Long Sprint is long


Today, you get a long sprint.

Not much to say about it, other than it involves prostitutes again. Still totally SFW.

The music of the club was unlike anything I had heard before. The bass itself was so loud; I couldn’t feel my own heart beat once we stepped inside. Sasha immediately dragged me over to the bar, mercifully in a quieter part of the club. We sidled up to the bar, our short dresses barely covering our backsides from the cold chairs.

“What’dya want?” Sasha asked me.

“Amaretto Sour,” I said.

“What the hell is that?” I sighed heavily.

“You order for me,” I said as a bartender approached us.

“Two Venus Suicide Bombers!” She declared happily, pulling one of her business cards out from her bosom and handing it to him.

“What does the card actually do?” I asked her, as the din of the music next door slowly evolved into a dull engine roar.

“It gets us business,” Sasha said idly, eyeing the male patrons for an available one. “The bartender keeps track of the drinks that we buy and bills Mama Bordeaux tomorrow.” The bartender returned with our drinks, which brought Sasha’s attention back to the bar. The drink was amazing; layered like a rainbow with red at the top and a small sliver of black at the very bottom. I watched Sasha mix her drink; the once lovely rainbow colors bled together, and the sliver of black at the bottom became the predominate color.

“Are you supposed to mix it?” I asked her.

“It helps to dilute the potency of the alcohol at the bottom.” She said, sipping politely on hers. I decided to follow suit; I stirred my drink until it turned solid black, then took a small sip. It was a sweet mixture, with the taste of liquefied, but with the strange aftertaste of alcohol. “Drink it slowly,” Sasha warned me, “or else you’ll wind up on your ass.”

Sasha and I sat at the bar nursing our drinks for a long time. It seemed endless because we had to drink it so slowly. By the time we nearly reached the bottom, the other girls found us.

“There you are!” Mariah called, as she trotted towards us, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as the rest of the gaggle followed along behind her. “We’ve been looking for you guys!”

“I was getting the newbie warmed up,” Sasha said, pointing to our drinks, “with a Venus Suicide Bomber.”

“Enough drinking, ya lush!” Suswanna declared, grabbing each of our arms and pulling us away from our chairs. “Time to dance it away!” Standing for me, however was a problem. Sitting down, I hadn’t realized the potency of the Venus Suicide Bomber. The world was suddenly turning sideways.

“I need to sit,” I mumbled, trying to turn back to the bar, my face burning with heat as the alcohol began to work inside me. Gerry looped her arm around my waist, allowing me to use her as a walking support.

“Venusian alcohol will burn out of your system rather quickly.” Gerry yelled into my ear, the bass from the dance floor drowning out my own heart beat. Weaving our way through the crowded floor, we secured a spot towards the center. The other girls quickly found their rhythm, but I was struggling and badly. Still feeling rather tipsy from the drink, I swayed rather stiffly from side to side, hoping not to fall over. Gerry suddenly took my hands, pulling me close to her.

What’s wrong? I always forgot about Gerry’s telepathic abilities.

I’m probably drunk, and out of my element, I responded. I’ve been to one club before, and I spent most of my time at the bar. I felt a pair of hands squeeze my butt playfully, and I was suddenly chest-to-chest with the fiery red head.

“Close your eyes,” She instructed me, “And move with me.” Reluctantly I closed my eyes as Gerry rested her forehead on mine. In seconds, I could feel my body moving in time with hers, swaying to the music naturally. She must be using one of her mental tricks on me, I guessed, and it was working. My body began to relax, and slowly Gerry released her hold on my rear, allowing me to back away from her.

My dancing wasn’t the best, but with each passing song, I began to loosen up a little bit more, eventually to the point of releasing my hair from the tight bun. I lost count of how many songs the deejay transitioned through, I just kept moving, my previous fears of the evening slowly melting away. It was only when I felt the tug on my hand did I come back down to reality.

“Bar run,” Suswanna mouthed at me, taking my hand. We wound our way through the sea of dancers once more, and rejoined our group at the bar. Mariah pointed towards the bathrooms, and we followed like ducklings to their mother.

“This place is quiet,” Arianna whined, ducking into a nearby bathroom stall.

“Its still early in the evening,” Gerry pointed out, “its only midnight.” Something inside me groaned loudly. Only midnight? How late were we planning to stay out?

“Mama said not to stay out past one,” Mariah pointed out, primping her hair in the mirror and adjusting her top to better accentuate her assets.

“Mama is such a killjoy,” Arianna whined again, flushing the toilet as she emerged from the stall.

“We’re high class escorts,” Gerry snapped, shoving me into a stall, “not common street whores that have to deal with a pimp.” I decided to make use of my new space.

“So?” I could picture Arianna standing with her hips jutting to one side, her usual argument stance. “We’re like, right across the street from this place! We should be allowed to stay out later!”

“After one a.m., this place gets dangerous,” Gerry spat, as I flushed the toilet and emerged from the stall. Battle lines were drawn between Gerry and Arianna, with the rest of us caught between the two. Gerry was the de facto leader when Mama Bordeaux wasn’t around, adhering strictly to the rules, while Arianna had arrived at the House a few months before I did.

“You haven’t experienced a bar fight here, have you?” Gerry snarled as I circumnavigated the room around her to wash my hands. “It’s not like fights on Earth; you might loose your hand, arm, or even your leg. Then what happens? You’re sold out of the House.” Arianna stood unfazed. “Fuck it,” she declared, “you guys can stay out late.” Arianna grinned triumphantly as Gerry stormed out of the bathroom. I anxiously followed behind her, feeling some empathy for her but mostly wanting to go back to the House at a decent hour.

I managed to follow Gerry through the crowd and to the bar, sideling next to her as she was ordering a shot.

“Being a brown noser?” she demanded, making the shot disappear quickly.

“Being a friend,” I shot back, “I want to make sure you’re okay.” Gerry chuckled as the bartender brought her a second shot.

“I’m fine,” she said, downing the second shot as quickly as the first, “I just hope and pray to the gods that something happens to that bitch,” she nodded towards Arianna, as she and the other girls wove their way back to the dance floor.

“Don’t say that,” I said, trying to earn her back some Karma points, “Arianna will learn her lesson about staying out late at some point.” Gerry laughed.

“My god, you are brown nosing me.” She said with a cockeyed grin on her face. We shared a light laugh, with Gerry gave me a playful shove. “Well,” she sighed heavily, “What’dya want to do for the next, oh, forty five minutes?” I looked around at the crowd. There were easily three girls for every guy.

“Go to a restaurant?” I suggested, pulling my hair back into a loose ponytail. “There’s one next door, right? It’ll definitely be a lot less crowded there.” Gerry took a quick survey of the room.

“Yeah,” she sighed heavily, “we should probably blow this popsicle stand.” Hiking her dress to a socially unacceptable standard, Gerry pulled out a business card and handed it to the bar tender as she returned with two amber colored drinks for us. “What are these?” She demanded.

“Drinks courtesy of the gentleman upstairs,” She said, discreetly pointing towards the VIP section. “He heard mentions of Amaretto Sours earlier and want to treat you fine ladies.”

Follow my lead, Gerry’s voice echoed in my mind. We picked up our drinks and spotted our patron standing at the edge of the VIP section. The dim lights above him obscured his face, making my curiosity rage. We toasted to him, and took a sip before turning back to the bar.

“This is really sweet,” Gerry gagged.

“That’s why I like it,” I said taking a larger drink, happy to have a reminder of home in my hand.

“This isn’t a drink,” she grumbled, sipping hers lightly, “but damn this is expensive.” I pulled my cherry out of the top of my drink and handed it to her. Gerry gave me a confused look. “You don’t want your cherry?”

“I don’t like cherries, I try to avoid them.” I said.

“You do realize the symbolism behind this, yeah?” I nodded, downing more of my drink.

“Maybe I’m trying to drop you a subtle hint.” I put on my best smarmy look and leaned in close to her. “Ya know what I’m sayin‘?” I wagged my eyebrows for extra effect, sending Gerry into a fit howling laughter. A few people nearby people moved away from us, uncomfortable looks on their faces.

“Oh my god, you’re a scream!” she said, a huge smile on her face. “I haven’t had this much fun in forever.”

“You should see me when I’m sober,” I quipped, fighting with the ice to get the last few precious drops of amaretto out of the glass. “I’m a regular laugh riot then.” Our bartender reappeared before us with a slip of paper in his hands.

“There are a few gentlemen upstairs,” he said, sliding the paper towards us, “that are requesting the pleasure of your company.” Gerry almost took the slip of paper from him, but I seized my moment.

“Tell the gentlemen upstairs that if they want our attention, they’re going to have to be a little more creative.” The bartender looked slightly shocked, but walked away with the message in his hand.

“Ooo, playing hard to get?” Gerry asked playfully.

“No, making them work a little bit harder.” I retorted. “It keeps their interest.” I felt a small tap on my shoulder, and a little ball of paper appeared in my lap. Curiously, we unfolded it.

“Let your hair down, fair Rapunzel,” Gerry read aloud, “bring your friend, and come play with us upstairs.” Reaching into the top of her dress, Gerry pulled out a small wad of bills, flagged down our bartender, and quickly slipped one into his hand. “For your troubles,” she said to him, replacing the money back into her bra. Taking me by the hand, we sauntered through the crowd and towards the giant spiral staircase.

As we ascended, the noise of the club below died down so just the dull thump of the bass could be heard. A bouncer stood waiting at the top of the stairs, eyeing us with suspicion from behind the velvet rope.

“You ladies have an invite?” He asked us.

“They’re with us,” A blue-skinned humanoid with pointed ears emerged from the dim lights. Reluctantly, the bouncer removed the velvet rope from out path, as our gracious host offered us his hands. “Ladies, shall we?”

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