Labryinth

Chapter 6

Ginger had taken up nude dancing because she could. It was that fuck for money or go hungry situation. She had taken up the profession, at the age of seventeen and had gathered expertise during the past four years.

So when Dwain, her boyfriend, had introduced her to the new highway nudie bar, called the Stall, it had not taken long for her to rise to its star appearance. The Stall, as its dark-red I-96 billboard proclaimed, was located at the outskirts of Boston in a dusty checkerboard of truck terminals and warehouses, the perfect hideout for a man to jerk off without worry.

No women came around the area; expect they were travellers, lost or women truck drivers. That was one of the things that made it one of Boston's best gentlemen bars-it was just the nude sex-girls and the horny men. A perfect combination for the men. They knew exactly what they wanted when they came into the bar.

So when the man walked in, looking lost and disorientated, he instantly caught Ginger's eye from her place by the dance pole. She watched as he was escorted to a table by the bar, a shot-girl draped at his arm. The table where he had been led to was already occupied by three men drinking. Two of the men were hound-faced long distance truckers who had nowhere to go but the short beds in their various trucks; the third one was a blue-collar working regular who usually came to drown the pain inflicted by his boss with a drink or five.

Up on the stage, Ginger tried to concentrate on her dance routine and the soft background music, while her eyes occasionally drifted to the new-comer. There was something sinister and refreshing coming from him all at the same time. He didn't look like the usual men that the bar considered as clientele.

Even though he was dressed just like almost every man in the room in dark wash jeans and grey t-shirt which displayed his broad shoulders, he looked like he had more to offer. His dark hair looked nothing like the men sitting around him who cut their hair with the help of the side mirror of their truck and a scissors. It looked professionally cut and styled, though it was messy at the moment, but in the cute kind of way.

The new comer sat consciously at the farthest corner from his companions, his eyes darting to the door after every swing from his beer bottle.

Out of sheer curiosity and because she wanted to get a better look, Ginger walked down to the four men's table, stopping for ten seconds in front of each man for what the girls' called a crack shot.

The new comer had gotten the first shot, and had stood up and walked out as soon as she had moved to the next guy, leaving behind a crumpled twenty dollar bill. When she was done, Ginger headed for the back to get into her street clothes.

A few minutes later the bar-tender/disc-jockey, Joe, knocked on the dressing room and said, "Ginger? Will you close up the back when you're done?"

"No problem." She said pulling a white tube top over her head, wiggling her ass to get it down. When she was dressed, Ginger killed the lights in the ladies room, checked to make sure it was empty which it always was, and then did the same for the men's room, which was also empty. At the back door, she snapped out the hall lights and, released the bolts on the lock, before stepping into the soft evening air. She rattled the door handle to make sure that it was locked, before heading for her car. By this time of the night, there were few cars parked in the bar's parking lot. A rusted -out pickup truck crouched on the lot, two thirds down to her car. Which Ginger assured herself was no predator, most nights, someone would end up drinking too much and pass out in the car till morning. There was really no need to worry.

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Caphry was sitting at the far side of the twelve year old pickup that had belonged to his father, which he had taken from the cabin. He'd been waiting for about twenty minutes, for the place to get deserted, so he could climb back into the truck and just crash. Somewhere in the deep recess of his mind, the image of the red-head dancer tugged at his brain. He had more important things to think about considering the events of the whole day.