VIP treatment.

Gabby wasn't focusing. She should have been tracking their movements, working out where they were going even though she knew the club they were heading for, but because of the sweet tongue-lashing she'd been given and the trauma of Lewis's ****, she was having trouble collecting her thoughts. So, as Tabitha knelt up and licked fresh girl-cum from her lips, then boy-cum from her fingers, Gabby was shocked to realize that they were underground.

"We don't go to the same part of the dawn as everyone else, Brandi," explained Butcher, coolly observing her reaction. "We have our own entrance. That means you too, now." They all cleaned up and covered up as the limo prowled through a seemingly endless series of pitch black tunnels and cavernous underground hangars. Where the fuck were they? Gabby buttoned her jeans back up, her clit still tingling, and she marveled that she really had no idea where they were.

An underground entrance to the super-club then, and when they got out of the limo - a guy who looked to be Big Mikey's twin brother guarding a varnished wooden door, set gaudily in a dirty concrete wall.

"Mister Butcher." The thug took a long look at Gabby as he held the door open. He was trying to work out if she was a slut like Tabby or a new player, so she caught his eye and slipped her hand down to grab one of the blonde's pert little ass-cheeks. She wasn't some new piece of ass to lay, she showed him, she could take this girl anytime she wanted.

"Brandi!" Tabby squealed in surprise, and submissively slipped right up next to the undercover agent. Gabby could run with this. She let her arm slip around the slim, toned waist and she squeezed the slut close. Her own gang moll, how quickly she was getting the hang of this!

Inside they were in what seemed to be a more compact, infinitely more luxurious version of the club that she'd been in so many times before. There was the dull thud of the main club's bass line some distance off, but this part of the Dawn had it's own, classier cooler soundtrack going on too. Here and there a waiter or waitress carried drinks back and forth, but there didn't seem to be any other customers.

"Was it good?" Tabitha's perfumed breath caressed her cheek as she whispered, "In the car?"

"You know it was," Gabby squeezed the girl's ass again and she giggled. The three men; Butcher, Mikey and Harry were in front, being led by a concierge-type through winding, wood paneled corridors that practically stank of money.

"Anytime, Brandi! You tasted soooo good!" Butcher glanced back at them and smirked.

"The Hawthorne Lounge," their guide announced, and suddenly they were through another heavy wooden door and in a low-lit smoky lounge. There was a bar, leather-seated booths and low tables with large chairs arrayed around them, but there were also stripper poles and a dance floor. It was like a Victorian gentleman's club spliced with the gaudy party venue of the real Dawn.

The downbeat music was louder in here, drowning out the low rumble of the other club, and now there were other customers. But they were Butcher's people - his lieutenants and captains - and many of them rose as he entered, as if in the presence of royalty.

And again the gangster lifestyle was in full effect. In the dark of one booth Gabby could see the top of a girl's head bobbing in a man's lap - just visible over the table-top. And with a start she realized that at one end of the bar a tall, well-built man had bent a waitress over, hiked her skirt and was plowing into her right there in the bar. Nearby, a game of poker continued and no-one looked up.

"What'll you drink, Brandi?" Butcher's smile was both a welcome and a challenge.