Full Moon Dreaming: Silver Flash: Lust Never Sleeps 2: Diamonds Aren't Forever

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Silver Flash: Lust Never Sleeps 2: Diamonds Aren't Forever

Welcome to another edition of the Silver Flash, brought to you by the good people at Silver Publishing! The prompts were: "Okay, I paid the twenty bucks. What do the cards say?" or "Somebody's got to stop him." This week, Lust Never Sleeps continues. As you'll recall, Darryl was minding his own business, out for a night at Hannagan's, when Sawyer Thomas stepped into his life. So, what's going on and what diamonds are the strange Mr. Schrodinger and Mr. Salisbury talking about? Find out in this week's episode! Enjoy!

Diamonds Aren't Forever

Diamonds? What diamonds? Darryl didn’t have the least idea what the two men were talking about. Whatever it was, it seemed to scream dubious intent; there was an air about Mr. Schrodinger and Mr. Salisbury which simply reeked of shadiness.

The trouble was Darryl knew nothing about no stinkin’ diamonds. Legitimate or otherwise.

“It’s alright, love, they’re the gentlemen I told you about.” Sawyer’s smooth voice both elated and frightened Darryl. The fright arose from his distinct lack of knowledge regarding the current situation, the elation from the pleasurable sensations those dulcet tones sent shooting through his body, all rushing toward his dick. “Go ahead and show them.”

Show them what? He cast a quick glance at Sawyer, whose smile was broader than the Cheshire Cat’s. On the other hand, he noticed the two dark-suited men eyeing him in a less-than-friendly manner, in quiet expectation. Quiet, and not entirely happy. Probably because Darryl was keeping them waiting.

He fumbled for something brilliant to say, something rather French. All he came up with was, “Um, oui.” Yeah, he sounded like a dumbass and he knew it.

“You put them in your pocket, darling.” Sawyer rolled his eyes slightly for the two gentlemen’s benefit, while Darryl’s hand flew automatically to his jacket pocket, even though he knew damn well there was nothing there. Well, maybe a condom. Or a ticket stub. But certainly nothing as extraordinary as….

Diamonds. Well, hellfire and damnation.

Darryl looked at the shiny little rascals that blinked and glittered in his hand, amazed at what he was seeing. He glanced at Sawyer, suspiciously; the other man radiated only abundant confidence. Darryl didn’t know anything about gemstones of any kind. The only jewelry he knew about were the earrings that he sported, one in each ear, and they were silver hoops, no stones. But he just knew, looking at these little lovelies, that they were worth quite a bit of money. He also could have sworn they’d been taken out of their settings. As in stolen.

Of course, who went to a bar to broker a legitimate diamond deal? Durp.

“I believe this is what you were wanting, was it not?” Sawyer asked the dark pair, his hand snaking out in expectation.

“Indeed it is, is it not, Mr. Salisbury?”

“Most assuredly, Mr. Schrodinger.”

The two men wore identical dead smiles. Darryl found it quite creepy.

“Shall we complete our transaction, then, so that you gentlemen may go about your business—“

“Excuse me, sweetheart, but have you seen a child, about yea high?” The speaker was a fortyish buxom redhead in a low-cut black dress. She’d interrupted Sawyer in mid-thought, leaning in between him and Mr. Schrodinger, her two main assets almost resting within Sawyer’s grasp. Well, one of them, maybe. Two would be too much to ask of one lone palm.

Darryl felt an irrational jolt of jealousy at the sight, one he tucked away as being crazy.

All eyes were fixed upon the redhead. Except for Darryl’s. He was staring at Sawyer. Therefore, they all missed it. Which, of course is the purpose of the Distraction. To draw attention away from the Main Event.

Darryl first noticed a slight breeze, a lightness of being in his… Holy shit, his hand was empty. What just happened?

He noticed a thin weaselly fellow with a moustache that looked as if it’d been penciled in with eyeliner. Crookedly. He was hightailing his small ass toward the front door. It didn’t take Charlie Chan to put two and two together and come up with Theft.

“Hey!” Darryl pointed toward the fleeing thief. "Somebody's got to stop him."

Mr. Schrodinger and Mr. Salisbury turned to regard the man, as if he were some sort of specimen, but not one of very great interest to them. Not surprisingly, the redhead had disappeared, mammaries and all.

“Tell me, Mr. Salisbury, do you think we should bring out Mondo to play with the little man? He hasn’t been out for a while.”

The shorter of the two men considered the question for a moment, before shaking his head. “No, sadly, I must decline. I believe that Mondo would crush him to a pulp before we had a chance to interrogate him. That would not be good, not good at all.”

“Then we are agreed?”

“We are agreed, Mr. Schrodinger.”

They closed their eyes, nodding together, like a pair of identical bobbleheads. “Milosh!”

Darryl found himself edging toward Sawyer. Which worked out well, as the blond was moving his way, his arm snaking about Darryl, their hips meeting, which sent sparks shooting through Darryl’s entire body. Darryl couldn’t explain this strange attraction to a perfect stranger. Sure, he’d felt connections before, usually of the hot and horny variety. But those quickly burned themselves out upon being given satisfaction.

This one seemed different.

So, what were they waiting for? Or who? Darryl couldn’t be sure; this was one hell of a surreal moment.

A commotion from one corner of the bar drew their attention. A man indignantly shot to his feet, yelling at someone who sat at a small table. "Okay, I paid the twenty bucks. What do the cards say?" The man sounded angry.

The sea of people between here and there shifted just enough for Darryl to see the object of anger—a young handsome gypsy, dark and swarthy, almost piratical in a bright purple head scarf, the effect of his beauty marred by a black eye patch.

The gypsy attained a standing position, making a peculiar motion with his fingers in his patron’s direction. Darryl had the feeling it was nothing favorable, most likely a curse.

“The cards say….” His accent was rich and thick, yet precise. He paused, for effect.

The man seemed torn between skepticism and belief. But he was all ears.

“You should return money you embezzle before police catch you.”

The man’s jaw dropped to the floor.

Darryl stared in disbelief as the gypsy ran after the thief.