You Get Me Closer

The music was always just white noise that I tuned out as I waited at the bar. Tonight wasn't any different. Entering the club always entailed the same routine—dancers doing their best to draw my gaze and hope that I would choose them for some private entertainment.

I always ignored their advances and politely shot down the overly aggressive ones. My usual spot was open, so I slipped onto the stool and drummed my fingers on the counter. "Hey, Roos." She slid a neat scotch in front of me as she rested her elbows on the bar, leaning toward me with her chin on her fists.

"Hey." I lifted the scotch, tipped it toward her and took a sip. The amber liquid was as warm as her eyes staring at me from the other side of the counter. My eyes watched her glossed full lips pull into a gorgeous smile.

We had been playing this game for a long time. Long enough that I knew her real name and that she still worked here because it was too lucrative to stop.

We met years ago during my first stint in Lemoore. The boys bought me a private dance for my birthday, and she performed. Never having been in a club, I broke so much etiquette. But she let every infraction slide because I was so naive.

To this day, I still dream about her hips in my hands. Her forearms on my shoulders while her full breasts bounced in my face. And her soft skin...

The show she put on while bartending is equally as entertaining. She slung beer bottles, shook cocktails and provided entertainment between the entertainment.

People always ask about her next set, and she always states she's retired from the stage. If only she had a dollar for every look of disappointment.

My eyes chased her around the bar. Only when she was in front of me, trading my empty glass for a full one, did she give me her attention.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I turned to see a young blonde smiling at me. "Your room is ready—please follow me." I glanced back at her behind the bar. She's busy with another patron.

My body slid off the stool and followed the host. Again, I ignored all the wandering hands and burning eyes.

The music was softer, more sultry in the soft lit VIP room. A neat scotch was placed in my hand as I entered. The humidor called my name. Relishing the first drag of my cigar, I sank into the luxe couch cushions and closed my eyes. My scotch glass sat on my thigh while I enjoyed my cigar. The mirage of being alone was nice—the staff waited in the shadows for my next beckon.

"Hey, Roos." I opened my eyes to find her sinking into the couch next to me. She changed her outfit—a form-fitting dress with stockings. The stockings were my favorite. My mind toyed with the idea of asking her to turn around so I could see the thick seams that disappeared under the hem of her dress. Showing some restraint, I refrained, although my mind was already imagining what lie underneath the sheath of fabric.

Involuntarily, a smile took over my lips. I patted my lap and she obliged, moving to sit on my unoccupied thigh. I watched as she pulled the cigar from my lips and put it against her own. A heat grew between my thighs as she took a drag.

She handed back the cigar and stood up. Her back to me, she began to walk away. I watched as she went to the bar to pour herself a scotch and me another. She returned, sitting beside me with her body facing me—she left a little space between us.

She plucked my empty glass out of my hand and replaced it with a full scotch. She touched the bottom of her glass to the rim of mine and took a sip. "Happy birthday, Roos."

"Indeed." I responded with the cigar perched between my lips. She watched me for a few minutes before setting my drink on the table and sliding to my lap. My eyes were entranced as she stole my cigar again and took in final drag before reaching behind her and snuffing it on the table.