Chapter song: Bloodhound Gang - The Ballad Of Chasey Lain

Illustration Credit: AliceKuroCross on DeviantArt

Chapter 10: The Orgy

Mokuba slowly turned back and approached the cluster of drunk businessmen. He sat beside the outermost one. Joan sank into the cushion next to Mokuba, letting his body form a barrier between her and the intimidating clique.

"So for starters," Pegasus swirled his wine, "remember that time you stole my best concept artist by funding his second honeymoon and offering him the position of art director?"

Mokuba grinned. "It was completely worth it." He leaned back and slung an arm around Joan, posturing again but this time more comfortable with her presence.

Pegasus peered over the edge of the wine glass with his single latte-colored eye. "Yes, well that's established fact. The other established fact is that you hired Marc Aurelio's wife Laura as your narrative designer. You said as much in your Monday morning speech."

Mokuba met that one eye with both of his. "Where are you going with this, Pegasus?"

"Rumor has it that last Friday, you treated your vibrant and diverse," Pegasus stopped to giggle, "your vibrant and diverse office staff to an," Pegasus giggled again, and this time the other businessmen joined him, "to an orgy!"

The businessmen burst into full laughter.

Pegasus let the laughter die down to chuckles before talking over them, making slow progress with the tale as he took his own frequent giggle breaks. "And that's not even the best part! So the story goes that your brother Seto Kaiba walks in on this and he sees Laura . . . Laura sitting there at her desk . . . Laura getting eaten out . . . by this sexy Italian gigolo. And Seto Kaiba tries to fire Laura on the spot for cheating on Marc . . . but you tell him . . . you tell him no . . . because . . . because she's earned this. And then . . . and then Seto goes into the other room and sees Marc. And Marc is getting head from this total . . . this total crack whore. And you know how Seto Kaiba worships every scrap of toilet paper Marc Aurelio touches. And Seto walks up to the crack whore and asks . . . and he asks . . . how much? And she tells him . . . she tells him . . . sucky sucky five dolla."

Champagne squirted from noses. The laughter crescendoed and gradually died down to sniggers.

Mokuba waited until he was sure he'd be heard before speaking. "First of all, it was a May Day party. Secondly-"

"Mokuba, what are you doing with my whore?" Seto stood before the doorway with his arms crossed, Roland beside him.

Silence reigned for two seconds.

Then the businessmen burst out howling. "Let's see them titties!" one of them yelled.

Hands snaked towards Joan. Mokuba wrapped himself around her, but the men still caught handfuls of cloth and ripped them away.

Seto pressed the KC pin on the collar of his white trench coat and spoke into it. "It's me. Get us out of here."

Roland pulled out his concealed weapon and fired it through the ceiling. The report drew everyone's attention. "Next asshole to touch the whore dies," Roland warned.

Mokuba and Joan dashed for the door while Roland kept his gun trained on the businessmen. Joan attempted to hold together the scraps of her dress as they all scurried down the stairs. The bouncers, who had heard the gunshot, saw Joan's tattered dress and cleared a path for her and the Kaibas. Roland tried to follow them but got tackled.

Joan and the Kaibas piled into the limo just as it pulled up. "Go! Go!" Mokuba screamed at the driver. The vehicle took off.

As Joan caught her breath, she discovered herself between two sets of leather pants and jittering arms. One breast spilled onto Mokuba's chest as she panted.

"Fuck, Seto. Do you have any idea what you just did?" Mokuba put on a bold front, but his racing heart betrayed him.

"Tell me again why you're with my whore," Seto bit back. His blood surged hot, his hands searing against her already sweaty skin.

"Do you even know her name, Seto?"

Deathly silence passed between the brothers until Joan broke into sobs. The shock had worn off and the violation from so many absolute strangers was sinking in. Seto and Mokuba stared at each other for a long time, not knowing what to do or say as their aggression evaporated.

It was Seto who at last cupped her cheek in his hand and turned her face so he could look into her eyes. "You're better than this, whore. You have men who will fight for you, and they just did. Those weren't men in those suits; they were vultures. They thought they could take from you and offer nothing in return. I promise you, once we get the security footage, they'll all be charged with assault."

Joan gulped and nodded. "I . . . I need to call Michael."

Seto frowned. "Who is Michael?"

"Her boyfriend, dumbass," Mokuba said.

"My husband," Joan corrected.

"Shit!" Mokuba said.

"Who's the dumbass now?" Seto gloated. "All right, what's his number?"

"I don't have it memorized . . . and my purse . . . it's back at the club."

Seto grabbed his collar and spoke into it. "Roland, I need you to get the whore's purse . . . Roland? Roland?"

"He probably got arrested," Mokuba said.

"Fuck!" Seto exclaimed.

Mokuba slid his phone out of his pocket. "Joan, I have Marc's number. Can I call Marc for you?"

"Ah ha! It's Joan," Seto said.

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Seto?"

"Marc has Michael's number," Joan said softly. "Call him."

Mokuba dialed his contact and got a busy signal. "Damn! Laura was in that club too. I bet she's his priority right now. No way he's going to answer a call from work."

"Yeah," Joan agreed. "He doesn't even know I'm out right now, let alone with you."

The limo pulled up in front of the Hyatt. "Let's get inside and figure this out later," Seto said as he took off his iconic white trench coat. He helped Joan into it and buckled it tight, tucking her wayward breast out of sight.

The moment they stepped out of the limo, they were blinded by a barrage of camera flashes. Joan's knees weakened at the sound of the mob and the brothers each slipped an arm behind her waist for support. She gripped their broad backs as if her life depended on it. Microphones appeared in their faces as they attempted to push their way through the reporters sans Roland.

"Let them pass!" Mokuba pleaded, "I'll tell you everything."

A narrow break in the mob allowed Joan and Seto to slip through.

"It was all a joke gone horribly wrong," Mokuba began.