Strippers and Acid 4: Freedom and Enterprise

The sound of glass breaking in the next room was predictably answered by a stream of rather burly men, and I began to make my goodbyes. Nurse Girl seemed irritated, although I couldn't decipher whether it was because I was leaving or because she'd bought me a beer. Whichever the case, I had the feeling that I'd better prepare to beat feet, lest I have to stick around til 2am and rely on her to give me a ride home. Another six hours of this place didn't sound very appetizing, as you can imagine, so off I went.

As one might expect, our bachelor had been up to mischief in the bar area. The Rumple shots had gotten to him, I imagine, and he'd somehow managed to tip over a tray full of drinks. The exact situation was never clear to me, as there was lots of shouting and pushing and bouncers simultaneously forming a cordon around our party and hustling us towards the door. It looked like we were going to be followed into the parking lot as well, so I think the drink tray must have landed in someone's lap.

I've seen a lot of things in my life, but I can't think of many things I've been happier to see than that white limousine pulling into the parking lot. What looked like a nasty brawl immediately turned into getting everyone's attention (some of the brawnier boys were already taking off their watches) and piling them into the car before the oilfield crew inside could get at them. Jim and I were the last ones in, and as I slammed the door, I turned my head--and immediately fell into a pair of lustrous brown eyes.

No, not Jim's.

"Hi," she murmured in that hoarse, sultry sort of voice that certain women MUST practice in front of the mirror every day, as if Monroe had strep throat or something.

"Hi," I responded, with substantially less grace. My mind was still a chaotic colloid of "Closer," the Nurse Girl, bouncers and brawling.

"I'm Nadine," she said, "what's you're name?"

I told her mine, and then grunted as a firm little bottom landed in my lap and some straight blonde hair found its way into my mouth. The hair flipped away, presenting a full pair of very red lips and blue eyes, and a giggly voice said "Hi! I'm Shanna!"

Strippers. Dammit.

Shanna was exactly what you would imagine her to be--the center of attention and loving every second of it. Nadine had black hair, and seemed content to let Shanna do all the talking and flirting. The boys, meanwhile, were evenly divided between getting beer out of the cooler, ogling the girls, and hollering out the sunroof. The groom was conked out again.

Shanna ground her butt into my crotch and batted her eyes at the guy with the "Holley" shirt on the next seat. I tried not to look at Nadine. Things were all happening rather fast.

After some period of driving, I managed to get Shanna off my lap and noticed Jim gesturing furtively at me. I swayed my way across the limo floor, avoiding cigarette ash and Reebok high tops, and plopped down next to him--facing Nadine across the length of the car.

"Dude," he said, "these guys want to take acid. I told them you had a sheet of it, and they want to buy it."

Well, shit. How bad an idea is this? Very, very bad. But I was a drug dealer, after all, and we hadn't yet gotten to the horror that was Fernando and Jesus [which you'll find in the archives, good Reader], and it was Saturday night in the limo. And, yes, I'd just fallen in love.

"Fine, fuck it," I said. "We'll have to go back to my house." Jim nodded and handed me the bottle of Turkey (god, I hate Wild Turkey). Five minutes later, we pulled up at my house.

The crew stumbled their way one by one out of the car, and immediately began pissing on things and shouting to each other. Now, this is the LAST thing I wanted in my neighborhood, but Jim was pretty helpful in getting them back in the car (where the beer was) or into the house, where the actual facilities are, although the groom had one of them all tied up while he vomited into the sink.

I grabbed three beers from the fridge and gave one to each of the girls. We stood out in the back yard for a time, talking, and I scanned the garden area for flowers for their hair.

I have a vine back there specifically for that purpose, it turns out. Well, that's not strictly true--I bought the plant because the flowers were so incredibly intricate and irridescent purple that they made me have little flashbacks--but they're very beautiful, so they make very good gifts for girls. The flowers only last a day, though, and girls at my house last even less than that, so I was pleased to find a very nice specimen of the passion flower (no, I'm not making this up) for each one of them. Nadine looked like a Polynesian dancer. Shanna looked like a stripper with a plastic flower in her hair. Both of them squealed and ran inside to find a mirror. I followed, got another beer from the fridge and grabbed the foil full of LSD for Jim.