Chapter Song: Words To Me- Sugar Ray
Monday- Night
-Cole-
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Disgusting. Fucking disgusting.
August has taken me to this fucking terrible strip club, and it smells like shit. He says I need to "relax" before dealing with business with Nicholas. You can say, he could tell how tense I was after dealing with his sister because I nearly shot him for tapping my shoulder.
I reach from the shadows of my uncomfortable black rounded sofa chair to pick up my glass cup from the cheap glass table in front of me. I take a sip of the slightly warm whiskey on two rocks, the terrible taste burning its way down my throat and nearly making me gag. Just like I expected, the drink is awful from a wretched club.
I changed my mask out when I got home from full facial coverage to a black mask that covers my face but reveals my mouth for easy access to drink, but now I'm starting to regret it when there's nothing good to drink.
This place is shitty. Low music plays from the speakers in the ceiling, set in a low pitch, and all I want to do is shoot it to turn it off. It's already giving me a migraine. The cold weight of my pistol against my back tempts me with the offer.
Vibrations from the floor below rumble against the ground and my feet which only tells me how lousy soundproofing work this room is.
From what I've seen so far, this VIP room is terrible. Everything's made to look better than the floor below, but it's all just the same. The only difference is it's different colored chairs and clean tile. The booths and chairs are the theme of black while the tile floor is made to look like marble is white with black markings.
Oh, and I can't forget the title of being a VIP member. Ten grand later and you can call yourself special by sitting in a semi-quiet room with strippers at your whim.
All the booths and chairs are lined against the wall and facing the large top-to-bottom windows that cover the walls to allow viewing of the show on the stage and the main floor.
On the main floor, the middle floor dips below average to make the stage appear taller than it is. Chairs of fours and two groups gather around small black-painted cheap wooden tables and spread out in certain patterns along the slick vertical pitch-black stage.
The stage looks to be sectioned off into two parts. The back of the stage -dark with no light- is shaped horizontally with enough space for strippers to dance. In the middle of the horizontal stage, it splits down, creating a vertical path.
The path leads to almost the center of the main floor and makes a round at the end with a spotlight to show one pole for the main stripper. Ironically, the stage shaped together looks like a giant dick from where I'm sitting.
The building is set high above the main floor which is easy to piece together why. It doesn't take a genius to figure out these strippers do more than just strip and serve drinks to drunks like average strippers. It's most likely the reason why August brought me to this club.
August decided to drag me into this cheap and filthy place, but don't worry, I'll get him back for this misery.
This club just opened and so far there's only been one stripper on the dance floor. Instead of giving it all when you first open like normal strip clubs, this club only puts one stripper on the stage.
YOU ARE READING
Crashing Down Into Flames
Romance"It's all just a game. The question is, who's going to fall first?" . . . . Evangeline is a 28-year-old reporter and assistant to the well-known Mr. Lockhart at the Lockhart Media Company. By the daytime, being a reporter is easy. Get coffee for the...
