Hey! It's here!
CHAPTER 6 - or as I've been calling it in my head:
THE STRIPPER CHAPTER!
That said, guess I should throw some warnings on here - not that they're really needed, as 'stripper' sort of implies certain things like… naked breasts, and ya know… reactions to those breasts, but I think you all can handle it ; )
So yet again - I want to thank everyone for reading and especially for reviewing!
Also thanks to those of you who read and reviewed Decisions In Blood (my little angst fest) which I posted recently. Glad I seem to be forgiven for taking that little side track away from EIC. Not that it's so little anymore.
BIG THANKS - to Kaewi for her notes and corrections on this! Couldn't post without you!
NOW:
If you have access to any 90's dance music or sexy techno - throw it on! It'll totally set the mood! Here ya go!
Energies and Ice Cream
CH 6
"Do you have anything smaller?"
"I'm sorry?" Sam responded as he snapped out of his head realizing the large man behind the tiny counter had asked him a question.
"Smaller," the man repeated as he opened the cash register. "Do you have anything smaller than a fifty?"
"Uh… no. Sorry, that's all I've got," Sam lied as he waited to receive change for the pack of gum Dean had requested. The man sighed irritably and began to count out the change. Sam looked him over. He was tall with broad shoulders, and held a permanent scowl on his face, most likely because he was a small town gas station owner who spent his days and nights inside a glass building no larger than a bathroom. The guy was never going to go for it, never, but Sam gritted his teeth and asked anyway, asked just as his big brother had instructed him to.
"Um… I'm sorry but… can I get that all in singles?" Sam kept his gaze to the side wall as the man slowly looked up, scowl intact.
"No. No you can't," he replied forcefully, then returned to counting change.
"Look," Sam interrupted daringly, "I'm sure you're asked for singles all the time, and I'm really sorry, but… my brother, he's gonna give me shit the rest of the night if I don't come back with…"
"Okay," the man cut through Sam's plea. "I'll give you your change in singles."
"Really?" Sam questioned, completely thrown. Holy crap, he thought. Dean was actually right. And I figured…
"If you spend thirty," the man finished firmly.
"What?" Sam questioned again, thrown in a slightly different way. "Thirty? Well… can't you just give me twenty singles and the rest…" Sam stopped short as the large, mean man solidified his non-negotiable deal by reinstating his scowl.
"Right," Sam agreed.
Sam exited the small gas station store with twenty singles in one hand and a full plastic shopping bad in the other. He passed the gas pumps, crossed the dark lot, got into the Impala, and dropped the bag between himself and his brother. Dean eyed it suspiciously as Sam thrust the fistful of singles at his brother.
"Here," Sam offered. Dean took the money.
"This doesn't look like fifty," Dean said accusingly.
"That's 'cause it's not."
"How much is it then?"
"Twenty."
"Twenty? Where the fuck is the rest?" Dean shouted. Sam reluctantly glanced at the bag.
Dean grew a sudden and scorching scowl of his own. He snatched the bag into his lap and opened it. He stared inside for a moment, then snapped. "Sam! What the fuck! This bag is filled with Skittles! Bags and bags of Skittles!" As the math slowly hit him, Dean turned to his brother coldly. "You bought thirty dollars worth of Skittles?"
"And your gum," Sam added weakly, knowing full well how much shit he was in.
"Jesus, Sam! You're such a pussy sometimes. Did you suck the guy's cock while you were in there too?"
"Screw you, Dean!" Sam returned fiercely. "It's your own fault for sending me instead of going yourself!"
"Fine, I get it Sam, but Skittles?"
"I happen to like Skittles," Sam said defensively.
"Then buy a bag of Skittles! One god damn bag!"
"It's a gas station store Dean, it's not like they had a lot of choices."
"Uh… floor mats," Dean suggested.
"What?"
"You could have bought floor mats and covered the hole you've been bitching about all night?"
"They didn't have…"
"Hanging on the wall; I can see them from here," Dean pointed out. Sam leaned forward and immediately caught sight of the floor mats. "Fuck!" Sam cursed himself, then slumped back into his seat frustrated. He sat silently for a moment while Dean rummaged through the bag in a futile search for his gum. Sam lightly kicked the edge of the hole in the floor with the tip of his sneaker. "I still like Skittles," he moped. Dean smiled slightly at his brother's innocent stupidity.
"Forget it, Sammy," Dean said backing down. "Let's just get outta here." He shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the road as he tossed the bag of candy into Sam's lap. "See if you can find my gum, will ya?" He asked. Dean pressed his foot to the gas pedal as he glanced at the clock. "Skittles," he mumbled to himself. "I fucking hate Skittles."
A few minutes later Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the Goodnight Strip Club. He had been intentionally silent ever since Sam had given up searching for his gum. He knew the silent treatment wasn't exactly punishing Sam, nor was it going to miraculous result in the location of his gum, but he went with it anyway; he had really wanted that gum.
He parked in the far corner of the lot, then picked up the pile of singles and counted through it. He set ten back down on his lap, then lifted his ass off the seat of the car, straightening his groin so he could shove the second pile of bills into his front jeans pocket. As he dropped back onto the seat, he pulled the keys from the ignition, grabbed the bills on his lap, and got out of the car.
Dean headed towards the entrance, then stopped as he realized Sam wasn't following. He circled back to the hood, and threw his hands up in question. Sam gave a reluctant sigh, then got out of the car and obediently walked to his brother's side.
Dean placed one hand on his brother's shoulder, then held up his other hand, waving the small stack of folded bills in front of his face.
"Now," Dean began, breaking his truly pointless silence, "don't use these until I show you the right way to do it. Got it?" Dean stuck the money into Sam's shirt pocket. As Dean removed his hand from Sam's shoulder, Sam quickly grabbed hold of it. He pulled the money out of his pocket, and firmly shoved it back into Dean's hand.
"I'm good, keep it," Sam stated. Dean just shook his head.
"Sammy, these singles are dog eared for delicately sticking into strippers' panties. You're not gonna want any at first, but once you get a couple of drinks in you…"
"I'm not getting drunk and I'm not sticking money into girls' panties." Sam took off toward the club in an attempt to get away from his brother. "I said I'd come but that's all, don't expect me to participate." Dean jogged after him and blocked his path, bringing him to a reluctant halt.
"Sam, I know I told you to go ahead and be morbid, but I think the idea is that eventually, you actually have a good time."
"Whatever," Sam blurted, then stalked around him.
"No Sam, not whatever," Dean said, grabbing him by the shoulder again, this time with some force. "Look, I realize you wanna fight me on this, but… you need to loosen up." Sam rolled his eyes to the sky not wanting to hear it. Dean just continued. "For Christ's sake Sam, have some fun. It's one night. Tomorrow you can go back to being your usual grumpy self."
"I said I'm good," Sam stated flatly.
"No, you're not," Dean returned.
"Dean, don't start," Sam warned, his tone rising.
"Sammy…"
"Look, do you want me to come with you, or not?"
"Well, ya."
"Then drop it, and let's go." Sam again moved past his brother toward the club.
"It just wouldn't kill you to relax once in a while," Dean muttered, unwilling to let it drop. Sam turned around and threw his arms up in disbelief. "Fine," Dean let up. "I get it. We're done. Let's go." Dean shoved Sam's bills into his pants, and took off into the club. Sam shook his head and followed his brother through the dark glass door.
Dean made his way through the small lobby, past the coat check, and straight to the real entrance of the club. It was blocked off with the standard red rope and the standard oversized bouncer. Dean promptly handed over his ID and the entry passes, then stepped past and waited for Sam. Sam held out his ID, then accompanied his brother down the long, shimmery hallway, around the corner, and into the main room of the club.
It was your standard strip club: plush red carpet with deep maroon everywhere else; small circular tables with rounded lounge chairs surrounding them; reflective stage floor with a mostly naked girl grinding a poll.
Sam got a good look around. It wasn't that big, maybe twenty tables on the lower level scattered in a semi-circle around the stage, and another six or so in the balcony. The balcony was located at the far end of the club directly above the bar. Although the place was fairly dark, the bar glowed with a radiance which made all the bottles look like candy: sweet, inhibition-destroying candy.
The other bright spot was the stage. Lit from above, the beams of warm light cut through the simulated smoke which rose and fell lightly around its performer. Angled mirrors lined its back wall to provide maximum viewing, and in the center resided the highly anticipated, consistently worked, pole. Thick, gold, and glowing, it would have somehow been arousing even without a girl wrapped around it. The current showpiece, however, hung inverted with her legs locked around the poll in a way which allowed her to slowly slide downward until her head was on the floor, then her back, then her ass. She then dropped her legs out in front of her, grabbed the poll with her hand, and pulled herself up into the next move.
"Well that was athletic," Sam thought out loud. He turned to Dean, only to find his brother was no longer next to him, but next to the bar.
Dean scanned the club looking for Lorie. As the horrific sound of nineties dance music beat loudly into his head, he reminded himself it was for a good cause, the best of causes, and pressed on. The place was fairly busy. Small groups of guys occupied the tables and lined the edge of the stage, and every so often a girl could be seen with them, either providing a lap dance to the currently playing song, or working the nearest man for the next song. When he made no sight of the specific girl he was searching for, he looked to Sam and nodded him over.
Sam wove through the tables, stopped next to his brother, and glanced around the room.
"So where's your friend?" he asked, voice raised above the music.
"I don't know, probably in the back," Dean guessed loudly. "Beer?" Sam nodded, and Dean stepped over to the bar. He quickly returned with two beers, and handed one to Sam. "So uh… are you really not going to drink a lot?" He questioned.
"I'm not getting drunk if that's what you mean," Sam confirmed loudly. Dean nodded, pulled his keys from his pocket, and held them out.
"Hold these?" Dean didn't really ask, in a gesture that blatantly stated he was going to get drunk.
"Yeah," Sam agreed, and took the keys into his own pocket.
"Thanks. Come on," Dean said as he walked off. Sam took a quick swig from his beer and followed. Dean walked past all the tables and maneuvered to sit in one of the chairs directly in front of the stage. He turned, expecting Sam to be right behind him, then noticed his brother had stopped three tables back. Dean motioned for him to come over; Sam simply took another swig of his beer and glanced away nervously. What the fuck is he doing? Dean whined internally.
"Come on," he mouthed the second Sam turned back around. Sam ignored him, eyed the area, and quickly dropped into a chair at the table closest to him. Dean's shoulders fell in agitated disappointment as he rolled his eyes. God damn it! He walked back and stopped, looming over Sam and the table his brother had clearly chosen out of pure fear.
"They won't bite, Sammy. Trust me, I've asked," Dean assured him. Sam shot him a quick look which seemed to express his disbelief in Dean's statement. He took another sip of his beer. "Fine, Sam." Dean sighed and sat down. "If this is an effort to help me hang onto my singles, you're off to a great start." Sam glanced at him as he continued to take small, silent sips of beer. He then turned away and was slightly startled to find someone else next to him.
"Hi, I'm Holiday." She was sitting on the arm of the chair directly in front of Sam looking down at him. "How ya doing tonight?" She inquired.
"Um…" Sam hesitated, keeping the lip of his beer bottle to his mouth. "Okay?"
"That's a good start," she said with a smile. She was wearing blue thong underwear and a lacy, low cut tank that stretched down long enough to cover most of her ass. It had the word 'sassy' printed across the chest in broken pink lettering, and was being utilized as a very short dress, when in reality it was only a very long shirt. Sam tried not to check her out, quickly bringing all focus to his beer.
Dean simply smiled, sat back, and enjoyed the unexpected private show, unsure whether it was more fun to watch Holiday, or his brother's awkwardness.
"So," she continued, looking directly at Sam, her glare prompting yet another nervous sip. "Is this your first time in a strip club?" Sam choked slightly on his beer. As he coughed his way through it, he managed a defensive, yet manly…
"No… uh… I've been before." He placed his beer down on his leg, then moved it to the table, let go briefly, then grabbed it again immediately missing its sense of security. Both Holiday and Dean smiled.
"Okay," she said moving to the floor. She squatted in front of Sam and placed a hand on each of his knees, lightly squeezing them. With his breath quickening, Sam backed himself into his chair as if to get away from her. He pressed his arms into the sides of the seat and clung silently and nervously to his beer, cautiously watching her every move. As she slowly slid both her hands up his thighs, Sam tensed. He looked to the ceiling and swallowed a thick knot of air down his throat as he felt himself go hard, his jeans slowly tightening across the bulge. Without even realizing, Sam let his head drop back onto the seat, and his eyes slipped shut into an aroused relaxation. Then he heard her words. "Would you like a dance?" She asked in a harmless tone.
Sam's eyes shot open and he bolted upright as he quickly shifted his cold beer bottle to his lap and pressed it hard into his jeans.
"No, no thanks," Sam panicked, "I'm good."
"Okay sweetie," she said backing down. "Let me know if you change your mind." She smiled, stood, and walked away, but not without exchanging a knowing smile with Dean.
"Sammy, what are you doing?" Dean asked eyeing the position of Sam's beer with a solid smirk.
"What do ya mean?" Sam tried.
"Nothin'," Dean said. "You ready for another beer?"
"No, I'm good."
"Sure you don't want a second one?" Dean glanced at him deviously. "Ya know, one to drink, one to keep your hard on down," Dean shouted intentionally louder than the music. Sam turned, and covered his embarrassment with anger.
"Screw you, Dean!"
"Oh I don't think I'm to one you want to screw, Sammy."
"Shut the fuck up," Sam said leaning forward. Dean burst out laughing.
"Jesus, no wonder you didn't wanna come!"
"What?"
"Nothing, you just… really know how to handle yourself bro. The embodiment of smooth." Dean cracked up. Sam fell back into his chair and stared at the ceiling again, shaking his head.
"Are you done, Dean?"
"Look, it's nothing to be embarrassed by. I mean, it's why we're here, man." Sam sat upright and glared at his brother.
"No Dean, it's why you're here."
"Fine… It's just…"
"What?"
"Maybe you should consider getting a lap dance," Dean suggested.
"Dean…"
"I'm serious, Sam. It might do you some good, and I mean…" Dean glanced over the table at Sam's lap. "you obviously want it." Sam threw his brother a dirty look, and continued to cover himself with the bottle. "I'll buy," Dean offered. "Just pick the girl."
"I don't wanna pick the girl, Dean. I don't want a dance," Sam insisted, slightly wanting the dance.
"Who do you want Sam? Want me to get Holiday back?"
"No."
"Somebody else then?"
"No."
"How about the chick on stage?"
"No."
"Then the girl in the light up cowboy hat."
"No."
"She's got an Australian accent."
"No."
"Then we'll find a school girl, the studious type, somebody more your style."
"NO."
"Catholic school uniform? With a ruler?"
"Dean…"
"Come on… Sammy's been bad?"
"No, Dean!"
"Fine," Dean glanced at Sam's beer bottle. The kid was still using it to keep himself down. Dean leaned over the table, skipped the middle man, and spoke directly to Sam's cock. "Sorry little buddy, can't say I didn't try." Dean reached out his beer and chinked it into Sam's bottle. "Cheers, little dude!"
Sam turned, quickly putting together what Dean was doing, then shifted his body defensively away in a huff. Dean cracked up and went back to drinking his beer.
"So," Lorie began as both brothers registered she was standing in front of them. "Do you always talk to your brother's dick, or just in strip clubs?" She asked. Sam covered his face with his hand and sunk into the chair mortified.
"Strip clubs and comedy clubs," Dean returned without missing a beat. "We've got a great stand up act worked out. Wanna see?" Dean leaned over the table again. "Knock knock."
"Dean!" Sam stood up.
"What?" Dean questioned, playing it confused. "More stage fright?" Lorie smiled and tried not to laugh for Sam's sake.
"No! Er… you just…" Sam fidgeted awkwardly. "I was…"
"Just about to go get another beer?" Lorie finished for him as she stepped forward, took his beer out of his hands, and began to drink it. Sam tilted his head slightly, then caught on.
"Uh… yeah." Thankful for the excuse to leave, Sam took off towards the bar. Dean looked over at Lorie as she strategically sat in Sam's chair, and sipped from the small remainder that was left in his bottle.
"Now what'd you go helping him out like that for?" Dean asked with a smirk.
"I thought that's why you brought him here, so we could help him?"
"Well yeah, but… can't I have some fun too?" Dean grinned.
"Oh… you'll have fun. Trust me."
Dean leaned over the table again, this time to check Lorie out. She was wearing a black halter style top, and tight fitting jeans that cut off at the ankle to reveal strappy silver heels. She looked hot, but it wasn't your usual stripper work outfit. "You look…." Dean began.
"Overdressed?" She finished.
"I didn't wanna to say anything."
"Yeah well, turns out I'm not working tonight."
"Oh," Dean said not even remotely hiding his disappointment.
"Don't worry, I've got you covered."
"Who was worried?" Dean said leaning across the table. It was a small gap between them, and Dean closed it quickly. She turned and smirked slightly at his blatant forwardness. Then someone standing above them cleared his throat. Both Dean and Lorie looked up to see Sam, back already, new beer in hand, looming above them.
"That was fast," Dean said, slightly thrown by the interruption.
"Lola was at the bar…" Sam said uneasily. "So um… I uh…"
"Lola's pretty," Lorie commented.
"Yeah… she's uh… taller than me," Sam mentioned uncomfortably, retreating back to his small, fast sips of beer.
"Well, that happens with eight inch heels," she returned.
"It wasn't the heels." Sam concluded. Lorie reached a hand up towards him.
"I'm Lorie, by the way." Sam grabbed hold with his beer free hand and shook it lightly.
"Sam."
"Yeah I know, uh…" she faltered as Sam seemed surprised at her response, then she continued, "Dean mentioned."
"Oh, yeah."
"It's good to meet you."
"Yeah, you too. Um… thanks for inviting us."
"No problem." She smiled. Sam looked off towards the stage, caught sight of the cowboy clad stripper pushing herself into the pole, then turned away quickly.
"Pull up another chair, bro," Dean offered in an honest attempt to aid Sam's awkwardness.
"What? Um… no… thanks. I'm gonna go find my own table, I'll… I'll see you guys." With that, Sam turned and walked away. Dean and Lorie exchanged a glance, then Dean jumped up and headed after him.
"Sam!" Dean caught him quickly with a hand on the shoulder. Sam turned around. "Sam, come on…" Dean argued, "you don't have to go sit by yourself."
"You don't get it Dean. I just…" Sam dropped his words unsure of what to say. "Just…" He gazed past Dean, back at Lorie, then looked at his brother. "Go be with Lorie," he finished, then he turned and walked away.
Both Dean and Lorie watched as Sam made his way to the extreme opposite corner, found a table far from the stage, yet close to the exit, then sat down. There was a hint of un-admitted concern in both their faces. Dean sighed and took a swig of his beer; he wasn't expecting Sam to just dismiss himself like that. Lorie got up and came over to him. She stood silently next to him for a bit, then ventured to ask.
"How's he doing?"
"I don't know," Dean answered flatly and honestly. Lorie turned to him, studied him briefly, then…
"You're worried about him," she said. Dean glanced at her uncomfortably.
"He'll be fine," Dean insisted, then he turned and stared off at the stage, purposefully avoiding. Lorie continued to watch Sam.
"Let me talk to him," she suggested. Dean sighed. He knew it: she liked the tall, dark, and brooding type.
"Sure," he gave in, "if you think it'll help." Picking up the tone in his voice, Lorie put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to look at her.
"Hey, he's just a kid," she assured him. "And I can tell already you're not gonna enjoy yourself if he's moping in the corner all night." Dean gave in, she was right. He'd practically forced Sam to be here, but if he really was going to sit in the corner and be his usual antisocial self, Dean knew his mind would always be half on his brother, even once he was drunk.
"Yeah," he granted permission, "but… what are you gonna say to him?"
"Stuff. I'll take care of it."
"Okay," he gave in without additional question.
"Now… let's take care of you," she smirked.
Dean raised an eyebrow as Lorie flagged over one of the working girls. The girl slowly and sexily made her way over. She was petite and even with her six inch heels stood almost half a head shorter than Dean. Unlike Lorie, she was wearing the standard stripper garb. Purple thong underwear, matching bra top, and a thin sexy chain link belt that hung off her waist with a glitter. All this was clearly visible through the sheer, low cut dress she wore over it. She ran her hands up her waist to her chest, and adjusted her top in a manner that appropriately presented her smooth, full breasts. Which, Dean couldn't help but notice, were sparkled with a very fine glitter.
"This is Juliet," Lorie introduced. "She'll take care of you while I talk to Sam."
"Uh…" Dean began at a loss for words.
"Come on Romeo," Juliet said slyly, then took his hand and without another word lead him away. Juliet took Dean up the curving stairs and into the balcony. She approached the railing, turned one of the chairs to face away from it, then pushed him down into it. Dean turned around and looked over the railing far below at Lorie. Lorie smiled and waved telling him basically to go ahead and enjoy himself. With that, Juliet slid into his lap, and a slightly startled Dean turned back to his seductress. Lorie continued to watch for a moment, the couple's action clearly in view from the floor, then she turned and looked at Sam.
Sam rolled his beer bottle between in his hands as he stared up at the balcony. His glare fixed on his brother's every move. He was clearly annoyed. Lorie smiled and headed toward the bar.
Juliet sat in Dean's lap making small talk. Although he was very interested in whatever she had to say, he was also not interested at all. She had long crimped blonde hair with thick cut bangs, and his thoughts were transfixed on its length, its waviness, and well… the way it sort of made her look like a mermaid. Sure her name was Juliet, not Madison, but if Juliet the mermaid was currently sitting on Dean's lap chatting up a storm, and pretty much preparing to take her top off at any second, then… whatever.
"Do you live around here, or are you from out of town?" She asked.
"Just passing through," he responded.
"Cool, me too! I mean, ya know, in a couple of years."
"Uh… sure." He nodded, then wondered if she could breathe under water. "Um… you're very… shimmery," he mentioned, eyeing her silver sparkled breasts.
"Thanks! It's sugar glitter," she said, running a finger down her chest. "It's edible!" She stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked the glitter from it. Dean's eyes went wide, as his dick went hard, and he considered using his brother's beer bottle trick.
Just then the song changed. She smiled, pulled off her dress, popped off her top releasing her breasts into the night, and Dean could have cared less how hard she knew he was. After all, she was a working girl doing her job. Why should he try to hide it if she was good at her job.
Sam continued to watch the progression of events in the balcony as he chugged the remainder of his beer. He placed the empty bottle onto the table and tipped it back and forth, catching it in one hand, then the other, his eyes never leaving the balcony. Sam grabbed the bottle with both hands and squeezed it hard.
He's not doing anything wrong. He's not. He just wanted one night out. One night away from all the shit we have to deal with. One night away from all of my shit. Sam's chest shook slightly as he exhaled, and he wished his beer was full. What am I doing? He's gonna end up hating me. It's exactly what you're so afraid of, and you're steering him into it. Sam's thoughts paused for a second as his head slipped into a blank void. He shook it off. No! Stop over-thinking. Stop making excuses for him. You didn't want to be here. You didn't…
Sam glanced around at some of the girls. At the heaps of guys relaxed back into their chairs, sunk deep into the upholstery, beer in hand, girl in lap. Why can't that be me? Why can't I take a night off. One fucking night? Sam looked to the balcony. Dean was slumped back into his chair, beer loosely in hand, breasts hovering above him. He seemed so comfortable, so in his element, not a worry on his mind. Why is it always so fucking easy for him?
"Hey, mind if I sit?" Sam turned to find Lorie.
"Aren't you supposed to be with Dean?" He questioned.
"Later, he's uh… he'll be okay for now." She glanced upstairs. "I don't think he'll miss me."
"No, doesn't look like it," Sam said bitterly. Lorie took that as her cue to join him. She sat down and placed a tray onto the table. It contained two rows of shot glasses. Sam looked at it, then looked at her.
"That's ambitious," he said raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah well, I was sort of hoping you'd help me with it."
"Not really my thing," he said.
"I'm getting the feeling this whole place isn't your thing."
"No, not really," he said bluntly.
"Your brother seems okay, though."
"Ya think?" Sam said sarcastically.
"You don't like him very much… do you?" Sam was slightly caught off guard by her question.
"I…" he looked away struggling with it, then turned back to her. "He's my brother," was all Sam managed.
"Yeah," she said, a tone of understanding in her voice. She reached down, picked up the first shot, and downed it. As she shook off its affect Sam looked on. He glanced at his empty beer, then at the small empty glass as she turned it upright and placed it down on the tray.
"What was that?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Kamikaze," she responded. "It sounds strong, but it's actually pretty light." Sam nodded, not saying anything. "I did get one for you." She pointed at the double rows of shots. "I got five different kinds, two of each, sort of like the Noah's Arc of shots." Sam smiled. Slightly interested, he leaned forward and looked at the kamikaze designated for him. "It's not that strong," she insisted. "Honest."
Sam stayed silent, picked it up, glanced into the balcony, then downed it. He swallowed, forgetting to breathe for a moment, then exhaled calmly.
"That… was actually good," he admitted in a surprised tone as he placed the glass upside down next to hers.
"It's mostly lemon and triple sec. Wanna do another?"
"Uh… sure," Sam gave in.
"Together?" She suggested grabbing one of the next pair. Sam hesitated briefly, then picked up his second. She nodded and they simultaneously downed the shots. This one was strong and burned as it slid down Sam's throat. He squinted and wheezed as he flipped the glass over.
"Geez, okay, that wasn't like the first one," he commented pinching the bridge of his nose.
"No, that was straight 151 Rum," she admitted, seeming to have no trouble recovering from it.
"Okay," Sam giggled a little and shook his head.
"Now," she leaned closer to him, "what do you really think of your brother?"
- - -
"So, what do you really think of my breasts?" Juliet asked out of nowhere.
"Excuse me?" Dean questioned.
"You seem like an honest, straight forward kind of guy."
"Uh… sure."
"I just got these." She pushed her breasts into his face and rubbed her hands over them, lifted them off her chest, and pressed them together. "What do you think? Honest opinion."
"Um… I like 'em," Dean responded slightly dreamy eyed. "They're… breasty."
"Ya think?" She danced them up and down into his face letting her shimmery skin caress his nose on each upward movement. Dean's eyes crossed slightly as he tried to focus on the beautiful objects which were so pleasantly close to his face. She continued to chat. "I mean… I wanted them to be big, but still perky. Do you think they're big and perky?"
"Oh yeah… definitely… big yet perky."
"Thanks! They were really expensive…" She ran her fingers through his hair, intentionally messing it up as the music hit a crescendo. "I figured they'd be a good investment, but I also considered spending the money on shoes. I just love cute shoes!"
"Who doesn't," Dean said as he continued to not look at her shoes.
"Do you think I made the right choice?"
"Totally, breasts are always the right choice," Dean stated with conviction. "Besides, they're for work, so you can write them off as a business expense."
"Wow! I never thought of that! You're really smart!"
"Yeah, that's what the strippers tell me."
"I can see why," she smiled, then turned fully around. "Wanna smack my ass?"
- - -
Sam slammed down his fourth empty shot.
"He's such an ass!" Sam bitched, his voice wavering. "He's just… sometimes… I don't know what the fuck he's thinking. It's like… he's not thinking." Sam listened to himself talk as he wondered why it felt so okay, almost fun, to say whatever came into his head. He glanced at the small clear glass he had just put down. Lorie placed hers next to it. "What was that one?" Sam asked, feeling a bit warm.
"Goldschlager," Lorie returned calmly.
"Oh," Sam grabbed onto the sides of the table and let his head sway lightly in the direction the room was starting to move. "Is that why it had the little gold flecks in it?" he questioned innocently.
"Pretty much," she answered.
"But it wasn't real gold though… right?" he asked.
"No," she said laughing slightly. Sam smiled, then returned his eyes to the balcony. Any fun he might have been having came to a stop as he eyed his brother enjoying the half naked girl in his lap.
"Who the fuck does Dean think he is telling me what to do all the time?" Sam blurted out of nowhere. "I just…" He clinched the table till his knuckles turned white. "I hate the way he treats me. The way he so totally knows how to play me. To always talk me into doing what he wants. I mean, I'm smarter than that! Hell, I'm smarter than him! Shit," Sam said with a rough breath as Lorie simply let him rant. "He just… Dean just… he's always gotta be the one in control!"
- - -
"Sure I'd let you tie me up," Dean said with an alluring smile to the beautiful lady on top of him. "I mean, if that's what you're into."
"I was only asking for fun," she said, shaking her hips rapidly. "The club won't actually let us do stuff like that. And yeah, I'm into it," she added with a hair toss and a nipple pinch.
With that, Juliet turned around on his lap, and began to slowly and sensually swing her ass in his face for two or three beats of the music. She then swung back around and moved her breasts full on into his face, swaying and bouncing their softness close enough for him to taste, and if he thought he could get away with it, he would have. Instead, Dean settled for their sweet succulent smell. He shut his eyes briefly. Ah… stripper, he thought with a lengthy inhale.
They were already on their second song, and as Dean sunk deep into the cushions and clung excitedly to the arms of his chair, he found himself praying the music wouldn't end anytime soon. He would have preferred she be swaying to the slowly sedating beat of Led Zeppelin's Kashmir, timing in at a lengthy eight minutes and twenty-eight seconds, but if a techno-y remix version of Ace of Base's, All That She Wants was the disc the DJ had slapped on, he'd get over it because, hey… dancing breasts! Dean moved his shoulders and tapped his foot ever so slightly to the beat.
"You like this song?" She asked.
"I do now," Dean agreed.
"I love it and hate it," she commented, keeping up the hard work. "The DJ plays it all the time so it's stuck in my head like constantly."
"Sounds painful." He smirked. She glanced down at him. He was incredibly good looking, and although she tried to resist, she momentarily got sucked in by… the smile.
"You're really cute," she admitted. "You know that?"
"Yeah, yeah I do." Dean's smirk widened, as he became fairly pleased with himself. She giggled and rolled her eyes away, and Dean suddenly realized, he was in. He had about a four second window. "So um… can I ask you something?"
"Sure," she answered easily.
"Well… I was just kind of wondering… where does the stripper smell come from?" Dean briefly looked up and sheepishly made eye contact with her.
"Huh?" She questioned, sort of confused.
"You know…" Dean explained. "All strippers sort of have the same… distinct… alluring… arousing… smell. What's up with that?"
"Um… that's a good question," she paused to think, knowing exactly the smell he was talking about. "I don't know. I guess we each have our own perfume… and some girls use baby powder, and oils. It all just sort of mixes together back in the changing room. So… maybe when we walk through it?" She finally concluded.
"Mmmm… fascinating…" Dean responded casually, as thoughts of backstage nakedness floated through his head.
I did it! He triumphed internally. I penetrated the Stripper Code of Secrecy! I am a god among men! Naked women brushing into each other's misty, mixed up, girly smell! I finally have the answer!
- - -
He doesn't have the answer!" Sam continued to rant. "He thinks he does, but he doesn't! He doesn't know me! I mean… who the hell does he think he is?" Sam slammed a fist to the table causing the small empty glasses to rattle. "He's my brother, not my fucking father! Who, by the way, I don't listen to! So if I don't listen to what my Dad tells me to do, then why the fuck do I keep listening to Dean?" Without prompting, Sam grabbed his final shot, and downed it. Lori looked on slightly surprised.
"Uh… Sam."
"Ya know, I didn't want to be here tonight. But I came… and why?" Sam threw his arms up aimlessly. "I have no fucking idea! Dean just expected me to. He didn't give a flying fuck about what I wanted. He never gives a shit about what I want, or don't want. And I'm suppose to just shut up and take it? Why the fuck does he think he can treat me like… like a fucking kid? Like his employee?"
"Maybe 'cause you let him," Lorie suggested.
"What?"
"Sam, look," Lorie finally piped in, "if you didn't want to come tonight, why didn't you just tell him that?"
"I did tell him!" Sam shouted though the music.
"Then why are you here?" She asked pointedly.
Sam began to speak, then stopped himself and looked away. He tightened his lips and stared off with a slightly pained look in his eyes. His moral dropped as he thought about what was really on his mind, what he actually wanted from Dean, to say to Dean. As he held in all he was feeling, Sam leaned his elbows onto the small table and let his face fall into his hands. He pressed his finger tips hard into his temples as his thoughts began to spin with his head. Finally, Sam let one of his hands drop onto the drink tray, and he grabbed the last shot, Lorie's shot.
"Uh… Sam?" Lorie said, eyeing him. Before she could do anything, Sam downed his sixth shot and stood. He took two steps forward, then stopped to steady himself as he continued with his new obsession of staring into the balcony. He eyed Dean with venom.
Sometimes I hate him… I just - I want - I want to punch the shit out of him until he gets it - gets what he does to me, how angry he makes me, how…
Sam stood with clenched fists, then something shifted.
Ed was supposed to fix this. He was supposed to fucking fix this. But it's not fixed. It's fucking the same. Exactly fucking the same. I just wanna go up to Dean and… I wanna… I just wanna… tell him… I…
Sam's fists loosened. He stared down at the top of his right hand; it was shaking. He pulled it shut again and glanced back up at Dean, feeling only hurt. He couldn't go up there.
Aw fuck… why do you have to make it so hard, Dean? Why can't you just… I just…
A condensed darkness settled in Sam's chest as his anger rushed back at him. He turned it inward and quickly retreated to the spot he had come to dwell in so consistently… avoidance.
Sam stood still in a room full of movement as loud music, thick smoke, jumbled talking, and raw emotion swirled around him, penetrated through him, and finally claimed him in a way that just…
I need to do something wrong. I need to do something fucking wrong.
Sam staggered slightly, then moved straight for the exit, practically running out of the club.
"Sam?" Lorie raised her voice as she stood up truly surprised by Sam's action. "Fuck," she blurted under her breath. She had expected Sam to move towards Dean, not away from him.
The soft smooth skin of Juliet's breasts nudged against his nose in a repetitive push, bringing the previously mentioned stripper smell to full capacity. Dean sat back and enjoyed it for the length of the song. Six full songs had come and gone, and as Juliet was about to move into her seventh, Dean snapped out of his desires and realized just how long she had been dancing for him. This is incredible, he thought. I really need to remember to make friends with more strippers.
"Mind if I slow down a bit?" Juliet asked as the music changed. "I'm not used to doing this many songs in a row."
"Sure," Dean said. "Whatever you need."
"Really?" She asked hesitantly. "In that case, maybe I'll sit this one out completely, and then start up on the next song. Would that be okay?"
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I'm impressed you've gone as long as you have."
"Thanks," she said huffing down into his lap with relief, as she pulled her bra top back on. "I was up for the challenge, but honestly, ten dances is a lot to do all in once stretch."
"Ten dances?"
"Yeah, that's what your girlfriend paid me for."
"Girlfriend?" Dean questioned sort of confused.
"Yeah, the brunette. She paid me for ten in advance."
"Wait," Dean said sitting himself upright, "she's not my girlfriend. She works here."
"No she doesn't."
"Yeah, her name is Lorie. I only just met her. Maybe she's new or something but she said…"
"Listen, I don't know what she told you, but it's a small club, I know all the girls. She doesn't work here."
"Uh…" A weird shiver ran through Dean as he shifted around in his seat and scanned the floor for Lorie. There was no sign of her, and as he continued to search, he slowly realized there was also no sign of Sam. "What the fuck?" He questioned as he stood, absentmindedly pushing Juliet off of him in the process. He grabbed onto the railing of the balcony and leaned forward far enough to get a look at the bar below him.
"She's gone," Juliet said from behind him.
"What?" Dean questioned turning around.
"The girl who paid me, she left with some tall kid."
"Sam," Dean mumbled under his breath.
"You know him?"
"My brother."
"They were sitting together at the far back table," she said pointing. "He ran out at some point, and she followed him."
"How long ago?" Dean asked, his panic rising.
"Couple of songs?" She shrugged.
"Fuck," Dean blurted and moved past her.
"Is everything okay?"
"I don't know," he said heading towards the stairs, "but I gotta go."
"Wait! You still have four dances left!" She shouted after him. Dean paused momentarily on the stairs, then cursed to himself and kept moving. He rushed through the lower level towards the exit, and stopped again as he caught sight of the table which Sam and Lorie had been sitting at; it was covered in empty, upturned shot glasses.
Sam, he thought with concern. You fucking lightweight. What sort of trouble did I get you into this time? "Damn it!" He cursed as he ran down the hall toward the lobby.
This girl had flat out lied to him, and had lied to get to Sam. Why? As Dean ran, he slowly recalled everything since their first words in the diner. The way she had noticed Sam, the way she insisted he bring Sam along. Then how she had convinced him to leave Sam alone with her, and how he had foolishly and blindly allowed himself to be led upstairs and distracted. Ten dances! Dean realized. What the fuck were you thinking? How could you be so fucking stupid?
"FUCK!" He yelled, pushing into a hard run. "I should have known Lorie wasn't a stripper, she didn't have the stripper smell!
Sam had run straight to the Impala. Well, as straight as he could run being shit-faced drunk. Sitting, he had felt mostly fine, but standing, and then moving, had made the effects of the alcohol fully clear to him. He tripped into the driver side of the car, fumbled with the keys Dean had so trustingly handed him, then managed to get them into the lock. Once inside he pulled the door shut, promptly locking himself in. His breath ran heavy, eyes involuntarily closing and opening as he shook off some of what he was feeling. He fumbled with the keys again, this time managing to get them into the ignition. Before he could turn them, he heard a hard knock on the window, and somebody shouting his name.
"Sam! Sam, what are you doing?" Sam turned to his left to find Lorie, stooping forward, pressing her hands to the glass of the driver side window. I don't want her here, he thought. He gripped the wheel hard as a dizzying wave shifted through his head.
"Go away!" He yelled before it could pass, then went back to his keys.
"Sam, open the door, we need to talk," she said calmly through the glass.
"No!" He argued without turning. "No more talking. Just…" Sam paused losing his train of thought temporarily. "Leave me alone!" He recovered, then opened his eyes to realize she was trying the back door. Sam lashed out at all of the locks, slamming his hand on them, making sure no one could get to him, then he turned the keys, starting the car.
"Sam, you're drunk! Really drunk," Lorie shouted through the window. "You can't drive!" Sam held his head steady as the external moving continued to pulse through his head like a slow shock wave.
"That's the idea," he said with an intent filled tone, then shifted the car into gear, and stepped on the gas.
Dean pushed past the bouncer, ran by the coat check, and shoved out the door into the dimly lit night. He stumbled a few awkward steps, then quickly scanned the area. The lot was deserted. Another shiver shot up his spine as his eyes held on the far corner. He touched the pocket where he usually kept his keys, remembering.
"Fuck!"
The Impala was gone.
Okay - so no holding back this time!
I wanna to hear from you - I NEED to hear from you. Gotta be honest - I've been working on and looking forward to this chapter for a really long time - so please - please - please post a review if you liked it.
If you always post a review - if you've never posted a review - if you secretly love Ace of Base - I wanna hear from you!
Was I pathetic enough? Are you hitting the button?
PS - For those of you reading Decisions In Blood - there will be a chapter 3. You reviewed me into it!