Delicious by Mark Haskell Smith

place to eat.”
    The pimp looked at her for a beat, deciding.
    â€œTwo blocks that way; turn left. You’ll see a little place kitty-corner. They make good noodles.”
    â€œThank you.”
    The pimp watched her go, shaking his head sadly at the lost business opportunity. “You could make a lot of money.”
    ...
    The muffled beat of technomusic pounded against the walls of the bathroom. Occasionally someone would throw open the door, and the full force of the sound would shake the stalls. But Francis wasn’t paying much attention to the music; he was busy sucking cock. A handsome Australian’s cock, at that. Uncut. Chad would be jealous.
    Francis knew he should’ve slid a condom over the guy’s dick before he put it in his mouth, but wedged into the stall of the bathroom, kissing and stroking each other, the crystal meth and Viagra propelling him forward, urging him to just rip off his clothes and start fucking—well, he just didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered. In fact, he wouldn’t mind catching some minor venereal disease, a little gift for Chad when he got home. That would show him.
    The Australian had a big cock, much bigger than Chad’s. Francis could feel it getting bigger, stiffer, as he sucked and stroked it, letting it drive deep into his mouth. Francis cupped the Australian’s balls with one hand, the base of his cock with the other. He felt the balls tighten and rise, and then a surprisingly large amount of come began shooting down Francis’s throat in hot little pulses.
    Francis swallowed.

Eight
    It wasn’t difficult for Joseph and his uncle to find Jack. The concierge at the hotel was more than happy to tell them where the cranky old haole with the walker went. The concierge had loaded the walker into the trunk of the cab and everything. And had the gimpy old bastard given him a tip? Fuck, no.
    So Joseph and Sid were on their way to La Femme Nu.
    Joseph didn’t like strip clubs. They weren’t his scene. He liked to say that the ritual objectification of women was a soulless and sad pursuit that offended his sense of aesthetics. But really, the one time he’d been, he’d just found the whole thing depressing. The leering men, the prancing women with their shiny oiled skin, superinflated tits, and absurd costumes—they were almost cartoons, manga-stylized yet alive, simulating intimacy or, perhaps more accurately, simulating a fantasy version of simulated intimacy.
    Joseph wasn’t sure whose fantasy it was. Not his. The uptight nurse or librarian or schoolteacher, checking pulses or wearing big black glasses and holding a book, suddenly letting her hair down, unleashing her massive boobs, and banging her crotch against a large metal pole while mencheered and stuck money in her underwear—what planet did that come from?
    Sid and Joseph passed through the neon portal of La Femme Nu. They found Jack scrunched up against the stage, his face staring up at the bulging rubber-wrapped vulva of a young Korean woman with gigantic pylon-shaped silicone-injected breasts. Jack had an astonished look on his face. Apparently he was experiencing something profound and life-altering, a real eureka moment. He turned to a Caucasian guy sitting next to him.
    â€œDid you know Chinese chicks had such big tits? I can’t fuckin’ believe it!” Then, turning to the platform: “Come here, Tiger Lily!”
    She swiveled her vacuum-packed ass over toward him, bobbin’ it up and down to the beat as Jack lurched and wobbled to his feet. He stuffed a couple of bucks in her rubber panties, pulling the waistband out like a rubber band and then letting it go. Hearing the satisfying smack of rubber hitting flesh, he gave a feral howl.
    â€œOh, my God! You got the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen!”
    Sid and Joseph watched Jack reel around, arms wheeling in the air as he fought for balance, and collapse back into his