The neon lights lit the way much like the northern star for those men of supposed royalty bearing gifts. The path was clear and, unlike those wise men of old, was known all too well before the journey had begun. The soft rumbling of the sound system could be heard halfway across the parking lot, and upon arriving at the double French doors; he could feel the vibrations before stepping through the portal to pulchritude.
After greetings from the bartender, the wait staff, and a few patrons as well; he had finally stalled long enough for his eyes to adjust to the dark surroundings. Leaving the bar area, Captain and coke in hand, with quarters jingling in his front pocket, he saunters to the pool table. By the time he had pocketed his third ball, his vision was graced with the exact reason he had come in the first place.
Some people discuss breast size, some the shapely curve of buttocks. Some people talk about the color of their lover's eyes, and yet others would rather prattle on about the legs, face, or any of a number of physical attributes that attracted them to their mate. For him, it was none of these things; it was simply chemistry. While he was certainly a fan of the female form, and quite obviously noticed all the physical attributes of a woman, temptations of the flesh were nothing when compared to temptations of the soul. This chemistry was what drew him to her. The feeling that he had known her forever kept him riveted, and while he knew this was all a fantasy game, it was a game he dearly loved to play. Lord knows she deserved to be an all star, and he was no slouch.
While he lined up his next shot, he kept track of her with his peripheral vision. As so often happens, she only made a few sultry strides before she was requested to dance for a couple that had stopped in for the evening. He loved this part.
Perfectly content to watch from the sidelines, so to speak, he purposely missed his next shot so that he could walk around the table and witness as she worked her magic. Since the song was about half done, she seated herself and conversed with her temporary friends. The light laughter arising from the threesome sent shivers up his spine as he watched her invoke her spell upon the waiting man and his female companion.
After sinking a few more balls, he notices the song has ended and peers in the direction of the group and sees that she has already started her demure dance. Silken movements snare his attention as she saunters for both the man and woman. Her lithe body teases the couple slightly less than they tease him. He catches her eye a few times and although she remains focused on the couple, he knows she is fully aware he is watching from across the room.
After finishing his rack, he looks over again, and is rewarded with the sight of her dancing for a new man, only a few feet away from her last customer. It is much the same as always. She never makes it across the floor without multiple requests. Who can blame them though? She is easily the sexist woman in the building; everyone knows it, except for possibly her.
Two hours, 5 shots, and several drinks later, he has still not spoken to her. He is thrilled she has been so busy. The business is good for her, and he could never lament her talents being taken advantage of. Now he watches her has she climbs the pole while dancing during her second song of the stage set. He always marvels at her lack of fear, as well as her balance and strength. Several of the men along the rail, and some seated around tables, begin to hoot and holler, and although this form of male appreciation isn't exactly his thing, he does realize where he is and is happy she is so well received.
As closing time approaches, he is still waiting for her time to be unspoken for. He has gone through several challengers at the pool table, and sent each one away with a consistent stroke. While waiting for the next player to rack in preparation for the next game, a waitress stops by, hugs him, (while he wonders if she would be so appreciative without the ridiculous tips), hands him his final drink of the night and slips him a note discreetly.
"Dressing room, ten minutes"
That is all the note says. He has no idea whose writing it is, although he hopes his guess is correct. He misses his next shot while distracted, and quickly drinks half of his beverage. Realizing that his game might not be over within the allotted time, he re-focuses himself and calmly pockets all the balls and runs the table leaving his opponent curious when he casually tosses the remaining quarters in the direction of his losing foe. He tells the loser he can have the table for the remainder of the night and walks towards the bathroom. Feeling the swelling in his jeans, he becomes uncomfortable halfway across the room. He glances around to see if anyone is missing from the room, eager to figure out if his dangerous journey into the girls' dressing room will be worth the risk. All of a sudden he is concerned. He thought his temptress had requested his presence, however, while surveying the room, he spies her at the bar getting a final drink for the evening. Disappointed, he continues his journey, not nearly as excited as before. With a final furtive glance; he quickly bounds the stairs leading up to the dressing room. Debbie, the waitress that passed him the note, is waiting for him, a couple of raspberry shots in her hands. After instructing him to sit down, she informs him that he is to relax and wait. Idle chit chat leads to his erection lessening, and after a few minutes, he forgets where he is and relaxes. Checking her watch, as if for some appointment, she stands suddenly and tells him to turn around. The next thing he knows, a silken cloth covers his eyes and he is seated with a guiding hand.
"click" The door opens and shuts.
The smell of her invades his nostrils. A lovely scent of natural muskiness, a collaboration of perfumes, and something else delights his olfactory sense. He can't quite place the final scent, but quickly recognizes it when his future lover leans in and bites his ear just light enough to avoid drawing blood. Bubble gum body lotion. How he longs to eat her now. Resisting the urge to tackle her, he remains seated and tries to be calm while awaiting her next move. With a gentle hand behind his head, the raspberry shot is lifted to his lips and after hearing a soft whisper of "Cheers," next to his ear he swallows the fruity liquid as she feeds it to him.
