Here is the final part of my story, Missing Link. I hope you enjoy this tale and I look forward to your feedback.
If you have not already, then please read PART ONE followed by PART TWO
Warning! This story does contain adult themes and may not be suitable for people who are very easily offended!
Missing Link
By Mark Henson
Part 3
After walking Demi back to the universities halls of residence, Alan took a moment to double check that he still had Bertie's video footage, in his possession. He was in luck, the sordid footage was safely captured on the camcorder.
With just one last thing to do tonight; hand over the video footage. Alan made his way through town to the secluded back streets and Bertie's infamous nightclub.
Walking down the litter strewn side alley, he immediately spotted the club's entrance, as it was guarded by two large bald and muscular suited and booted bouncers. Who looked surprisingly like mirror images of Bertie himself.
Alan found it rather amusing that the nightclubs sign 'Adult World' had been mysteriously vandalised to now read, 'Dull World'.
“You don't look like one of our regulars, what yer doing around here,” said one of the bouncers.
“I'm Alan Tandy, and your boss Bertie Bronson is expecting me.”
"The guv'nor said something about this", said the second bouncer to his colleague, "you had best let the kid enter."
The other man turned and looked at Alan, "Okay, well just make your way straight through to the bar at the back, the manager will let you through to Bertie's office."
Inside the club, the sight that greeted his eyes were pretty much as expected. A loud bunch of men were huddled around various podiums on which nubile young ladies were dancing.
The podium closest to Alan was beginning to attract the attention of some of the punters who were gathering around, listening to a compère announcing the next act, 'Feisty Fiona.'
A smartly dressed lady walked past him towards the crowd. Alan wondered if she was the manager and tried to get her attention, then felt a little foolish when she just ignored him.
The lady continued walking on to the podium: removed her glasses, untied her hair, sexily shook her head to let her long blonde hair flow wildly and started pole dancing.
The young lady wearing a sexy business woman's costume was obviously the dancer Fiona. On the 'advice' of some of the rowdy punters in the crowd chanting "get 'em off, Fiona" she turned her back to the audience and paused thoughtfully for a moment and shouted, "my decision, boys," giving the instruction that only she was in control; not the scummy crowd. Then to the delight of the audience, Fiona smoothly stripped down to just a skimpy silver top, matching thong and high heeled pole dancing shoes. In a teasing manner, she slapped her pert buttocks, in time to the music, then turning around with a cheeky smile, slinked back around the dancing pole.
Fiona had an athletic build and was very skilled in exotic dancing, as her moves around the pole clearly demonstrated. There was a growing chant from the crowd of, "get yer tits out." In response, Fiona shouted out, "well; just because you're such a great audience," then removed her top, jiggling her ample breasts to the delight of the excitable punters.
Being an asexual and having no further interest in the spectacle Alan moved on before Fiona had a chance to 'get anything else out.'
Similar scenes were being played out all around the club. Alan could not help but draw comparisons with the crowds here within the club and the dogging brigade of earlier this evening.
Finally finding his way to the back of the nightclub, Alan discovered the bar. It was being staffed by a few ladies dressed in sexy waitress attire. At the far end of the bar stood a couple more bouncers.
One large mature lady stood in the middle of the bar; looking a little more formally dressed than the other ladies. Wondering if she was the nightclub manager or another pole dancing stripper, (Alan was sure that this establishment was an equal opportunities employer after all) he approached her and asked to see Bertie Bronson.
“No problem darlin',' said the mature lady, 'the boss has been expecting you. Please follow me.'
Alan was invited behind the bar and followed the manager into Bertie's back office within the nightclub.
"Thanks, Veronica, you can get back to work now,' said Bertie.
Waiting until Veronica had walked past him back towards the nightclub, Alan turned to Bertie and passed him a digital camcorder memory card, “here is the video evidence you wanted.”
"Excellent work, kid. Hang around until I check out the material and only then will you get paid. You know what will fucking happen if you've tried to screw me over with this one!"
Alan nodded silently in response.
Bertie took the memory card and loaded it into his office computer.
A few minutes later Bertie had an insatiable evil grin on his face, as he handed out a wad of bank notes to Alan.
“Great job kid, this seals things, when I divorce her that fucking bitch Gertie will be getting none of my money. Hey, next time you're looking for work, just come back to old Bertie.”
"Perhaps next time, I will try contacting the local supermarket personnel manager instead." replied Alan.
Bertie laughed out loud.
"No need to go through the club again, I noticed how embarrassed you were when you arrived. Take the back door exit just outside this office instead, it's a quicker way to get out onto the high street," said Bertie.
“Thanks,” said Alan.”
Bertie carried on talking almost to himself, "I knew all along those hairy arsed garage mechanics were screwing around with my now ex-wife Gertie and finally I have solid evidence. Well, they'll all be on the fucking dole queue next week and no mistake," Bertie then paused for thought, "the only weird thing about all of this malarkey was that some of those nutters appeared to be wearing fancy dress!' Fucking perverts; then again, that's a bit hypocritical coming from me!"
Bertie let out another hearty belly laugh; Alan felt this was his cue to leave the premises, he moved quickly towards the office door, "Goodbye Mr Bronson."
As Alan walked through the back door and out into the local high street, he pondered out loud to himself, “people view and experience the world in many different ways, so I guess that today's events are open to interpretation!”
The End
