up to me with a big smile. I give her a hug and mess up her hair. I’ve been treating her like a substitute for Lisa, since I know Slider’s got dibs on her. She’s cute, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Mimi.
Crap, whatever I try to think about, my mind always returns to Mimi.
Sally mock-punches me. “Is Slider here already?”
“Yeah, he was helping Vic a minute ago,” I tell her.
“Cool,” she says as she passes me.
“Hey, Sally, Mimi’s here too,” I say.
“Oh, I’m happy Slider talked her into coming back!”
“Well—we kinda forced her hand—”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” she says. “No one has ever forced Mimi to do anything she didn’t want to do, not even Josette standing on the ledge of a tenth-floor window.” She doesn’t elaborate before she scoots inside.
I follow her in. It’s dinnertime for the mosquitoes, and unlike Mimi, they think I’m the sweetest thing around.
I hang around the bar waiting for the show to begin. I’ve never been so anxious. I’m like a kid on Christmas morning who sort of knows what’s in the package under the tree but still needs to find out if it’s precisely what he wants. I have no doubt Mimi has everything I want and all in the right places, but I want to see what she’s like with the wrapping off. The only drawback is that all these other guys will get to look at her as well. But I have an advantage—I get paid to slap around anyone who tries to get frisky with her.
The bar starts to fill in with a huge crowd. The upcoming spring weddings are bringing in the wild bachelor parties, and this Friday is no exception. The guys in the party aren’t very much younger than me, but I can’t help but feel that I’m a lot more mature than them. They look as if they’ve never had to care about anything more than getting good grades and keeping their parents happy. Heck, they make me feel downright ancient.
I shake away that stupid nostalgic feeling about the carefree youth that could have been mine if a drunk driver hadn’t killed my father. No use dreaming about what might have been. I don’t regret a single day I spent taking care of Lisa nor my time in the Army with Brian.
The Rawhide theme that announces the beginning of Sally’s cowgirl routine derails my train of thoughts. I watch the crowd while she does her number. The young guys are more vocal but much rowdier than our usual clients. That may change at any time because they’re downing shots as if drinking’s going out of style. Sally gets a lot of “yeehaws,” but the kids are behaving.
Slider’s standing close to one side of the stage. His gaze flies from Sally to the young men, and every single time one of them slips her a bill, he cringes. She ends her number with a flourish of applause and cat calls. Sally bows low, which makes her breast jiggle in a cute way, and when she stands back up, she blows Slider a kiss. His face remains neutral, but I can almost feel his relief as she vanishes from the stage.
It must be really hard to watch the woman you have the hots for get undressed in front of a bunch of other guys. It takes me about one minute to understand that “hard” doesn’t even begin to describe it. Fuck, it’s pure hell!
My hands clench into fists as Mimi steps on stage. It takes all my willpower not to thrash through the crowd, cover her up, and take her backstage. Her number starts slow. Mimi steps toward the pole, dressed in white. It’s a Sunday-best white dress with lace, somewhere between an old-fashioned first communion dress and a bridal dress. Everything about her screams that she’s pure and innocent.
Her eyes are cast down and her hands joined in front of her. There’s no music. What’s playing is some sort of outdoor sound track—a river and birds and maybe wind in the branches—but then the music hits, and it’s hard metal. She tears away the dress and reveals a light pink corset, white stockings, and a garter
Crap, whatever I try to think about, my mind always returns to Mimi.
Sally mock-punches me. “Is Slider here already?”
“Yeah, he was helping Vic a minute ago,” I tell her.
“Cool,” she says as she passes me.
“Hey, Sally, Mimi’s here too,” I say.
“Oh, I’m happy Slider talked her into coming back!”
“Well—we kinda forced her hand—”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” she says. “No one has ever forced Mimi to do anything she didn’t want to do, not even Josette standing on the ledge of a tenth-floor window.” She doesn’t elaborate before she scoots inside.
I follow her in. It’s dinnertime for the mosquitoes, and unlike Mimi, they think I’m the sweetest thing around.
I hang around the bar waiting for the show to begin. I’ve never been so anxious. I’m like a kid on Christmas morning who sort of knows what’s in the package under the tree but still needs to find out if it’s precisely what he wants. I have no doubt Mimi has everything I want and all in the right places, but I want to see what she’s like with the wrapping off. The only drawback is that all these other guys will get to look at her as well. But I have an advantage—I get paid to slap around anyone who tries to get frisky with her.
The bar starts to fill in with a huge crowd. The upcoming spring weddings are bringing in the wild bachelor parties, and this Friday is no exception. The guys in the party aren’t very much younger than me, but I can’t help but feel that I’m a lot more mature than them. They look as if they’ve never had to care about anything more than getting good grades and keeping their parents happy. Heck, they make me feel downright ancient.
I shake away that stupid nostalgic feeling about the carefree youth that could have been mine if a drunk driver hadn’t killed my father. No use dreaming about what might have been. I don’t regret a single day I spent taking care of Lisa nor my time in the Army with Brian.
The Rawhide theme that announces the beginning of Sally’s cowgirl routine derails my train of thoughts. I watch the crowd while she does her number. The young guys are more vocal but much rowdier than our usual clients. That may change at any time because they’re downing shots as if drinking’s going out of style. Sally gets a lot of “yeehaws,” but the kids are behaving.
Slider’s standing close to one side of the stage. His gaze flies from Sally to the young men, and every single time one of them slips her a bill, he cringes. She ends her number with a flourish of applause and cat calls. Sally bows low, which makes her breast jiggle in a cute way, and when she stands back up, she blows Slider a kiss. His face remains neutral, but I can almost feel his relief as she vanishes from the stage.
It must be really hard to watch the woman you have the hots for get undressed in front of a bunch of other guys. It takes me about one minute to understand that “hard” doesn’t even begin to describe it. Fuck, it’s pure hell!
My hands clench into fists as Mimi steps on stage. It takes all my willpower not to thrash through the crowd, cover her up, and take her backstage. Her number starts slow. Mimi steps toward the pole, dressed in white. It’s a Sunday-best white dress with lace, somewhere between an old-fashioned first communion dress and a bridal dress. Everything about her screams that she’s pure and innocent.
Her eyes are cast down and her hands joined in front of her. There’s no music. What’s playing is some sort of outdoor sound track—a river and birds and maybe wind in the branches—but then the music hits, and it’s hard metal. She tears away the dress and reveals a light pink corset, white stockings, and a garter
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