Recap of the latest mishap: Jane, Olivia and shoppe owner Selma are in a seedy dive bar to celebrate Olivia's spur-of-the-moment bachelorette party.
Jane took one more look at the lanky guy. With her mascaraed eyes, she attempted to convey a look of want, but also a look that said, "I better not be putting effort into getting on your jock only to find a rash down there. Because I WILL keep the restroom lights on. Oh I will. And I am not a doctor but I know herpes when I see it so don't think you can pull the sexual wool over my eyes."
Next to her, Olivia giggled. "You're going for that guy?" she laughed. "He's so thin! He might be thinner than you."
"I totally take offense to that remark," Jane said. "I'll have you know that not only have I been taking a supreme amount of laxatives, I have cut my calories to about 300 per day, if you don't count my alcohol consumption. All of those 300 calories come from lean protein. I'm at the gym seven days a week for at least two hours a day and I don't drink water because I know a woman's body retains that hydration shit."
Olivia's jaw dropped.
"I don't even HAVE electrolytes anymore," Jane sneered. "I could pass out at any time, in any place. But that is real dedication to perfection, if you ask me. I am THAT bitch."
Olivia nodded slowly. "I started taking Jazzercise. Once a week. But I work up quite a sweat in that church basement."
Jane nodded approvingly. "Consider throwing up once or twices before the wedding. Anywho, time for rum and coke. We need to space out the shots or Selma's going to get wise and stop footing the bill."
The two women walked over to the matronly lady who was counting dollar bills and then handing them to the bartender one by one. There was an untouched tequila shot in front of her.
"You going to do that shot?" Jane asked.
"I told you, I have diabetes!" Selma snapped and threw the money on the counter. "That could do horrible things to my blood sugar and I only have one functioning kidney."
Jane shrugged and did the shot for her. She looked down at the plump little shoppe owner and then turned to the bartender.
"Two rum and cokes for me and Olivia. One water for Selma. Oh, and if you have bar nuts or free popcorn or something, give them to her too. She's got the diabetes."
Selma sighed loudly and looked around the joint, folding her chubby arms across her sturdy breasts. "You won't ever find me in a place like this. I have too much dignity, thank you very much. Only the lowliest of the lows come into this place. Townies, or drifters. People who have lost touch with the Lord."
"Do you know anyone in here?" Jane asked.
"Of course I do," Selma said, very obviously trying to avoid all eye contact with the patrons. Every one of these boys and girls has grown up in this town and no matter how hard their mommies and daddies tried - and some of them had good God-fearing parents - they couldn't save them."
The drinks arrived and Olivia and Jane began sucking them down. "Tell me about that guy over there," she instructed Selma. "The tall one, kinda cute."
"Oh that's Jonathan Cromski," Selma said. "Gracie and Tim's boy."
"Were Gracie and Tim God-fearing parents?"
"Nope," Selma shook her head. "Gracie was a whore. She modeled lingerie at a store in Clarksville. If a gentleman came in and purchased over $50 of nighties or what have you, he could get Gracie to model whatever he was buying. Model it in the back... in a PRIVATE room."
"Did she get tips?" Jane inquired. Olivia snarfed her drink and cried out in pain.
"And Tim had a real drinking and gambling problem," Selma continued. "The police used to find him in the public restrooms of the library each morning, just sleeping off the booze."
"Maybe he was just reading really late into the night," Jane suggested. "So apart from having a busted lingerie model as a mom and a drunk for a dad, old Johnny boy seems pretty normal, right?"
"He's got a real problem with meth anphetamines," Selma answered. "Lost some teeth, you know."
"Well, I was planning on sucking face with that meth head," Jane said. "I wonder what the chances are that a tooth might come flying out into my own mouth."
Selma looked disgusted and Olivia, now getting happily tipsy, started laughing hysterically.
"You don't know where that mouth has been," Selma said. "And you can't go kissing perfect strangers. What kind of young lady are you?"
"The whorish kind," Jane shrugged. "The kind that reminds Johnny boy of his mama. I'll need another drink before I go smooch that mouth of Indian Corn. Ok, Selma. Tell us about some of the other people here. Who else did the police find passed out in the library?"
Selma scanned the room. "Well, there's the librarian himself, James Curran. The one with his head down on the bar. He's a special kind of drunkard."
"You know that's funny," Olivia said, her voice high and cutesy. "I always thought small town librarians were women. Actually I thought all librarians were women. I mean, I don't want to be sexist, but they're all women in the movies. Like that opening scene in Ghostbusters..."
"He might not be a woman," Selma told her, then leaned in for a whisper. "But he enjoys dressing up as one. Shoes, slips, lipstick. The whole sha-bang. He's a trans-ves-tite."
"We have plenty of those in New York!" Jane poo-pooed. "And they are fabulous. Always going around saying fabulous, empowering things. Kinda like listening to Aretha Franklin on repeat. I bet he has some amazing wigs. I'm going to go see."
Jane swished over and shook the man to attention. "Hi," she spoke loudly in case the booze was clogging his ears. "My name's Jane. I love bras and high heels too. Wanna do shots with my friend whose getting married?"
From behind her, Olivia giggled and burped. Then waved sweetly.
The man looked thoroughly confused, but heard the offer of a drink and attempted to sit up as straight as possible. Selma stood where Jane had left her, looking disgusted, and Jane decided that this round would also be on the judgmental Selma's dime. God-fearing Jane's ass. Jane vaguely remembered some God line about living in a glass house and not throwing shit around, but the nascent thought was soon zapped by rum.
The bartender came over with three shots and set them down. The librarian looked at the girls, as if checking to see if the shot truly was meant for him. Jane nodded and the three downed the drinks.
"So tell us something funny!" Jane shouted, slamming her glass down on the wood of the bar. "Something sassy. Tell us how to get our groove back."
The librarian furrowed his brows. "Thank you for the drink. Um, I don't think I know anything sassy. We have some new books in the young adult fiction section though. Pretty steamy stuff. Partial nudity. Inferred sexual contact. Great for the imagination."
Jane stared at him for a moment, her brow wrinkled. "I'm down with partial nudity," she finally said. "And any type of sexual contact - inferred or otherwise. It is somewhat creepy that you, an old tranny, is getting his jollies through the YA section though and, I'll be honest with you - it's killing my buzz. So. We'll catch you later."
Jane and Olivia began to walk away when suddenly Jane's face came in contact with a broad chest, clad in flannel. The meth head had made his move.
"Hi," Jane purred. "Hello there, stranger."
"Saw you looking at me," Jonathan said in a low voice. "Is there something you want?"
"Oh there's something that I want," Jane said. "And I intend to get it."
"She intends to get it!" Olivia chimed in. "Get it, got it, good!"
Jane leaned in to the boy toy. "Look, I want to get nasty with you. Real nasty. So nasty, you may consider going to confession the next day. But I need a dude for my girl here. She's getting married in the next couple of days, so no play whatsoever. Just a guy to keep her busy for a few moments. You know anyone like that?"
"I just happen to have my good friend Harry with me here tonight," Jonathan answered, breaking into a smile.
Shit, Jane thought. I can already see toothless gaps towards the back.
"Very good. Set that up," Jane said. "But try not to smile that much. I like to take everything really seriously. Where's Harry?"
Within ten minutes, Olivia was planted on a stool next to a fat, bearded lump of a truck driver, Selma was still nursing a water at the bar, the drunken librarian had slumped back down in his chair, and Jane was on her back in the bed of a rusty Chevy pick-up truck with a shirtless Jonathan hovering above her. At least he'd laid down an old blanket so there was a chance Jane might not get tetanus.
The druggie would have been sexy, she thought, had his ribs not been so visible. And there was that jagged scar that ran down the right side of his body. She wondered if a meth deal had gone awry.
He went into kiss Jane and she turned her head to the side and laughed playfully. She was drunk, but not drunk enough to stick her tongue into that rotten mouth. She grabbed his skinny little hips and pulled them closer to hers and began grinding. Then she felt the vibrations.
"Did you bring a vibrator?" she asked.
"No," he answered, breathing heavily. "You want me to start up the truck? It'll be just like one of those vibrating beds."
"No, I don't think it will be," Jane said. Then she remembered her phone was set to vibrate. Ignoring the hick's attempts to neck with her, she pulled the phone from her pocket. It was a text message from Mike. "Your ex just messaged me. Asked what you were up to these days."
"Oh yeah!" Jane yelped. Jonathan, encouraged by this display of passion, ground against her harder and she rolled her eyes. Whatever. This would be done soon enough. She closed her eyes.
"Jane?" Selma's voice seemed to be coming from the right. "Jane? Young lady!"
Jane's eyes popped open. There was Selma with her beady brown eyes, peering down into the bed of the truck at the two sinners.
"I'm busy, Selma," she hissed. Jonathan didn't seem to notice, or didn't seem to mind, that they had an on-looker.
"Well you best stop your dirty fornication because your girl Olivia just got into a car with a strange man and drove off to God knows where."
No comments:
Post a Comment