Missed Your Lips

Chapter 1 - Dreams


Yeah, that’s how most of my naps end, with a freaky dream and lots of sweat. Opening my eyes I realize that I’m still on the couch at the club. The pulsing beat from outside signals that the club is open and ready for business. I put my hand to my forehead, finding my bangs stuck in the sweaty mess. Sitting up, I noticed that the sweat is not only on my head, but my t-shirt is soaked too. Good thing I work in a strip club, I can remove my sweaty shirt without causing a commotion.

Tossing it into a large hamper in the dressing room, I start to search through the collection of costumes for something to wear behind the bar. I may work in a strip club, but that doesn’t mean I have to remove my clothes for the men. I choose to pour the drinks that keep the money rolling in. The more the men drink, the more bills get lost in the g-strings, and the girls give me a tip as thanks.

I find a nice pantsuit that is unworn. It’s a simple midriff-bearing vest with low-rise pants in a nice dark gray pinstripe that should do the trick. However, it leaves little to the imagination, and no room for undergarments. Oh well, I need good tips. I just hope I don’t show more flesh than the women on stage.

“Synna? You in here?” said a voice from behind the changing room door.

“Yeah! I’m decent!” I yelled back.

My boss was a funny man, not what you’d picture for the manager of a strip club. He was the size of bear, literally. Well, he didn’t look brutish, he was just a big man. His black hair was worn long and straight, always secured with a black leather tie. His wardrobe consisted of black shirts, black jeans, and black shoes. He really looked more like a bouncer than a manager. But he was clean, honest, and he actually cared about the girls that worked for him. You see, our group is a little special.

These are troubling times with many wars fought on many fronts. Those fighting in the wars have become specialized soldiers by adding cybernetic parts to their human bodies. It was reported that over fifty percent of the male population has served in the recent wars. For those not serving, cybernetic parts became a status symbol. Yet it was strictly forbidden for women to serve in the military or to receive these “upgrades”. The men making the policies decided that it would only hurt the prosperity of our civilization, and possibly kill off our species, to let women have false bodies like the men.

With this onslaught of cyberization, it became harder for women to protect themselves from attacks. Once many of the soldiers finished their tours of duty, the women discovered that something was off. The men were different, and that caused many women to fear and reject them. It didn’t take long for the violence against women to rise to a new and bloody high. As a means of protection, many women illegally joined the cybernetic nation.

Now, because these parts were illegal, there were very few places we could be employed without getting caught. This club specifically employed only enhanced women, and I don’t mean in our feminine parts. To be a dancer, a body needed to have at least 25% cybernetic parts. For my job as a bartender, I was required to have fifty percent or more. (My boss preferred more.) The law did not regulate the more scandalous entertainment industries; they saw it as a relief for many of the men who served their country. It was their right to enjoy a woman whenever they pleased, without regard for the woman in question. As a former soldier of fortune, my boss, Vince, understood this very well.

I checked my appearance in the full-length mirror. I think it was the tightest outfit I had ever worn, and that’s saying a lot for this place. I was allowed to be comfortable, but comfort didn’t bring in the big bucks. Men wanted to see flesh, so that’s what they got.

Looking around for shoes, I couldn’t find anything shorter than six-inch platform heels. I crouched to dig through the piles when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Here,” Vince said, handing me a normal pair of boots with a nice three-inch heel. “You left these in my office last night.”

“Oh Goddess, thank you!” I sighed, taking the boots from his hands. I bent over to pull them on, then stood up again to straighten out my pants. Vince was standing behind me, smiling. “What?”

“Don’t take this personal,” he said just before grabbing the waist of my pants and yanking them up. “I don’t pay you enough to show that much ass”.

I coughed as the fabric found crevices I didn’t know existed. I started to say something when he grabbed the pants again, and turned me to face him. He leaned over, his face inches from mine. A faint hint of expensive cologne wafted past my nose, and I took in a deep breath. I could feel his fingers working around my waist, playing with the belt loops. I opened my mouth to protest, but Vince simply shot me a glare.

He turned me around again, this time to face the mirror, and I saw what he was doing. A bright red sash encircled my waist, and he was tying it off in the back to camoflauge what might become exposed. “This should keep your pants in line,” he said, looking at me through the mirror.

I smiled, then reached for the counter for my necklace. An well-designed platinum chain with two dog tags attached, it was the only part of my past that I physically owned. It was with me when I woke up from a cryo sleep that I hadn’t volunteered for. A name was engraved on the larger tag, one that I assumed was mine.

Vince took the necklace from my hands, placing it around my neck to clasp it from behind. “Tell me about your dream.”

I continued to watch him perform the delicate task of fastening my necklace. I had told him when I started that I had no previous work experience, at least none that I could report because my mind was a blank. He said that it was probably safer for me that way, getting a fresh start on life could be good for me. The only problem was it seemed my previous life was trying to invade my dreams, hence the crappy naps in a pool of sweat.

“Not much to tell. I was in a bookstore with a guy. I was buying a book, something about vampires, I think. Anyway we got separated, and I think I got kidnapped,” I said, going over it again in my mind. Vince didn’t need the extra details, especially the part that probably caused my heated reaction.

He nodded, a gentle flicker of understanding in his eyes. He could be very fatherly at times, but he could flip to the dark side if you weren’t careful. He was never aggressive with us, but I’d seen a few men who wished they had never walked into the club. Turning around, he slapped me on the hip, getting a squeal from me.

“Come on, I got a business to run, and you’ve got drinks to serve.”

~*~*~

Friday nights were my favorite. The businessmen hitting the club before going home to their little human homemakers were always amusing. They were a nice warm-up. They helped me get ready for the more hardcore customers who arrived later in the night. The only problem was there were no mixed drinks for bureaucrats. They merely sucked down a couple bottles of beer, then went along their merry ways, leaving only their business cards in my tip jar.

Around 11pm, the music changed. We typically start out with the rock music to help the girls get flexible. But once the repeat crowd comes in, it’s all trance, house, and electronic music, anything with a steady beat and hard bass undertones especially. I couldn’t help but move to the music sometimes, and the patrons seemed to like that. You have to realize that not everyone came here to see the nude dancers. Many came here because the cops had no jurisdiction in this area, so there was a very small chance that they would get hassled for coming to our establishment to get a drink.

On this particular night, Vince was helping me behind the bar because we were overstaffed on bouncers, so he wasn’t needed at the front door. I had two tall glasses of beer in my hand when a new patron took a seat directly in front of me. Apparently my brain was a piece that had been cybernetically enhanced because I could remember every face that came through the front door, and his was a face I had never seen within these walls. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had met before.

I winked in his direction, “What’ll ya have, sugar?”

Another fact I learned about men; they leave larger tips if you call them sweet names like baby, honey, or sugar. Personally I couldn’t stand such misleading statements, but I couldn’t afford to argue.

“Well, there’s a mug I’ve not seen in thirty years!” said a booming voice behind me that turned out to be Vince. He moved around the side of the bar, and grabbed the man into a huge bear hug. Not the biggest fan of male bonding, I moved on to a couple at the end of the bar.

~*~*~

“Who was that man?” I asked Vince while removing my boots.

We always concluded our nights by counting the cash in his office. I was responsible for the money from the bar, and he kept tabs on the cash coming from the girls. It was profitable for him because he hadn’t put a lot into it. Businesses like these take care of themselves nowadays, so all you actually needed were a few people to run it. I was the only bartender, and like tonight, Vince helped out on the busy nights. He employed a total of twenty girls who rotated between dancing on stage and serving drinks on the floor.

“I served with him years ago. We had similar business ventures that we teamed up for,” he said, stretching out in his reclining leather desk chair.

Looking up from the handful of cash, I said, “So he was a merc like you?”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that word. Makes our work sound so disreputable.”

“Well, that’s what you were. Dress it up however you want,” I stated, winking at him. “He was nice looking, for a brute.”

“No, don’t even think about it. It’s against office policy.”

I put the money in a deposit bag, and threw it at him. “Oh whatever, you just don’t want your girls to see other guys besides you.” I got up to look out the picture window. The city looked like it was covered in a film of green haze, reflected in the few working streetlights. “I’m going to stay here tonight, if that’s all right by you.”

“You sure? I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

“You live in the upstairs apartment, how could I possibly be alone?”

Vince approached the window next to me, and put an arm around my shoulder. I settled my head against his chest. He had taken care of me since I’d arrived. I had no family, no credit, no way to start over because I didn’t know from what point I was starting. Vince had provided me with an apartment in the neighborhood, and acted as my personal escort when I needed one.

“Vince, you said you hadn’t seen him in thirty years. Exactly how old are you?”

I looked up to him as he continued to stare out the glass, as if trying to remember his actual age. “If I calculate right, I think I’m close to sixty.”

I pushed away and slapped him on the arm. “And you’re full of shit! Seriously, how old are you?”

“Synna, the extras we add to our bodies help to prolong our lives by not only making us stronger in battle, but also by slowing down the aging process. I was twenty-five when I received my upgrades,” he said, running a hand through his loose hair.

I moved away from him, and walked to his office door. “I’ll go shut everything down, then hit the sack.” I started to leave, but thought of another question. “Um, Vince, I have your friend’s face registered now, but I don’t have his name to go with it.”

Vince closed his eyes, the skin on his forehead straining as if trying to remember some long forgotten information. “I never knew his real name. We only had call signs within the unit.”

“Ooo, how secretive!” I laughed. “What was your name?”

“My call sign was Viper, his was Blitz.”