Never go away again
Long Island Iced Teas and beautiful naked women…
Why else would I have been in the strip club, free internet? It pays to know strippers, especially when you’re underage and have cravings for alcohol.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the husband dragging his porky wife to a table for a lapdance. See, they have to come with their wives, they need something to imagine while nailing them. I’d do it too if I were married to, that thing.
On the other end of the club, there’s dancers begging for more drinks, they need to forget they work here every other night, so they can look at their kids without crying in the morning.
I had to leave.
There’s a definite sense of confusion looking down at my hands, the blur of rum stained eyes makes it impossible to catch a taxi, and in my daze I decide to walk my sorry ass home.
When under the influence of many of the intoxicating substance I tend to pump into my body, I find it impossible to look straight ahead while I walk. I have to stare at my hands, and I keep lit cigarettes between my fingers, something of a habit, more of a reminder that I’m still awake.
After midnight, downtown is always a scary fucking place. Walk at a steady pace, keep the homeless people from chasing you down.
Down Larimont Ave. I could hear music coming from the Underground, it’s a small little place that I like to squeeze into from time to time. I had two steps down the stairway when I caught this short 5-something brunette coming down the alleyway that led to the red vinyl door inside.
She smiled, I think I smiled back. “Need a ride?”
The first image in my head was not what I assumed she meant. I was wrong.
And now walking home with a hangover from the studio she drove us to, I’m find it difficult to remember her name. I think it was Scarlett.
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