When I was finally introduced, I tried to shake off my fury, but the twisted tension that followed me everywhere gripped deep in my muscles and seeped into my bones. My speech consisted of a wave and a whispered thank you. I wanted to flip my audience the finger, but I held myself back. I always held myself back, but I was always one bullet shy of self-destruction. The prize was thrown in the bottom of my suitcase awaiting its poor fate of being shoved in the back of the extra closet in my guest bedroom, never to see the light of day again. I hadn’t even stayed the night in the hotel my assistant booked. I just jumped right back on the next available flight and headed home. Now I have to pretend to be sane and normal and visit my brother.
I just needed to focus on now. I’ll have one drink then leave. Leave society for as many months as I possibly could. The bloody images of my flashbacks faded from my thoughts slowly as I walked through the door, but they always lingered in the outskirts of my mind, waiting for the most inappropriate times to peek out.
Stepping my foot in, I instantly scanned the room, taking inventory of the number of bodies, exits, lighting, and furniture. Then I watched the patrons in their various states of expression. It is a subconscious action now, as thought provoking as breathing is to me, but it’s ingrained in me nonetheless.
My brother’s place was packed, of course, it was, and there was a bloody tart gyrating on a glittery pole in the middle of the stage shaking her ass to the sounds of Lady Blah Blah or whatever the hell her name was. I didn’t see my brother, Dylan, anywhere as I sat myself at the back, farthest away from everyone, back to the wall, nearest table to the exit. Looking at my watch, I saw it was almost eleven.
I’m staying exactly one minute.
No more than sixty seconds.
Screw it, time’s up.
I was just about to sneak out and hide from my brother and the rest of humanity for the next damn six months, when I glanced up and froze. A small fluid movement caught my eye. A flutter of something, someone, who shouldn’t belong, grace and poise, yet strong and vicious. It pinned me to my seat.
The deep throb in my temple that always accompanied my flashbacks disappeared instantly.
Thirty feet away from my dark corner stood some sort of angel. Backlit as she stood in front of the illuminated bar, I had a perfect view of her silhouette. Dark black hair tumbled wildly over her creamy white neck, falling to her tiny waist as if it were liquid silk. Petite, yet voluptuous, with soft curves that had me instantly, thinking about sinking inside deeply and riding her hard. She was wearing a high collared, tight black long-sleeved t-shirt, which hugged her shape but was covered by a torn up apron that coincided with the idiotic name of the bar. She was dressed excessively conservative for being inside a strip club; it was as if she didn’t want anyone to see her flesh. Like she was hiding. The sounds of the bar seemed to fade into low murmurs and Lady RahBlahGah, whatever, was now quietly whispering that she was born some stupid certain way, as I watched the woman move.
That’s what I’m extremely good at, watching people. Reading them. I was always more of a voyeur when it came to social situations. Notoriously introverted, I have mastered the art of hiding myself and detaching from everything. I learned an invaluable lesson once. If I stayed silent for long enough, and just watched long enough, people and life would pass by me, as if I were invisible. Or dead.
Her nails were short, just a bit longer than the pads of her fingers, and were devoid of any colored polish. She leaned on one of the tables in the middle of the bar and tapped them on the table, waiting for a bunch of drunken guys to make their orders. She wrote nothing down, wasn’t even holding a pad. She was listening intently as the men seemed to banter back and forth in their blatant inebriated states. Her lips smiled at them, full and lush, the kind of lips that when they speak to you all you hear is sex. Any man could look at those lips and think sex. Hell, her whole mouth would be any man’s fantasy. I shifted in my seat to ease the pressure those thoughts brought against the zipper of my pants. It wasn’t even that she was beautiful, though she was in my eyes. It was the way the features on her face melted together in a delicate balance of strength, intelligence, and sensuality that had me intrigued. And the fascinating way she tried to disguise it, working in a strip club and looking as plain as if she didn’t think anything about her lack of attention-grabbing appearance. Yet, she stood confident and hard, like she knew her hidden attributes were better than showing her tits to the patrons.
She wore no wedding band, no jewelry of any kind and not a stitch of make-up. Then, one of the men placed his hand on her ass and I waited for what always happened in shitholes like this, the worst of humanity. My lust immediately ceased to exist for the woman. She’ll move her ass against his hand and flirt with him to try to make a few dollars extra tip from him. Maybe she’ll give him a lap dance, suck his cock in the back of his pickup truck for twenty bucks or for a line of blow in the bathroom. I’ve seen it a dozen times here already. I fucking hated visiting my brother. Although, I must admit, I wouldn’t mind witnessing the sucking cock part, which might be mildly entertaining, especially with those lips. I slumped back in my seat, already gutted that I wasted time thinking the whore looked like an angel.
I was caught off guard, though, when the woman in front of me froze. The second the guy squeezed his fat fingers over her ass, she went completely rigid, and pretended to spill an entire drink in his lap accidently. I chuckled out loud. I guess she didn’t need the tip. Another waitress was there in an instant, a gorgeous blonde one with her tits almost bursting out of her shirt. She stepped in between the raven-haired waitress and the drunk. I leaned forward in my seat to watch how this would play out. The dark-haired waitress moved her blonde friend out of the way, protectively. The show of courage and safeguard for her friend interested me.
It took him a few trips and falls, but the drunken guy eventually jumped out of his seat and stood up, puffing his chest and enormous beer gut at the girl. She had to be about half his size and he was leaning his face down into hers threateningly. I scooted forward in my seat a bit to hear the conversation, but couldn’t make out anything that was being said.
The drunk raised his hand, pointing at her. I pushed out of my seat in a flash, aching to rip the skin off his face if he touched the girl in front of me. With my teeth grinding hard, a heat flushed through my entire body, my fingers itched to grab the beer-gutted moronic imbecile and choke him dead blue. But, then the dark-haired waitress leaned in closer to him, reached into her apron and jabbed the man in the gut, as if she had a concealed weapon, poking it at him. She whispered something, calmly and very controlled, in the man’s ear that made him freeze, lean back and lift his hands in surrender.