By Dennis Lowery (see reader comments)
Creative Nonfiction Coming in early 2014 (a story based on personal experience from my stint as doorman/bouncer at a strip club called, The Black Orchid.)
She told me, "Behave..."
She smiled... and I'd felt it before... her smile stirred me more strongly than the naked woman on the stage who cupped her breasts, teased nipples erect, and offered them to the crowd.
Denise tended bar... she wasn't one of the dancers. But there was something about her that drew men and women. I often had to watch the bar as closely as the stage and floor to keep men from crossing that boundary trying to touch her. But it was partly her fault. Denise would tease and taunt... she was maddening in that way.
"Behave..." and she pointed at B5 on the jukebox.
"Lola... The Kinks?"
"Yes..." She mouthed and god what a mouth... "Bee Five...Beehave... Play it for me."
She leaned close, breasts pressed against my right shoulder, and breathed in my ear, "Give me a minute and then play it."
I felt the warm satin touch of her lips linger on the lobe of my ear and with a last brush of my cheek she turned and walked to the left-hand steps up to the stage.
That's not right.
Denise didn't just walk. She flowed. Her hips moved in a way I don't have words for. Her ass was a perfect inverted heart shape and her long legs moved with such grace I was aroused just watching her walk away from me. I've met few since that moved like her.
This was the first time I saw her dance. And I think it was for me because I asked if she'd ever been one... a dancer. That had been the night before. I had noticed her watching me since I started working there but hadn't talked with her at length until the third night. Her eyes, onyx that glittered and gleamed in the bar lights, were mesmerizing and deep... I felt pinprick tingles across my skin every time I looked in them.
She moved slow, languid, at first and picked up pace as the song did. Our eyes met and she held the look as her back arched and lips curled in public pleasure. For you was the promise in her eyes. She danced fully clothed except for one moment when she unzipped her jeans and turning her back to the crowd, inch by inch, peeled them down to reveal the perfect, god-graced, pantie-less curve of her ass. She then, achingly with a taut shudder and shallow breaths, slowly pulled her jeans up.
In the after-song quiet she settled at the end with a deep sigh that carried. Standing still for a beat, breathing deeply, chest rising and falling, the buttons of her white shirt straining to free from the buttonholes, she faced the lights. A sweep of her hand through her long dark hair cleared it from her face and with a last look at me she stepped down and returned to the bar.
Every night that followed, at 9pm, she'd come from behind the bar and whisper to me, "Behave..."
And I'd play her song.
As she danced I never so badly in my life wanted to... 'misbehave.'
=== ==To Be Continued In=====