Hour Game

The Aphrodisiac was full of life and activity, with virtually every table and stool at the bars taken. Kyle showed his ID to a sleepy-looking bouncer at the entrance to the room where the dancers were and spent a few minutes admiring the ladies. The shapely, barely clothed women were performing acts so lewd against the metal dancing poles that it would have caused their poor mothers to die of humiliation-after they had strangled their shameless daughters, that is. Kyle loved every minute of it.

He checked his watch and then made his way up the stairs to the second floor and down a hallway toward a thick red curtain that hung across the passageway. Beyond the red curtain was a maze of small rooms. He went to the first door, rapped out an agreed-upon signal and immediately received permission to enter.

He closed the door behind him and stood nervously, unwilling to advance far into the darkened space. This was not the first time he'd done this, but each time held its own share of risk and uncertainty.

"Do you have them?" the woman asked in a voice so low he could barely hear it.

Kyle nodded. "Right here. All the stuff you like." He dug his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out the Baggies. He held them up like a small boy proudly displaying a dead bird to his mother.

As always, the woman was clothed in a long flowing dress with a scarf wound around her head. Her eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, even though the room was poorly lit. She obviously didn't want to be recognized. Kyle had often wondered who she was but had never worked up the courage to ask. The voice seemed familiar but he couldn't definitively place it.

There'd been a note left in his Jeep one evening saying that if he'd like to make some extra money, he could call the number written on the paper. Well, who didn't want to score some extra cash? He answered affirmatively and was told that the small pharmacy Sylvia kept in her office could be a very lucrative source of income for him. Potent painkillers and other potentially mind-altering drugs were the items on the purchaser's wish list.

With no scruples impeding him Kyle had agreed to look into it, had done some homework to see the best way to access this potential gold mine and had concluded that it was doable. Terms were agreed to, the deliveries commenced and Kyle had significantly increased his income.

The long dress did not totally obscure the comely figure of the woman facing him. The private surroundings, the bed in one corner of the room and the fact that they were in a strip club always made Kyle's blood race. In a recurring fantasy he'd stride into the room, far bigger and more masculine than he actually was. He'd hold out the pills like he was doing now, but when she went to take them, he'd grab her, lift her up, laughing at her puny resistance, and throw her roughly on the bed. Then he'd fall on top of her and have his way far into the night. His sexual savagery would rise with the anguished pitch of her screams, until she finally shrieked in his ear that she wanted it; she wanted him, she wanted Big Kyle, so badly.

Even now he felt a rise in his pants as this wistful scenario played itself out once more in his head. He wondered if he would ever actually have the nerve to execute upon it. He doubted it. He was far too much of a chickenshit. She laid the cash down on the table and took the Baggies, then motioned with her hand for him to leave.

He immediately did so, folding the money over twice and sliding it into his pocket with a big smile.

Kyle wouldn't realize until later that something he'd seen was of great significance, chiefly because it made no sense. And it would eventually cause him to wonder. And at some point that wonder would lead to action. For now all he wondered was what to do with the money he'd just earned. Kyle Montgomery wasn't much of a saver; he was far more of a spendthrift. Instant gratification was very much a way of life for him. A new guitar, perhaps? Or a new TV and CD-DVD combo for his small apartment? By the time he'd made it back to his Jeep and driven off, the new guitar had won out. He'd order it tomorrow.

Back in the room the woman locked the door, unwound her scarf and took off her glasses. She slipped off her shoes and then removed her dress, revealing a silk camisole underneath. She examined the labels on the Baggies, took out one of the pills, crushed it and downed the powder with a glass of water followed by a chaser of straight Bombay Sapphire.

She put on some music, lay back on the bed, crossed her arms over her chest and allowed the power of the medication to send her to another place, one where she might, at least for a few brief moments, be happy. Until tomorrow, that is, when the reality of her life would come shrieking back.