I want to send a shout out to treewitch703 for the improvments! She is a God send! I hope all of you enjoy!
I never, ever thought I would end up working at a vampire bar in Shreveport, Louisiana, but I have. Why did I even take this job? Well, first of all I get insurance, which in the barmaid profession is completely unheard of. Hey, I even get optical which is a bonus for little old near sighted me. Second, I have kids, a son and a daughter. The pay is really good and keeps my family well feed and clothed. Especially since my daughter Izzy has to go to a special needs school. She is autistic. Not Dustin Hoffman, Rain Man autistic, but just different enough that she needs to go to a special school. Andrew, my oldest is ten and smart as a whip. So you understand that I'm not really a fangbanger or some sort of obsessed individual. I'm just a single working mother trying to survive.
I'd do the college thing if I could, but Isabelle requires all my spare time. I never had the chance to better myself after she came into my life. Even though Andrew is only ten and he's been a big help. I do hate the fact that I have to work in such a dangerous place as Fangtasia, but as I've said before, I need insurance and there is not much out there in this economy for someone who never went beyond high school.
Getting a job at the 'bar with bite' is a story unto itself. You see, Belinda Jean Harrison was never what you would call a model citizen. I'd done my fair share of stupid when I was younger. That's how I ended up with Andrew. I secretly call him my happy mistake. Izzy came five years later. Yes, both of my children have different fathers, but it doesn't mean I'm some sort of slut. I met Andy's father when I was working at a bar in Monroe called Howl's Full Moon. Yes, it is what you think. That was my first taste of the supernatural. Howl was an arrogant bastard of a werewolf. He treated each of us as if we were a piece of meat. The tips were good, despite all the nasty hairy biker types that frequented Howl's. I'm surprised I made it out of the place without having a really bad monthly whenever the full moon would come around, but back to my story.
I was into the drug scene then. I still look down at the track scars on my arms and wonder how I ever survived. Some of us 'normies' as we liked to call ourselves, delved into drugs just to survive all the brutal shit you see working in such a place. Every night I worked it wasn't anything to see two Weres fighting to the death on the dance floor. Sometimes I needed that extra added courage just to survive a night at work.
One night, a Were came in who was far different from the others. He wasn't like the typical clientele. He was all the tall, dark, and handsome you could imagine. Dark hair messy in the right ways and boy could he wear a flannel shirt like nobody's business. I may be nearsighted, but I can spot hot from a mile away. Tonight of all nights I decided not to join Mary Ellen for our nightly shoot up, tonight I decided to stay clean. That was also the night I decided to have a one night stand.
For a one nighter, this man was a perfect gentleman. All I knew of him was that he was pissed off at his girlfriend and that he needed a release. He complained about this shape shifter bitch for a while. Hell, I was just horny. Who gives a shit about chemistry when all you want is a piece of ass? And a fine piece of ass this one was.
I never gave him my name because at the time I really didn't care. I do now. Sobriety has a way of doing that to you. I regret the way I slowly destroyed myself, but I don't regret my kids. Say what you want about me, but leave my kids out of it. Anyway, back to my story. A quick roll in the hay with tall, dark and broody. Nine months later, Andrew Thomas Harrison came into the world. That's my shorthand version of it. No need to bring up old skeletons.
Anyway, after Andy came into my life, I made an effort to clean up. I left Howl's - much to Howl's dismay. Seems I was his best waitress. When I quit I did have to make some sort of crazy pact with the werewolves never to reveal their secret. Not a problem for someone who just wants to pack up and get away. They could have killed me, but I happened to be with a Were child and Weres are all about keeping their numbers up. I'm just shocked that they didn't try to kidnap Andy, but Howl's bunch weren't the brightest of bulbs. He did give me a contact in Shreveport. Someone by the name of Colonel Flood.
I packed up Andy and we moved to Shreveport. Times were hard the first few months. I was living out of a church food pantry and working for measly tips at some greasy spoon. I never did call that Flood guy. I wanted cut my ties with the werewolves. Besides, I'll worry about Andy when I get to that bridge. I had quite a few years left before I had to worry about his puberty.
Then I met one hell of a normal sweet guy by the name of Harold. Harold was good to me and Andy. He helped me out a great deal. Harold worked for a construction company called Herveaux and Son. He worked hard. Harry and I eventually moved into together. We shared a nice two bedroom apartment in a building owned by his boss. Harry helped me through some rough patches. He took me to rehab whenever I felt the need to shoot up again. He even helped me get my GED. Yep, I was on my way to becoming a real functioning member of society because of Harry. We never married, but we were happy. Then came Izzy. Our world changed dramatically. Izzy required a lot of attention. It got to the point where Harry couldn't take it anymore. So he up and left me high and dry. I guess I should have seen the signs. Harry became despondent. He always worked late, even in the off times. Harry couldn't take that his little girl was different. Maybe it is just as well he left before Andy started puberty.
I was down on my luck again. Only this time it wasn't just me suffering. I had to move out of the apartment and into a nasty roach motel. We lived out of the church pantry again and I worked two jobs. A friend of mine watched the kids while I worked. An elderly woman I had befriended while living at the apartment building. She didn't like my choice of profession much. Especially the strip bar called Fantasy where I worked... I waited tables and on occasion did some lap dances. I hated that I had to do this, but the sleaziods tipped me well. I dressed up like a naughty teacher or librarian. There is not much foreplay when you have to keep your glasses on your nose. Anyway, my job was to enact the men's deepest fantasy. A lot of them love my naughty teacher routine. I carried a yard stick and would smack them if that is what they requested. Some nights I wish I was working at Howl's Full Moon again.
I had a rough night there one night. A few of the patrons had requested my specialty. One was a rather strange gentleman. Not the type you would see frequenting a place like Fantasy. Tall, broad, and extremely pale. Long blond hair and amazing blue eyes. He looked like he came from another time. Extremely handsome. He wore leather pants and jacket, putting me in mind of all the biker Weres I had to deal with in the past.
"Okay, here are the rules. No touching me in any way, if you touch me, I will call in Cal. Automatic kick out. Twenty dollars for any special request. Fifty dollars if you wish to touch my breast. One hundred if you wish to keep me longer. Anything more is not allowed. That would be prostitution and is very illegal in this state," I said, putting on my dominatrix routine.
"Fair enough," said the man in a deep voice.
"Okay. Sit down," I said gruffly.
The music started out of the speakers. I took the yard stick and started hitting it against my hand.
"I hear that you have been a bad boy. You need to be punished," I said in a voice that just oozed with sex. Then I started gyrating my hips to the music. I leaned into the chair where my client sat. I never made an effort to know my John's names. It made the job easier that way. I put my hand on his shoulder, holding the yard stick in my other hand.
"What do you suppose I'm going to have to do about that?," I asked. The routine is always the same. This gives my client a chance to make a request.
I sat down on his lap, gyrating away. I pouted and leaned in to kiss his neck. I hate getting close like this, but this is where the big money comes from. He fought to keep his arms limp as most of the men do. Then he reached into his pocket as I kept his gaze locked with mine. Next thing I know, everything went blank and he was gone.
I went back to the dressing room and changed out of my costume. When I took off my skimpy top and I noticed two holes in my skin above my left breast. Tucked in my cleavage is five hundred-dollar bills. Time passed when I was with this client, but I don't remember a minute of it. I am grateful for the cash though. I hadn't crashed and burned like this since my drug days. I'm a bit shaken by my loss of time. I changed into a sweat suit and grabbed my cigarettes. I needed some alone time before I took anymore clients.
I sat out back by the loading dock. I lit the tip of my cigarette and took a huff. Next thing I know, my mascara was streaking down my cheeks. The realization just hit me. I could have been raped for all I know. My poor kids. I did this job just for them and now I hate myself. I cried as I sat there looking out into the night. I pulled out a picture of my two babies. Andy with his smiling green eyes and Izzy with her blank blue stare. My children are like night and day. Both from different fathers. Izzy is pale next to Andy's dark complexion. Izzy has sandy blond hair whereas Andy's is as dark as his father's, whoever he may be. I pull my glasses off my nose. No point in messing them up anymore than my vision all ready is. I put my picture back in my pocket and thought of my children faces.
There is a presence close by. I can't see it, but I sense it. With my blurred vision, I made out the tall shape of a man. The dull light of the building reflected off of blond hair . It looked like my last client from what I could make out.
"Sorry, closed for business, buddy," I say. I get this once in a while. The Johns like to see if they can make their fantasies last. Some hoping for a date and to save the strippers from their miserable lives. The man laughs.
"You are quite beautiful without those glasses," the man says.
"Yeah, but I kind of need them," I respond, but something inside my mind tells me not to put my glasses back on.
"Why are you sad?," mystery man ask.
"I hate my job," I simply answer without even knowing why. By now I should have gone back inside to get Cal, but I just stayed right where I was. "But I need it," I added without thinking.
"Why do you need a job in a place like this?"
"I have children that need me," I answered. I don't know why I'm even sharing myself with this stranger. The last time I shared with a stranger, I ended up with my son.
"You never saw me or spoke to me," the man said in a cryptic way. He puts a business card in my hand. Even though I couldn't see him, I felt him vanish.
