BY : phoenixreal
Category: Bleach > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 873
Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach, don't make money.

Chapter One

Strawberry Sweet and the Lamp Post


“Fuck man,” Ichigo said, lying back in the dingy cot.  Luckily he had a better bed than most the streetwalkers.  Beside him, Luppi climbed in, wrapping his arms around him.  “Don’t get caught in here, honey,” he told him.  “Last time Yammy almost broke your arm.”

Luppi smiled into Ichigo’s chest.  “Don’t worry; he’s off at a meeting with the big boss man.  I can take a nap with you.”

Ichigo, or Strawberry Sweet as his fancy little business cards read, was a lot better off than some of the whores in this place, he guessed.  At least he got his own room, and didn’t have to fight for a street corner like Luppi and the rest of them.  Granted, he only got these perks because of what he’d been through to get here.  He sighed and rubbed Luppi’s back as he fell asleep on him.  He soon found himself falling asleep as well, and as usual his thoughts wandered to that exact thing, how he got to this place.

He woke with a start when his phone buzzed in his pocket.  He gently shook Luppi awake.  “Hey, honey, gotta go.  Gotta go make the money,” he said, winking at the shorter, dark haired man.  “Got a job,” he said winking as he slid off the bed and stripped off his t-shirt and shorts and shimmied into a pair of low rise skinny jeans and a pair of chunky red heels.  He slid into a skin tight red t-shirt with a low cut neckline and glanced at the grimy mirror.  He fluffed the wild orange hair that never seemed to lie down around his face.

He grabbed a packet of lube and a condom off the table and slipped them into the almost too tight pockets and rushed down the stairs.  Luppi followed him down, pausing at the door to the common room where the other streetwalkers slept.  Ichigo stopped and put both hands on his shoulders.  “Honey, get someone tonight.  Yammy’s going to beat your ass again if you don’t bring home your pay by this weekend.”

“I know, Ichi, I know.  I’ll try,” Luppi said with a sad smile.  “But I’m not like you.  You hit the corner, and they come from nowhere to have a go at your ass.  You’re an Escort, you ain’t Streetwalker trash like me, Sugar.  Even when you work a corner, the johns can tell.  You got a different sort of class to you, something I’ll never have stuck down here,” he sighed and then grinned, hoping that Ichigo would understand that it wasn’t his fault.

Ichigo had been on the receiving end of Yammy’s “punishment” more than once.  At least now that he was a high dollar whore, he had to go easier on him.  It didn’t mean Ichigo didn’t still get knocked around when he had a bad run.  Ichigo did feel bad for Luppi and the other Streetwalkers because they got into this life because they had to for one reason or another.  Ichigo honestly didn’t remember a life before working in La Noches.  Luppi was a couple years older than him, and when Ichigo came up from Below, they became friends when Ichigo stepped in between him and Yammy one night. 

Luppi’s parents had kicked him out of the house for being an “abomination” when he came out as gay and genderqueer at fifteen.  His devout Catholic family told him never to return because they wouldn’t have someone possessed with such demonic evil in their household.  Luppi had nowhere to go, but he found others like him on the street, and spent time in shelters and food kitchens when he could   He turned a trick now and then for some money, and one night, one of Yammy’s boys saw him working in their area.  He followed him back to the soup kitchen and told him that he’d pay the price if he kept working Aizen’s territory.  Luppi didn’t want to get hurt, so he stopped. About that time, a congenital heart defect he had under control began to flare up and no one would help him.  He went to Las Noches, knowing that they made deals for people sometimes.  The deal was simple, surgery to save his life in exchange for whoring on the corner for a couple years.  Of course, he took it.  He didn’t expect the drug addiction.  So, Ichigo actually had it a little better, in some ways.  Luppi hadn’t been forced into what was sex slavery at ten years old though.

He paused in the large bathroom and pulled out his makeup kit from his box and spent a few minutes putting on a little here or there.  He didn’t go for the heavy makeup like Luppi did, he didn’t want to look like the painted girls around here.  He was supposed to be a rough, strong whore, not one like Luppi who moaned and huffed like a horny housewife. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but Ichigo tended to go for a more antagonistic approach with his johns, which often meant he came back bruised or beaten.  They enjoyed it, and Ichigo didn’t mind. 

He got down to the street one over from the main Las Noches building. He pulled out a cigarette and waited.  As an Escort, they weren’t supposed to let on that they worked at the main building.  Sex work was legal, as long as it wasn’t being run by a pimp, so they had to act as though they were independents.  The same went for the Streetwalkers.  Of course the others, the young ones Below and the ones upstairs, they never left Las Noches.  However, to get to the basement or to get to the top floor, the clients were well vetted and most of them were being blackmailed anyway.

Ichigo just turned twenty this year.  He’d actually been doing this for almost ten years now.  Of course, at first, it wasn’t his idea, those days were rough and he didn’t like to think of them.  Now, though, he was fine with what he did.  Granted, to keep the memories at bay, it took a shot of booze and a syringe of heroin most nights, but he wasn’t an addict.  He really wasn’t.  He just used it to sleep.  He sighed, flicking ashes into the street in front of the lamp post he was standing at.  He thought of it as his and Luppi’s because this is where Luppi stood and where Ichigo was picked up from by clients.

His hair reflected bright orange in the lamp light as he waited.  He glanced at his phone.  Yammy’s bitch, Cirucci, was the one that took the calls for the “Escorts”.  Escorts, what a name.  They were no better than the whores in the brothel house or the younger ones down Below where Ichigo had started out when he was ten years old.  It was like they wanted to make the fact the Johns paid more make them better or something.  To Ichigo’s mind, a whore was a whore.  Luppi could just as well be standing here waiting on a scheduled rendezvous.  This one was super secretive though, so it must have been someone important.  The instructions were not to ask any questions of the driver when he arrived to take him to the John’s house. 

As expected, a few minutes later, a black car with deeply tinted windows pulled up next to him, aligning him with the back passenger door.  He sighed, pulling it open and getting in quietly.  Payment had already been made, of course, but Ichigo knew he’d be lucky to get even a quarter of the amount of money this guy was paying.  After a while, they pulled into a garage and the driver, a non-descript man in a black suit and shades, opened the door and led him to an elevator.  Ichigo stepped in. The driver leaned in and touched a button. He nodded and left as the door closed. This was certainly one of the more secretive meetings he’d had, he thought to himself as he looked around what was a very nicely decorated elevator.

Ichigo adjusted his t-shirt and checked his face again.  He sighed.  It wasn’t the first high dollar fuck he’d taken like this.  He was young but experienced, so it was that he got sent to these high paying bastards.  There were plenty of rich perverts who wanted to fuck someone that looked like a kid but didn’t have to guts to actually fuck one.  The ones like Ichigo fit the bill.  The elevator came to a stop and opened and he stepped out cautiously, looking around into what appeared to be an entryway for a penthouse apartment. 

To be honest, he’d never been in such a beautiful place.  The elevator had opened into a wide, open foyer, and faced a large bank of windows.  There was a living room situated near those windows and to the left side he saw an expensive flat screen TV built into the wall and all manner of electronics that he had no idea how to use.  The right side led into an open dining room separated from a kitchen by an L shaped bar.  Everything looked state of the art, and brand new.  He blinked and walked across to the windows where they looked out across the city of Tokyo.  The view was amazing, and he had to be up at least forty or fifty floors.  It looked like he was in one of the taller buildings in the area.  He pressed both hands to the window and stared for a long moment.  It was frankly breathtaking to see the lights and motion of the night time city below and around him like this. 

“It is a beautiful view,” came a voice behind Ichigo, making him jump out of his skin almost.

“Fuck!” he yelped, covering his chest with both hands when he turned around.  He blinked because rarely did he get johns so…beautiful.  Ichigo refused to define his sexuality, but the truth was he was attracted to the strong, dominant johns more than the wimps that didn’t know what the hell to do with him.  They annoyed him.

The man was taller than him, but had impeccably neat black hair kept in place with metal kenseikan, an old noble tradition. That meant that the man was incredibly influential and wealthy, as if the apartment wasn’t enough to show him that.  His hair almost seemed to suck in the light around it, Ichigo thought.  It fell around his face and just barely brushed the shoulders of his tailored black suit jacket. The lines of his clothes were impeccable, creases in perfect positions, and his tie perfectly centered on his neck.  His eyes were piercing grayish blue in color and vibrantly clear and open.  Underneath that suit had to be a well-toned body.  What caught Ichigo’s attention more than that, however, was the look on his face.

The sadness etched around his eyes was so deep that Ichigo was sure most people didn’t bother to notice it at all.  The worry lines and the absence of laughter lines, all of it made significant statements to Ichigo.  He was standing there just staring at him, hands tucked behind his back, in his pristine suit, looking like he was talking to anyone except a whore he called in.

Ichigo licked his lips, tasting the gloss heavily at that exact moment. It was strawberry flavored. He ran his hand through the hair on the left side of his head and stared away from this heavenly man.  Tonight wouldn’t be so bad, maybe…  Of course, a pretty john didn’t mean he’d be treated well.  Sometimes it was the exact opposite.  Some of his most harrowing experiences had been at the hands of a john that looked really well put together.

“Uh, yeah, um, very nice, um, I guess you know who I am…” he said, glancing to the window and back to this stoic seeming man again.

“My name is Byakuya.  What is your name?” he asked rather stiffly and formally.

Ichigo swallowed.  “Oh, uh, Ichigo, er, my card says Strawberry Sweet, though, so yeah…” he stammered.  He was a veteran, why was he stammering around a john like this?  This was about the most basic thing in the world.  He was supposed to present as an aggressive and tough whore, not like Luppi and some of the others.

Byakuya nodded.  “Ichigo, one who protects, a good name.”

Ichigo blinked and looked up at him with abject shock. “Oh…no one ever says that. Always talk about how I’m a fucking strawberry, or some variation,” he muttered twisting his fingers as he spoke.  It had followed him from the beginning.  He had always blushed easily as a child, and when they took him to the area Below, with his hair and name, the nicknames stuck. 

The other man didn’t seem to smile, which didn’t help Ichigo relax about the situation.  Ichigo smiled instead.  “So, yeah, you paid for a whole night, so whatever you want to do with me, I’m all fucking yours,” he said, his voice slightly shaking a bit at the end because this guy was just looking at him.

“Follow me,” he said, giving a curt nod and turning around. 

Ichigo arched a brow and went after him into the back part of the huge penthouse to a door.  He opened it and motioned for Ichigo to go in.  Ichigo did, finding himself in perhaps the fanciest bedroom he’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, turning around and looking.  “Holy fucking shit…”

The place was resplendent with beautiful Japanese wall hangings in red and black.  In the center of the room was a large, round canopied bed with black velvet curtains draped around it.  Ichigo walked in and ran his hands over the soft bedding in absolute shock at the beauty of it.

“Do you like it?” Byakuya asked behind him, a strange question.  What did it matter if his whore for the night liked the bedroom?

“Son of a bitch, who wouldn’t?” he answered.  “This is fucking amazing as twenty consecutive blow jobs, holy…” he said, exhaling as he turned back to see Byakuya just watching him with those steel gray eyes.  “Um, sorry, I’m usually in hotels with my johns, not many take a whore home with them.  Hell, half the time I don’t even make it to a bed with them, impatient bastards.”

“This is one of my properties, not my actual home,” Byakuya answered.  “I stay here sometimes when my wife is too sick to return home between her doctor’s appointments or I have early meetings in my offices in the lower levels of this building.”

“Oh,” Ichigo nodded.  “Um, so should we get down to business?  I mean, I don’t care, but you paid for a fuck toy, and I’m here.”

Byakuya just stared again.  “I am afraid I am new to doing this.”

Ichigo nodded.  He wanted to tell him no shit, it was pretty obvious this was his first time having a whore in his bedroom.  He was way too formal and nice.  “Well, we gotta start somewhere.  Believe it or not, fucking a whore isn’t much different than fucking someone else.”

“No, I mean, I’m new to doing this, this whole situation,” he explained.

“Oh, never fucked a guy before?” he asked, arching a brow.  He often found that rich men wanted to experiment with sex workers because they were scared to do it with someone that would out them to their wives or the public.  “No different than fucking a girl, just a different hole and you need lube so as not to catch your pubes on fire.”

Ichigo was sure he saw a red tinge rise to the other man’s face.  “You misunderstand.  I have never been with another person.”

“What?” Ichigo asked, blinking rapidly for a moment.  “But… you’re married.”

“My wife and I have never had relations.  Our marriage was a political one, and she has been battling a slow growing brain tumor for the last ten years since we were married.  She has gotten several times worse in the last few months.  A…friend gave me your card and suggested that you might help me ease some of the stress associated with her dying days and my work,” he said still as though talking about the rain.   Even talking about her impending death, the only emotion on his face was the seemingly permanently etched sadness.

Ichigo stared for a long time.  “Okay, well, I can work with that.  So what do you want to do anyway?”

Byakuya shook his head.  “I…I do not know.  I am unsure how to proceed at this point.”

Ichigo shook his head and kicked off the shoes he was wearing and then stripped his t-shirt off, revealing his far too thin body, and the unmistakable track marks on his arms.  As careful as he was, he still left marks now and then.  He then crawled onto the bed and sat down in the middle and beaconed for Byakuya to come over to him.

“Take off the coat and tie, business man,” he said as he got to the end of the bed.  “Not being fucked by a guy in a tie.  Unless you want to use it for something else,” he said, but he was sure that he didn’t catch the innuendo associated with that comment.

Byakuya mechanically removed the tie and the coat, dropping both to the floor and kicking his own shoes off to the side.  Ichigo pulled the packet of lube and the condom out of his pocket and laid them on the sheets before he patted the spot in front of him.  Byakuya sat down gently on the end of the bed and watched him with eyes that were showing a bit of curiosity if Ichigo didn’t miss his guess.

Ichigo sighed and crawled over to him, this time straddling his lap and looking into his seemingly emotionless face.  He set about unbuttoning the white shirt to find out what was underneath it.  He wasn’t disappointed, finding a well-toned chest and stomach.  Ichigo hummed in appreciation as he ran his hands over him slowly, pausing to run his fingers around each of the dusky colored nipples.  Ichigo saw that Byakuya’s hands were beside him on the bed so he grabbed them and clamped them firmly on his ass.  Byakuya’s eyes widened but he didn’t let go. 

“You really haven’t done this before,” he said softly, grinding against his lap until he felt him harden between his legs. 

Ichigo felt his hands squeezing his ass now, so it seemed he was starting to get into it.  Good, he had hoped he would be a bit more dominant, instead of letting him do everything.  He’d really been in the mood for someone to take control from him tonight. It had been a hard week with several fucking annoying johns who didn’t have any idea what to do with an experienced escort.

“There we go, just do what you feel; it feels good to let go, feels good to…”

Ichigo didn’t finish that sentence because Byakuya flipped him onto his back on the bed with a surprising amount of strength.  Ichigo gasped as Byakuya’s fingers fumbled with his jeans’ button.  He had a determined look his eyes and Ichigo couldn’t help but smile at the seriousness in his face.

“Hold on, let me,” Ichigo said, shimmying out of the tight low rise jeans and laying on the bed to wait for him.

First, Byakuya stared, taking in the body laid out before him.  Ichigo’s arms were thrown wide, his legs askew and one slightly bent at the knee.  Byakuya moved to kneel over him and began tracing his fingers lightly over his body, first running them across his jutting ribs, tracing the dip of his collarbone, and then following the light trail of hair down from his belly button.  He stopped there at the top of his pubic hair, gazing at the fact it was only a slight bit darker than the hair on Ichigo’s head.  Ichigo wondered if he was going to do anything else, but thought that he’d simply continue this gentle form of exploration.

He didn’t expect Byakuya to practically attack him first with his mouth. Ichigo gasped as he began trailing his tongue all over his chest and stomach while his hands roamed down his thighs and hips, fingers probing, pinching and pressing into his body.  Ichigo let him, though.  It wasn’t like he could tell him what he could do; he paid a pretty penny for this.  He was especially surprised by him stroking and touching his cock like he was some sort of lover and not just a fuck toy. Byakuya’s tongue trailed down his belly now, and he found his way to Ichigo’s cock, which had come to attention with all the touching and fondling, something he honestly wasn’t used to in his encounters.  Most the johns were out to fuck him as many times as they could for the money they paid. Byakuya began to lick and suck him slowly, experimentally. He’d had johns interested in this but never one that seemed to be trying to really go to town on him. He was doing everything he could to try and stop from going over the edge, but there just was no way. He tried to tell Byakuya to stop, to wait, but just as he was about to say something, Byakuya swallowed down hard on him and he couldn’t stop it. His eyes rolled up and he felt the tightening of every muscle in his body.

Byakuya sat up and stared at him for a long moment, then wiped his mouth slowly.  Ichigo couldn’t believe it; he never went off before his john.  Never.  His face was bright red with the sheer embarrassment of it.  Ichigo could feel the heat on his face and he knew he had never been so ashamed in his life.  One of the basics was not to orgasm unless the john wanted it.  Never.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, fuck, fuck, I don’t…I can’t…oh please don’t tell them that happened, I…oh fucking hell,” he gasped.  “I just…that doesn’t happen…and I…” he stammered, sure he was going to get knocked back down to street corner whore for this. All it took was one john to complain, and Yammy would bust him down.

Instead, though, Byakuya tilted his head to the side, then dropped down again.  Slowly he continued to explore Ichigo’s body with tongue and hands.  Ichigo gasped as his hands slid down underneath and probed at his entrance.  Byakuya pushed Ichigo’s legs up; seemingly fascinated by watching what he was doing.  Again, Ichigo was surprised when he pressed a finger inside him without warning. 

“Oh fuck,” he muttered as Byakuya continued to probe him and brushed his prostate, causing his cock to jerk and start dripping and another explicative to escape his lips.

Byakuya seemed to ignore anything he said, and continued to finger Ichigo, finally sliding a second and third finger into him, and trying to hit that spot again that made Ichigo moan and curse.  He became very adept at it after a few tries.  Ichigo wasn’t sure he couldn’t keep himself from going over again at this rate.  It was as though he was trying to figure out how to make him orgasm.  Finally, though, he withdrew his fingers.  Ichigo released a sigh and started to reach for the lube and condom beside him.  He should have remembered that his john had no idea what he was doing, and he just told him to go with what he wanted to do.

Byakuya flipped him to his stomach, sending the lube and condom flying off the bed and Ichigo was about to say something about it. He thought maybe he wanted to see what he was doing better like before.  He had plenty of johns that liked to finger from the back, so it wasn’t unusual, and with the way this guy wanted to see everything, it made sense.  He was wrong.

Ichigo screeched in surprise as Byakuya slammed his full length into him without warning.  He wasn’t small, Ichigo thought as tears came to eyes and he balled his fists.  He felt Byakuya’s hands tentatively on his hips as he held still for a moment.

“I did something wrong,” he commented.

“Goddamn mother fucking hell, son of a fucking bitch!” Ichigo growled out.  “Fucking lube!  Lube!  Supposed to use fucking lube and a goddamned condom!”

“I…am sorry…I should stop?” he asked.

Ichigo shook his head, biting his lip.  “Too late now, give me a second.  You’re a fuckton bigger than three of your slender goddamned fucking fingers…” he said, panting through it. “So much for hand size meaning anything about dick size, fuck!”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had johns do this before.  It didn’t make a difference though because it hurt like a son of a bitch every time.  Part of the reason was Ichigo seemed to have an uncanny ability to heal faster than others, and one of the reasons his johns came back to him is they said he never felt like fucking a well-used boy whore.  He wasn’t worried about the condom, especially if the guy was a virgin.  He doubted that at first; he didn’t now.

Ichigo panted for a second, letting the pain pass.  He was going to be sore several days after this.  The stretch and the burn was going to make sitting a little difficult, but he didn’t think he’d bled.  That was a good thing.  Bleeding on the client was bad. 

“Okay, okay, move,” he finally gasped out as his body started to respond to being filled and Byakuya’s huge cock pressing into his prostate. 

It didn’t take long for Byakuya to find a good rhythm, and one that tortuously rubbed against Ichigo’s prostate.  Ichigo hadn’t had a guy make him cum once in months, let alone twice.  As it was, he certainly sounded like a whore every time Byakuya’s cock stroked against his prostate.  He never panted and moaned like bitch, that was Luppi’s thing.  He supposed if the john was good, it made a difference.

“Please orgasm again, while I am inside you,” Byakuya said, stroking his hands over Ichigo’s hips and thighs.

“Fuck, I can’t cum on command,” Ichigo said, moaning several times before he finished the sentence.  He’d never had a john’s cock feel so amazingly good before, but maybe it was just because there wasn’t a condom separating them.

Byakuya pulled out and turned Ichigo to his back, moving back up between his legs and sliding into him with much less gusto this time.  By now, though, Ichigo’s body was stretched to accommodate him, and Byakuya was dripping copious amounts of pre-cum as well, lubricating the way as he pressed into him now.  Ichigo’s eyes rolled up and he let out a pent up groan of pleasure because damn.  Then, to Ichigo’s surprise, Byakuya grabbed his cock and started stroking him in time with his thrusts.  Ichigo’s toes curled as he felt it building in his stomach. 

“Fuck, fuck, good fucking gods,” he repeated.  Byakuya kept angling to find that place inside him, and it was driving him completely insane.  This fucker learned fast, Ichigo thought.  He learned really well, and really fast.

Finally, it crashed into him again, hitting him hard and making him arch his back up off the bed and clamp his legs around Byakuya’s waist to pull him in as deep as he could.  Byakuya closed his eyes, releasing inside the boy below him, as though his very body was trying to consume him with the heat and the pressure.  Ichigo panted as he fell back to the bed, sweating a bit from the exertion.

“Holy fuck,” Ichigo breathed as he felt Byakuya pull out and the unusual sensation of the fluids leaking out of him onto the bed.  He didn’t bareback, and he had no idea how fulfilling it would be.  “You’re like the fucking best goddamned fuck I’ve ever had,” he said rolling his eyes a bit as his body began coming down.

Byakuya was quiet for a long moment still kneeling between Ichigo’s spread legs.  “Can I take you to the shower and do it in there?” he asked.

Ichigo blinked, looking down to see that the man was hard again already.  Holy shit, he thought, getting a look at him for the first time.  He had to be like eight inches and as thick as his fucking wrist, granted he had slender wrists.  That might have been exaggerating, but not by much.  Okay it was exaggerating a bit. Still. The man knew how to use it.

Ichigo nodded slowly and stared at him. “Daddy, you fuck like that, you can fuck me all goddamned night.”

“Do that again,” Byakuya said suddenly as he stood up, staring back into the bed at Ichigo with eyes blown wide.

“Do what?” Ichigo asked, crawling to the end of the bed and looking up at him.

“Call me that again.”

“What, Daddy?” Ichigo asked, arching a brow. It wasn’t the first time he’d called his johns that. It kind of slipped out now and then, and none of them really responded to it. He supposed in a way he felt like he needed someone that could handle him and that was so damn difficult to figure out.

It didn’t take long to realize that he definitely had a bit of a kink because before the night was over, he thought he’d be walking awkwardly for a week.  He’d never seen someone so enthusiastic about fucking a whore before in his life.  Being slammed up against the windows in the living room had been interesting in an exhibitionist sort of way. The shower sex had frankly been amazing because Byakuya was freaky strong and able to pin him against the wall with ease. Luckily, by the time they got in there, Ichigo was dripping wet and the water didn’t bother him.

Finally, they both fell into an exhausted sleep in the big bed.  Ichigo, though, always dreamed without his nighttime hit.  So Byakuya woke up when he heard Ichigo talking.  He blinked wearily and looked at the boy beside him.  He’d become twisted up in the sheets and was sweating profusely while he muttered in his sleep.

“Mmm, no want my pop, leave me ‘lone…leave me…don touch that…no…want poppa, stop it…that hurts…” Byakuya caught him say among the unintelligible things he was whispering and blinked at him.    

He reached out and pulled the young man into his arms until he quieted.  His hands brushed up and down the inside of his elbows where he felt the needle marks.  No wonder he couldn’t sleep, he thought to himself.  The boy was an addict and escaping his past inside a needle.  He felt both pity and horror that that he’d taken advantage of someone like this.  He’d use this boy for his own benefit, and he hadn’t cared what had happened to him before this night.  He cradled him until the sun came up, and despite his instructions to send him to his driver at dawn, he just couldn’t do it.  He instead tucked him into the blankets and dimmed the lights so he could sleep.  He headed into the kitchen and found the phone to call the number on the card and make a request.  He might not be able to lift this boy out of the life he was in, but maybe he could make it more tolerable for him.

Ichigo woke up slowly and sluggishly and went to stretch only to wince as he realized how sore his ass actually was.  He groaned as he looked around.  It was still dark, that was good, but where’d his john go?  He got up, dressing slowly and then walked into the living room.  When he did, the shudders opened automatically and Ichigo realized it wasn’t dark at all, it had to be after one or two in the afternoon. 

“Who the hell are you?” came a female voice behind him.

He turned around and stared at a very short violet eyed woman with black hair that framed her face.  He knew he looked a mess, even after the shower, he still had smudged eyeliner around his eyes and more than a few bites and suck marks on his exposed neck.  The woman as just standing there, staring at him and he didn’t know what to do.

“Rukia,” he heard Byakuya’s voice from the other side of the room, the kitchen he thought.  “Why are you in here without ringing me first?” Byakuya asked, dressed in a blue suit today with a gray and blue slate colored striped tie as he came into the foyer.

“I…I came to see if you’d be home tonight, Nii-sama, who is this?” she asked, still looking at Ichigo.

“None of your concern,” he said to the short woman named Rukia and looked at Ichigo.  “The car will take you back; it is waiting at the bottom of the elevator.  Press the G for my private garage that you came in through.  You will hear from me soon.”

Ichigo nodded nervously and quickly walked past the woman. He got into the elevator without saying anything.  Well, that was awkward…he thought to himself.  However, it sounded like he might have got himself a regular now that would make things a lot better for him. 

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