almost okay

My Dear Lyzako,

I awoke this morning with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth and the flavor of what little spittle I could muster vaguely reminiscent of what a cat litter box must taste like based on my experience of the odor alone. I had spent a glorious evening at Hot Tamales, smiling and drinking and pissing gleefully in dirty urinals, all the while earnestly proclaiming to each successive girl on stage: “You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.”

By the end of the parade I'm sure I sounded more like Foster Brooks than my usual glib self, more like: “Yerthuhmowsh boodifhull w'm'n hive hever suheen inmylhife”, but as long as I was stuffing bills into their sweaty cleavages or folding them around an assortment of g-string spaghetti straps they all pretended to buy my line of shit.

Upon arrival in the club's entry area I saw a white sign with mismatched black letters that read: '$5 COVER CHARGE AFTER 7 P.M. - NO WEAPONS ALLOWED'. The second line was underscored for emphasis, which made me feel much safer. It was 8:15 and the parking lot adjacent to the faded pink and gray building had only a half-dozen cars in it. I remember thinking when I drove up that it had looked like a sparse crowd for a Thursday night, but I was still hoping there would be at least one beautiful dancer I could hang some new fantasies on. Shit, who knows? I might even fall in love, right?

I dug into my pocket for some cash. There were two women sitting behind thick sliding plexiglass windows in a little coat room to my right, the windows opened only about an inch and a half to allow me enough room to slip the cover charge through. Directly in front of me was a locked steel door barring entry into the club itself. “Five dollars, sweetie”, said the one sitting closest to the glass. She was older, a member of the family of owners I suspect, white with long straight black hair, a little on the plump side but cute. Maybe a little too much makeup.

“Are you afraid of me?” I asked her, indicating the glass and my mild surprise at the security required to gain entry. It wasn't all that long ago, my friend, when I could breeze in the door at that very same establishment, have a bottle of Blue placed in my hand and a nearly-naked girl on each arm vying for my attention, all before I even sat down. Oh well, this was Eight Mile after all, and this modern world is definitely going to 'Hell in a hand-basket', as Gramps used to say. The second girl sitting behind the glass was much younger, black, light-skinned and gorgeous from what I could tell in the dim light.

“No,” said the woman who'd taken my money. “Tameka here will be waiting on you tonight,” she went on, waving her hand over her shoulder.

“She's beautiful,” I said. “And so are you, of course.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Tameka rose and disappeared to the left only to reappear at the entry door, swinging it wide and allowing me full access to the debauchery within. “Sit anywhere you like,” she said. And I did.

Taking a wobbly chair at the near corner of the main stage, I ordered a Blue and a glass of ice water from the lovely Tameka. I could see her better in the ambient light of the club, the pink and orange neon of the 'Hot Tamales Rocks Topless' sign that lights the stage area washing over her face as I placed my drink order. Tameka had a beautiful toothy smile, high cheek bones and gray eyes, short relaxed hair that swept around her face and behind her ears. She was wearing a black tee shirt with an abstract glitter design on the front, the neck of the shirt customized with a pair of scissors, cut open down the front to reveal tantalizing glimpses of her cleavage and delectable breast flesh. As she walked away I took special notice of Tameka's ass, which was small, round and perfectly packed into a pair of Baby Phat jeans that looked like they were tailored to fit her like a second skin.

As chance would have it, the girl on stage when I sat down was probably the hottest one of the bunch, so when I told her that she was the 'most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life', there was at least a modicum of honesty in the statement at the time. She had beautiful eyes and generous lips painted pale pink, long silky black hair that draped down in a high ponytail over her neck, and an expression on her face completely devoid of emotion. She was wearing an outfit of zebra stripes, the bikini bottom just barely able to stretch around her rump as it disappeared into the deep crease between her round ass cheeks, the bra top dangling loose and untied, her boobs hanging out underneath. I peeled off a couple of the dollar bills Tameka brought back in change and the girl danced her way over to me.

When she sat down on the stage in front of me, spreading her legs and placing both feet so that one of her fine brown knees was on either side of my head, a physical detail became visible that had escaped me when I first squinted at her from a distance. She was wearing heavy black pumps with sturdy platform heels and her shapely calves were covered with curly black hair, which she wore naturally instead of shaving, the hair fading just below her knees to flawless, smooth brown skin on her thighs. As a record collector, the first image that came to my mind was that picture sleeve 45 by the Stones - 'Start Me Up'. You know... the one with the black and white photo depicting a women's shoe very much like the one this dancer was wearing, only with a completely furry animal foot shoved into it. I hadn't expected to see the leg hair, but it was only a mild distraction, and when I looked up her body and into her eyes, I decided I could get used to it. “You look sad,” I said, hoping to seem observant, caring and sympathetic all at the same time.

“I'm bored,” she said.

After a few spins on her ass, she turned around and kneeled facing away from me, her rump in my face, each plump cheek bouncing alternately in time with the music as I tucked in my tip. “I'm trying to be as entertaining as I can,” I said to her.

“I know,” she said.

“Destiny is stepping down for one on the side and we're looking for Aja on the main stage...” This announcement from the booth came in a booming male voice as the R&B played without interruption and the second 'most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life' took the stage. The deejay had pronounced her name 'Asia' like the continent, but I could see from the white hand towel she had wrapped around her hips that somebody had airbrushed the spelling 'AJA' in pink cartoon caps diagonally across it. A lot of the girls like to put towels on the vinyl covered chairs before sitting down at a table, both for warmth and for comfort. 'Aja' had a customized one, which she promptly dropped on the stage floor when she began her routine.

She was good on the pole, that girl, climbed it high and swung swiftly around it until she had dropped perfectly to the stage on one knee. A parade of guys, cash in hand, were lured to the stage by her performance, one smiling young man stuffing what had to be fifteen or twenty singles down the back of her bikini bottom forming a wide fan of green across her hips, which she casually pulled out and dropped to the stage floor after dancing back to the corner. I had a couple of bills clutched in my hands and Aja moved slowly towards me, mesmerizing me with her large, almond-shaped eyes which did indeed seem almost Chinese in appearance. I figured Aja to be a little older than some of the other dancers, but she was well put together, with broad hips and tight, thick thighs that tapered down to slender ankles, her feet covered to mid-calf with black stockings and black, shiny ankle boots with sharp toes and stiletto heels. She smiled most of the time, a practiced one, but welcoming and warm. Her cheekbones were high, her complexion dark, and she wore a thick mane of black hair that framed her feline face and cascaded down to her shoulders.

When she came over she sat in front of me, worked her slender fingers over and around her crotch, the fingernails painted black. I slid a bill in each side of her g-string, laid my line on her. “Thank you, baby” she said.

“No,” I said. “Thank you.”

I was still wearing my overcoat and scarf against the cold as I sat at the stage, and when Aja stood up she took one end of the scarf in each of her hands and pulled me up and towards her, sliding the scarf between her legs at the crotch and drawing my face towards her beautiful thighs. “You don't have to worry about it smelling like ass,” she said referring to my scarf, which she had pulled right up tight into her crack. “My ass smells goo-ood.” She drew out the word 'good' so that it sounded like it had four syllables. My mouth started to water.

“Smells good and I'll bet tastes good, too,” I said, my nose at her crotch as I peered up into her eyes through the space between her round boobs, the nipples standing high and firm. She let go of the scarf and laughed.

“It's time for Aja to step down and we're looking for Dream... Dream to the main stage...”

On my way to the can I stopped and laid a sawbuck on Aja as she writhed around on the small side stage. “You really are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life,” I lied.

By the time I got back to my seat and ordered another round, the deejay was announcing that it was time for the nine o'clock finale... “We need all the ladies up top with their tops down...”

The array of brown legs, asses and breasts was mind-boggling, induced thirst in me as I shot down another Blue in short order. One girl I hadn't noticed before had an absolutely flawless body, a model's body but with a little more flesh hanging in the right places, smooth skin unmarred by tattoos, moles or blemishes and a complexion the color of coffee with two creams. As my eyes made my way up her body, over the smooth length of thigh and belly, around her perfectly-shaped natural breasts, up and over her slender throat to her sweet and pretty face, my mouth fell open. She noticed me looking, smiled at me and I silently mouthed “Oh...My...God,” while reaching for my pile of singles. She laughed a little and danced her way through the other dancers until she was kneeling in front of me.

“What?” she asked, having been unable to read my lips.

“I said,” I said, “Oh my God!” She laughed. “You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.” She smiled wide, a large smile that provided too much room for her tiny white teeth, which were spaced slightly unevenly with gaps between all the way across. Yet another minor distraction. Like the leg hair from earlier, I decided I could get used to this one, too.

“How about a dance, Mr. Wonderful?” she said.

“I'm just hanging out for another beer,” I said, knowing full well that my on board cash limitations weren't going to allow me much fun in the lap dance department. “But I'll be back another day.”

“You look me up,” she said, flashing her irregular smile.

“You are on top of the list,” I assured her.

Dream was still up for one more after the finale and I waved a few bucks to lure her over. Her expression was a cross between sadness and boredom, too, but I didn't even offer a guess, just laid my line on her, after which she managed a weak smile. It got pretty foggy after that, the girls coming and going until I'd seen them dance around the rotation with Destiny climbing the stairs to the stage again.

“You've over-served me again,” I scolded Tameka when she came by to see if I needed anything else. “You may have to drive me home.”

“I will if you need me to,” she said, seeming completely sincere and natural about it.

I ordered one more, tipped her an extra buck for being cute and told her before leaving: “You don't have to drive me home anymore, dear. Just identify the body. Ha ha ha! Oh and by the way, did I mention that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life? No? Well, you are!” I couldn't resist.

On the way home I stopped at the BP station on the corner and fueled up with some beef jerky, a quart of Blue and a 99-cent bag of Chester's Flaming Hot Fries. Once I was inside the house and away from the brisk winter wind and cold, I reveled in my safety by listening to the Isleys and drinking one last pint before passing out somewhere around midnight on the couch.

The sun is high now and it remains cold and windy. My right eye is still burning from rubbing it with one of my 'Flaming Hot' fingers just a few moments after waking up, the very same fingers that jammed nearly the entire bag of Hot Fries in my mouth last night, the same ones that I didn't wash, of course. All I keep thinking is that as horny as I was from last night's drunken ass parade, it's a lucky thing that I was too hungover this morning to bother with jerking off.

Cheers and Regards,
Casanova Sherman
Lecherous Lothario

PS: My scarf still smells like Aja's ass. No no, it's true. And not merely like perfume, either. There's some real woman scent in the mix, too. If you don't believe me, just ask Louis. I let him have a whiff.