Squid Pulp Blues Read Free

that warranted his sticking a dollar bill between her tits.
    Henry was daydreaming, wondering when the next dancer would come on stage. He had some singles in his pocket but didn’t want to waste them on that skinny bitch. While Dix was busy talking to her, another girl was making her way to the stage. She was carrying a purse in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Fucking shit , Henry thought, what a dose of reality . He didn’t want to see a stripper drinking a coffee or carrying her shit to the stage. Might as well show him pictures of her kids or take out her past-due electric bill.
    Next to him, he heard the Russian say something to Dix that sounded like “Dunce” but then realized that she was saying “dance” as in “lap dance”. Dix elbowed Henry.
    “Man, I’ll be back in a few minutes, watch my beer for me.”
    Dix followed the Russian to a back room and the new dancer got on stage after taking one last hit of caffeine and making sure her purse and car keys were set right in front of Henry on the edge of the stage. It was a cheap purse made of fake red leather. The car keys were connected to far too many key chains, Henry thought. He was beginning to get depressed.
    Then he actually took a look at the girl.
    *                       *                       *
    The back room was exactly that: a drab room in the back of the bar that could’ve very well been used for storing surplus cases of beer. There were a couple of chairs against each wall and a few vintage movie posters (walking in, Dix noticed The Asphalt Jungle and to his right, the face of Barbara Stanwyck in Lady of Burlesque ).
    Dix sat down in the chair facing the Barbara Stanwyck poster and the Russian straddled him. She started moving, not exactly dancing, to the music that was playing at the bar. Her tits brushed against Dix’s nose and he smelt her sweat. She turned over and stuck her ass out against his chest, the butterfly staring at him.
    The stripper looked over her shoulder. “You, what you do?”
    Dix said, “What do you mean?” He wanted so much to put his face to her ass.
    “For job, what do you do for job?” She bounced her ass up and down though it didn’t do much considering it was mostly all bone.
    What the hell was he supposed to say to her? Yeah, sweetie, I rob places for a living. Banks, jewelry stores, you name it. Want me to take you to work sometime? Yeah, I think “Take your stripper to work day” is coming up soon.
    Dix said, “Uh, different things, here and there.”  
    She seemed to take that as an answer and slid her ass of him and lounged on the floor in front of him. She was on her back, her legs up in the air, and her crotch mostly exposed but for the thin strip of her bikini bottom. “You like? You like lick?” She rubbed herself.
    Dix nodded.
    The Russian turned over and sat on all fours. “You like lick like this?” she said and started furiously licking the cement floor. “Like this you lick juicy cunt , juicy pussy.” Her tongue was widened and was dragged across the floor until Dix could actually see where it picked up all of the dirt from the cement.
    Dix whispered, “Jesus Christ,” but continued to watch in stunned fascination at the puddle of spit that was growing on the floor. While he stared, a man came into the room. He was short and fat with a beer belly like a beach ball beneath his Journey t-shirt.
    The man said, “Hey, Alina , you get the money upfront for this?”
    Alina took her tongue off of the floor and said, “No, did not.”
    Dix dug in his pocket for the money and the man walked up to him quickly.
    “Next time you accept a dance from one of the girls, the money comes first, got that? Or your ass is out.” He took the twenty-dollar bill from Dix and then said, “You looking for anything special?” His voice got lower. “Weed? Pills? I got some coke that’ll knock your fucking socks off. Not really coke, to tell you the truth,