But Perry wasn’t a stripper. Perry was Perry. And this was bound to happen, from the beginning. It was just better this way for me, to get it out of the way before I did something really stupid and started coming onto her or something. Or coming. In general. You know, in my pants.
It didn’t take long at all and I came out of the bathroom feeling dirtier than ever. Fuck, just what was happening to me? This was the man I’d become?
In typical fashion I decided to revel in it. I motioned for Marla to come over. She was leaning against the bar, scouting the bar for eager participants. Upon seeing me, her face lit up.
“Hey Sugar,” she said in her silky voice. She put her hand on my forearm and squeezed it. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“Been busy,” I told her, grinning cheekily. “I was wondering if you could give my partner over there a lap dance.”
“The girl I saw you come in with?” she asked incredulously. “I thought she was your girlfriend.”
“No, she’s not.” I didn’t want to elaborate. “But she needs to let loose, I thought you could help her.”
“Isn’t that your job?”
“Not yet.”
She smirked at me through sticky pink lips. “So this is all for her benefit, is it?”
I reached down and smacked her barely clothed ass. “Go on, I’ll make it worth your while.” I slipped out a few twenties from my pocket and stuffed them in her bra.
She flashed me her expensive veneers. “No problem.”
She sashayed toward Perry. By some wonderful luck, the song “Stripsearch” by Faith No More came on. I decided to hang around by the bar, lurking in the background, watching, listening. What had Perry called me earlier? A pervy weirdo? Yeah, that sounded about right. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that I was the biggest pervy weirdo around.
And considering where I was, that was saying a lot.
I watched Marla approach Perry, her fake breasts in Perry’s face. They exchanged a few words and I could see how fish-out-of-water Perry was. But surprisingly, she hadn’t turned Marla away. I expected to see Marla attempt to grind on her then Perry flip out like she often does. That would have been enough to fulfill my dirty mind. But instead, Perry sucked it up and let Marla do her thing.
My eyes were laser beams on them both as Marla slid up and down Perry’s thigh. I watched as Marla’s top came off and slithered down to the floor. I couldn’t have been more turned on if I tried. Yet there was this strange feeling of pride amongst the perverseness. I was actually proud of Perry.
It was mesmerizing. Hands down, the best $40 I could have ever spent. It was a memory I’d draw on in the future when my life was down the shitter and I couldn’t remember ever feeling free.
When Marla finally finished, she slipped on a robe that seemed to come from nowhere and worked her past me. She shot me a sly look out of the corner of her eye and I leered at her form appreciatively. Credit was needed where credit was due. Then I took in a deep breath and got ready to face my partner who may or may not have been waiting to kill me.
I approached the table cautiously, putting my feelers out. Perry’s face was flushed pink again but I didn’t know if it was because she was angry or embarrassed. Or both.
I took the seat across from her. She now looked a bit enlightened, like she was having an epiphany of sorts. Dear god, I hoped she hadn’t liked the lap dance too much.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. Lying. What a liar. She got a lap dance from the hottest woman in club (aside from her, of course), a dance that her partner orchestrated for his own perverse pleasure, and she had nothing to say? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t incredibly disappointed. Yeah, the dance was totally for me but I’d hoped she’d, I don’t know, at least thank me for the experience.
She pulled out her phone and let out a puff of air as she looked at it. I first thought she had gotten another angry tweet or anonymous blog comment but she was just looking at the time. It was getting late. She obviously wanted to put it all behind her.
“You want to go?” I asked, knowing it was probably the smart thing to do.
She nodded with an unsure smile on her lips. “I had fun though. Obviously you had more fun than me, though you weren’t in the bathroom all that long.”
Could she have known what I was doing in there? I was probably a hell of a lot more obvious than I had thought. Did she think it was because of her though, and did she like it? That’s what I wanted, needed, to know. I studied her face, trying to read the slight melancholy look in her eyes, the tense way her jaw was set, how soft and pouty her lips were when the smile wore off.
“I hope you remember what I’ve said,” I told her quickly before polishing off the rest of my drink. I got out of the seat and held my hand out for her. I was still a gentleman, remember?
She let out a small laugh, one that lit up her whole face. God she was gorgeous.
“Every time I think of strip clubs, I shall think of you,” she said in such a feminine voice that the minute she put her hand in mind, I grasped it hard. I pulled her right up into me, feeling her breasts hot against my chest, her heart beating fast and steady.
My chin grazed the top of her head and I caught a whiff of her coconut shampoo. I closed my eyes for the briefest instance and in that instance we weren’t in a dirty strip club in Vancouver. We were somewhere else where it was just her and I and nothing else mattered.
It took all my effort to take a step back and hold her at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was lean over, grab her firmly around the waist, and taste the inside of her mouth.
I was just so tired of wanting something I absolutely knew I could never have.
DIGGING THE GRAVE
“Truth or dare?”