Chapter One

An Angel Gone Missing

 

VEGAS BURNING, skies and melting asphalt, frying eggs on the black tar, holocaust of fired Santa Anna winds terrorizing in from the dead city of L.A. It's all sweltering reminders that someone fucked up, zoned out and planted a city in a dead desert, sweat, thermal, organic, hot, it's always fucking hot in N. Vegas, my home.

Young girls, shattered dreams, abort Biloxi, Tampa Bay, Fresno, a Grey Hound bus, and a cheap back pack from Walmart.

THEN WHAT.

Used, eaten alive, vomited to the hard streets, ending up turning ten buck tricks off of Fremont street, next stop, a heroin syringe bleeding out of their arms, a trash heap, dead, planted on a stainless steel slab in the Ice Tombs, at North Vegas Metro.

One more cigarette, in an eternal head trip of surreal hip hop dreams, always trying to do the right thing, often fail, but like that preverbal whore with a heart of gold, well I like to think that's me, a generous, troubled and humble soul at times, fighting my own vanity all the time, helping those less fortunate than me, most of-the-time.

I'm Jane, Vegas PI/Bounty Hunter.

I am a tall 5-11 string bean aqua eyed buzzed cut blond, queer twist savage, Mensa member, Ex British glam girl, IQ, well off the charts. I'm told I'm a doll, but beauty has never interested me, it's so vapid, so temporary. In perspective, your born beautiful you did nothing to deserve it, have it, just a Darwin DNA luck or curse of the draw. Like a lot of birds, I use my utilitarian beauty like I use my Mossberg shot gun, and my variety of hand guns. I'm also a mistress of several black belts, karate, judo, you know all the stuff a girl PI/bounty hunter needs in a dangerous world.

Being born beautiful is a butt fuck, a death sentence if you abuse it. You didn't do anything to deserve it, or get it, and if you spend your life mirror gazing, doing your eyebrows, eating men and woman, well a decade passes and ya got zilch for being so ego centric and end up a stellar black hole.

Do fucking something for others, besides thinking of yourself, that's my golden rule.

Try to help people less fortunate then you. I try to do that every day of my life.

Beauty, well put my face in a leaf mulcher and a pencil in my mouth and set me down in a wheel chair in front of my Apple machine, good enough for moi. Stephan Hawking is my idol, the gimp cerebral wander is my hero.

I adore girls, since birth, their velvet skin, how they taste, munching pussy, the essence of their breath, and fucking them.

I fucked a guy once, left me empty, vacant, vapid, ten minutes of him rutting around, a sneak thief, 1 AM, boots in his hand, leaving me with a salt deposit in my cunt.

In real time, I have these faded light scars on my face. It was a strange time for me. I had lost focus on a takedown in Reno and some bad ass guy did that to me.

At the time I needed that for an attitude adjustment.

I can't live without the sweetness and softness of a girl's lips.

"I kissed a girl and I liked it. The taste of her Cherry Chap Stick."

Katy Perry is the bump, just adore her.

Anyhoo, I live a film noir/retro life, got great digs in dangerous N. Vegas, 5000 Sq. FT loft kinda deal. It's plopped above Chang's Chinese Laundry. Love Chang and his insane wife, Shei Shei. They are pros at getting the blood outta my clothes.

My love in life is my turquoise and white, big chrome everywhere, including her tail fins 58 rag top Buick. She's a doll, and besides my gold fish Gumbo and Stella, my yellow zipper dogs and three meows, I am pretty much a lone Great White cruising around in the dead oceans of Vegas.

I live to protect girls, the LGBT community, and of course animal's, which without, life is meaningless.

I have tons a dough, millions, parents died in a holocaust of fire, some privileged, rich Harvard kid, coked out, tripping on E, crossed the white line, did a head on, with my parents, killed them dead. His billionaire father, knew the judge, a Harvard frat brother, the kid walked, had two priors, months later, I bought a gun, wig, sunglasses, went to The Common, acted like a slut at a club, he picked me up. We went back to his flat, stripped naked, broke his teeth with my silenced gat and killed him dead.

It was the first gun I had ever bought, and the first man I had ever killed.

Neither would be the last.

They left me millions, cried a lot, I was a shattered fawn. I really loved them and adored them. I have the money with this vampire stock guy at Morgan Stanley who sends most of the interest to various charities.

That, in this cold world makes me feel good.

With the fortune they left me, and as soon as I became 18 I scooted England, and hit up the world, ended up years later in The Colonies for my education.

I spent year's cruising around the world, Asia, Europe, The Middle East, India because I have this Mensa brilliant brain that is mostly wild, and uncontrollable. I taught myself languages, learned about history, art, different cultures, did drugs, you name them and fucked as many insane Euro girls I could.

Ended up in Ibza, an island off of the Spanish coast.

Did drugs, they had these Medellin Cartel Super tankers off-loading tons of E, Coke, Shrooms, did them all, danced naked, went nuts, survived, the girls there were stone cold insane.

That's how I rolled then and then the light bulb went off.

So tired of being crazy stoned all the time, I decided to formalize all of it. So I rolled into Wharton that hit man east coast training business school, did 4 years in 2, got my MBA at 23. That's another story, will give some peeps on that later.

I have to keep it real and love violence, beat downs, kicking ass, and catching bad guys, usually bail jumpers that have crossed the line. Chose the capture the bad boys and girls scene because it turns me on, mano a mano, hand to hand combat, and no girl or guy better try to sweet talk me. I will take them down hard.

Am a weapons expert, got guns, lots a guns, also my PI license and Gun Permit, usually stuffed into the waist band of my usual getup, black leather, skin tight hip huggers and black steel toed work boots.

Anyhooo, never was easy for me to fall in love, and my last girl pal Chen-Chen is gone as another month vanished. With time clicking right along something changed in my life, really a life preserver I was joansing for, secretly. In the end, I just couldn't do it, commit.

You know like the fairy-tail said

Fall in love for ever. Just can't do it because I'm a free bird. I have relationship issues.

So Chen-Chen that twenty four year old French/Chinese, skin like silk, eyes like green almonds is gone. The goddess savant clothes designer almost had me. I loved her, well kinda and she gave me an out. I took it and now she's in Moscow.

She gave me the big ace, the big invite, you know.

Come Janie with me, vee live in Moscow, vee make the love, vee sex. I will make zee beautiful togs for you my lovely.

That fucking accent of hers and that onyx long hair of hers and that sweet cunt, fuck I will miss that.

And what did I do, I took the last life boat out, from her, the Titanic.

It broke my heart when I saw her tears fall down her perfect face. I simply watched as she and the last box of her shit had vanished down the street, passed the freak show of the Mexican circus down there at the end of the alley and, then she was gone.

It was one of those WHEW moments for me.

You know, when your mate gets the bullet in the fox hole, and not you. You feel bad, but you're glad the lead slug didn't hit you in the ear. Don't get me wrong, I will miss her. It was all good, but I kept waiting for that cartridge cap of reality to hit me in the forehead.

You know, a gal falls in love, then everything goes bullocks, the new of it all is gone, and normally some babe forgets what made you special to begin with. Then along with the tears, a career girls heart dies.

Well, what else is fucking new in the world of romance?

Chen-Chen, well no hints of that from her and I saw it in her green Asian eyes. I had to believe her when she said the anvil word, love.

But what the fuck, I love Vegas, what was I gonna do in Moscow, though I totally dig the place. But done that, did that, so I'm breathing easy again, though the sex was nuclear.

I won't forget that, ever.

It's pretty much me, Gumbo and Stella my goldfish, my three rescue meows, my golden pooches.

Well for once in my complicated life, I did the right thing rescuing them, my pooch and cats too from the needle in their arms at the pound. They we're the perfect add on to my non-existent family, and their filled with love, loyalty, licks, big bug eyes and it's an everyday thing with them. Every moment is new with them, their love for me, I hope and is for the moment, I can't ask for anything else.

For where does a biatch like me ever get unconditional love in this bastard of a world.

I'll tell my family of animal children stories later for as usual I'm getting ahead of myself, always like that with me and reality.

Awhile back I was having my usual hoot tracking down a bail jumper.

I had driven my 58 Buick, top down, summer breeze on my buzzed blond mop over to the The Bent Club a notorious underground blood bar club, among many other deviant and wonderful obsessions.

The Bent is slotted down in a dangerous part of N. Las Vegas. Lots of gang bangers, Asian, Hispanics M-13's out of El Salvador, drug dealers, black and Hispanic turf wars and whores, all rumbling and killing for a few blocks of their gang empires.

Not at The Bent Club though.

N. Vegas is bad and you never see that part of Vegas on those brochures showing the plaid golf pants sets winning a zillion dollars at the slots there.

What you do see is crime scene photos and chalk outlines of corpses along an asphalt graveyard.

N. Vegas is a sewer, is puissant with lots of pimps, players, wannabees and drug addicts finding a place to shoot up for the night under freeway under passes and along degrading dumpster worlds. It's a street-walker hooker's paradise, young old, in between.

You know, ex show girls and runaways from Kansas and Iowa that thought Vegas would change their lives, answering their dreams. Then, far too late they, like busting out on life's crap table they would be found next to a pile of garbage in some alley raped, savaged and a meth needle stuck in their arms. Last call the coroner zip, zip, zipping them up into a black body bag.

Anyways The Bent Club is a stylish place. It's filled with queers, dykes, nude dancers, gay boys, transgender kids, Goth, EMO and Hip Hop girls. Also, it's an elegant hangout for straight rich older gay submissive men and woman lawyers, doctors, judges, sport stars, performers and men and woman looking for sex with some empty headed boy with gym ripped abs and girls with golden cunts, and nothing between the ears.

It's a private local club, lots of bartering for people souls and at times so stylish. Best of everything sold there, coke, champagne, X, pot and the finest foods and liquors can be had at a price there.

Drugs are prevalent, but I never touch them. I like what I am going to be doing tomorrow, especially that I am going to wake up alive.

Also, it's very respectful and no one ever gets an attitude about what ever deviant and honest thing anyone is seeking for the night. If it is consenting between two people, it usually goes down there.

Lots of Vegas black cops hang there in kick back Armani suits. It's the only place left in Vegas they can get a little relief from the whole sale slaughter of human beings that is a ritual night after night in Vegas. Most of my friends are cops, including a righteous dude, Lieutenant Victor Garcia over there a N. Vegas Metro.

More on him later

Because I am a voyeur and a thrill girl it's one of the few places in Vegas where I feel totally comfortable and I so love the honest vibe of the club.

Like I said, it's also a Blood Drinkers hang out. They got their own mojo section going on, usually in the dark corners. I think it's cool, never judge them, yet it's not something I am into.

Days earlier I had accepted a bail contract from Hank over there at Hanks Bail Bond for a dangerous piece of street trash, this 6ft 2, dirty blond, pure and ultra-violent biker girl named Tina (dildo) Flicks.

Anyhow, it had all gone down as I had planned.

Looking all dollish and such, I had layer caked my long bod along the bar and had started drinking my martinis. Tina Flicks had entered, felt my Gravitational Sex Tractor Beam and we had chit-chatted it up, and like sex starved wolverines had jetted the place.

She lived up to her name, having this huge strap on dildo hanging from the front of her filthy jeans.

I took notice, thought what the fuck, that would be fun, went in to my Vietnamese hooker routine.

Me so horny.

While this turbo charged kid Tina Flicks was at the Loo taking one last toot I was getting my magnum and shoulder holster and chatting it up with young Goth Super Doll Glenda, the hat check girl. Not knowing if Tina Flicks was going to hammer the sexual lights out of me, or just try to murder me because I was a girl with a gun and a badge and a warrant, I needed a backup sex plan.

Glenda is all Goth all the time.

Meaning her pixie banged black hair is death black, as are her nails, lips, eyebrows, as well as the heavy mascara she wears is black too. She's like 19 and stunning. She's got hardware on her lips, ears, cheeks, eyebrows, nose, nipples as well as having these cool bolts stuck into her forehead.

She hasn't quite thought through what she just might look like when she is forty, but hey, no one lives forever.

As usual she was semi-naked, just this little black mini skirt hugging her small hips just above her laser beamed cunt. Her bod, as was the usual was Goth thin and was covered with Korean and Japanese snake and calligraphy tattoos and I won't go into detail. It was the usual Japanese stuff and you know the kind the rest of the girls have.

Anyhooo, to make a long story short, Glenda has been begging me like Valley Girl fooooreeever for me to fuck her, or her to fuck me. It's all and the same thing to me.

So while I was waiting for my new hero to arrive, hopefully without white powder dusted all over her face, Glenda and I made arrangements for a little girl sex rendezvous later.

Seemed perfect to me and, then Our Tina (That's what the Brits call their Star Player. Our ?) was there.

I gave Glenda a conspiracy wink and a C-note tip and with my arm wound around my new girlfriend, I exited as the starlet I've always felt ME to be.

To make a long story short because I have another bail contract to fulfill tonight it pretty much went like I figured.

Once outside, I had dragged Tina into an alley. Feeling like a slut, I pretend sucked her dildo off and, then ooooooed and awwwwwed and oooooowied as my leather hip huggers found my knees, and she first fucked the NEON out of my cunt. She then sodomized me, me remembering my forehead bouncing off my shins, going boing, boing, boing. I was so happy from the pain and pleasure of it, I almost started to chirp, chirp, chirp like a crazed Parakeet.

I came about three or four times, it was much needed.

I love OUR bodies, our plumbing, us girls and love multiple orgasms, and will pay the piper for them.

I was a bit concerned about my manic sex drive. I literally have to masturbate every morning, or I can't function right. Then I met this doll porn star at The Voo-Doo Lounge and one night I watched her cum ten times, while we were having sex. I felt better about ME after that, shelved the idea to see a head-shrinker about my sex drive.

Back, to my new girlfriend.

With her Vice Grip fingers holding my naked stomach, and her fake dick like a car truck piston hammering my ass, well just after I climaxed again (I am blushing) she violent fucked the radon out of my cunt.

Goodness, I love anal orgasms.

MY BAD.

When the blood bath was over, I felt pleased after knowing that a good time was had by all.

After, because I still needed to fulfill that bail bond, I decided to make it a fair fight, and didn't use my Beretta. I had used my martial arts skills, broken elbow, knee cap, a chop to the larynx, a Judo strike to the liver and had kicked the living shit out of her in the alley. I did feel kinda bad as I looked at her teeth on the asphalt as I cuffed her. I remember her street creds were that she had once murdered two gay show girls, you know, for the fun of it, so I didn't feel bad about the beat down.

But you know, no one ever asked her to break the law.

HELLO, I could have given her a toe tag.

Anyhooooo, I whisked her off to Hanks Bail Bonds over there in Henderson, got my Do Re Me, fifteen gees, which I will off load at the homeless shelter, run by this cool Nun, Sister Maria, one of several charities I try to support every time I can.

I then scooted back to The Bent Club wrangled up Glenda and with her snuggled in nice and tight and the wind whistling past the graveyard in my Buick, we went to my loft and had Napalm sex and as Glenda would say while she chewed her Bubbelicious bubble gum as well as my cunt.

Foooooor-Eeeeeever.

Gosh, who is the luckiest Biatch in the fucking world?

Anyhow a new day; a new night; a new bidness at hand.

Jane, Vegas PI. checking out.