by B. L. Morgan
“A nice combination,” I told Sherry. It was hard to take my eyes off of her.
She looked at the two girls.
Bobbie was stretched out on the Lazy Boy. Terry was curled up on the couch. They both looked like big lazy cats. Both of them had their gaze glued to the soap opera.
Sherry shook her head, “That thing will destroy the minds of the youth of this country,” she said. Neither girl heard her.
She slapped her hands together twice.
Sherry raised her voice. “Time to get ready to go to work,” she told them.
Bobbie stirred from her funk and bounced into the other room.
Terry said, “I’ll get ready when As the World Turns is over.”
Sherry slapped her hands together again, making a loud pop. “You will get ready now!” She said her voice an octave higher. “And you will not say anything or you will find yourself back on the streets that I pulled you off of.”
Terry sprang up from the couch and locked eyes with Sherry. She looked like she was going to launch herself at Sherry. Then she changed her mind.
“You see what I must put up with,” Sherry told me with an even voice. She motioned me to sit back down on the couch.
Sherry sat beside me.
She said, “Now we will discuss my particular situation.”
CHAPTER 9
An Unwanted Lift
With the two girls gone, Sherry turned the television off with a remote control. She asked if I wanted anything to drink. Again, I said, “No, thank you.” It seemed like everyone wanted me to get a buzz going today.
I was tempted, but figured, I better not.
Sherry turned to me and looked into my eyes with her big dark Asian eyes.
“Normally,” she said, “I am never worried about any man who takes an interest in me. Sometimes, I am flattered. But I have no romantic interest in any man, at all.” Sherry paused for effect.
I guess she was trying to send a message to me to not try for the quick feel-en and fuck-en with her. Well, we’ll see about that.
I said, “With the kind of work you are in, you can’t very well blame some men for wanting more than just the show.”
“I do not perform!” Sherry said sharply. “I am the manager for the evening shift at Pattie’s Kitten House.”
“Sorry,” I told Sherry, “I stand corrected.”
“A perfectly reasonable assumption,” she went on, “Some men do make advances. Even if I do not disrobe for pay in front of them, they assume that if I am there, I am available.”
“And you are not?” I said.
“Certainly not,” she answered.
I was wondering just what might make Sherry available to a man. I was hoping she wasn’t a lesbian. The expression on my face must have asked the question that was in my mind.
“For a man to have me,” she said. “He must prove himself worthy. No man has.”
Yeah, I thought, this one would be a tough nut to crack, but a nice one to crack your nuts on.
“What is it that’s worrying you?” I asked Sherry.
She took in a deep breath.
"A man came into Pattie's Kitten House about a week ago," Sherry began. "It was strange the way he was looking at the girls. He went from stage to stage. We have four stages where the girls dance. He appeared to be inspecting them."
I must have raised an eyebrow.
Sherry, said, “It wasn’t the way you are thinking. Men come in the club to watch the girls. They have lust in their eyes, hunger, even sometimes, a kind of reverence. What I saw from this man had none of that. He was coldly inspecting the girls. It was like he had a mental checklist that he was marking off when he looked at them. It was like he was looking at cattle or livestock of some sort.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” Sherry said, “It was very weird. I was watching him from behind a one-way mirror when he first arrived.
“It was obvious that he was unnerving the dancers. The girls mostly just ignore the men and go through their dance routines. ut this man was scary. They could not ignore him.
“After he had some words with one particular girl, who you will meet tonight, I thought it was time that I take security with me and ask this man to leave. Of course, I would refund his cover charge and money for any drink not yet consumed. Customer relations are important to us.”
“Of course,” I said.
“To put it bluntly,” Sherry went on, “The expelling of this customer from the club did not go as planned. I don’t remember any of the details, probably because I was knocked unconscious. I had two security guards with me and both of them are still in the hospital with injuries. I woke up in the back seat of a car with the man while someone else was driving. I have been carrying a small can of mace on a keychain for so long I had practically forgotten about it.
“At a stoplight I spotted a police car. So I maced the man in the back seat with me and jumped out of the car and flagged down the police. By the time I was able to tell the police I had been kidnapped, the car with the man who had taken me was gone.”
“I see,” I said as I rubbed my chin with my thumb and first finger and looked toward the wall with an expression on my face that I hoped made it seem like I was considering all that Sherry had just told me. Actually, all I was thinking was that this was just a nervous chick that was going to pay me five hundred dollars a week for being a glorified taxi ride. The chance that this guy was going to come after Sherry again was practically nil. Whoever the hell this guy was, he grabbed Sherry on the spur of the moment. He wasn’t going to do it again.
Looking back to Sherry and letting my gaze wander over the smooth light coffee with lots of cream skin just above her breasts the thought did come to me, if I did put the clutch on this woman, I probably would be back for seconds. This lady was tasty.
I was not going to ask Sherry why she had waited a week after the incident to hire me. I didn’t want Sherry to even have the thought that my presence was unnecessary.
She went on. “I believe I am being followed. I think I saw him twice in the last two days. That is why I called you.”
Sherry went into her purse and pulled out a roll of bills. She counted out five hundred dollars in twenties. She looked in my eyes and put the bills in my hand and closed my fingers around them, holding my hand in both of hers.
“The way this man went through our bouncers,” Sherry said, “I know he is extremely dangerous. Will this money buy my protection?”
I smiled at her.
“If he fucks with you,” I told her, “He’ll be fucking dead!” I put the money in my pocket and opened my jacket and showed Sherry the .38 in my holster.
“Will you hesitate to use that?” Sherry asked.
“’Hesitate’ ain’t in my dictionary,” I told her. “I’ll enjoy it.”
CHAPTER 10
What Wet Dreams are Made Of
When the girls came out from changing they had on blue jeans, tennis shoes and sweat shirts. Each of them was carrying a gym bag packed with costumes. They looked like the kind of girls I was trying to fuck back when I was in high school.
You can be sure they gave a lot of the guys that go into Pattie’s Kitten House a whole lot of wet dreams.
I escorted Sherry, Terry, and Bobbie down to where my car was parked.
While I was unlocking my Olds Delta Eighty-Eight Sherry stood with her hands on her hips. “Is this your car?” She asked her lip curling.
“Yeah,” I tell her and opened the door. “Hey, it’s a classic.”
Sherry looked in at the weather worn seats. “I bet it is.” She said.
Terry and Bobbie looked in at the back seat, littered with my empty bottles, McDonalds and Jack-in-the-Box fast food containers.
“I’ll arrange for another car tomorrow,” Sherry told the girls.
Arrogant broad, I thought and held the door for her to get in.
“Hope I don’t catch nothing from these seats,” Terry said.
“Just get in,” Sherry told her.
* * *
I dropped the girls and Sherry off at the front door of Pattie’s Kitten House and parked around back in a fenced in customers parking lot. The doorman, an ex-pro linebacker with the Cardinals, phoned the man at the gate to the parking lot. He let me park for no charge and slipped a VIP card under my windshield wiper. They were charging five bucks a pop, so the customers could walk around front and pay a twenty dollar cover charge, then order drinks that were at least three times the price you’d pay anywhere else. It’s a nice racket if you can make it work.
Here, they were making it work. Pattie’s Kitten House was smack dab in the middle of the downtown high rent business district. They had to be bringing in some serious bucks to be operating down here. It was somewhere around five thirty in the afternoon and the parking lot for Pattie’s Kitten House was already half full.
I wanted to see what was so good inside this club that the guys were paying such high prices to get in.
The ex-linebacker at the door was named Ron Martin. He was a big corn-fed country boy who developed a like for the city life while he was playing football. A busted knee ended his football career. He stayed on in the area doing body guard and bouncer work.
At six-five and two hundred and eighty solid in shape pounds, his size alone was enough to deter just about anyone from causing trouble at a club he was bouncing at. He met me at the door and told me anything I wanted to drink was complementary as long as it had no alcohol in it. That sounded good to me. I pretty much wanted to stay straight anyway.
I walked into the club.
* * *
Just inside the door I was met by a sweet looking brunette who was wearing a tuxedo jacket, high heels, stockings and garters, a fur bikini and cat ears on her head.
“May I take your jacket?” She asked.
“I better keep it on,” I told her and flashed open the jacket so she saw my holstered Thirty-Eight. Today seemed to be my day for showing everyone my gun.
“Your boss knows about me.” I told her and brushed on past. Glancing back I saw that the coat-girl had a large black cat-tail sticking out into the air from between the folds of the tuxedo jacket at her ass. Cute, real cute, I thought. The guys do come here to see some pussy. So they’re going to throw it at them a few different ways.
The other waitresses moving among the tables and the customers were dressed just like her. The colors of the fur for the bikini’s or the ears or the tails might be a little different, but the uniforms were pretty much the same. They had this cat theme down pretty good.
I’m not complaining none either. These were some healthy felines roaming around here with their tails in the air. Who knows, I may become a cat lover yet, or at least a cat fucker if nothing else.
As soon as I sat at a table a purrrrrrfectly tasty waitress appeared at the table. I ordered a coke and watched her tail bounce as she walked away. Watching tails could become habit forming.
The lighting was subdued but not overly dark. I guess they had to give the guys at least enough light to check out the girls. There was more than one room. How many, I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to stroll around looking like a tourist. All of the lights had a faint tint of red to it. It gave the skin a slightly flushed look. I could give a shit less what the guy’s skin looked like to the girls. I wasn’t looking at the guys.
I must have walked in between sets because the three stages I could see were bare.
In the corner of the room a glass enclosed Deejay put on a disco record, something by the Bee Gees. A heavy base beat and high harmonized vocals. I could really give a shit less about disco music. I’m more of a heavy metal man myself. But it was good music for a woman to be dropping her duds to.
From a door in back of the stage closest to me a woman appeared. She was tall, had long black hair and was dressed like an Indian maiden. Looking at her made me feel like going west right then and there. This woman was built like every young Indian scout’s wet dream. She had long smooth legs, a flat stomach and small round perfect sized breasts, perfect for sucking. I saw all this and hell, she hadn’t even dropped any clothes yet.
I watched her from my table as she moved to the music and realized it’s been way too long since I’ve been fucked. I had a hard-on that could break bricks. She untied a string that held up a little Indian mini-skirt and flung the skirt back toward the wall. Seeing this made me feel like someone squeezed my dick from under the table.
And that face of hers was like the face of an angel's. Almond shaped dark eyes. Large ruby red lips. She must have seen the effect she was having on me because she locked eyes with me and licked her lips. I swear if I hadn’t of had a pair of pants on, my dick would’ve flipped the table over.
I took a long drink of a coke that had magically appeared from nowhere and put the sweating glass to my forehead. I had to cool down fast.
I looked around the room, got up and took a walk. Walking wasn’t easy at that moment either. The song went on, and I went to the bar. The bartended smiled at me as I took a stool.
“She’s a hot one, ain’t she,” he said. His name tag read Joe.
“Really,” I answered with a grin. “I hadn’t noticed.”
We both laughed.
“You want to see a real good one,” he said. “Take a look at that little bit of Chung King.” He pointed at a stage at the far side of the room. The woman over there was definitely tasty. I did have to admit that.
“Shit!” I said.
“What?” Joe asked.
“You really don’t want to know,” I told him.
That was Sushi on the stage over there, my best friend’s girlfriend. And a little while back Johnny told me she promised him she would quit dancing. He couldn’t handle knowing she was taking her clothes off in front of a roomful of guys every night.
Sometimes, promises don’t mean much.
I drank my coke and slung the shit with Joe for a while, then took a stroll around the club. I guess I was going to end up looking like the tourist that I didn’t want to look like after all. Oh well, big fucking deal.
Guys come here to see female skin and even though I got in for free, why should I act like I’m any different.
I strolled into another of the rooms in time to see the last song of the three song set that Terry and Bobbie were doing. They were doing a tandem dance routine that was damn close to being pornographic and not soft core porn either. They were undressing each other and rubbing on each other and the contrast of Bobbie’s almost white skin on Terry’s almost black skin was close to being hypnotic.
Terry saw me watching them and smiled at me and winked. I figured I’d better get some air and headed in that direction. Over the bar I saw a clock and noticed that two hours had passed. Damn, why does time seem to run by in these places?
I was just a few steps away from the front door when someone grabbed my arm.
It was Sushi. She smiled at me.
“What do you want?” I asked and her smile faded a little.
“Johnny does not need to know,” she said. “Please do not tell him you saw me here.”
“Am I supposed to lie for you too?” I asked.
“I need to make money,” Sushi said.
”We all do,” I told her.
“But I need more than he can give me.” She said. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
Sherry St. Claire appeared beside us. “I see you have met Sushi,” she said. “I was going to introduce you later. She is the young lady who had words with the man who kidnapped me.”
So our personal matter was put on the back burner for the moment. The three of us took a table and Sushi ran through what happened between her and the guy.
The man had stared at her during her entire routine and approached her at the end of it saying he wanted a private performance.
“I don’t do that,” Sushi said. “This is a show and that is all. He went to grab me and I shoved him and kicked him. I must have ca
ught him off guard. That’s when Sherry and the guards showed up. You know the rest.”
“What does he look like?” I asked Sushi.
“Tall,” she said. “But, just about everyone looks tall to me. Brown hair, light skin and really stocky built. Even through this guy’s clothes, you could tell he had really big muscles.”
“Anything about his face you remember?” I asked.
“He looked very hard.” Sushi said. “His face was like a statue’s. No expression at all.”
* * *
I talked to the two of them for a little while making mental notes to be on the look-out for a muscle-bound guy with brown hair and a shitty outlook on life. I knew if I hit the health clubs and gymnasiums I could spot a thousand men who fit that description in an hour.
I still needed some air, so I told Sherry I’d be back at the end of her shift and headed for the door again.
Sushi again grabbed me by the arm before I made it outside. For a place that people pay a lot to get into, I was having a hell of a time getting out.
“Please,” she said to me, her eyes pleading. “Do not tell Johnny.”
I shook her arm off. The expression on her face was almost like I’d struck her. “Look,” I told her. “I won’t lie for you. If Johnny doesn’t ask me, I won’t tell him I saw you here. But if he does ask, I will tell him.”
Then I walked out the door. Just what the fuck did I tell that woman anyway, I asked myself? I didn’t want to be in the middle of Johnny and Sushi’s shit. It wasn’t my fucking problem. I don’t want to be a part of their Peyton Place romantic soap opera.
Damn! I should have said, “No, I won’t tell him. If you suck my dick like the Chung King Tongue Fu Ball Master Bitch that we both know that you are, I won’t.”
Shit! But the truth of it is I knew I never would betray a friend. I may lie, cheat, steal and kill, but there’s some things I don’t do.
Go after a friend's woman? No way!
* * *
