Blaze

The cocktail the barmaid handed to Lois was cloudy white, with a rim of salt. The undercover reporter brought it to her lips for a sip, not wanting to get too buzzed and miss some vital clue. It tingled on her tongue, thick and somewhat viscous - not quite like any White Russian she'd ever had. She let it roll around in her mouth before swallowing it, leaving a slightly sticky film on her tongue and a burning trail down to her stomach.

The club was starting to get hot, Lois realized, as the beat changed and the dance floor surged in a bump-and-grind. The PVC biker jacket was suddenly stifling, so she quickly shucked it, tying it around her waist. She took another small sip of the cocktail as she surveyed the club, a long idle gaze, fingers absently tapping to the beat.

"You want another?" The barmaid yelled above the music, and Lois realized with some surprise that the glass in her hand was empty, save for a slight grey puddle at the bottom of the glass. She tilted it back, letting the last drop sag onto her waiting tongue, and sucked it in. The barmaid flashed her a smile as she brought forth another, identical cocktail, and took away the dirty glass.

"What's your name?" Lois yelled back, leaning in close. She felt a flush growing on her face and chest. The barmaid probably knew a lot about what was happening here, if Lois could get her to talk.

"Maria," the barmaid shouted. "Drink up cutie!"

Lois eyed the barmaid over the salted rim of the glass. Twenty-something, with that half-starved look, hollows under the eyes that spoke of long nights without enough sleep. A mesh shirt that didn't hide the twin barbells through the nipples of her small but pert breasts. Head shaved on both sides, but what was left was a long and flowing crest, dyed about a dozen shades of purple and red, and tied back into a pony tail. Short nails, painted black. Skirt and fishnets, black boots. About a dozen piercings in her ears, but no makeup. The barmaid was working.

Lois liked watching Maria work, the hint of muscle rippling under the skin of her arms as she mixed drinks, pulled beer. Most of the bottles behind the bar were labeled in code; an old bartending trick to keep rival clubs from stealing your recipes. She could feel the crowd behind her, but didn't give up her spot at the bar, and Maria didn't seem to mind. At least, the barmaid didn't say anything as she replaced Lois' suddenly empty drink with another fresh one, and Lois, flushed and sweating, found she was terribly thirsty...

In the warehouse's basement, a scarlet hand worked a long crimson shaft in long, slow strokes. A dribble of clear precum dripped down from the head, into the waiting funnel. The camera under the bar was angled upwards, focused in on the shiny red disco pants Lois wore...and the slight outline of cameltoe that was appearing. The strokes began to speed up, and the cock tilted to aim straight at the hole of the funnel. With a grunt, a stream of creamy white goo erupted, red hand a blur of motion, milking the crimson dick into the funnel.

The white goo slid down the clear plastic piping, then it was pumped upwards, into the bottle marked "XXX" behind the bar. Which Maria carefully picked up and measured out another shot into the drink she was making: Lois' next cocktail.

Blaze ran a callused fingertip over the tip of her cock, and brought it up to her lips. It was salty and tingled on the tongue. The demoness watched the monitor as a damp spot appeared in Lois' pants.

"Oh yes. This is going to be fun."