A Year Being a Regular: Part VIII

A year. A full three hundred and sixty-five days since I first shyly shuffled in here, fumbling through my wallet for my I.D. and nervously handing over my door fee to the lady behind the counter. A full three hundred and sixty-five days since I met Alanna. The Playoffs were coming to a close. The Thunder were defying expectations, but their critics said they were young and inexperienced. It just "wasn't their time yet." I ran my index finger along the edges of my glass holding a double-pour of scotch. Flash back to a year ago. I'm hunched over the bar, trying not to draw attention to myself while sipping on my Bud Lite. The faint buzz inspired me to upgrade to a glass of Maker's Mark. Two glasses later, I grabbed the bartender's attention to inquire about their selection of finer scotches. Brenda returned with two bottles, allowing me to sample both. After letting both drinks burn down my throat with a scornful ferocity, I pointed at one of the bottles and croaked, "A glass of that one on the rocks, please." I scrunched my face from the sting of the after taste. "LOTS of ice." Flip back to the present, I take another swig of my Macallan, neat. In my head, I recounted the strange adventures from the past year. Without question, Alanna had been the star. Two trips before the last, there was a tenderness that wasn't present before. An odd calm. Instead of the nymph that oozed sex and beckoned you to unleash her pent-up lust, she was grounded, calm, and normal. One misguided notion that I possessed in the past year was this sense of needing to be chivalrous. When most other patrons were licentious booze hounds, I tried to be the civil gentleman. I wanted to give myself the impression that I was being a saint. I know… abhorrent. Regardless, I still reveled in the decadence. Lap dances, V.I.P. rooms, I partook in it all. Seeing Alanna humanized made me realize how much of it was bullshit. I didn't want that at all. The higher pedestal that I tried to climb to was all for show. In the end, I was still a patron of lust and desire. I wanted the siren to sing her hymn. I wanted Alanna to coo me with her lies, its sweetness overpowering the deceit. I wanted her to command my undivided attention, to make that fabricated connection, to play me like a broken cash machine that was throwing away money like it was going out of style. On the screen, the Thunder were down. Had the basketball gods blessed Kobe with the skill and stamina to win another ring? Was age and experience outgunning youth and ambition? I realized I haven't seen Alanna all night. A familiar voice calls out my name to my left. "Jacky!" "Tammi?" Tammi, the aspiring writer that hated everything she wrote. The girl who quit her job as a dancer in an overly dramatic fashion. I hadn't seen her in over eight months and she still remembered my name. Her tan dress accentuated the shine of her blonde hair. She was beaming, a radiant beauty. We picked up right where we left off. She was a desk jockey now at some office. She still pursued her writing and was still hesitant about showing anyone her work. For a girl who had bared it all on stage multiple nights a week in front of total strangers, the thought of opening a window into her soul was too much to bear. The conversation eventually transitions into her tenure at the club. Her garish, bubbly demeanor wilted into a demure melancholy. For the first time, I was given an unfiltered glimpse into the experience of a dancer. Eventually she brings up Alanna and the things she shared with Tammi about me. I'm instantly reminded of my last night with Alanna. Alanna and Riley shared a volatile work relationship. They ran ruthless smear campaigns against the other whenever I spent time with them. Their personalities were toxic to one another. The irony was they were more or less the same person. Cut from the same cloth. Eventually, the antagonism gave way to friendship out of convenience. For the sake of making a shift more pleasant, they became "friends." That night I was on the cusp of being belligerent, prompting a “brilliant” idea to thunder into my alcohol-battered brain. “Riley. You, me, and Alanna. V.I.P.?” “I would love to.” She said with a sultry smile. If I was maybe just a few degrees more sober, logic might have prevailed and stopped me from the absurdly irresponsible fiscal decision, but my good judgment had already vomited in the bushes, pissed itself, and passed out for the night. Riley strutted off and returned with Alanna. Unlike the previous two visits, Alanna bounced over with her manic energy. “Let's go, let's go!” she chanted. I took my seat in the booth twice the size of an airplane bathroom and Riley immediately jumped on top of me and stuck her tongue down my throat while Alanna was busy pulling the curtain shut. "Oh." Alanna muttered when she turned around and saw us. She undressed as Riley and I continued making out. My hands had a firm grasp on Riley's creamy, smooth ass. Alanna nudged herself a seat next to me and Riley jumped back on her feet to undress. With an opening, Alanna mounted me and followed in Riley's footsteps. She started grinding on my lap and dancing in my mouth with her tongue. Riley extended her hand from behind Alanna to grab my crotch, cuing Alanna to plant her knees and lift herself up. She pulled her lips away and shoved her breast into my face. I complied and alternated putting her natural, succulent breasts in my mouth. At the other end, Riley let her hand drift to the top of my jeans. Like an experienced pro, she undid the button and voraciously tore at my waist line. I quickly pulled my head to the side and mouthed a 'no.' In my deluded, diseased mind, I was being chivalrous by not allowing these girls pull my dick out. Like I said, in my deluded, diseased mind. Alanna grabbed my head and buried my face in her chest. She giggled, "Oh, don't you just love Jack?" "Yea, he's my favorite." Riley chimed. "You know, he saved me. Jack? I want you to know you saved me." Bullshit stripper-comments. Part of the act. Alanna looked me in the eyes, gave me her ginger smile I've come to know so well, and softly kissed me on the lips before getting back on her feet. Riley immediately sat on my lap and started to grind her ass against my crotch. After taking a sip of her drink, Alanna gently pushed Riley against me and got down to her knees. I couldn't see what was going on, but I felt a sudden shock ripple through Riley's body. Riley began to squirm and moan, grabbing onto my legs and firmly pressing her body against mine. I cupped her perky, round breast as I used my index finger and thumb to tweak her hard, pink nipples. She arched her head back, resting it on my shoulders, letting her blonde hair drape across my face. Another shock vibrated through her body. Riley wrapped her left arm around my head and directed it to face her. She continued to moan in ecstasy while we locked lips, sensually pressing her tongues against mine. Thirty minutes whisk by before a voice boomed from beyond the curtains, informing us of the last song. We started the process of composing ourselves. Riley got up to dress and Alanna sat next to me, putting on her top. I sat up and wiped my moist, wet fingers on the seat. "Come here." Riley said to me. I stood up and Riley pulled me towards her by the shirt gave me a kiss. "I'll see you." she smiled before disappearing through the curtain. I looked back at Alanna, who was putting the last piece of her outfit together. "Hey..." she muttered. "Just wanted to say I appreciate all the things you said to me the last few times. And you know, it's just that I don't have that many friends..." At this point I didn't care if it was all pandering tripe, I let my guard down and took it in. "I can be a friend if that's what you need." She gave me a sullen smile. "And look, I understand that working here can take its toll, but you..." Her mood instantly shifted and she snapped at me, "No. You have no idea. There's no way you could possibly understand if you haven't done this. You have no clue what it's like." Poor choice of words on my part. "Sorry." She got on her feet and gave me a warm hug. I wrapped my arms around her and we shared a tender kiss. "I'll see you soon." she smiled. She turned around and I watched as her hair bounced with every step she took. This was my last image of Alanna. “Yea, she finally got out.” Tammi said, snapping me back to the present. “What do you mean?” Tammi, who had known Alanna for a few years prior to their stint as dancers, provided me with answers that would've otherwise been question marks for the rest of my life. Alanna had skipped going into higher education and ran away with a boyfriend to Atlanta. Her youthful days of reckless abandon came to a halt when she became pregnant. As things soured with her musician boyfriend, she found herself sinking deeper into a situation that had no exits. Her department store job just wasn't enough to make ends meet. She wanted out of Atlanta, back to her hometown in Chicago. Out here, she was alone, lost in a sea of strangers. "Well, what about Doug?" "You know about that?" Tammi exclaimed. "Yea, she kind of lost it when it came to him." "Yea, you mean Doug back there in the corner?" Sure enough, there he was, in his regular spot, conversing with a new dancer. "His wife left him. After that, they went on a few dates, and as far as I know… that was it." A part of me ached for Alanna, wishing that Mr. Pitt-Bay would have been the prince that gave her that happily ever after coda. "So what happened with Alanna?" "She's back in Chicago now. Changed her number, deleted all her profiles on the social network sites, cutting any ties that could be traced to her old life. Even with me." "Rough." "Whatever she's doing, I hope she found what she's looking for." She was gone. In the darkness of my mind, a projector flickered on and every encounter with Alanna played through my head. Out of all the girls that night, the one scoffing down the basket of wings drew my eye. Through bizarre circumstances, we ended up in each other's company that night. In the beginning, it was strictly a financial exchange. The lines were clearly drawn. We were the masks we wore. I was the patron enchanted by her beauty and body, she was the harlot willing to satiate my every desire. As time went on, our masks began to slip. My escape from reality, my abandonment of responsibility, my discontent with life; her emotional fragility, brooding hopelessness, and detrimental stoicism - created a potent brew. Our true nature belied our outward behavior. When we were together, we were just kids again. All our disappointment of where our 20's had lead us was non-existent. We only ever looked forward. But all of this is just the ramblings of a fool. She cut everything she loathed about her past life, and that included me. Me, the person who thought he was righteous. In the end, I was no different from anyone else. I treated her like a commodity that could be bought just like everyone else. After a few round of drinks, Tammi requests her purse from Brenda, pecks me on the cheek and walks out of the club. The Thunder had persevered. A late 4th quarter rally pushed them over the edge to beat The Lakers. Youth and inexperience had triumphed. I pour the remaining contents of my glass down my throat. I take time to appreciate the silky burn. I motion for my tab and Brenda retreats to the register. "Who were we rooting for?" a voice gingerly inquires next to my ear. The soothing scent of flowers and fruits light up my nasal senses. The subtle warmth of a body standing mere centimeters away electrified the hair on my arms to stand up. I turn my head and catch a stunning brunette with inviting eyes, giving me a smile with her luscious lips. "The Thunder." "Hell yea! Kevin Durant and Westbrook are going to take it this year!" she cheers. "So what's your name?" "Jack." I smiled, "And yours?" "Christina."