Taking Care of Business: The Business Trilogy, #1

By Simon Pearce

In a city on edge and in fear of a crazed serial killer that stalks the streets, two debauched and out-of-control drug dealers have a very long day after one of them accidentally kills a local gangster and customer. The body of the feared villain starts a domino effect of accidents, suicides, overdoses and multiple murders that are dealt with through a haze of chemicals, hallucinations and bad decisions.

But when what you do is illegal, does it matter how far you break the law?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Space Monkey Creations
• Release date: Mar 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781916050303

Simon Pearce

Space Monkey Creations publish books that deal with the darker more twisted side of life.

Book preview

Chapter One

It didn’t begin any more unusually than any other day. Mark woke to find himself naked, save for a pair of sunglasses, unsure of how, when or why he went to sleep. He was also handcuffed to the bedpost. He was still cloudy from whatever he’d ended the night before on and had a slight throb behind his forehead, again all normal. Loud, bluesy rock music emanated from somewhere in the house and there was a toxic smell of chemicals mixed with smoke and ganja; all normal. There was a woman sleeping next to him, he was sure of that. At least he was sure that there was a person sleeping next to him, gender yet to be determined. Whatever their sex, Mark was awake and accompanying the throb in his forehead there was also throbbing in other parts of his body. It couldn’t be said that he was one of those guys who preferred to fuck in the morning. Mark liked to fuck at any time of the day or night. He was a pervert of the highest, or lowest depending on your outlook, order. He coughed loudly and waited for his companion to turn over. Mark smiled and said, Good morning. Janine smiled back before embracing him. The movement of the embrace was stopped by something blocking her. She looked at Mark’s perverted grin

So that’s why you woke me. Mark didn’t want to lie to his girlfriend, but at the same time he didn’t want her to get offended and start an argument at something he might say. He decided the best course of action was to keep smiling. Janine noticed the handcuffs and smiled the kind of mischievous smile that can only mean trouble for the poor git on the other end of it. Mark’s smile sagged a little. Janine began searching under her pillow and the bed sheets until she came across an object. She manoeuvred it under the sheets and then started to stroke Mark’s legs. He looked confused at the sensation before smiling lecherously again. Janine brought her right hand from under the sheet to reveal that she was now wearing a bright yellow and somewhat stained Marigold glove. She giggled as she stood with only her lace underwear and single rubber glove covering her pale white body. Mark eyed her up and down as she recovered a Stetson hat from the top of a bedpost. He wolf-whistled. She spotted something hanging in a holster further down the bedpost. Janine reached forward and grasped the gun, giggling even louder and then quite menacingly. Mark looked up at her aiming the pistol directly at his face and began to giggle too. Janine stopped and stared at something sticking out from under Mark’s pillow. She crouched down and retrieved what can only be described as a big, black, floppy dildo. Yes. She smiled and nodded as she stood tall and peered down at her victim.

Mark was no longer giggling or smiling. He stared back and forth between the loaded pistol in Janine’s right hand and the sex toy in her left. Both of which seemed to spell nothing but pain, tears and possibly death. Mark shook his head ‘no’. Janine nodded her head ‘yes’. Mark had always liked to push his outlaw lifestyle to extremes, whether that was how hard he partied or how much he flaunted the law as a drug dealer. And when it came to sex, he had always promised himself that there would never be anything he would shy away from trying. Nothing that would justify the word ‘no’ to pass his lips. This was a big part of the reason why he and Janine were still in a relationship; they were both extremely kinky. There had been one time when Mark had very nearly said no, and he had always kind of wished he had actually said it since then.

#

It was on the eve of their first anniversary as a couple. They had booked into an expensive hotel in the far north of Scotland, a very Masonic-like place where the snobs went to fine dine and hold their noses high while playing golf and complaining about the working class taking up too much space in the world. They had ordered room service and spent the best part of the weekend fucking on a huge four-poster bed, as well as on most of the other furniture in the lavish room, plus other parts of the hotel. The weekend reached an unfortunate climax when Janine convinced Mark that if he wanted to fuck her in the arse, he had to take it in the arse at least once himself. Not wanting to say no to anything sexual or lose his anal privileges, he agreed. They didn’t have any sex toys, and when you’re that far north you’re never going to happen upon an Ann Summers in the wee hours. Instead, they improvised and used a champagne bottle. Unfortunately, neither of them thought to unwrap the foil from the top of the glass bottle first, which resulted in Mark’s anus being cut to ribbons and him bleeding every time he shat for the next few weeks. Not the best climax to a raunchy weekend in the wilderness.

#

Staring into the muzzle of the giant firearm in his lover’s hand made Mark realize just how far away and long ago Scotland had been. He thought relationships were meant to start crazy and get more normal and boring the longer you stayed together for. This thought left his head when Janine cocked the hammer back on the revolver and raised the dildo to point at Mark’s face. She paused for dramatic effect. Are you ready? she asked her prey. Mark thought for a nanosecond, and figured that if he could endure a foil-topped champagne bottle tearing his rectum open, he could endure a big floppy dildo being rammed up his slightly tanned and very toned arse. He just hoped she didn’t decide to use the barrel of the pistol and end up accidentally pulling the trigger. Going out by way of a bullet was of course very outlaw, but having that bullet fired up your arsehole kind of ruined the fantasy.

I was born ready, came his cool reply.

#

Steam filled the long kitchen area and made the walls sweat. The overworked extractor fans were doing their best to clear the room, but the chef had been working for many hours now and had not relented in his creation of steam. Of course, vaporised water was not the desired creation, merely a byproduct of what was really happening. This morning Toby was cooking. He wasn’t cooking breakfast, people who eat breakfast at seven o’clock in the morning tend to have gone to bed the night before and had a good night’s sleep. Toby on the other hand had been awake for approximately 36 hours now and spent most of that time cooking. He had made the decision some time earlier in the week that he wasn’t going to do the next batch a bit at a time, but instead wait until the end of the week and then cook the lot in one big cook. Of course, when the end of the week did suddenly creep up on Toby he had completely forgotten about his plan and had already started drinking cocktails laced with acid and munching on magic mushroom bruschetta. Tripping off his tits with at least another two days to go before the trip would start to subside was not a good time to remember that you have a giant quantity of crack-cocaine to cook up. Toby tried to mellow himself out a little by dropping some uppers and snorting a gram of pure uncut cocaine.

Several grams later the kitchen looked like the inside of a Turkish bath house, while Toby sweated profusely into his thick, dirty bath robe and danced up and down the length of the kitchen singing and gurning to very loud music. One half of the kitchen was covered in a chemistry-set nightmare that resembled a mad professor’s wet dream. There were multicoloured liquids and gasses in various shaped beakers connected to each other via glass tubes and pipes, as well as the occasional Bunsen burner scalding various parts of the glasswork. And, of course, more steam. Toby was constantly looking for that next, new high and was always adding more things to the glass beakers and tubes. There were no names for the drugs that he produced from his experiments, as he hadn’t yet created what he deemed to be perfection. And so the experiment continued indefinitely. This morning’s work needed to utilise the tools on the other side of the kitchen by way of the multiple cooking hobs that all bore saucepans at various stages of the cook. Some were just beginning with water being raised to boiling point, while others were almost at the finish line containing a thick white paste ready for hardening. Toby cooked relentlessly, he cooked as he pranced up and down the kitchen, he cooked as he howled the wrong tuneless lyrics, and he cooked as he tried to recall why he was all alone in the kitchen doing the cook all by himself.

Normally, this is how it should be. He’s the cook and Mark’s the salesman. But due to the slight mismanagement of his time management Toby had demanded that Mark help him with this giant batch. He had agreed and was here for some of the cook at the start of the process. Toby struggled to remember at what point in time he had begun, but was instead reminded of some of his less glorious moments during the cook where he had been slumped in a corner of the room sucking his thumb and crying about his self worth. Moments of insanity flashed before his eyes, images of himself doing a one-man-mosh-pit, a flash or two of trying to hide in one of the cupboards for reasons he couldn’t remember and a lot of steam. The steam, combined with the high dosage of hallucinogens flooding his system, had started off a strange and violent vision where he was the unhinged swivel-eyed sergeant from Apocalypse Now and the music... yes, the music. An upbeat, blues-rock number was playing at present, but at that time... there was The Doors.

He remembered being in his underwear, crawling around the near zero visibility floor, sweating and screeching out of tune to The End. He had wasted a lot of the cocaine. He recalled a moment or two of wiping the 100 percent pure and uncut white powder all over himself, starting from the tips of his blond mop and going everywhere all the way down his skinny white body to the gnarled crescents of his yellowed toe nails. Toby ran his fingers through his soggy hair and squinted at his whiter than normal hand. He should have been supervised for an operation like this, he should have been accompanied by his business partner. Where the fuck was Mark? At what point had he left the kitchen? Toby just couldn’t recall.

More images of Toby dressed in his tight grey y-fronts that used to be white. His stained and falling apart rabbit-head slippers. A red dishcloth tied around his head like a Rambo bandana. He did tai chi through the steam, or mist as he perceived it at the time, and moved like an elephant dosed to the eyeballs on ketamine. He threatened imaginary enemies with the giant and very real large-calibre pistol in his hand. He may have even fired it a few times. Maybe he’d killed Mark? No, he was sure he was still alive. He knew he was angry at his partner, but not angry enough to actually kill him. He hoped. Then he recalled that there had been a female, and Toby remembered Mark being distracted from the cook. The man was as addicted to females as he was to cocaine, cigarettes, beer and all the other chemicals he liked to consume. Toby remembered Janine arriving. That was it! Janine had lured Mark upstairs. Toby nodded in recognition of the genuine memory and happiness at his ability to function so well at present. Here he was, awake for days, a head (and body) full of drugs, undertaking a giant cook all by himself to an exacting time schedule and he was still able to remember parts of the last two days. Toby considered all of this as concrete evidence that he was in fact a genius.

Once he had finished the current batch, Toby decided to take a quick blunt break. He put one together and shuffled out of the zero-visibility kitchen into the corridor. The main light was off but the Christmas decorations that covered the floor were sparkling their multicoloured dance, and this was captivating to the still heavily tripping Toby. He stood and stared gormlessly at the twinkling lights for what only seemed like a moment but was in fact closer to an hour. Toby eventually retrieved the blunt from the pocket of his robe and sparked it with his Zippo. The steam was added to. A giant plume of fragrant smoke filled the corridor and Toby began to dance a jig.

#

Janine sprawled across Mark’s chest while they shared a cigarette. He was still handcuffed to the bedposts, so she had to hold it for him to drag on. They shared the peaceful moment before Mark enquired, What time you finishing work?

I’ll be back late. French class. Janine was suddenly very aware of the time. She stubbed out the cigarette as she got to her feet and started getting dressed.

What time you having lunch? Mark further enquired, as he gyrated his barely covered crotch and smiled widely again. Janine slowly grinned and lent over Mark to kiss him passionately before flicking his now erect cock on the very tip.

Lunchtime, she informed her squirming and squealing boyfriend. You know my bosses are expecting an answer from me by the end of this week. She reminded Mark about that subject, which had been a constant headache ever since its inception.

I’m still thinking about it, Mark lied to his girlfriend. He wasn’t thinking about it at all, he hated thinking about it. Janine was asking him to completely abandon his life, his world, everything he knew and cared about.

Merde! I can’t wait forever Mark! Janine screamed at him. She loved him enough to spend the rest of her life with him, she was sure of that, but did he feel the same?

I’m not asking for forever. I love you, but... Mark trailed off and gestured with his cuffed hands and shaded eyes to the room around them.

Mais quoi?! She blurted at her silent boyfriend, knowing he didn’t understand a word of French despite her learning intensively for almost a year and nagging him to do the same that whole time. But what? she clarified for him.

This is my life. I love my life! He couldn’t believe that he needed to spell it out for her again. He was extremely happy with his life and had no desire to change any of it in the near future.

Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me in your life?

Janine, you know I do. This was true. They’d been together properly for almost two years. Sure, he’d fucked around a few times, well – a lot of times, but he always went back to her. They were complete deviants together in the bedroom and enjoyed