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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Flash Fiction: Noir Story

Chapter 14

I sat in the corner of the club and tried unsuccessfully to nurse my beer and not chain smoke. Something about this place had my gut in a broil, but I still didn't have any leads. I tried to get a good lay of the club as I sat there, both exits, plus one I figured back through the girls changing areas. I eyeballed both bouncers over, huge mother fuckers to be sure, but I didn't see any bulges beneath their suits that would indicate they were packing either so that was a relief.

I checked out the girls as well. Annie wasn't kidding when she said that the girls at this club worked the hard life. A lot of them wore long gloves or sleeves to cover the track marks, some of them didn't even care about that. You could see that glassy dead look as they twisted and grinded through the motions, scooping up the dollars at the end of the set with a nearly frantic urge, just that much closer to another hit. On the floor side nearly anything was possible, depending on the girl you picked. Anything from a hand job to out right fucking was offered for the right amount of cash. These girls were walking the edge of the burnout, and we were just here to watch the ride.

I had drank 3 beers and was nearly out of smokes before they called Kitty's name on the floor. The DJ had that same sleazy, deep baritone that every club announcer has, and I watched Kitty take the stage. She came from behind the revolving mirror on the stage that led to the dressing room. She wore a sexy cat suit, a leopard spotted bikini with an attached tail and tall matching spiked boots that went nearly to her knee. She had on a pair of cat ears nestled into the tangle of bleach blond hair. I waited until she started her routine, trying to drone out the incessant 80's hair metal being churned out, to move closer to the stage. I pulled out a wad of singles and started peppering the stage to get her attention. Whether she knew Annie or not, a little bribe never hurts in the long run.

I stood there as she danced and waited until she leaned her head near mine, trailing her hair over my face and whispered to meet me after her act. She didn't say anything but she smiled, as I dropped a few more singles and returned to my seat. I watched her finish her set and drained the last of my beer as she slinked towards me. She got close and pulled up a seat on my lap, and I could smell the the tell tale signs of perfume, baby powder, sweat, and beneath that, desperation, that so many girls faced. She leaned in close, whispering promises in my ear, of the things that she could do to me if the price was right. I leaned back and whispered that I had some questions about Elsa Lomack, and then watched her eyes go wide with fright.


End of Line.

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