Squid Pulp Blues Read Free Page A

but better. Guy told me it’s made from squid, fucking squid. It’ll fucking make time stop.”
    Dix felt uncomfortable. He was in the middle of a freaky lap dance and here was this guy, probably the owner, trying to sell him weed, pills, and fucking squid powder.
    “Nah, I’ll pass.”
    The man made a sour face. “Shit, man, your fucking loss.” He looked at Alina . “Got two minutes left,” he said and started walking out of the room.
    She said, “Yes, Rick.”
    The girl stood up and lifted her top, airing out her tiny breasts. This is more like it. Some good old titties .
    Alina started slapping her breasts. First with her right hand and then her left. Right. Left. Right. Left.
    Then harder and faster until her hands were a blur and her breasts were covered in red, fleshy blotches. Dix got up from the chair and grabbed her arms. “Knock it off, what the fuck you doing?” He held her wrists but she didn’t fight him off.
    Alina said, “You don’t like?”
    “Shit no,” Dix said. He let go of her and started towards the door. She called out behind him and he turned around.
    She was up against the wall, licking Barbara Stanwyck’s face.
    “Christ,” Dix said and went back to the bar.
    *                       *                       *
    The stripper that replaced the Russian was beautiful, Henry decided. She wasn’t beautiful for a stripper but just plain beautiful no matter what profession she was in. Cute Betty Page haircut, no tattoos (which was always better than ugly tattoos), and the prettiest, most hypnotic eyes that Red Henry had ever seen.
    He watched her do her routine with more enthusiasm than you usually see at any go-go bar or strip club in New Jersey . Henry looked at her shoes and was happy to see she wasn’t wearing the clunky high heels strippers usually wore but rather a black pair of heels that would’ve been more appropriate on a female executive. Henry liked that.
    The girl came over to him and he got a couple singles ready. She smiled and said, “Hi.”
    Henry said, “Hi there.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Henry. You?”
    “Sweetie Martini.” She laughed like she was embarrassed by it.
    “Sweetie Martini, huh? Guess your parents hated you, huh?”
    Her smile lessened. “It’s a stage name.”
    Henry said, “I know. I was joking.”
    “They made me pick one when I started dancing at the club.”
    Club? Henry didn’t consider this place a strip club per se. It was a bar. A go-go bar. Strip clubs allowed the girls to actually show some nipple on stage.
    Henry said, “I figured. Sorry I said anything.”
    Sweetie nodded and then pushed her plump breasts together. Henry slipped his hand in between them and left two dollars there. She held them in place with her tits. “Thanks,” she said.
    She took a step backwards and put her leg up on the bar in front of him. The bottom of her shoe was in his face and he thought he caught a whiff of her foot, sweaty like the inside of a sneaker. She must have changed from her sneakers into those heels. There was no way she drove to work in those. He wanted to get closer but didn’t.
    Sweetie grabbed the shoe and slipped it off, her bare foot now revealed, the stench not a mystery anymore as it mingled with the smell of beer. She scrunched up her toes and then wiggled them. They begged for more singles so Henry slowly put one dollar between each toe while savoring the aroma of her foot.
    “Thanks, hon ,” she said after he had put a total of four dollars in there. Then Sweetie took her foot down, grabbed the dollars from her feet, and walked over to the side and took a sip of her coffee. Then she scratched her ass.
    Red Henry shook his head. Another dose of reality. Fucking shit.
     
    Chapter Four
    Grant sat on the bed while the episode of The Golden Girls ended only to be replaced with the pilot episode of Golden Palace , a spin-off of the previous show.
    He popped open another beer and