Modern Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  “God, you’ve been fooled too. How does that bitch do it?”

  “Well, the police think she did it.”

  She answered, “I’m glad to hear that. But, I’m surprised that they don’t believe a good-looking blonde bimbo’s story. The police are so scared because of OJ.”

  Reese started walking to the exit.

  I quickly called after her, “You seem to know a lot about the murder? Where were you that night?”

  That comment stopped her. She whirled around and replied, “You have balls, mister. I’ll give you that.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Kathy Reese took my silence to make her final statement.

  “No, I don’t know about the killing. But, as far as I’m concerned, the wrong person died.”

  andi - attacked

  It was 4:45 and Andi hurried home from the club. She was so sad and mad at herself for lying to Stevie and all she wanted to do was apologize and explain what she had done and why she had started stripping. She knew she’d be crying her eyes out and wanted, no, she needed him to hold her. She felt like such a jerk. But, she felt a little better when she pulled into her apartment’s parking garage and saw his Mustang and knew she’d be able to talk to him. She got out of her Honda and didn’t notice anything as she was totally thinking of Stevie.

  Then, suddenly, she got hit in her behind. It was a shock, and an electric shock that was so bad. She fell down. She couldn’t move. She could hear voices. Then, she saw who attacked her. It was a man and a woman. Both were wearing ski masks. The man dragged her from the car over to the elevator while the woman held the elevator door open. They pulled her in, shut the door and stopped the elevator from moving. The man had his hand over her mouth. They dropped her flat on the floor of the elevator. The woman put handcuffs on her wrists and ankles and put duct tape over her mouth. Next, the woman ripped and cut off Andi’s dress, but left on her g-string, thigh-high stockings and shoes. The woman grabbed her hair, pulled it into a ponytail, and put a big rubber band around it.

  Andi tried to move, to resist, but she was so limp, so shocked, and scared to death. Of course, she immediately knew that the woman or the man or both were Sid’s killers. God, she was so frightened.

  The woman grabbed her breasts and squeezed them so hard that Andi thought her implants would burst. She called Andi a slut and a bitch. She punched Andi in the stomach three times then flipped her on her stomach. Right away she spanked Andi’s behind about twenty times with a board or something flat. Andi’s behind hurt so much that she started crying and couldn’t stop. The woman just went crazy. Finally, she kicked Andi on her left side.

  They started the elevator and it went up. Andi’s body was tingling and she was so mad. Andi started to get feeling back into her arms and legs. Then, the elevator stopped, the doors opened and the woman looked out. No one was around, so the woman held the door as the man carried Andi from the elevator to the laundry room, on top of the apartment building. He walked right past the washers and dryers. The woman followed, and pulled open the sliding door. The man dropped Andi over the short wooden wall that surrounded the deck outside of the laundry room. Andi landed hard on the flat, pebbled roof scrapping her knees and breasts. The man jumped over the same wall and picked Andi up again. He carried her around to the back side of the laundry building.

  Andi didn’t realize before, but the laundry room was the only part of the building on the fourth floor. The back wall was brick and had several TV antennae poles.

  The man stood Andi up and held her spread eagle. The woman cuffed each of her wrists and ankles to the poles on that brick wall.

  The woman said, “Too bad that no one can see your beautiful body. But, go ahead and bounce your big boobs and jiggle your ass, like you do when you whore dance.”

  Andi couldn’t place the voice, but thought she had heard it before. Andi was totally terrified and couldn’t believe what they were doing.

  Then, they both left Andi alone. There Andi was, wearing only her g-string, thigh highs and pumps, locked to her building with handcuffs, and above the height of the neighboring homes and apartments. It immediately started to get hot. It was over 90 degrees and the black rooftop made it searing hot. Andi’s face and chest were getting too much sun and she felt sunburn starting. Thank God it was late afternoon, but Andi was facing right at the sun. Her body was uncovered and she was getting scared about how long she’d be out on the roof.

  A few minutes later, the woman returned with a plastic jug of something, a pillow and a permanent black marker. She then uncapped the marker and wrote, TRAMP in large letters down the middle of Andi’s chest, with the T just under her neck and the P just above her g-string. The woman then unscrewed the lid from the plastic jug. Andi could see it was pancake syrup, and without a moment’s hesitation, the woman lifted the container and dumped it over Andi’s head and down her back and chest until it flowed down Andi’s legs.

  While Andi was coping with the sticky mess all over her, the woman then grabbed the pillow, cut a hole in it with the scissors and proceeded to rip it wide open with her hands. It was a goose down-filled pillow and she quickly shook and dumped the feathers all over Andi. Most of the feathers stuck to the syrup and Andi looked like a white chicken. The woman found the whole thing funny and laughed hard.

  The woman left Andi in tears.

  Andi stood on the roof through the long afternoon. It was so hot. Then, when the sun went down, Andi got so cold. The night was so long. Andi was so humiliated with the syrup and feathers all over her body and she didn’t want anyone to see her. She began to get so tired with being handcuffed to that wall, and her arms were spread up and out. Andi couldn’t move them very much. She also needed to keep her pumps on, even though her feet and ankles hurt a ton. Once during the night, Andi removed her pumps and it lowered her about four inches, causing her arms to almost pull out of her shoulders. Andi’s arms soon became very sore and numb. Andi could lean back and rest a little against the wall, but this really hurt as the wall was made of rough bricks.

  Andi watched the beautiful sliver of the new moon slip low in the western sky and set by 10pm. She could hear cars coming and going out of the apartment building and driving on Anza Avenue and the Pacific Coast Highway, but she couldn’t see any. Andi thought of Stevie and prayed the he would save her, but knew he’d never find her up here on the roof.

  After a couple hours, when Andi realized the woman was gone she calmed down. She focused on getting free. At first, she thought she could break the handcuffs free from the brick wall. The woman and the man had figured this out ahead of time and had secured her to four circular hooks that must have held an antenna or pole on the roof. Andi tried to pull the hooks out of the wall or to rub the cuffs through the hooks, but all this did was cause her wrists to get sore and red.

  Andi found that if she leaned her behind back against the wall and bent her knees a little that it was easier to stand. But, pushing and rubbing her behind against the brick wall really caused her behind to be rubbed raw.

  She grew cold as the temperature dipped to about 60 degrees overnight and the winds picked up. As the time went by, the brick wall became ice cold.

  Shortly after midnight Andi slowly became totally wet. The wind shifted and steamy mist from the laundry room’s dryers fell down on her. This warm, moist air came from the exhaust unit on the brick wall 10 feet to her left. Andi was drenched and at 1am when the dryers stopped and the strong wind continued. The cool temperature chilled her to the bone. Andi’s body dried in the wind, but she was freezing.

  Andi reached her lowest point, in the dark. She had passed out for a while and woke when she had to pee. She cried for ten minutes as she realized there was no stopping it. When she finally started, she couldn’t control it and the water just flowed down her legs.

  Around 4am Bobo appeared! Andi couldn’t believe it! She came right up to Andi’s legs and rubbed against her. Bobo fell asleep at Andi’s feet.

  Andi thought again a
nd again; who did this to her?

  Night

  Night, a place of mystery

  and for some fear.

  A place where the world seems to stand still

  as you look into the sky.

  The silvery glow sparkling on the pines.

  The air still,

  the sounds appear to have left the world

  and to think,

  I’m confined to my room

  looking out into the night.

  I think about all of the animals

  who get to enjoy this night,

  looking into the same moon as I do.

  The moon is a gift from the gods,

  a light when all other lights fail.

  To think that anyone could ever be hurt

  in this night,

  this wondrous night.

  Christian Griffin

  she’s gone

  At5:30 I began to wonder. At six I began to worry. At 6:30 I started to look. Where was Andi?

  I checked Andi’s answering machine; no recent messages. I exited the apartment and walked down to the parking garage. Her car wasn’t there. I walked to Shayna’s apartment. She hadn’t seen her since Saturday. I called Modern Girls and couldn’t get beyond an answering machine message with the club’s hours of operation and upcoming events.

  Now I was getting scared. Bobo, the cat, was looking concerned too. She kept rubbing up against my legs and meowing and sitting near the sliding screen door that led out to the deck.

  I had to do something. I opened the front door and Bobo took off like a shot running from the sliding door, between my legs, and out the front door. I couldn’t grab her before she rounded the corner and ran through the pool area. Soon, she was out of sight. I wasn’t overly concerned as Andi let her out from time to time, but it seemed symbolic that another inhabitant of this apartment was now missing.

  I turned around, grabbed my keys, my sunglasses and my wallet and headed down to the underground parking garage. I didn’t need the shades as the sun had set. I noticed that Rob Nealy’s car was gone and there were no cars parked in the spots for Apartment #105. I sat in the car for a minute and wondered where I should look.

  I decided to drive slowly to Andi’s strip club, and just look carefully for any sign of her on my way there.

  I worked my way to Hawthorne and drove north, heading to the 405 Freeway. Traffic surged between lights as happy people hurried to and from all the restaurants and shops.

  I saw no sign of Andi. On an impulse, I pulled into the Del Amo Mall and parked on the second level of the garages. Maybe Andi stopped to shop on her way home to buy her new bras and other clothes. I entered the mall through the second floor of Nordstrom’s and walked through the Women’s and Lingerie Departments.

  There was no sign of her.

  I continued on through the mall, going into Victoria’s Secret and other women’s clothing stores - still no sign of Andi. My heart began to beat faster. What now?

  I returned to my car and exited the mall as darkness fell over the Southland. Onward I drove north towards Andi’s bizarre place of employment. I also hadn’t connected with Bambi Deer; maybe I could speak to her, too.

  ***

  A strip club at night has an exotic, powerful attraction. For men, it’s the thought of the women inside and the easy viewing of what women cover up nearly everywhere else. Only on a beach or in the bedroom are women nearly so naked.

  It’s also the neon and bright lights. This look and feel was once reserved for movies and theaters, and then, usually for a grand opening or premiere. These newer, more upscale “gentlemen’s club” establishments have dialed the outside raunchiness way down. The entrances have well-dressed, beefy looking male employees that provide security and impose a clear level of constraints on the patrons.

  It was with a frantic mind that I entered this world, once again.

  A second time in any place is that mix of familiarity and newness of things previously unseen or seen now in a different light. I picked up the dancing girls’ intense, varied aromas of perfume and perspiration. I felt the chilled air; kept deliberately five to ten degrees colder than needed for comfort, because it produced erect nipples on the unnaturally-firm breasts of the dancers. The contrast between the sexes also struck me. The short-haired male employees were muscular, fully-dressed, and intensely focused, with constantly-scanning eyes that made you turn your eyes away. While the long-haired female employees were lean, vulnerable, smiling, nearly-bare, glittered and sleek, and invited long stares of desire.

  The music drowned out all other sounds, save for the occasional scoops of ice from the bar, and a squeal of laughter, here and there.

  I walked up to a guard near the raised runway and shouted, “Is Brandy still here?”

  He turned his head slowly, looked at me for a long time and shook his head from side to side. I turned and made my way to the bar, to an open stool.

  Paranoid thoughts entered my mind as I scanned the patrons. The male-to-female ratio was 9 to 1. Most of the male clientele were focused on one or another of the dancers; the one they selected as this night’s fantasy lover. In addition to their stares, they were providing comments and tips to their chosen one. I wondered and feared what could cause these fantasies to move from innocent foreplay to some evil action.

  The few females in the audience were either alone and staring at their favorite girl or a girlfriend accompanying their boyfriend on a strange date.

  In front of me a fantasy love triangle played itself out between two men and one lovely lady dancer. The men were outbidding each other with tips and comments. I suppose one of the men won, for the moment, as the slender, big-breasted brunette escorted him back to the plush, far-away couches for a private dance.

  I remembered how Andi acted on my last visit here. I was completely focused on her. No one else mattered. Plus, she was the most dazzling and best looking women in the club. How many negative thoughts were sent our way during the daydream affair we shared?

  It all made me more frantic!

  I was about to ask if Bambi was working when the unseen announcer answered my unasked question. Suddenly, Miss Deer appeared on stage, in the spotlight, wearing a skin-tight, see-through catsuit with leopard spots, and impossibly high-heeled tan boots. She captured the audience with her feline moves and snarls. Her routine was done to rapid-fire, high-tech sounding music, and she skillfully used the pole. Bambi ended on the stage floor in front of me and gave me all her attention.

  Bambi reminded me of Andi, with her very long blond hair, a large chest and lean legs. She was not as tall as Andi or as striking, but had a delicate beauty of her own. She wore full make-up and knew how to strut and turn and bend to draw the eyes of all. She did captivate me. I later learned she was 41 years-old and couldn’t believe that. I was glad she was here at the club; now, if I could just get to speak to her. As her routine ended I thought of a way to accomplish that.

  I dropped a $5 bill on the bar to cover my vodka tonic and headed to a small floor table. If the dancers’ nighttime rules were the same as the daytime, in a few minutes, I would see Bambi on the floor wearing only the club’s red thong and red heels and carrying her red step stool.

  That happened a minute after I ordered a diet coke. As soon as I could I raised my hand and signaled for Bambi to come my way. She obliged and I asked her if I could have a couch dance. She said, “Sure, sugar. That will be $50. Pay that to the man back there. I’ll see you there in two minutes.” She pointed to a bouncer-type back by the couches. Then, she turned and walked away, looking somewhat relieved. I thought that this expense might be hard to explain to Sarah Brownstein, Andi’s attorney.

  As soon as I was seated on the couch and Bambi was seated on my legs, facing me, I introduced myself. I could see her getting nervous and defensive.

  She said, “What can I do for you, handsome?”

  I said, “Bambi, please don’t be afraid. I’m not coming on to you. I just need some help. I’m a f
riend of Andi Anderson. Do you know where she is?”

  That stopped her. Her mood changed. Her reply confirmed what I heard earlier, “No, she left around four, at her normal time. What happened to her?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  She said, “Oh my God, this is scary. This whole thing has been crazy since Sid died. Who did you say you were?”

  I repeated who I was and what I was trying to do.

  She made a big smile and gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, sure, you’re her good friend from Philadelphia. She told me all about you. Don’t apologize. I never believed Andi killed Sid. It just isn’t possible. I don’t know why I think that, I just do.”

  “Thank you for believing that. I didn’t mean to surprise you during a couch dance, but I didn’t know how else to speak to you.”

  Bambi smiled, “Actually, you’re smart. Just put your hands on my behind, and pull me closer. The bouncers will think we’re getting it on and they won’t hear what were saying. We can talk for about 15 more minutes. So, what’s going on, Stevie?”

  “I don’t know, Bambi. I started to get worried because Andi didn’t get back to Torrance when she said she would.”

  She gasped, “Oh, no.”

  “So, Andi didn’t tell you where she was going after work?”

  “No, she just said goodbye as usual.”

  I exhaled, “Oh, man.”

  Bambi looked through her hair over at the bouncer looking at us, then, lifted my right hand and placed it under her left breast. She whispered, “Keep it there.” It felt very big and nice, a lot like Andi’s. I wondered if they had the same surgeon.

  Up close, in the more subdued lighting of the couch area, I realized this little lady was extremely attractive, even with her long, bleached hair and enhanced chest. Bambi was petite and had a beautiful, big, white-toothed smile, large expressive brown eyes, a straight, prominent nose, high cheek bones and a gorgeous southern accent.