout."Maybe he was too tired, too drug-fucked, too whatever to fight anymore but when Brodie ordered him onto the bed - on his back so he could see his face this time - Joel simply did as he was told. He let the Irishman fondle and stroke him, gamely trying to distance himself from the frighteningly heady sensations. Brodie was too good though and Joel was pulled deeper and deeper into willing participation.
The blond was positioned between lean thighs, the head of his cock pressing firmly against Joel's spasming anus.
"You love this." Brodie leered, pushing forward.
"No...!" Joel's denial slid off into an anguished moan as the thick penis painfully stretched already abraded skin. Brodie shifted, aiming for and finding the spot deep inside that had sent the brunette off like a rocket previously. Joel whimpered, arching up into him and the Irishman smirked triumphantly.
"Oh, yes you do, you little slut..."Joel glanced at his bedside clock. Shit, it was gone 3.a.m. Ray was expecting to see him – awake and attentive - in six hours. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position for his throbbing body, without success. Not that he could move much anyway... The Irishman was cuddled into his back, one arm around his waist, a solid leg draped heavily over his thighs. Joel was pinned, possessed...
"My uncle's going to fucking kill me if he finds out." he whispered.
"What?" Brodie's lips tracked a course along Joel's shoulder. "That you've been fucked by a man? That you're queer?"
"'m not queer." the response was automatic, meaningless.
Brodie chuckled sleepily, pulling the younger man even closer.
"I won't say anything if you don't. You busy tonight?"
Joel wanted to say he was, he wanted to spit in the man's face and tell him to fuck off but... Brodie had done something to him, stoked into life a dark attraction.
"No, I'm not busy." He really hated himself.
"Good," Brodie yawned. "You can pay for dinner then I'll let you go down on me..."
Joel shivered, strung between horror and fascination at the thought, then too weary for anything except resignation he shut his eyes and waited for sleep.
© 2004 May 25th Lutra
Darkside
© 2004 WordWrights