by Amber Heart
"So, what are you doing later?"
"I'm working until pretty late. This is a strip club. They're open until after later. Did you want a drink?"
"How about I come by and pick you up in my limo when you finish? I'll give you a ride. Here's my number." Pure confidence was dangerous with this type of woman, but Boyd didn't know any other way.
"You're kidding me, right?" She laughed and shook her head, walking off. But in the midst of serving someone else their drink, she looked over at Boyd and smiled. That, and then she looked away shyly. It was a hard look to read, but Boyd always liked his odds when it came to women.
Boyd shouted out “Can I at least get a name?”
Without hesitation, the smoking hot bartender locked eyes with Boyd “Opal.”
Yes, he would find a way into those particular panties, and she'd be begging for more by the time he was done. He spent the rest of the night nursing a hard on, and watching the strippers shake their tits and asses around; checking out this Opal chick's lovely figure while she worked the rest of the time. And he continued to get nicely loaded on top of that. Things were looking pretty good, as far as keeping it legal was concerned.
"I guess you don't have to break the law to have fun."
"Excuse me?" said a guy who was standing around near the bar, scotch and cola in one hand, staring off mindlessly at the nude talent on display, up on stage.
"What? Oh, just talking to myself," Boyd said.
"Yeah, I do that a lot as well," said the other guy, before walking off to grab an empty seat up closer to the strippers.
Chapter Eleven
"Was that guy a problem for you?" said the big bartender named Rupert. He was actually a sweet guy, despite how intimidating he looked. That was all part of his love for body building though. They were starting to clean up the bar, wiping down the surfaces and getting things washed for the next day. There were still a few hangers-on, guys who had no one to go home to mostly, and a few small groups of barely legal young men who were still going strong. Apart from them, and the two strippers still on duty, the place was empty.
"Not really. He was nicer than most of these sleazy old bastards," replied Opal.
"You'll get used to those guys. It's the ones who actually want to get to know you I'd watch out for."
"You get a lot of guys hitting on you in here?" she said, stacking up dirty glasses on a rack, ready for the dish washing machine. "Wait, do you get any gay guys coming in here?"
"We do have ladies’ night, which is always my favorite time of the week," said Rupert.
"I'll bet. With all those drooling women looking for some action. You must have your pick of any one of them."
"Actually, I'm much more interested in the strippers."
"Really? Oh, oh, wow. So you bat for the other team, huh?"
"I sure do. Don't tell me, you've always wanted a gay friend, right?"
"Doesn't every woman?" she replied. Rupert just sighed with a smile and went to take a drink order from a guy who was waving his money around like an ass. There was a squat guy with an out of fashion hat walking toward her. He had not been present in the club moments earlier, but it was a bit strange to have someone coming in so late.
"Are you here to pick someone up, sir?" asked Opal. The guy took his hat off, put it on the bar, and sat down right in front of her.
"Actually, I was looking to offer you a job. Your name's Opal, right?"
"Sure. I'm not interested in stripping though, or anything else like that."
"My name's Carl. I heard that you caught the eye of a young man who was in here earlier, made quite and impression without even trying." Carl looked her over, not in a creepy way really. It was more like he was trying to figure her out. "I can see why you might catch my nephew's eye. You seem nice enough, and that is surely a rarity among the women he frequently defiles."
"You make him sound just lovely. Look, I still have work to get done before I can get out of here for the night. Did you want a drink, Carl?"
"Sure, I'll have some top shelf bourbon, on the rocks. I don't plan to take up your time if I'm not a paying customer." Opal went to get the drink for him, and brought it back. "This is twenty-one years, but it's expensive, I'm afraid."
Carl tasted it and shrugged. "Not too bad I guess. It'll do." He put down his credit card and Opal made the charge at the cash register. "So," he continued, "are you interested in making far more than you could hope to earn here, even more than these young ladies with no shame up on the stage?"
"What do you want me to do for that kind of pay?"
"I just want you to get to know my nephew enough to get some good dirt on him. You probably guessed that he hasn't done a lot of good in his short life. Well, he needs to be brought to justice. I need some evidence that he has not been living a good life. The problem is, he has the best damn lawyer around, and she doesn't mind buying people off. I can't prove any of this, as you might imagine. Boyd's one weakness is women, but a woman who is too good for him? She might be just the one to infiltrate all his bullshit and lies."
Opal was taken aback. She picked up her bottom lip and moved her tongue around to add moisture back to her dry mouth. "So, what, you want me to date him or something?"
"Just pretend you're interested in him. Find some solid evidence of law breaking, hookers, drugs, drink driving, I don't care. I know he's been doing it all. That bitch, Felicia, has just covered everything up to well for even my guys to find out. Look, I'm not telling you any more, sorry. Do you want to make an easy ten grand or not?"
"I want that much, whether I find anything or not."
"You're joking. I'll find someone else."
"Yeah, sure, I'll bet he always leaves his secret documents lying around in front of the loose women he brings home from bars." Opal walked off, leaving Carl with his expensive bourbon and melting ice cubes. He just sat there and drank it, not trying to talk to her. He made a few phone calls too, keeping his voice low. A guy came in and spoke to him, a tall man in a black coat. They discussed something for about ten minutes, and then the man left. Opal noticed that he'd been standing outside the whole time, near the entrance to the strip club.
"Can I talk to you again, young lady?" Carl said when Opal was near him, wiping some broken peanuts off the end of the bar that she'd missed earlier.
"Do you need another drink, sir?"
"Forget the sir crap. Call me Carl. Are we in business or what?"
"That depends. How much are you offering for such a morally corrupt act? I wouldn't even be talking to you if I wasn't desperate, so make it good."
"You're not the best negotiator, are you? Let me guess, you're an artist? If you're desperate for money, you'll take ten grand."
"I was until recently a very highly paid artist. I plan to go back to that level of financial comfort, at least until I can get back on my feet. I want twenty-five thousand dollars or you can leave. And I need five of that up front."
"Twenty and you get it all once you're done."
"Rupert, this guy's bothering me," she called over half-heartedly. Rupert looked but didn't seem worried by Carl.
"Fine, twenty-five. Give me your bank details. The initial money will be there by the morning. I'm not stupid, and I don't trust you much. I do think you're smart enough to know, if you screw me over, you won't be happy."
"Good. Do you think I'll really be able to find what you're looking for?"
"If you're not a total ditz, and I sincerely doubt that even though you work in a shit hole--you'll be able to get something to prove that Boyd's a no good punk. The amount of shit that kid gets up to, a brick wall could convince him to break the law. Just make sure that you don't get found out, and you don't lead any attention back over to me. Got that? Here, write down the details." He pushed a little notepad and a golden fountain pen toward her on the bar. Opal wrote out her account details, sure that it was a waste of time.
"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, Carl. Would you please excuse me though? I really ne
ed to get back to work. This has been a productive discussion after all."
"Sure, get cute. See how far that'll get you in life, girlie." Carl got up and left. Opal wasn't quite sure what to make of this new development, but she would be amazed if there was any money in her bank the next morning.
She'd been very wrong. There was a nice chunk of change right in her bank account when she woke up and checked online. It seemed like every Christmas morning mashed up into that one moment. And life had been so crappy lately! She could pay all those bills, and guarantee that things would keep going well for herself, and her mother, at least for another month or so. It looked like the old guy wasn't totally full of shit.
Of course, now she needs to make good on her part of the deal and see if she can convince this Boyd guy to fall for some bad acting. And it was going to take a lot of acting to pretend she didn't find him disgusting … although he did have a certain rough charm about him that she hated herself for liking.
Chapter Twelve
Boyd came back to the strip club the next night as well. He told his driver that there was a stripper with double-G melons that he was trying to bang. "Yeah, she said if I came back tonight, she'd be happy to give me a private ride out back," he told Jimmie with successfully faked enthusiasm.
"Man, you really do have it made, don't you! Lucky bastard."
"Hey, do you want me to pay a stripper to suck your dick while you're driving? That's a pretty easy thing to do; they don't exactly have the highest morals, you know."
"Yeah, my wife wouldn't cut my dick off with a kitchen knife if she found out about that, I'm sure. You go and have a good time. I'll be ready to pick you up whenever you call."
"Sure, if I do pick up anyone to bring home though, can we keep all this talk to ourselves?"
"What, are you planning to marry a stripper?"
"Fuck no. I think this one's going to need a little bit of white lying to convince." After he'd gotten out of the limo and headed inside, there was that familiar smell of alcohol, stale cigarettes, and what might have been sweat or bodily fluids. Naturally the whole lot of it was white washed with an offensive amount of antibacterial cleaner. It stank like a retirement center for sex addicts.
"You're back then," said Opal when she saw Boyd. And the pretty thing didn't seem entirely upset about seeing him either.
"Have you been waiting for me?" he said. To that, she made a funny face, like he'd just caught her doing something naughty. "Wait, you have been, haven't you? I knew it! I tend to have that effect on women, whether they're good girls or the very worst."
"Are you trying to impress me by telling me how many bad girls you've been with? That's not really the best way to start, I'll tell you that for free."
"Can I please get a beer then?" he said with a pathetically polite voice. He knew it, but didn't care. She was going to fall for him no matter what. If he had to play nice to get that, he'd at least meet her half way. It was already too late to fool her into thinking that he was totally clean, however. And his bad boy image might also work in his favor. After all, she was working in a strip club; she'd already fallen pretty far below her usually sparkling life, that was obvious.
"Thanks," he said, handing her a fifty. "Keep the change as your tip, and keep 'em coming please." If he was going to try and stay clean, it would be a good start to stay off the hard liquor at least. Of course, after he'd finished ten of them, it was becoming more difficult to keep himself out of trouble.
"Tell me how you wound up working here," he said to Opal.
"You know how it is. Some asshole screwed me over and I took the blame for something I didn't do." She put another beer down and took yet another fifty-dollar note from him. "Thanks for these tips, by the way. You have no idea how much I need the money right now."
"I think a girl like you working in a place that smells this bad must be pretty desperate for cash. I'd love to take you out for a meal some time, on me. Think about how much you would save, and you'd only need to put up with me for a few hours to do so."
"You're not nearly as belligerent when you're drinking the softer stuff. I like this version of you a lot more than the dickhead who was in here last night."
"Thanks for that. I'll take it as a compliment, I guess. Do you ever wonder how many fights you'd get into if you were a guy, saying shit like that to people?"
"Are you saying you want to fight me?"
"Only if you secretly have a penis, you're doing a good job of tucking it away with that cute skirt you're wearing."
"You like it? I didn't know what the hell to wear. You know, last night was my first shift here. But don't you think it's a bit sexist that you'd only fight me if I were secretly a dude, or if I'd had a penis added to my body?"
"I don't know how to respond to that. I was just making a joke." He choked up, like a nervous kid or something. That kind of thing didn't happen to Boyd Houston, no way. He was the biggest ladies’ man New York City had ever seen! "I mean, what I was saying is--"
"Hey, Opal, can I get some help over here?" Rupert was dealing with a group of guys who all wanted their drinks served at the exact same time. It was like they had blinders on, but they were just blind-drunk more likely. Boyd was glad for the distraction, because she was looking at him like he was a complete idiot after seeing that crack in his armor of coolness.
"I'd better get over there before I get myself fired on my second shift."
Boyd went over and sat at a table by himself, watching the show. He found it beyond relaxing to see the girls work their stuff on the stage. There was a sort of Zen-like experience to the whole thing. Sex and nudity was his Mecca, some might say. That didn't stop him from looking over to see if Opal was watching him; or just trying to see if she'd come out from the behind the bar to take care of some random cleaning, and he could sneak a peek at her amazing body.
The main show that night featured three women, who licked chocolate sauce off each other's nipples and practically made out on stage. Yeah, they always held back just enough to keep the guys in the audience howling for more. It was still one hell of a show, that gave Boyd a raging hard on. He felt it rubbing against the inside of his pants through his boxers. Time to finalize this, he told himself.
"So, how about that dinner?" he said to Opal. There were less people at the bar. Everyone was probably nursing their own trouser tents and not eager to get up just yet to grab another drink. But Boyd didn't give a shit about that. He wanted his new target to look at the gift he'd been born with.
"I'm sorry … I just can't do this," she said. "It's not your fault. I have to go, my shift has just finished." She left through the back and he didn't see her again that night. Figuring she must have been married or something, Boyd thought about finding out which of the strippers was willing to expand their professional reach into prostitution. He resisted though, and left in the limo with Jimmie driving. It didn't have anything to do with the bartender, Opal, he told himself. He just didn't feel like spending money when he could get good sex for free any night of the week.
But he didn't go to another place that had more female clientele. He didn't try to find another lay. Instead, Boyd called it a night and just went home alone. He tried to remember the last time he'd gone home without getting his dick wet first, but couldn't.
Chapter Thirteen
Opal was starting to get into the groove of working an entry level job. Sure, she was never given the chance to use her creative energy. There was a lot to do though, and the men who came in often gave her large tips just for being pretty and handing them a drink. It was almost criminal how much she walked away with some nights. In fact, she began to wear low cut tops and tighter skirts that showed off her body; a body that she had started to work on more than usual. Her exercise routine consisted of jogging and strength training. It helped her to get rid of all that frustration that came with having lost her job. There was also the sex, of which she'd been going without. Dwayne had not called her for some time, and she decided it w
as best to just leave things ended.
They'd talked not too long ago, over the phone. It hadn't gone well then and left very little hope for a reunion. Opal didn't much want to be with a man who thought so little of her personal happiness, when given the choice to at least try and stand up for her honor and her rights.
"I'm sorry," she said to him on the phone. "If you were interested in keeping things together, you would have tried more. But that's beside the point; you're not the caring, protective man I thought you were. On the outside you're a nice guy, but that's all bullshit. Goodbye, Dwayne."
"If that's how you really want to leave things, after all this time, fine. Good luck working as a stripper, or whatever the hell you're doing now. I guess I dodged a bullet not marrying you." He hung up on her, as though he were doing the breaking up. That hurt, but not as much as those final cutting words. Opal had just finished her early evening shift, and was about to go home. For some stupid reason she'd decided to call Dwayne and set things straight. It wasn't until he answered that she decided it was time to officially end things, instead of just being on a break.
"You headed home then?" said Rupert. He was still on duty, having just started about an hour earlier.
"Yeah, I'm not going to hang around here, am I? I know my life's pretty pathetic right now, but I'm not going to stick around work just to avoid being alone in the apartment I can barely afford now."
Rupert sucked in the corner of his mouth and shrugged a little, with clear empathy. "That's rough, babe. But you do realize that it's lady's night tonight, right? Starts in about fifteen minutes. Why do you think I'm here? I always make sure I'm scheduled to work during the beefcake display. You gotta get your name down next week, okay?"
