Donnie Hertzman hurried down Queens Boulevard, sweating and out of breath, his anticipation growing with each step.
As the overweight, nervous man weaved his way through the early evening foot traffic, he took care not to crush the bouquet of daisies cradled in his left arm. A last-minute Skype meeting with his boss delayed him for almost an hour but nothing was going to prevent him from seeing her tonight. Not work or meetings or his bitch of a wife. The harried accountant reached awkwardly into his jacket pocket, trying to retrieve his phone to check the time. Since it was so late, he worried about missing her completely, knowing the afternoon shift ended soon. Donnie fumbled the phone, dropping and kicking it in one unfortunate motion. It skittered under a nearby Ford Escort, disappearing into the sewer grate. He stopped for a brief moment, unsteady and unsure, before once more quickening his pace toward Gallagher’s Gentleman’s Club. Forget the phone. It was time for an upgrade anyway, he thought to himself. Maybe an upgrade on more than just the phone.
As usual, Jocko was at the door with a knowing wink as Donnie approached the black, windowless, front entrance. Out of reflex, the sweaty, disheveled man slipped the bouncer a crisp twenty as he moved past him into the vestibule between the outside and inside doors. When he first started frequenting the club, this customary tip would ensure Donnie a few extra minutes during a lap dance. These days, Jocko pretty much left him alone whether or not he greased his palm but it never hurts to keep the big guy happy. As he stood in the darkened hallway, the accountant ran his hand over his thinning hair and smoothed his wrinkled shirt, trying to make himself presentable while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. After one, long, pregnant breath, he walked through the door.
The sensory explosion of Gallagher’s overwhelmed him for a moment but once acclimated, the unique atmosphere sent his pulse racing. Donnie smiled from ear to ear, the outside world with its problems and stress melting away. He reveled in every detail of this place: the rectangular stage with three gleaming metal poles, one at either end and one directly in the middle, the bar that surrounded the stage with high-backed chairs every few feet, the booming music, the flashing lights and the unique scent of sex and booze. It all transported him to a place akin to heaven.
And at the center of it all was his own personal angel, Bailey. She wore nothing but a G-string and a smile as she spun around the golden pole at center stage. He moved to the end of the bar, absent-mindedly sitting in the nearest empty stool, mesmerized by her round, full bottom and pert, young breasts. The exotic dancer went to the opposite end of the bar, bent over and grabbed her boobs seductively, enticing a nearby patron into offering a tip. It also gave Donnie a perfect view of the tropical fish tattoo on her left butt-cheek. He grinned, thinking about the role that aquatic decoration played in so many of his recent, X-rated fantasies.
Bailey climbed off the stage to retrieve a five-dollar bill from her inebriated mark before turning her back to him and booty shaking for a few moments as a thank you. Just as she finished her gyrations, the young woman noticed Donnie at the other end of the bar. The dancer’s face lit up, her dazzling smile instantly brightening both the dreary, darkened club and the smitten accountant’s entire existence. She threw the money on stage and skipped down the space between the stage and bar, stopping to flirt with some of the enraptured clientele. After each interaction, she’d push her boobs together to accept various denominations between them with a slow, seductive lick of her lips. Bailey giggled impishly as she playfully shook various parts of her body in reciprocation before moving on to the next willing participant in her game.
When she finally arrived at Donnie’s location, she gently moved strands of straight black hair out of her eyes before putting her elbows on the bar and touching his arm with her delicate hand. He couldn’t help but marvel at the way her short, pageboy haircut perfectly framed her lovely face. After a moment of gazing into his eyes, Bailey frowned demonstrably, causing the older man to react.
“What’s the matter, angel?” Donnie asked earnestly.
“You’re late, Daddy,” Bailey replied, furrowing her brow and pushing out her lower lip like a petulant child. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I know. I-I’m sorry, sweetie…I didn’t…I-I couldn’t get…” Donnie stammered, visibly upset that he’d worried her. He reached toward her with his right hand, wanting to comfort her.
Bailey smiled broadly again, taking his hand in her left while running her right hand slowly down the side of his face. “Oh, Daddy, you’re so silly. It’s okay. I’m just having a little fun with you.”
She broke contact, took two steps back and performed a series of erotic movements that simultaneously made his pulse quicker and his pants tighter. She came back to the bar, leaned in close to him, so her left breast rested on his right hand and whispered, “You know you’re the only one I’d ever wait for. No matter how long it takes.” She winked at him playfully. Donnie was mesmerized by the curve of her thick eyebrows and the mischief in her beautiful, deep, brown eyes. He could barely catch his breath while lost in her gaze.
“Are those for me?” she asked in a little girl voice, standing up straight and rocking her body back and forth while squeezing her boobs together with her arms.
“Uh…yeah. I thought you’d like them,” Donnie said, offering the flowers to her.
“Not here, Daddy,” she giggled, wagging her index finger at him. “You know I can’t accept gifts at the bar.” She turned and climbed back on stage before looking over her shoulder. “I’ll be done in fifteen. Meet me at the dressing room afterward. Just give me some time to make myself beautiful for you, okay?” She winked demonstrably again.
“I’ll be there,” the accountant said, his face flushed and sweaty.