Chapter 2
Chris stared out the cab's window, his forehead pressed up against the glass. A light drizzle was coming down just hard enough to cover the windows with tiny beads of water that raced each other down the pane.
Chris fiddled with the buttons on his trench coat, sighing dejectedly. T.J. sat beside him, singing loudly to "Take My Breath Away", and gesticulating wildly.
"Do you ever shut up?" Chris snapped, alarmed at his own terseness.
"Oh, nervous, are we?" T.J. ridiculed, halting his off-key wailing.
"No." Chris shot back, though it was obvious that he was lying.
"Don't worry about it man, you'll be so wasted you wont even know what's going on."
"That's what I'm worried about." Chris muttered under his breath. Luckily T.J. hadn't heard him and went back to belting out Berlin.
Chris rubbed his forehead where it had been stuck to the glass and buried his face in his hands, running them up slowly through his hair. He sucked air in through his teeth and released it through his nose. The cab drew to a halt and the tired skidded on the wet tar.
T.J. reached over and dragged Christopher out of the cab. He threw the driver a fifty and with a wink and click of the tongue he said, "Keep the change." Chris shrugged his shoulders to push his coat up higher, covering his neck. The light rain was covering his skin with a thin sheet of dampness. He looked up at the bright sign of the Red Windmill, its huge electric lights blurring in the rain. There was already a long line forming outside the club, and a loud, pulsing techno beat emanating from inside.
T.J. pushed Chris from behind so he tripped onto the street. "Hurry up stupid-I've got instant access to the front of the line!" Chris begrudgingly jogged after T.J. tot he front. The bouncer was a mean looking man, about 6' 4" and very beefy. He wore a tight black no sleeved shirt and had large tattoos on his biceps. He would have been intimidating to almost anyone, but not T.J.
He strolled right up to the bouncer and smiled widely. "Party of 15 under the name "JAMES"." He said with a fake-not to mention very poor-British accent. "The rest are coming later." He said casually when the bouncer looked at them strangely. Then to Chris in a hushed whisper he hissed, "I got you the best of the best buddy." Chris rolled his eyes and looked down at the spotted pavement. The bouncer grunted and checked his clipboard, flipping through dozens o papers until he paused on one.
"James, Christopher. VIP room....ID?" He said in a low, gravelly voice. Chris thrust his ID into the bouncer's meaty hand. The man put it under a flashlight and examined it with his beady, hawk like eyes. "You're ok." He announced at last, handing Chris his ID card. Chris jammed it back into his pocket and continued looking down. When T.J. had at last received the stamp of approval, they were ushered into a private door and down a wide, lavishly decorated hallway. Chris could hear the pulsing music from the other side of the wall, stubbornly deciding that it was too loud.
"The rest of the guys will LOVE this!" T.J. said excitedly, surveying the high ceilings and fancy walls. The woman who was leading them pointed in the direction of two large wooden doors. She opened them and allowed Chris and T.J. to walk inside. Chris stared in awe, feeling like royalty. The VIP room was ENORMOUS, and the walls were covered in a red, pillow-like material. T.J. bent down and ran his fingers over the wall to wall black carpeting.
"Velvet." He whispered, standing up again. There was a large circular sectional leather sofa in the middle of the room, with chenille throws on the arms. In every corner of the room there were perfectly placed curtains pinned to the ceiling and underneath them, small glass tables with large bowls full of condoms. The implication made Chris slightly queasy.
"I expect there will be more of you coming?" The woman asked, snapping the two awe-struck men out of their daze.
"Yes." T.J. said, closing the door. Chris barely had time to yell "thank you!" before it slammed in her face.
Chris scanned the room again, and looked at T.J. He was fairly well off, but he was far from rich. "How did you afford all this?" Chris asked, completely disregarding all politeness.
"I have connections." T.J. said sneakily, falling back onto the couch and closing his eyes. Chris's eyes wandered to a hallway full of doors off of their enormous room. Most likely bedrooms.
"Connections?" He asked T.J. turning around after a few minutes of silence.
"Yeah, dude, connections." T.J.'s voice was slightly slurred and he was holding a glass of some greenish liquid. "Whoa, dude, they serve Absinthe here! That's like, illegal or something!" His voice cracked and he downed the rest of his drink.
Chris rolled his eyes and sat down, fidgeting uncomfortably. Moments later, he heard voices nearing the door, and his friends entered, talking loudly.
"Chris!" One of them shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "How's the party so far! VIP room baby!" His friend slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder and jumped onto the couch, flinging his hat across the room.
"Where are the hookers? I want some action!" Another guy yelled.
"Keep your pants on for just a few more minutes gentlemen, they're coming." T.J. slurred, walking crookedly over to them.
"Dude, how many shots of Vodka did you have?" A guy in a Yankees hat asked.
"Only three, Jake, but not of vodka....ABSINTHE!!!!!" He held up a full glass, some liquid spilling out. Then he lowered it to his mouth and finished the whole thing. "Make that-hic-four." He said, searching in his pocket for a cigarette lighter.
Before anyone could utter another word, the wall directly in front of them opened to reveal 15 posed stripper/hookers, one for each guy. Chris surveyed all of them, but his eyes stopped on the woman in the middle of the group. She had obviously natural red hair that curled gently around her shoulders, glittering with implanted rhinestones and sparkles. She was wearing a lacy black bodice and a matching thong. About halfway up her long legs were black suede boots with a 6-inch heel. A few men whistled as the hookers swayed their hips, slowly making their way over.
Chris's pulse raced as the red-head stopped in front of him. "So are you the lucky guy?" She said seductively, running her fingers through his hair. He gulped, his throat suddenly very dry.
"Y-yes." He whispered.
"Well come on then." She grabbed his hand and began leading him to one of the bedrooms. Chris tried to drag his feet, his mind racing, working up any way to slow her down.
Their bedroom had a large four poster bed in the center, a black and red velvet canopy hanging loosely from the top. The walls were once again cushioned with same pillow material as the main room, but this time in gold. The floor was polished wood with an Oriental rug near the foot of the bed. The bed sheets on the large King-size bed were pitch black.
Chris fumbled in his pocket for the crumpled poem he had stuffed in it before they left the house. Maybe if he read it now, he wouldn't have to sleep with her, and T.J. might even get his money back. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep with her, he just didn't want his first time to be with a hooker at his bachelor party. But he also didn't want it to be with a woman he didn't love on his wedding night, so maybe it made no difference. But something still didn't feel right. Beads of sweat began to gather at the edge of his hairline as he grew more and more nervous.
"Oh loverboy...you ready?" She called from the bed. He cleared his throat.
"D-do you want me to read you a poem first?" He could have kicked himself, he sounded so stupid.
She smiled seductively. "Ooh..."poetry"...yes, that's what I want, naughty words." Chris was confused, but anything to delay they actual sex was good enough.
"Um, alright." He pulled the wrinkly paper from his pocket, unfolding it with shaking hands. "um..." He started, clearing his throat again.
"Are you going to come over here or not?" She called from behind a velvet curtain. Cautiously, Chris inched over tot he bed, sitting on the edge of the sheets. Just when he was about to read, he felt two hands wrap around him and begin undoing his shirt. He shot up and turned around, gasping when he saw the woman.
"S-sarah!" He sputtered, finally remembering the name T.J. had mentioned to him before. "Y-you're not wearing anything!" His voice was unnaturally high. Quickly he unbuttoned his shirt and held it out in front of her, blocking his view.
"Finally we're getting somewhere." Sarah whispered, getting up off the bed. Chris backed further away.
"P-put it on or something!" He yelled, shaking the shirt and backing further away. She reached out and took the shirt from him. He sighed with relief but yelped when she threw it to the floor.
Chris put his hand in front of his face and stumbled backwards, falling into a large circular chair. Before he could move, Sarah was on top op of him, gyrating her hips.
"Let's hear those words...speak to me." She demanded in a throaty whisper, clawing at his undershirt.
"Alright!" He yelled, pushing her off him and stumbling across the room and re-zipping his fly. He unraveled the paper, but before he could read, Sarah burst out laughing.
"You meant REAL poetry!" She choked out, laughing hysterically. Chris made a smug face.
"Of course I mean "real poetry"!" He said indignantly. Sarah stopped laughing and looked up.
"But why? You're friend bought you the best hooker AND the VIP room, and all you want to do is read poetry?" She snorted.
Chris's ears burned as he felt his face grow hot. "Um...my-my friend said that your manager was...um, looking for playwrights, and I wondered if he could give me the job." Sarah's face lit up.
"You write plays?" She asked hopefully.
"I write all kinds of things, plays being one of them, yes." He answered, turning to face her but remembering that she was naked and turning quickly away.
"I want to be an actress...but, well..." She pulled a blanket up around her. "It's alright, I'm covered now." She said exasperatedly.
Chris turned, relieved, and sat down on the foot of the bed. "Do you think he would give me the job?" He asked.
"I dunno. I hope so...you seem very talented." She said softly, smiling. Chris was unable to breath for a split second when he saw her smile.
Sarah stood up and Chris shielded his eyes as she put on his shirt, buttoning the buttons all the way to the top. "Let's go ask him." She announced.
"What, now?" He asked stupidly.
"Yes now...let's go." She led him out of the room and down the hallway. "I don 't think your friends will miss you too much." She noted, smiling. Chris kept his mouth shut for fear of saying something terribly stupid. Sarah stopped short when they reached a door off the VIP room that said "Mr. Harry Z. Idler" and reached for the doorknob.
"I must warn you that Harry's a but eccentric, but don 't let that scare you, he's really quite a nice guy." She put her hand up and knocked four times against the wood.
For a moment there was no sound from the other end, and Chris felt disappointed, but his spirits lifted immensely when a faint, "Come in, Cherub." Sounded from the other side.
Sarah turned the knob, and the door opened.
A/n: Cliffie! Hahaha. I know a real guy wouldn't be like Chris, but I wanted to uphold the sincere naivete that Christian had in the movie so there you go. More when I have 10 reviews or more.