Mabel Shot

“ What are you looking for, Mabel?! — I whisper, lost, walking slowly among the people crowded in the hall.
My eyes now observe the place more carefully, no longer overwhelmed by the chaos I felt the first time I was here. At first glance, it could easily pass for a clandestine dance club, with ordinary people just wanting to escape the monotony of their everyday lives. I notice couples chatting in corners, while others dance on the floor to the sound of *Smooth Criminal*. It’s not as packed as it was during my first visit, but there are still a few people adding volume to the atmosphere.
Everything could seem simple and normal, if it weren’t for one crucial factor. What kind of party has its attendees wearing silicon-enhanced outfits and others with collars around their necks? I spot a large pool table a few meters away, near the bar, where a couple is playing. I can’t help but notice the woman dressed as a nurse, teasing her partner, who is sitting in a wheelchair. His legs are amputated below the knees, and his left arm is gone too. She strokes his chin and whispers something in his ear, leaning in so her ample breasts nearly rub against his face, while he laughs, takes her hand, and guides it to his groin, getting a massage in front of everyone. Watching them reminds me of a guy who attended the paraphilic disorder meetings I used to go to years ago. He was twenty and was forced by his parents to attend those meetings due to his attraction to amputees. I wonder what they would think of me for spending months going to those meetings, trying to control my desires, only to find myself here, at the gates of hell, where no desire is too bizarre.
“I shouldn’t have come! — I say to myself, turning my eyes away from the couple.
My fingers tighten around my hat, almost certain that returning here was a terrible decision. It was past 9 PM when I left my apartment and walked the streets, stopping only when I stood before the establishment. I have no idea what I’m looking for, or maybe I do, but I’m too cowardly to admit it. The words of Macro keep repeating insistently in my head. I’m tired of always having to police myself, to control every thought and action. I feel like I’ve been imprisoned within myself for so long that I no longer know who I am. I’ve tried so many things to free myself from this that I don’t even know what to do anymore. I just know I can’t keep going the way I was.
My eyes search among the crowd for one man. A faceless man whose name I don’t even know, his origins, who he is. But somehow, he managed to silence my demons, taming them. I felt at peace for that brief moment after the euphoria of the orgasm passed; all I felt was fulfillment. There was no disgust, no fear, no degradation—just peace. All the bad feelings returned after I understood what had happened. Seeing myself so vulnerable, out of control before that man, and feeling good about it scared me. Still, I search for him. On a whim, I thought that maybe if I came here, I could find him again, perhaps seek any type of help.
“You’re losing your mind, Mabel! — I murmur, anxious, rubbing my neck. — There’s no chance of finding that stranger again — I chide myself, feeling foolish, having no idea what I’m doing or looking for.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly through my mouth, feeling upset as I turn to leave this place. My forehead collides with the broad chest of a man standing like a wall before me.
“ Oh my God, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you! — I say, embarrassed, rubbing my forehead and lifting my gaze to him.
But I fall silent; the words are stuck in my throat, and my fingers slowly lower when my eyes fixate on his face. I feel that same sensation from last week—the masculine energy radiating from him.
“ I guess this time you didn’t lose your flight, little bird! — His intimidating voice, with a rough timbre, sounds serious, keeping his gaze locked on me.
Yes, it’s him. His voice confirms the sensation my body felt, only now there are no masks or darkness to conceal his face. His intense, threatening brown eyes, accentuated by his thick eyebrows, make me feel even more defenseless before him due to his height. His nose has a slight depression at the bridge between the nostrils, and his lips—fuller on the bottom, thinner on top—are semi-closed in a cold smile that reveals little emotion. Almost instinctively, I take a step back, creating space between us. I have to tilt my head back almost entirely to continue looking up at the tall man.

“Gregovivk!” I hear his voice as I lower my head and look at his outstretched hand toward me. “My name is Czar Gregovivk, Miss Shot. I believe I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself before you ran off.”
I slowly bite my lips and look at his fingers, feeling repelled to not return his greeting. His reprimand doesn’t escape me in his words. He scolds me as if I were a rude child who didn’t reciprocate a friend’s kindness when he played with me. I didn’t think I would find him, and now I don’t know how to act. The initial idea to come back here was to find the masked man, but now that I see him before me, I’m twice as certain that pursuing him was the worst idea of my life. I take a deep breath, squeezing my hat tighter in my fingers, diverting my eyes toward the stairs.
“Mabel Shot, Mr. Gregovivk,” I whisper, extending my hand, touching my fingers to his.
I feel a jolt of electricity as his large hand closes over mine. His touch is warm, prompting my mind to remember in sordid detail how my body vibrated at his touch. I lift my face as I hear the heavy sound of his breath, watching him take a step forward and stand close to me again. My heart races, and the hair on my neck stands on end. My eyes shift away from his face and return to the stairs.
“I suggest you have a drink and warm up your body.” His voice is serious, not hiding that his suggestion was merely used as a formality because, in truth, he’s sentencing what comes next. His other hand flattens over mine, trapping my fingers between his two hands, lowering his head to look at me closely. “You’re cold.”
“I walked here...” I murmur, trying to pull my fingers from his hands.
“Walking? You walked alone at night in this cold?” I feel the pressure of his hand tightening on my fingers as his gaze narrows, and he speaks roughly. “In the streets of Moscow?”
“Yes, I like to walk...” I say hastily, feeling even more foolish for coming. “I shouldn’t have come here... it was a mistake.”
I shake my head, moving it from side to side, and feel my breath quicken.
“I apologize for the first time we met, Mr. Gregovivk.” I try to pull my hand away so he’ll release it, but the big man continues to hold firmly. “Please, could you let me go? I need to leave...”
“Mr. Czar, your room is ready.” My face turns to the small man who stops beside us, speaking to the giant who keeps his brown eyes glued to me.
“Thank you, Lauren. My companion and I are heading there.” His hand releases mine and he steps aside, still glaring at me. “Please follow Lauren, Miss Shot!”
His brown eyes grow darker, almost black, as he becomes serious, staring at me. It gives me a clear warning not to even think about escaping this time, judging by the way his mouth presses tightly together.
“Damn!” I curse, lowering my eyes, unable to maintain eye contact for long without feeling completely intimidated.
I walk slowly, following the small man, who gives me a cordial smile, nodding at me in greeting. I feel his eyes burning into my back as he silently walks behind me.