Silver / clay

⊱ 3 ⊰

"Fuck, there she is!"

Caleb turned to the simmering dance floor. Coloured bodies collided like atoms, releasing energy in bursts, supped up with the cries of ecstasy. He searched futilely beneath raised arms, unable to even snatch at a glimpse of her. "Where?" he said, following his friend's eye-line.

"Mmm," said Kamil, a wry smile on his face.

"Are you checking her out?" said Caleb. "What the hell, man."

Kamil's head slowly rocked as a voluminous pair of breasts, attached to a liberally painted face, approached their way, before prancing by.

"There she is, the lucky girl," said Kamil, turning to Caleb. "Blondes have the best chance of riding the 'mil."

"Oh, I thought you meant it was-- Never mind."

"Did you see those lips?" said Kamil. "I might even let her go down on me."

Caleb shook the words away. His friend had chosen this club, and it just happened to be the same place he'd discovered her exactly a week ago. But the night was ageing fast. He checked his watch.

"She must have got here pretty late last time," he said.

"Oh, look at that fucking heifer," said Kamil, turning away in disgust. "Why do they even let them in? Makes me wanna throw up."

"How many you reckon she'd go?" said Caleb, joining in. "Four Big Macs or five?"

"Ha!" said Kamil, bearing his crooked teeth. "Fucking buy out the store." He extended his shirt past his waist, adding a slight curve to the fabric, before taking a swig of bourbon.

They took a seat at the periphery of the club, despite Kamil's objections, since if offered Caleb the best angle to survey the large room. The bar withstood a constant stream of attacks, with each stool guarded by sloppy bodies in need of support.

Caleb shifted on his seat. He was getting antsy for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't sexual gratification, but some other fundamental yearning. That usually narrowed it down to one thing: a trip to Mistress Eboni's. But he'd just been, and the frustration still resonated, far beyond the session.

"Hey knob jacket," said Kamil, "how are they meant to see me if we're not in amongst it?"

Caleb skulled the remainder of his schooner. "I dunno, I'm just trying," said Caleb.

"Try harder, numb-nuts, I'm here to get laid." The white wall lights lit Kamil's face brighter, revealing patches of acne on his skin.

"Yeah, I know," said Caleb.

The night brought no relief, no sighting of the mystery woman. He happened to pick the same club the following week, his wing-man in tow, hoping for a fortnightly schedule, but she remained ethereal, a wispy memory. It could have been a fluke she'd chosen this place at all, coaxed by friends or a boyfriend, a special occasion rather than a regular meet-up.

The drudgery of work kept his body busy, even if it let his mind wander too much.

"Those dishes aren't gonna clean themselves, ya know," said a voice. Whether it was the same or a different voice, it didn't matter, he'd heard the line so often it haunted his sleep, far more than the nightmares of an avalanche of bowls crushing him.

He tried one last time. At least, he told himself this was the last, just like the previous few. Kamil was occupied in a shouting match with his cousin, hopefully only a shouting match this time, so Caleb had left him at home and made the trek alone.

The night dragged, even with adequate lubrication, and that inner irritation percolated through his skin, like a rash of his own, and one he couldn't scratch away. He contemplated widening his search to the plethora of other offerings, but it just didn't feel right, and he was constantly comparing them to her, or at least the imagined persona from a mere impression. He was far from attractive, he knew, so he had no right to judge girls this casually, particularly with most of them out of his league.

This was silly. She wasn't going to return. And besides, he was about to run out of money. He made his way to the exit and opened the door, just as a glimmer entered. He stared at her. She stared back, mouth closed, emerald eyes piercing his dumbfounded facade.

"Are you leaving?" she said, her eyes gravitating momentarily to his neck.

"No," he said. "I only just got here."