The now blue haired Cori peeked her head in the door. "Knock knock? Ooo, I smell hazelnut?" She was already pouring herself a cup.
Reece glared at the woman. For some odd reason, she allowed this obnoxious person into her world. There was no explanation. Cori just wouldn't go away. A big money maker for the business, she was a persistent little fuck who didn't take no for an answer. In some ways, Reece respected her strength of character. Besides, if you're gonna look like that, you have to be strong. The tall woman chuckled.
"What? Don't like the blue? I can just throw the rest of the pink in and make it a tasty lavender..."
"No, not the blue. It's the entire image. You look like a clown. And by all means, make yourself comfortable," she added without raising her eyes from her work.
Cori sang circus music, while balancing on one foot with her cup on her nose.
Reece clapped her hands. "Oh, I'm impressed. You know they have a freak show at the Limelight."
"Aren't you hysterical. Wait, I can't breathe!" Cori fanned herself dramatically.
"And a pathetic little drama club up the street. Shouldn't you be out there showcasing these magnificent talents?"
"You'd cry if I left you. You need me."
Reece stopped adding for a moment and stared at the dancer. She was right. She might have acknowledged that fact, but she wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
"So..." Cori took a gulp of caffeine. "It's Honey's birthday today and we're going out to celebrate. You wanna come?"
"Of course I wanna come, but not in a bar full of drunks." She smirked
"I'm sure the great pussy-meister had plenty of bar room quickies." Cori emptied her cup and stood.
The club owner gave a wicked smirk, but refused to say anything.
"It'll be good for you to hang out without the Reece Corbett fan club drooling on your boots for a change."
"You finished your coffee." Reese lifted her eyes but not her head.
"Observant. C'mon, it'll be fun." Noting that her boss had yet to blink, she added, "Ok, but we're meeting at The Tavern after hours. It's across from..."
"Thank you, Cori, I know where it is. I have work to do so, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." Cori, who had to have the last word, waited 'til the door was closed before yelling "TIGHT ASS!"
Halfway down the hall she heard a muffled "FREAK!" and chuckled.
It was exactly 3 in the morning by the time The Lounge was officially closed. Sam was sitting at the bar chatting with Honey about the mind's ability to play tricks on the body. While illegal in NY to serve alcohol in a club where a woman performs nude, it was perfectly okay to serve nonalcoholic beverages without bringing attention to that fact. When the customer asks for beer, he assumes he's getting beer. Sam had to periodically eject the "drunken" businessman, whose brain had convinced his body he was drunk. When that happens, the brain is tired and the man begins to think with his dick.
The girls were all prepared to leave when Reece strolled through the brightly lit club and fell into inspection mode. After sufficient scrutiny, she nodded at the crowd and proceeded towards the exit. "Happy Birthday, Honey. Lock up, Sam." And she was gone.
"You know, Cori," Sam spoke up. “I think she's opening up."
The girls laughed as they migrated to the door. Suddenly defensive, Cori backhanded Sam in the stomach.
"Shut up, Sarge. She's got... issues."
The dancer didn't know why, but she suddenly felt bad for her boss. There was a certain pattern to Reece's actions. She'd figure it out. No one deserves to be that sad. Climbing into the crowded cab, Cori thought about this. If she knew her boss, which she did, the brunette would be riding up to Henrietta's right now, taking over the pool table effortlessly. When bored with winning and without saying a word, she'd hand her helmet to one of the many women who'd been up her ass all night, take her home, and fuck her brains out. The dancer knows that scenario all too well. The next morning, Reece would be in a cranky mood. Cori figured her boss was looking to fill a void. Trying to compensate with sex. Shaking her blue head, she decided to forget about it for now. "Hey girls! Ready to Party?"
The blonde bartender wiped up what must have been two kegs of beer that night. Her feet were soaked, and the section between her upper thighs and her ribs felt waterlogged with liquor. Looking around at the sea of oddity that called themselves customers: bikers, punks, Goths, and the majority teenage frat boys she couldn't understand for the life of her why college kids had this need to inebriate themselves so thoroughly night after night. Dragging her hand through her hair for the hundredth time that night, she threw the rag on the bar and tried to will Mr. Politics to shut up already with her mind. She had been nodding and smiling for about two hours already and if the large tips he left meant anything, she was very convincing. But if she had to hear the name Monica Lewinsky one more time....
"Hey! Watch it, asshole!"
Well, that got her attention. She found the woman attached to the voice and quite openly stared. Mr. Politics, no longer having his audience, moved on to a table, and the oddest-looking woman sat in his place. She was about 5'6" with electric blue hair. A colorful tattoo snaked its way around the back of her neck, disappearing behind her shoulder. There was a ring with a bead through her left eyebrow, another through her right nostril, and a third through the right side of her bottom lip. Faith, in a moment of insanity, thought about what it would be like to thread a string through the hoops and control the woman's face like a marionette.
Temporarily amused she allowed her first real smile to cross her face. "What can I get you?"
"Cori... my name is Cori." She pointed out each woman at the table. "That's Debbie, Brandy, and that's Monica." Cori thought she heard the cute little bartender growl. "Can you send a couple of pitchers of Bass over to our table? I got the tab."
Wow! She is something else.
The dancer instantly saw the bartender in various stages of ecstasy. Faith glanced at the table of assorted women. "Sure, Cori. Glasses or mugs?" she smiled.
"Whatever..." Blue hair disappeared into the crowd.
The bartender whistled to the waitress, who from the looks of things was going to get laid any second.
Temporary... this is just temporary,
she chanted as she weaved through the crowd with two pitchers and six mugs extended well over her head.
"Thanks. This new addition is the birthday girl, Honey, and we intend on celebrating tonight." Cori gestured to the pretty bleached blonde.
Honey? Brandy? What are they... hookers?
"I'll keep an eye out for empties then, ladies. Happy birthday." She smiled and returned to the bar.
What an odd bunch,
she mused.
That Cori is a piece of work.
She shook her head and smiled again.
Gotta get her story.
Reece casually dropped the 8-ball for the third time that night, to the hoots and sneers of the crowd. Pool was the only legal sport she excelled at. Living on the streets since the age of thirteen, she made quite a bundle street fighting in her youth and eventually matured into the best debt collector in town. Until she was busted.
Enough of this, I need to get laid.
She scanned the crowd of women surrounding her and swore she could smell the arousal.
As much as she hated it, she used women to play out her frustrations. With her wild libido, sex became the perfect way to release the tension. Not to mention the surge of adrenaline and extra strokes to her ego that came with it. There was always a willing participant. All the talk of the dark haired woman's sexual abilities made sure of that. Reece lived up to her reputation. She never disappointed and was fierce in bed. She had her limitations… she never went down on anyone.
I don't eat what I don't know. It ain't worth dying for.
It was her law. There were a few who tried to sway her, but otherwise, no one complained and she was never at a loss for partners. Besides, by the time she was done with them, they never missed it.
She placed the cue across the table and walked intentionally towards the bar. Needing to release the energy tonight, she waited to see who would follow her. She felt the hand on her lower back.
Ah. Bingo!
She turned casually and swallowed the woman with her gaze. Looking up into eyes of ice, the woman blinked twice and told Reece her name. Blue eyes narrowed as the hand on her back worked around to her stomach and fingernails traced her abs. Growling, she leaned into the hand and wrapped her fingers around the back of the woman's neck. Pulling her nearly to her toes, she then bent down and took control of the offered mouth.
"How'd you like to get fucked?" she asked into an open mouth. A shudder was her only reply. The welcome feeling of power and adrenalin caused the taller woman to flare her nostrils.
Yessss.
Reece handed the stunned woman her helmet and guided her towards the door. Envious stares and dejected faces followed the pair on their path.
After the party had broken up, Cori had situated herself at the bar and was determined to get to know the adorable bartender. It was hard, but after a while the place emptied out and she was able to talk without shouting. Faith was born and raised in a very rich part of Long Island. She assumed the blonde was not on the best of terms with her family, or she wouldn't be working here. Why this place? She also learned that she was waiting for the role of her life to fall onto the big oak bar. Okay, so she was a bit naive. Smirking to herself, Cori figured she could teach her a few things. The more she looked at her, the more she realized that Faith was the exact woman Reece preferred. Blonde, green eyes, compact, fit. Okay, feisty wasn't on the boss' list of requirements but, hey, Cori liked feisty.
"So, Faith, what brings you to our fine city in the first place?"
The bartender looked up from washing glasses with a forced smile. "I needed to shake myself out of complacency."
"Uh huh. I knew it couldn't be the lure of piss-smelling subways and vomit in the park." Cori wasn't buying it. "Why..." She gestured to the door. "Why take a job in this neighborhood? Pardon me for assuming, but I think you're a mite too pure for Hell just yet."
Offended and caught, Faith shot back. "For your information, I took this job because it was close to home. And what makes you so sure I'm pure? You don't know me, and I really hope you're not basing your judgment on looks..."
"Home? You live here?" A hoop lifted with an eyebrow.
No way!
"Yes. I live within walking distance. Now if you'll excuse me," Faith turned to finish cleaning but was stopped short by a belt loop caught on something. Reaching behind her she found a hand attached to fingers...looped through…. "Um, you can let go of me."
"Listen, Faith, I'm sorry. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of me. I seem to get involved in peoples' lives without their consent."
"Ya think?"
"No, actually I don't, that's my problem. Let's start over. I like this bar and come here a lot. I've never seen you before and you just look a little out of place. I didn't mean any harm." Cori looked sincerely at softening green eyes.
Faith stuck out her hand. Truce. I'm a little on the defensive myself," she admitted. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and my pants are fermenting."
Shaking the offered hand, the dancer stood up to pull the backpack off her shoulder. Producing a pair of rumpled jeans, and a very tiny thong, she pushed it into the blonde's chest. "Here, I always have clothes with me. Go change into this."
"Thank you! Oh God, you don't know how happy this makes me! I'll give them back, I promise. You know I've been here for months and I haven't met one single decent person yet."
Cori grinned at Faith's excitement. "Well, you're batting a thousand. Would you settle for slightly disturbed?"
"I'm pretty sure you're safe," a voice called from the kitchen. "They're a bit big, but they'll do. How the hell do you wear this thing all day?" The blonde came through the door with one hand tugging behind her in obvious discomfort.