"Hey, Babe you got a wedding gift over here." Johnny called out as Becca walked into the theater.
"What the hell?" She rounded the corner of her bar to begin setting up for the night.
"Yeah, David brought it over from 41." He tossed her a square purple box, the word congratulations embossed on the top.
David had never really bought her anything except for the ring on her finger, that though was for him... all show. She took in the moment knowing gifts would be few and far between, how sweet. Her stomach flipped eager to see what was inside. Opening it she saw a small note scribbled with an unfamiliar handwriting. The fluid swirls, consistent, beautiful... a far cry from the chicken scratch she knew belonged to her fiance. "Since you liked them so much..." Was all that was written no signature, no name. The mystery heightened as she tore back the purple tissue paper eagerly to reveal a pair of dark black thigh highs. Running her fingers over the soft fabric she couldn't help but smile remembering his legs in front of her as she wrapped herself around his waist. She knew exactly who they were from.
"Hoped you liked your consolation prize. David pulled you the short straw, you're hosting, and we got a doozy of a band in tonight." Johnny gruffly winked to her throwing her a 6 page rider request.
"Damn it. So you're gonna take my bar? Can't you do it just this once... please." She whined clasping her hands together.
"Listen Hot Stuff I don't think David would appreciate me running around here in hot pants... I've tried wasn't too well received."
Becca laughed her hands shimmying up the thighs of her older coworker. Who like her seemed a bit out of place in leather and faded jeans. "Whatever, I bet you got great legs."
"I do." He smiled. "Too sexy that's why they trap me behind the bar."
"Damn, I wish I was working the bar." She fumed looking down at her jeans and sneakers running her hands over the dark wood of the counter. She hated playing hostess, it was a lot of work for nothing especially if they were this involved. Plus you rarely got to see who was playing on stage. She would always be too busy babysitting their requests, usually young females, once though there was a goat. She flipped through the pages of demands. "White roses, candles, who the hell were these people?" She wanted to be back at 41 were she didn't have to pretend, the fake smiles and fuss of the theater always made her feel uneasy. The grungy dark bar had always felt more like home anyway.
"Not unless you can sneak back."
"I can only try." She smiled rebelliously and took the box with her as she was forced to change into something a little less comfortable.
"Bastard didn't even tell me I was hosting." She had decided he was punishing her for being a little too liberal with the men's bathroom at 41 a few weeks ago, but it had definitely all worth it though.
Beginning to roll his black tights up her thigh she smiled hazily noticing a still healing bruise on her left knee the once dark purple had now faded into a light green against her olive skin, she had wondered how much longer the gentle reminder would last. Her fingers touching the bruise carefully all she could remember was eyes, the subtle moan he exhaled as his body quietly shuttered above her. That mistake had definitely been worth it.
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