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Jacob folded his arms and leaned on the table in his preferred booth in his favorite bar. He sipped a cold draft beer, unable to believe his miserable shift was finally over for the week. He didn’t know how much longer he would’ve been able to deal with O’Rourke. The guy drove him slam up the wall.
Last night, they sat in the patrol car and waited and waited for some wild action that never arrived. Considering O’Rourke fell asleep at the wheel, it was just as well they’d made a wasted trip. Jacob wished some badasses had of shown up. He felt angry enough to have taken them on single-handedly.
He gently massaged his forehead. Allowed his mind to continue on its backward spiral. Jacob had spent many hours surfing the internet. Marilyn, the woman he pursued a few months before he met Sue, toyed with his emotions in the same way Sue had. Out of the blue, he lost her. He assumed, because she abruptly stopped visiting the chat rooms, her husband may’ve seen her typing cybersex stuff. Jacob never got around to asking Marilyn for her email address and phone number, much less making a plan for them to meet in person. He foolishly believed he had plenty of time.
He had sent a lot of emails to Suite Sue. How much of what she told him was pure bullshit?
“Eh. Look at all the lies you told her.”
The memory brought a smile to his face. He knew he’d been quite clever. He’d learned a thing or two by reading crime novels.
A topless dancer strutted her wares out to the center of a wooden platform. He put his legs up on the seat, crossed his ankles and leaned back. Drinking beer, ignoring two other dancers, he stared at her with the eyes of a lecherous man. In a red thong and a matching pair of stilettos, long blond hair hanging off her shoulders, she gyrated erotically for all the horny Joes.
Swinging his feet to the floor, he straightened up. Studied her general appearance before returning to her chest. He guessed her tits were around a size thirty-four. He pulled his hungry eyes away from her breasts, and stared more intently at her face.
She could be Sue.
In one of their earlier emails he asked her about her bra size, mainly to form a mental image of her. Sue typed 34. He recalled thinking her honesty was cute and refreshing, for the most part, after kinda-sorta meeting her in person.
Although seeing her at a distance, he clearly saw her boobs but not her face.
Damn frickin’ gigantic sunglasses.
He didn’t want to approach Sue. Not then. Shadowing her was much more satisfying.
Jacob ogled the woman’s dance moves until a familiar throbbing sensation distracted him.
“She’s Suite Sue if I want her to be,” he muttered.
He slid the beer mug aside. Holding his cap over his crotch, he went to the end of the bar closest to the stage. Ordered a bottled beer. Eased onto a black vinyl stool.
The smoky room gave her and the other dancers a strange surrealness.
A cheesy overhead strobe light, a remnant of the days of disco fever, came on when some drunk guy accidentally hit the switch when he put his hand on the wall to steady himself.
The harsh brightness broke the spell Jacob and the Joes were under. The band leader chose that moment to take a break. Dancers and musicians milled about, each doing their own thing.
The blond came to his end of the bar. Asked the barman for a gin and tonic. Slung her hair back, lightly slapping Jacob’s cheek.
Turning to face him, she smiled. She had a very toothy grin, which surprised him. Many of the dancers were crack addicts who’d lost one or more teeth. He returned the smile, observing her facial appearance was different up close. She definitely wasn’t Sue. Pretty, but not gorgeous.
“You’re a good dancer.” He lied, knowing he’d never get to first base with her if he told the truth. He made believe she’s twenty-six.
Same as Sue.
“I’m okay, I guess.” She shrugged, dispassionately. “None of this matters. I’m not going to do this for the rest of my life.” She cast a sidelong glance at the other dancers. “Soon as I graduate law school, I’m leaving this place for good. Heading northeast. Boston, maybe. Lots of big-time lawyers up there, I heard.”
He didn’t give a damn about her little pipedream. He’d already made up his mind she wasn’t Sue. Only thing that remained was to find out if she’d let him take her somewhere close by and screw her brains out.
He took pleasure in the roundness of her ass. Fantasized about kissing and fondling the soft flesh. Jacob chewed his bottom lip, glanced around the room. No one paid him any attention. He got closer to her. Whispered what he had in mind.
She smiled.
Perfect.
They walked to a decent hotel twelve blocks from the bar. Damn place set him back fifty bucks, but ça c’est bon! That’s good, since he had no intention of paying for services rendered.
Jacob helped her remove her coat, thong, and shoes, savoring each and every moment of the experience.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he kicked off his shoes. Fluffed up the pillows, stretched his legs out, made himself comfortable. He pulled a transistor radio out of the thigh pocket of his tan cargo pants. The radio seemed so much smaller in his hand than it did when he was a kid. He glided a thumb over the rough edge of the black wheel to switch it on, increased the volume. Put it on the nightstand, angled it in her direction.
“Dance for me?” Jacob smiled.
She gawked at him in disbelief.
Are you for real? He figured she was thinking.
“No, what I do in the bar stays in the bar.”
Jacob tried not to laugh. He furrowed his brow in mock confusion. Much to his surprise, she grinned. He patted the mattress. She started to come forward. Hesitated.
“Get your ass over here, girl.”
Giggling while also trying to act sexy, she placed a knee on the edge of the bed then took her good easy time crawling across his legs, her ass swinging back and forth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, brought his face close to hers, and kissed him on the mouth.
An inexperienced kisser, he gently pushed her off of him.
Standing next to a small round table, he began undressing. Slung his shirt over a chair. She smiled. Excited beyond belief over how well things were going otherwise, his shaky fingers kept losing their grip on the zipper pull of his pants.
The song about a bad man with blue eyes came on the radio.
Jacob’s attitude changed.
His features hardened.
He laid down on the bed next to her.
His mind went blank.
He didn’t intend to hurt her, but shit happens when you’re having fun.
Right?
Jacob reminisced about Kelly Murphy as he zipped up his pants with ease. Heard the blond whimpering when he reached back to pull the door closed to activate the lock. There was no remorse. He’d gotten what he’d come for.
It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t woman enough to handle it.
It wasn’t her fault she resembled Suite Sue.
Whistling the song about the man hiding his badass self behind his blue eyes, he strolled out of the hotel with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“I guess I should’ve told her I’m an old farm boy, and I’m as good at getting what I want as any other rooster in the henhouse.”