He held his arms and his hands a good gorilla foot and a half from each hip… Big Man—now he was about five King Kong steps into Furniture Land… basso profundo… he’s roaring, roaring, “Okay! What the hell’s this all about?!”
“That PUNK!”
“That ASSHOLE!”
“That PIECE A SHIT!” they screamed in response, pointing beyond the Big Man in the direction Nestor had gone.
Just like that Nestor started running running the ten or fifteen yards to the door… to the lair of the luscious loins… and look!… right in front of him… barely one step from the door… the one… black shirt… he’s stopped, he and his whore, staring toward the ruckus in Furniture Land.
“—was that little shithead!”
“—cocksucker hit me right here with his elbow!”
“If I hadna jumped back, those assholes woulda—”
“—didn’t come here to get pissed all over by a couple a—”
“—’s wrong with you, motherfucker? If y’all just let those little pricks run—”
Sounds of a scuffle THOOMP! THOP! EGGGGHUH!
::::::Pricks PLURAL?::::::
“AWRIGHT! SETTLE THE FUCK DOWN! I’M GONNA KNOCK YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF FOR YOU AND SHIT DOWN YOUR WINDPIPE, NEXT ONE A YOU CALLS ME A—”
Igor ::::::Now I know this is him! I know it’s him!:::::: Igor! He’s got one arm around the whore’s waist… They’re barely two steps from the door. They stop! He’s checking out the beano in Furniture Land. Whatever’s going on in there, he loves it… so much that he keeps pulling her, hard, right up against his thigh and his chest… over and over… She just smiles and takes it and takes it and takes it and takes it and takes it MEAT BEAT MEAT BEAT MEAT BEAT MEAT BEAT What’s the matter with him? He looks drunk—but that’s okay! Just stay there, don’t move! Nestor breaks into a full sprint… he’s sprinting for all he’s worth across the floor of a strip club. TOO LATE! Igor—if that’s him—and the girl step inside the door and disappear… ¡Coño! Nestor comes shuddering to a dead halt… He’s stymied stymied stymied… but what’s to keep him from just going inside? He inspects the door. There is no door per se. Three steps inside the doorway is a baffle wall. There’s nothing to keep him from walking in, but he can’t see in first. He looks over his shoulder… ¡Coño! Here comes the bouncer, back to his station. ::::::How can I get in there?:::::: His eyes pan about the immediate vicinity… Not ten feet away—what’s that? A whore’s bottom! He sees her from behind as she leans over a man in a sofa seat—pink short-shorts she’s wearing, so short that each of her buttocks has halfway popped out… buttocks décolletage, John Smith’s term, and now Nestor got it. They were popping out like upside-down breasts. She had on a sleeveless shirt made of some thin lustrous material almost the same color pink… frilled arm openings… two large oval-shaped openings in the back. For what?—to show that she wore no bra? God only knew… Her torso was slightly turned… that way… But of course! She had one hand on the inside of her mark’s thigh.
No time for niceties and protocol. Nestor leaned over beside her. He put on as ingratiating a smile as he could manage and said, “Hi! Don’t mean to interrupt, but I need a lap dance. I really need a lap dance.”
Maintaining her grip on the other guy’s thigh, she turned her head toward Nestor and eyed him quizzically… then, in defense, skeptically. She was a brunette with dyed-blond streaks in her hair—at the Honey Pot, be blond no matter how you get there! We’ll give you your Russian or Estonian name… but you’ve got to bring your own blond hair and sexy-ecstasy expression and lawless labial lips.
He could hear the digits clicking 0, 1, 1, 0, 0, 0, 1, 0 in her head. <<>> Now she did something with her eyes and lips that made her look mischievous. She turned her head toward Nestor until they were almost cheek to cheek. In a low but actually rather sweet voice, she said, “You know what kind a men I like? Eager ones! I shouldn’t do it—”
With that, she put her free hand inside Nestor’s standing thigh—and held on as if