I remember her cold red lips spreading like an open flower as she smothered on another layer of lipstick. Jetta was her name. The other patrons would constantly stare at her. The other dancers would flock around her as we sat on a wooden round table. I grab the cold ice bottle of bud and take another swig. In my immediate foreground, colored lights creep through the silhouettes of a pair of legs entangled on a pole- gently moving downward. Startled, I spill an ounce of  brew onto my lap. My sex had just been handled. I look to my left and see Jetta’s arm stretched over.

            “Let’s go Darling.” She says.

            With a gulp of despair, I nod gently at her. Her arm still extended. She holds on firmly. I have no choice but to respond. She spreads her sinister lips apart to reveal her crystal white teeth and finally lets go. I grab what’s left of my bottle, cuddled by her dirty glass of martini and chug it down like a contestant.

A woman with dark skin, legs like broomsticks, and a motherly gift comes from the corner shadow. She walks with an added hop that triggers her bouncing breasts. She holds them firmly, as if she was ready for to bowl.

“A dance! A dance!” she screams.

“We’re on our way out, Lashanda.” Speaks Jetta. Lashanda slowly turns her head towards me like an owl searching for its prey. 

She directs her “and who is this handsome stranger?” at me.

Jetta turns over to me.  Grabs the back of my neck, piercing her long fingernails into my skin and brings me to closer her. She bites my lip with foreheads linked and we begin to kiss. Saliva waves combust internally. I could feel those cold lips upon mine and I could do little to stop from succumbing to them. I became drunk in lust in a private club named Ginger Spice and Jetta was my flavor.

Lashanda slowly uncradled her straps and revealed her womanhood. Milky chocolate marvels began pressing on me. The pair of hands I felt when kissing Jetta was then multiplied. The touching intensified. I close my eyes from the colored lights that creep into my imagination as I am fondling a woman before me and another fondles me. Jetta grabs me below my waste and spares little remorse. Her spread out hand curves into a fist as she grabs my manhood into shame. With my testacles pressed the moment is lost. I open my eyes. I hear the sound of hustle bustle and shuffling of glass and tables. I look onto Jetta. She stares gravely into my eyes. I taste warm blood in my lips and as I open my mouth to speak, I feel the crackling sound of dry blood stretching my skin..            

My head is shoved forward and I am simultaneously grabbed from behind. I begin to drag away. I didn’t know what exactly happened and could only see tattooed arms raveled around me. A wristwatch pressed on me profusely- the pain unbearable. I look up onto Jetta for some kind of answer. She walks away stiff as rock. The sound of her black heels echo through out the room.

I find only Lashanda. She stands there helpless with a crooked stance and a beat up hairdo. Her lips are covered in blood. It trickled down her neck and into her crevice. I look again for Jetta. To my left as I am being dragged out I find her standing at the bar finishing her drink surrounded by a couple of beatnicks yapping.

Outside the entrance, the sky is dark and grey as rain gushes downward. As the husky tattooed bouncer threw me out he screamed into my ear with a heavy breath.

“Get the hell outa’ here you sick fuck!”

The sound of the music stopped and all I could hear are the sounds of puddles responding to rain. The gold rimmed doors of Ginger Spice close before me- this time for good.  And as I walk onto wet cement and feel my socks moisten and by drizzling pecks, I feel the rest of my clothes dampen. I look into the hazy horizon and start to head west- slowly I exhale…

My soul knows only the intent of my adventure

becoming a heartfelt venture not too far away...