Stitches

“This place is badass!” Matt yelled, throwing his fist in the air like the ass he had been since we got here.

Thrash, such a dirty name but then again this is a strip club. It was designed to be an alternative strip club. The women were dressed like hot topic whores.

They played groove metal or just metal in general. I found it sexy, liquid movements to screaming vocals. It was an ebony and ivory sort of comparison.

The scantily clad dancer led me to the VIP room. Her hips swayed in a way that made my mouth water. I bit my lip. We were playing a live show there later on this week. I wasn’t sure about what kind of place this was, exactly, but I liked it.

The room was lined with a single sofa, running completely around the room.

“Here you are,” The lady said politely. I nodded as she left the room, closing the door behind her. I rubbed my palms against my jeans, trying my best to remain calm. First lap dance.

The door opened and a woman walked in. I looked up from my hands. I knew those legs, those hips, those breasts…that face.

She walked to me, her feline like movements made me even more nervous. My hands began to rattle as she straddled me. Her face inches from my own. Her hips were brought against mine, the sweet feeling…

Sweat began to bead on my forehead, partly from being nervous and the other half was from trying my best not to get an erection. Which was proving hard to do…no pun intended. She pressed her body hot into mine. I could smell her perfume like fresh cut oranges and vanilla.

“Brooklyn?” I whispered, my voice shook like I was about to burst into tears of have a nervous breakdown. Whichever was more convenient.

She moved her hair from her face and I nearly cried. She wore too much makeup, her lips were pierced as they never should have been, her once blue eyes had gone dull. She never answered me. After what I’m guessing whatever time she was being paid for she left from me.

And there was an empty space. Right where she should have been.

-&-

Matt sat down on the couch, cold beer in tow. He put his feet on the coffee table, Lola was sure to yell at him for it. They had just moved into the apartment. Luckily I wasn’t left out. Matt let me live here too, with the promise I would leave them alone.

I bit my fingernail, a nervous habit, “You remember ‘Thrash’ last night?”

His eyes widened, “Yes, but shhh…”

Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Silly me, he didn’t tell Lola. I wish I had someone to tell…who would yell at me, who even cared.

“Brooklyn was there.” I said quietly so no one would hear.

Matt raised an eyebrow, “She likes strip clubs?”

“No, dumbass, she was a dancer.” The word stripper came to mind but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. It was as good as calling her a whore.

He was staring at his bottle, when the words fell off of my lips his head shot up like a deer in headlights.

“That was Brooke?” He said, his eyes pried wide open.

“I-I miss her so bad.” I stammered out like a love sick child. It was difficult, worse than you can imagine.