Soiled

He was a regular at Purgatory, but few bartenders could ever recall his name. What they never seemed to forget, however, was the way the door would open every night at precisely a quarter till eleven, and it was as if someone had turned down the volume controls. Suddenly looking at the door and the man crossing its threshold was as dangerous as tampering with an untamed fire. The dancers slowed their frenzied grinding. Drunk, slobbering men became stone-clear. And the man in question walked in, seemingly-nonchalant. He would sit down at the bar in the seat with the best view of the stripper poles (which is always mysteriously left vacant an hour or so before eleven), order his Chopin with no olives, and on rare occasions, make a little small talk with Peter, who seemed to be his favorite bartender. “Peter,” he would say, with the slightest hint of a sigh, “You old stand-up.” Peter seemed to take this as a compliment, spreading his lips into a wiry smile before going to fill up a shot glass of vodka for his friend.

On a night like every other night, the man found himself sitting at the bar, alone save for the empty shot glass which he twiddled with in his left hand. Women slid up and down the poles with catlike lithe, their smooth legs exposed as they performed. A few of them had navel piercings, exposed and covered, exposed and covered teasingly as they moved. The song playing had a heavy rock edge to it. When it was over, he could see a light sheen of sweat covering their bodies, and their breasts shone through the sheer material. A few girls glanced his way, but he was disinterested.

“Another glass, Mr. Vitale?” A slow piano interlude had struck up. Vitale nodded but kept his eyes to the stage.

The girls were back and, to the dismay of the men, fully-clothed in several layers of schoolgirl uniforms. Since the melody was slow, their dance became in sync with the rhythm. With deliberate, painful slowness, they pressed their bodies against the poles and began removing their blouse, one…painful…button…at…a…time. Vitale watched in amusement as some of the men twitched in agony, his own cock swaying only slightly. Still, he wished the strippers would hurry up.

“Damn,” said a breathless Peter near his ear. He had come to join him, leaning over the bar with a shot glass of his own, an expression of torture in his face. “Cruel, aren’t they.”

“Be patient, Peter,” another bartender said, laughing. “Ah, there we go…” The strippers had now fully-removed their blouse, tossing them to the audience. There was a scurry to grab them.

“They’re all cruel,” said the other bartender. “But look at that one---no, on the far right.” He pointed to one with brown hair and eyes the color of melted toffee, who had only just removed her shirt and now wore a blank expression. “She’s particularly cruel. See the way she’s covering her chest with her arms?”

And she was. As the other strippers slipped out of their skirts, she looked around wildly. Someone yelled angrily in her direction, and she hastily dropped down her skirt, but taking full advantage of her arms to cover as much as possible.

Vitale laughed. The girl was obviously not intentionally being “cruel”. In fact, he wondered how long she had taken up the profession.

“She’s not new,” said Peter, reading his mind. “And you can tell, she’s not a high school whore needing money for a new pair of shoes. They say she’s one of the…” He lowered his voice. “....Carmen girls. Look at her. I think she’s poor, she has no choice…

“As if that’s an excuse!”

The men burst out in roars of laughter, clinking their glasses together. Several others had joined them now, and a man with a stubbly red beard said, “I could almost feel sorry for her, except she’s a Carmen girl. You know what they say about Carmen’s girls…” Another eruption of laughter.

Vitale frowned. “What do they say about Carmen’s girls?”

“Well, Mr. Vitale…” said Peter, frowning, “They’ve got sort of a notorious reputation as far as their kind goes. From what I heard, Carmen handpicks the girls from several different brothels. Others she finds on the streets. But—”

“They are all. Damn. Good. Fucks.” They laughed again, and Vitale felt comfortable enough to let in a few chuckles. He looked over to the brunette again, who was now shirtless, but blocking the view of her nipples (probably hard, thought Vitale with a smirk, because he was certainly very hard himself). He watched her slip a leg tentatively around the base of the pole. Nice leg it was, he thought. Not long but velvety and shapely. “Carmen”, whoever the hell, must have high standards.

“What’s her name?” Vitale asked, touching her with his eyes. The music seemed to drag on forever, but in his mind he was already fast forwarding, her clothes shed and left in a heap on the floor.

“I’m not quite sure.” But Vitale wasn’t listening.

A group of rough-looking men on the dance floor let out whistles and wagged their fingers suggestively towards the girl, and she stumbled, obviously alarmed. Vitale saw her eyes close, her lips trembling as she bit down on it. The bearded-man growled. “God, I want to give her a taste of my meat.”

“The thing with all of Carmen’s girls,” said Peter, now concentrating on a blonde goddess much closer to where they were seated, “Is that they may all look different and, sure, perform different. Some are clearly trained vixens, while others are subtle and innocent. But don’t believe it, Mr. Vitale. Inside, they’re all just whores, without dignity or selflessness. All of them want it.”

There was a pause during which the men took this in. Then, someone, “I wouldn’t mind giving them what they want.”

Vitale believed him. Some women were meant for chasing after, and courting, and eventually marrying. He preferred the other type…like Carmen’s girls…and her…For a careless moment, he almost turned away as the brunette turned her face and stared straight at him. Then the gentle desperation in those soft eyes set an involuntary tremor through his body. For a second—only a second but it seemed to last an eternity—their eyes locked, his burning vivid green with a bestial hunger while hers widened and then flickered. Then the connection was broken, Vitale watching her ass bounced to the music, her bare backside exposed. He asked Peter where to book Carmen’s girls, and thanked him when he was handed a slip of paper with a scribbled name. Fairfax Inn.

* * *

The young man at the front desk was lanky with an overgrown crew cut, dressed in a white t-shirt twice his size. He was decent-looking, but gave off the impression of a nerd who never quite got over cyber sex and Friday night video game parties. “Mr. Carmen?” Vitale asked.

“Um, not really. You’re talkin’ to Mr. Didgens…sir,” Didgens added hurriedly, taking note of the man’s toned arms and the way he clenched and unclenched his jaw impatiently. “I can see this is your first time at Fairfax. If you would like, I can recommend someone for you right away.”

“I already have someone in mind.” He quickly described to the desk boy. Brown hair, brown eyes. Not new but perhaps unwilling. One of Carmen’s…Didgens showed him an album with all the girls offered. Her, it was her. Even in the photograph he could not mistake those eyes.

Didgens led him to a door on the second floor. “You’ll have to wait, sir. There’s already a client inside, but his time is almost over. How long are you renting her for, by the way?”

“The night, Didgens.” Didgens looked incredulous, but Vitale raised his left hand. A leather pouch dangled from his outstretched hand, and as he jingled it, the heavy sound of gold clinking together echoed through the dimly-lit hall. A silvery ring, emblazoned with a single “V” glinted in the fluorescent lighting. There was a long jagged scar on the index finger that ran from its tip to the second knuckle. Didgens gasped, realization drawing over him. With trembling fingers he took the pouch, bowed, and retreated without a word.

Moans. Vitale turned towards the door and cautiously glanced through the fanlight. She laid there, a big stranger on top of her, licking at her neck and pounding his thick cock steadily in and out of her. He resembled a pig but her hips arched to let him inside her further, eyes closed in intense pleasure. He stroked her cheek and whispered silent words on her lips, in her ears, his arms smugly wrapped around what was his, if only for another few minutes. He pulled out, and she smiled seductively at him, leaning forwards to take his cock into her mouth, but he stopped her with a nod towards the clock on the wall. Vitale watched as she shook her head mischievously and grabbed the pig-man’s hand, leading him to a corner of the bed that he could not see.

She’s a shameless whore, just like the rest of them. The thought raced across his head and he angrily blurred it out. What did you expect, you son of a bitch? So many emotions coursed through at once. Disappointment. Frustration. Anger. They would be taken out on her.

The door opened and the man inside came out, his gut poking out through his white shirt. He smelled like her. It didn’t matter anyways. She was his now. But she probably smells like him. Him and every other men in the goddamn world, because she wanted them even more then they wanted her. She couldn’t live without them.

Vitale convinced himself of all this before he walked into the room. Before he saw the single drop of tear that had formed at the edge of those tender brown eyes, falling into the bed to be mingled with sweat and cum.

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Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate it, and I hope I can update on a timely basis. I know, I know...no smut yet, huh? I have a feeling there's plenty in the upcoming chapter...

As always, reviews are very helpful. Feel free to criticize, compliment, or just plain comment.

Oh yes...the gold coins. I know it felt like a modern novel up until the point where he handed over a bag of gold. So, you wonder, is this an alternative world? A different time frame? What I'm attempting to do is create a world where modern collides with ancient...well that doesn't really describe it. Sort of like the Final Fantasy worlds, you know? But less fantasy? Okay, I'm at a loss for words, so I'm sure I sound like an idiot right now. That's okay. I don't mind you thinking I'm an idiot as long as you keep reading. :)

Tell me what you think of the characters so far. If you have any questions, you can write it in a review, and I'll respond in the next chapter. Sounds good?