Beyond Hunger_A Romantic Strip Club Encounter

by Ashley Logan

  CHAPTER NINE

  SERGE

  What the fuck was that?

  Not looking back, Serge strode away, holding his hand out for a cab. After what felt like a year, one pulled over to the curb. Climbing in, he gave directions for home.

  Scowling out the window, he tried to work out what damage he might have done. He’d put his foot in his mouth; shoved it so far in he was choking on it.

  “Rough day?” the cabbie asked, watching him in the rear-view mirror.

  “Rough couple of years, actually, but who’s counting,” he replied, leaning back and staring at the roof of the car.

  “Woman trouble?”

  Laughing, Serge sighed. “Good guess.”

  His pocket started vibrating, and he fetched out his phone.

  “Gina, hi. How are you?”

  “Okay, I guess. A little bored. Rick’s working late again,” she said in a flat tone. “How are you doing? How are things with Violet? Getting enough sleep?” she asked, giggling a little.

  Running a hand down his face, Serge exhaled loudly. Though what he had with Violet wasn’t the relationship Gina thought they had, it had still become one that felt important to him. Only now it might be over, because he was too honest.

  “Pretty sure I just mucked that up, G. On my way home now. Alone.”

  “Oh that’s too bad, Serge. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  She didn’t sound that sorry, which annoyed Serge, until he remembered that he and Vi weren’t actually dating.

  “Yeah, well. Easy come, easy go and all that,” he said dismissively as his brain perked up in light of her reaction. Maybe Gina was glad he’d messed up with Vi. “Guess I’m not as nice as she thought.”

  Gina scoffed and Serge heard a clinking sound in the background. “Serge, you’re the nicest guy in the world. You’re so nice, you make Gandhi look like an A-hole.”

  “Are you drinking?” he asked, deflecting her compliment.

  “Why yes. It goes very nicely with the chicken casserole I made for dinner. From scratch. There’s heaps left over, if you want to come get some.” The question in her tone sounded almost hopeful.

  “You want me to come over for dinner?” he asked, making sure he’d heard right. He’d been to Rick and Gina’s countless times for dinner, but Rick was usually there. The other day in the hospital, it had been made quite clear that he would not be welcome again for some time, and he was quite sure that going there while Rick was out would not be acceptable to Rick.

  “Well I’m two glasses too deep to deliver it, Serge.” The S in Serge was drawn out a little and the G sounded thick like cement.

  “Everything okay, G?” It wasn’t like her to get drunk on her own. Especially not this early in the night. “Is it about the baby? You wanna talk about it?”

  The cab pulled up in front of his building and he handed over the cash as the driver mouthed ‘Good luck’.

  “Talk to me, G. I already ate, and I’m pretty sure Rick wouldn’t want me coming over to eat his share while he’s working hard, but I’m on the line. Tell me what’s driven you to drink.”

  Sighing loudly, Gina dismissed him. “It’s nothing. Just bored, I guess. I thought you’d like some comfort food, since you sounded bummed about Vi. Forget I called, okay? I’m pretty tired anyway. I’m going to bed early to watch a movie until I fall asleep. Night Serge.”

  She hung up before he could even say goodbye.

  Walking upstairs, he entered his apartment, threw his badge and his keys on the counter, tossed his jacket on its hook and kicked the door shut. Without bothering to turn on the lights, he headed straight to his bed and flopped onto it. Headlights from the cars on the street caused shadows to dance across the ceiling and he watched them as his mind whirled in circles again.

  Gina sounded like she wanted him, but was married to another man. She said things to encourage him, but also to push him away. He was beginning to see that more clearly now, and felt like a dog chasing its tail.

  Dizzy.

  With no progress made on processing the Gina issue, Serge turned his mind to Violet.

  Violet was complicated. And fascinating. She intrigued him in a number of ways, but she had walls of self-protection set within a field of volatile mines. He really liked her, but kept unintentionally over-stepping, with explosive results.

  Serge hoped he hadn’t scared her off. It was hard to be friends with someone with trust issues, and he might have just ruined the relationship by admitting that he thought she was mind-blowingly attractive. Who even knew what she thought about that? Probably thought he was a creepy old pervert. Which he probably was, given the content of his recent fantasizing activity.

  It was ridiculous, of course. Violet was way out of his league. He hadn’t considered pursuing her at all, and he hoped he wouldn’t lose her as a friend because she thought that he might.

  He was in love with Gina, and Violet was far too young for him.

  And she was a stripper.

  After seeing her move in her dance class, Serge had no doubt she was a very good one. At dinner, when she’d told him she could guess his thoughts about her stripping, he’d almost died, because he was picturing her doing just that, and enjoying the image so much he’d been grateful his crotch was hidden by the table. He didn’t feel it was his place to disapprove of her choices, and actually suspected it was some sort of self-imposed dance therapy to work through whatever trauma she’d encountered, not a long-term gig.

  Feeling his fists clenching, Serge intentionally spread his fingers wide. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to her, preferring to imagine her smiling as she danced just for him. Doing so now, he began to strain against his jeans, until the idea of sitting alongside a leering bunch of other horndogs licking their chops as they ogled her turned him right off.

  Moaning at himself, he rolled over, pretty sure he was thinking like a pervert.

  A jealous one.

  And he knew why.

  He hadn’t had sex in so long, a strong breeze would get him to half-mast.

  Serge didn’t like the idea of casual sex. If he was going to be that intimate with someone, he at least wanted to know who they were. That wasn’t very achievable during a one night stand. There again, he had even more of an issue attaching to someone and then it not working out. His main problem was, he already knew who he wanted to know better, but it wasn’t currently an option. Hung up on Gina, he only went trawling for an easy lay when he was absolutely desperate. Was he desperate now?

  Glancing at the alarm clock, he cringed. It was barely past eight. Too early for easy women. Pushing himself off the bed, he decided on an erotic shower for one, trying not to focus on who he’d be fantasizing about as he stroked himself, because it made him feel like a dirty old man.

  SERGE LAY ON HIS SIDE, watching the glowing minutes on the alarm clock go by. They moved by so slowly, that each time, he was convinced that time had actually stopped, until the numbers eventually changed, proving him wrong. Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling wondering how he would ever get to the bottom of how Gina felt about him.

  He ran through the times he’d just blurted out his feelings to her. She hadn’t baulked. Sometimes she’d just smiled mysteriously and shaken her head. Other times she had reminded him she was married, but always with a laugh and touch of her beautiful hands; to his arm, his shoulder, or to his chest.

  Once she had looked deep into his eyes and they’d kissed. Not a simple peck, but a deep, hungry, rolling kiss. Her hands had fisted in his hair, tugging him closer as if she needed him to be inside her. She’d used the same grip to force him back as she’d gasped for breath and a look of horror had filled her big blue eyes. Pushing him away, she’d wiped her mouth as if to rid herself of his presence, all the while mumbling words of regret.

  The next day, she’d firmly stated that she was married, that there would be no further indiscretions. Loyal to a fault, was Gina. Serge had to admit, that was one of th
e many things he loved about her, no matter the inconvenience to him presently.

  That kiss was their first and last. It had been months ago, but he still felt the fire of it with each recollection. He was pretty sure it had affected Gina similarly. Every so often, he’d catch her watching his mouth as he spoke and her eyes would darken as she chewed her bottom lip. If she realized he’d noticed, she’d blush and make an excuse to move away.

  That kiss was his legacy.

  The one event that had let Gina know just how much he wanted her; the one thing he knew for sure that had left an impact. That kiss was the one sure moment he knew she felt something for him. The one thing he hoped she thought of every night, as he did.

  Serge wished he knew if she still felt anything for him. He suspected she did, but it was so hard to be sure. Pulling himself out of bed, he walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Trying to decide which to eat first - the low-fat yogurts or the stack of ready-meals-4-one. Slamming the fridge shut again, he paced the apartment and tried to convince himself he didn’t need to eat. He’d already eaten a huge meal today. It was too big in fact. He should never have indulged like that.

  Back in his room, he pulled on his running gear, sealed his spare key into the inner pocket and left the temptation behind him.

  The dark City streets kept him company as he ran from his demons.

  The more he ran, the less he thought about food, or Gina; but the less he thought about Gina, the more he thought about Vi.

  Running harder and faster, he tried to think beyond any of those things, but couldn’t get past the uncertainty of wondering if he’d lost his new friend. By the time he stopped for breath, he was convinced he needed to secure their relationship. Apparently his subconscious agreed, because when he looked up, he could see the old sign of The Horny Buffalo with its neon addition glowing bright purple above it.

  The word Beyond seemed both separate and a part of the old sign and it was the first time that Serge read it all as one. As the sign and entrance suggested, this was an establishment that surpassed the usual standards of sleaze associated with such places. He’d never been inside, but Nina had described her vision back when they were running abuse support programs at the Y and she’d confessed to buying the old strip club. Smiling as he saw exactly what she had described, Serge straightened, wiped the sweat from his eyes and walked toward the door.

  “Don’t even think about it,” a gruff voice warned as he approached.

  Still blinking the stinging salt from his eyes, Serge wiped more sweat from his face and peered at the bouncer.

  “Bruno?” he asked, reasonably sure that was the name of the guy he’d woken when Vi had freaked out.

  “Shit, man. I can’t let you in here looking like that,” he said shaking his head as he looked Serge up and down. “We have a dress code. And hygiene standards,” he added as he waved two other guys forward and made a ‘gimme’ sign with his hand. Checking their IDs, he squinted at the smaller of the two men.

  “Last time you were here, you tried to climb on stage and touch a girl.”

  The guy’s eyes grew huge as he physically shrank. Nodding shamefully, he sighed. “I know, I’d had too much to drink and we’d come from The Greasy Pole on a bachelor night. It was my first time here and I didn’t know the rules, but I sure loved what I saw, man. I want to see it again. I won’t touch, I swear.”

  “Damn right you won’t,” Bruno growled, sizing him up. “You want in, you give me a hundred for the girl. It’s the ‘I’m sorry I was an asshole’ fine.”

  The guy nodded, taking out his wallet.

  Bruno stuffed the cash in his inside pocket, never taking his eyes off the guy’s face. “You try to touch our girls again, your hands will be broken so bad you can’t even touch yourself. Get me?” he said, eyeballing both.

  Both nodded, edging quickly out of the danger zone as Bruno stepped slightly to the side.

  Serge watched the whole process with both amusement and awe. As Bruno relayed the information through his collar radio to someone inside called Smith, he looked back to Serge. “What are you here for?”

  “Um, I was hoping to talk to Vi,” he said, looking down at his running gear and then back to Bruno. “It was a spur of the moment thing, I was just in the neighborhood. I don’t know what time she’ll finish, but I just needed to make sure she was alright.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be?” Bruno asked, crossing large arms over his broad chest.

  Shuffling his feet, Serge rubbed the back of his head and looked down the street. “I may have said something that made her uncomfortable and I just wanted to clear the air. I couldn’t sleep and I ended up here, so I figure it’s worth sorting out. I can come back at closing time, wearing regular clothes, if you’d prefer.”

  “If I’d prefer?” Bruno muttered, laughing a little. “Man, why don’t you just call her?”

  “Because I don’t know if she’d answer,” Serge said, wishing he’d thought to come and see her earlier. “I’d rather know face to face if she never wants to see me again. I’m not that good at interpreting dialog without faces and body language. I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

  “Good, because I’d have to fine you for it.” Bruno sized him up and sighed. “Wait here and don’t let anyone in until I get back,” he said, disappearing inside.

  Glancing about, Serge took his position and hoped nobody would approach him. Running shorts were not very intimidating attire and he certainly didn’t want to see anyone he knew. What would he tell them? ‘I don’t work here, but you can’t go in because I’m pretending to be a bouncer? Bruno couldn’t be back fast enough as far as Serge was concerned.

  As the door behind him opened, Serge breathed a huge sigh of relief. Turning, he saw Bruno, but no Vi.

  “She doesn’t want to see me?” he asked, his shoulders slumping.

  “Says she’ll be done in half an hour and to head on upstairs and take a shower.”

  Serge shot the guy a wide-eyed look. “She wants me to shower?” he asked, not sure he’d heard right, and definitely not knowing what it meant if he had.

  “I do,” Bruno said harshly. “You’re dripping. I don’t want you sitting on my couch like that while you wait.”

  Serge studied himself again. “But -”

  “There are towels in the bathroom and a pile of clean clothes on my footlocker that I was donating to goodwill tomorrow. Help yourself,” he said, looking bored with the conversation now. “You remember which room is mine?”

  Nodding Serge thanked Bruno as he let him inside and unlocked the door to the stairwell.

  CHAPTER TEN

  VIOLET

  Climbing the stairs, I start to slow before I reach the top. Pushing me from behind Scar whispers fiercely in my ear. “Get your ass up there and sort your shit out, Vi. You’ve been brooding all night.”

  Sighing roughly I move forward, wriggling away from her pushy hands.

  Serge looks up as he hears us. His mouth thins to a line and one side turns up with just the hint of a nervous smile. Soft eyes smolder under those dark brows as he tries to read my face. His thick crop of dark hair is still wet from the shower Bruno had insisted he have, and it has gone wavy, with a short lock flopped over and curled at the side of his forehead. Damn. He’s fucking adorable.

  We stare at each other a while, until Scar clears her throat and nudges me out of her way. Looking between us, she tries to hide an amused smile as she scurries away down the hall.

  Sighing, I try not to stare at him. “You can stop looking like a puppy that pissed inside, Serge. I’m not upset with you.”

  Immediately he lets out a huge gush of air, his tense shoulders relax and he rubs his face with his large hands.

  Large hands?

  Damn it Vi, get a grip and stop noticing that shit.

  Avoiding his eyes, I move to the kitchen.

  “Can I offer you a drink, Serge? Maybe one high in electrolytes?” I ask, turning around with a Gluconade in my han
d. Bumping into his firm chest, I raise my eyes to his face as my heart hammers against the inside of my ribcage. He steps back, apologizing and I struggle to recover my voice. Instead, I hold up the bottle of Gluconade.

  Smiling, he nods and takes it from me, unscrewing the cap to remove the seal inside. Looking back to me, he leans back a little. “Everything alright?” he asks slowly.

  “Uh huh,” I say, hiding behind the refrigerator door and getting myself a glass of milk. Taking a deep breath, I let it out quietly to avoid suspicion and then close the fridge. “You really didn’t need to come all the way over here, Serge. We’re good.”

  “You’re sure?” he asks, following me back to the living room as it fills with the others now that they’re finished their closing chores downstairs. Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut as I get my head together.

  “Yes. If anyone deserves an apology, it’s you. I had no right to accuse you of being an asshole and I’m sorry.”

  Looking taken aback, Serge surveys the room. “And you’re not offended by what I said?” he asks, still unsure.

  I arch an eyebrow. “Would you be?”

  Pausing a moment to consider it, a slow grin spreads across his face. “I’d probably be pretty stoked actually, but that’s not the same.” His smile fades and he looks around at the others as worry lines creep onto his forehead.

  “Care to discuss this further in private?” I ask, following his gaze. He nods once, clearly uncomfortable with an audience.

  “We’re just up the hall,” I say loudly to warn the others as I head down it. Scar gives me a wink and a gentle kick on her way back to the living room.

  “Scar, get your ass to bed before two. We’re sick of you snoring through debrief,” I say with a smile.

  “I do not snore!” she yells after me, making me smile more.

  “You guys all seem pretty close,” Serge says as I close the door of the study.