Josh Stallings - Beautiful, Naked and Dead

When I reentered the club Piper was on stage dancing to Billy Holiday’s “God Bless The Child.” Spinning around the pole, running her hands up over her fine natural double D’s, fingers dancing circles around her nipples, all the standard moves, moves she could do in her sleep, mechanical moves designed to draw your eye to her body and fill your reptile brain with the need to mate or at least throw dollar bills. The men watching didn’t notice the fear in her eyes. Ok, maybe they didn’t even notice she had eyes. She was parts, real live moving parts.

The fight had cleared my head, and pulled my spirit up enough for me to remember Kelly and her call and her sweet face. I should have walked out then, but then I wouldn’t have been me. Stepping up to the stage I tossed two Benjamins at Piper’s feet. Looking down she smiled, her eyes going soft. Even the lonely men at the rail were impressed by the falling hundreds. She danced the rest of the song for me alone. Eyes on my face, it was a dance honoring her valorous hero. The mind may know it’s all a sham, but blood wants what blood wants. Watching her work her magic on the stage I knew where we would end up. My blood lust had turned to lust lust that quickly. Tits.

Stepping off the stage, she took my hand and started to lead me to the lap room. “I can’t, baby doll, I have to find Kelly,” I said half-heartedly.

“Mo, if you were ten years younger,” Piper purred, “You’d still be ten years too old for that girl child. Now drop the torch Cowboy, that one’s never going to give it up.”

“It ain’t about that, Piper.”

“Tell yourself any little lie you need to, but it’s always about that . You just want her ‘cause she’s not up there offering it. You think she’s your ticket to Straightsville. Now forget Miss Pure White and come show Momma what you got.”

“I think she’s in trouble.”

“We all were in trouble from those punks, but you handled that,” she said, keeping her grip tight.

“Maybe later, she…”

“You plan on banging her?”

“No.”

“Then she’ll wait. Lordy, lordy, lordy, part of you wants to stay. “ Her eyes flicked down to my crotch. “Is that for lil’ ol’ me?”

I gave up my weak attempt to fight it and let her lead me into the shadows. I lied to myself, saying Piper was right, Kelly must have been afraid of the Armenians. Truth was, my erection was doing all the thinking at that moment. My blood was up and screaming for release. Watching Piper’s ass sway before me I couldn’t see a damn thing wrong with this deal.

I told myself one more little lie and slid into the moment, pretending this time it would be different and I wouldn’t end up feeling more empty than when I started. Sitting on a metal chair surrounded by mirrors she slid down onto my lap while somewhere in the distance Nicki Minaj was singing about being the best. Rubbing her fine ass on my crotch she moaned in fake but convincing passion. Her hair against my face, her scent filling my nose, rose water hovering over hair spray and buried down below, just the hint of sweat. To the pulsing beat Piper swayed her full, soft, natural breasts across my face, tracing her cleavage across the hair on my chin. All the while her leg expertly stroked my erection through my jeans. Caressing her hands over my shoulders she felt my breathing slow.

“My big strong hero… give Momma a little cream for her coffee.” Pulling her leg from between mine she smiled down at me, turning slowly around she bent over giving me a moment to look at her fine firm backside without her watching me. Sliding gracefully back, she sat onto my lap, fitting herself down around the bulge in my pants. Rocking her hips to the pulse of the music and the acceleration of my breaths, she ground her ass against my cock until I finally closed my eyes… let go… and came. Climbing off me, she smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you,” I said, “Consider your tab squared.”

“What?” Her smile faded.

“I took care of the punks, you took care of me. We’re even.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Forget it.” She walked out, plastering her sultry there’s nothing I’d rather do than fuck you smile on as she cleared the doorway. I watched her ass twitch away into the shadows of the bar and wondered if I would ever give up trying to understand women.

Staring into the mirror I had to ask myself who that man was. The scruffy red beard, four gold earrings in one ear, a Celtic knot tattoo on his neck, placed there to commemorate the love for a girl he no longer knew. The scar above the left eye from a broken beer bottle. And cold blue eyes, eyes that had seen too much for one life. The Viking heritage showed in the man’s body, he was built for wielding a battle-axe and pulling an oar. I wondered if that man in the mirror came into the club, would we be friends? Probably not, he didn’t look like he had many friends. I’d probably throw his trouble-making ass out on the street.

After the rush of the battle and the bad sex settled, after staring at my face in the mirror for too long… Kelly’s face came into my mind. Her call was the reason I stepped into this mess in the first place. I came in looking for Kelly and wound up getting tossed a thank you lap dance from Piper. Life does have its ups and downs.

With a guilty smirk, I stepped into the men’s room to dab the stain off my jeans. I wasn’t guilty about the lap ride, hell we were both consenting adults and I figure as long as the donkey didn’t die, what adults do behind closed doors is their own damn business. I did feel bad about leaving Kelly hanging while I got my nut off though. It was no way to treat a friend. Men can be jerks sometimes, just a fact. Any possible warm afterglow of the ejaculation was gone before I left the john.

Dropping some change into the pay phone, I dialed Kelly’s number. I was rewarded for my effort with a busy signal. I dialed again but got the same irritating blatting tone. Why would the Armenians have threatened a waitress? She didn’t make the kind of cash the dancers did. When she called, Kelly had said she wasn’t who I thought she was. What did that have to do with the Armenian shakedown? Somewhere between the pay phone and the bar I decided I was going to have to go see Kelly, if only to stop my brain from thinking about it.

Behind the bar Turaj’s eyes were in full flight, lighting on anything in the room but me. I slapped my hands firmly down on the bar top. Turaj gave a little jump then turned a sheepish grin on me.

“You are one slick mother fucker, right?” I purred.

“What? Moses my man, what are you thinking?”

“That you are one slick mother fucker. How much were those Armenian pricks planning to pay you a week, for the right to scalp our girls?” He looked mock stunned.

“I didn’t, they, I never saw-”

“That’s it, just keep digging that grave deeper and deeper.”

“Trust me, I don’t know those punks. What kinda man do you think I am?” A line of sweat was collecting on his weak brow.

“The spineless kind. The kind that gets his rocks off holding power over these girls because they’d never give it to him willingly. That answer your question?”

“Screw you,” he said with no conviction.

“Hand me the phone, I need to talk to your uncle.” At this his mask of cool started to twitch.

“Who’s he going to believe, huh? I’m his blood.”

“Hand me the phone, we’ll find out.” What I really wanted to do was jump over the bar and turn him into a stain on the carpet. I guess he saw it in my eyes because he fell apart, his upper lip started to tremble, he looked down at his hands as though they held some mystic secret.