Resurrection 24

This is a chapter of the book I am writing for NaNoWriMo. If you want to read it from the start, click here for the chapter index.

The Good Life

Ricky was proving himself reliable to the syndicate in Cincinnati. Over the last few months he had gone from one or two Cincy-Knoxville runs a month to four. He was making more money than he had ever imagined.

He upgraded his life. Traded in his spray-painted truck for a later model F-250 Dually with crew cab, leather seats, custom rims. He still lived in the run-down mobile home he rented for $225 a month, but he bought a new living room set and upgraded his ancient Xbox with a new PS4 and a 50″ television. His new responsibilities only took one or two days a week, so the rest of the time he smoked weed and played Call Of Duty.

During the hours long drives he had considered what might be in the packages he transported back and forth. The drums most certainly contained drugs. Probably pot but likely Oxycodone or crystal meth as well. Xanax. For them to be paying him so much for each run, whatever was in those barrels must be valuable.

When he made runs from Knoxville to Cincy, the packages were smaller. Typically a box, wrapped securely with packing tape. Since he got the new truck, he would put those in the back seat of the cab. He figured those were likely cash payments back to the boys in Cincinnati. If they were, it was a lot of money. The boxes were small, but he judged them to weigh about 5-10 pounds each.

In Inez, a young man apparently flush with cash attracts a certain kind of woman. Women in the tiny towns of rural Kentucky have few options. They can leave for Lexington or one of the mid-sized towns for work, they can work at one of the sparse, minimum wage jobs in the few stores or they can find a man with money.

Katherine “Kat” Stewart had experienced a difficult life. CPS had pulled her from her mother and step father at 4, followed by a string of foster parents. At 14 she got arrested for shoplifting a purse from the Huntington Mall just over the line in West Virginia and spent a year in “juvy.” By 16 she was back in Inez, trying to make it on her own without having any of the childhood guidance to prepare her for it.

Kat had a naturally petite body. She was a stark contrast to the common obese women of rural Kentucky. Her face was average, but she had long, wavy blonde-red hair that distracted from her awkward nose. By 20 she found she could make a few hundred dollars in a weekend dancing at Pure Gold in Lexington.

She needed the money.

Every Friday she would drive the two hours to Lexington for the 3 day weekend shift. She and a few other girls would split a room at the Holiday Inn “Holidome” across from the club. All of the girls drank and many also did drugs. Oxy and meth were the most common. Kat didn’t do drugs, other than a little pot, but she did drink. They were warned by the hotel more than once to not be so out of control. They did their best to comply.

“Dancers” are independent contractors. While they are expected to show up for low paying shifts during the day and slow weeknights regularly, they pay for the privilege. They pay $40 every shift, and have to fork over another $15 for every $40 lap dance they do. On mid-week nights and during the day, they often made little money and sometimes lost money.

Kat was not one of the big earners at the club. While she had a slender body, and shapely hips, her breasts were small. The other girls regularly counseled her to get implants. She considered it but didn’t have the money to make it a reality.

“Honey, you get you some titties and you’ll make mo money then ya ever seen,” encouraged Latisha, a thick black woman from Louisville who never needed implants. She had been dancing for ten years.

Finding “regulars” was key to making more money. An ideal regular is a man with money to burn who comes in on a weekday or slow evening every week and who wants to spend the evening with you. You sit, he buys you the watered down drinks they serve, gives you $100 or more an hour just to talk. Maybe a few lap dances as well. The management frowned on girls not doing at least one an hour, even on a slow night.

Ricky was driving south down I-75 after completing a Tuesday run from Knoxville to Cincinnati. When he approached Exit 104, he took it, pulling into the parking lot of Pure Gold. He paid his cover and went in to enjoy the scenery and get a dance or two. He had over 25 $100 bills rolled up in his pocket.

Kat spotted him when he walked in. There were only five dancers that night. Three were with customers and Latisha was on stage. He didn’t look like much. Faded jeans, T shirt with an open flannel over top. Trucker hat. She figured he didn’t have any money, but she decided to give it a go anyway.

Ricky sat down at one of the the small round tables. The waitress came over, took his drink order-a Bud Light-and retreated back to the bar.

“Welcome to Pure Gold. I’m Kat. First time here?” her voice was seductive.

“Hi, I’m Ricky. Hey, can I get an ash tray?” he said, pulling out his pack of Pall Malls.

“Sure, honey, I’ll be right back.” He watched as she walked over to the bar. She had on 5″ platform heels, garter on her left thigh, black panties and bra, covered by a neon pink mesh cover up. Only it didn’t really cover anything. The blacklights of the club made it glow.

She immediately returned with a styrofoam cup, half full of water.

“Technically you’re not allowed to smoke in here. Of course everyone does, but can’t use ‘real’ ashtrays or we’ll get fined.” she explained.

Lexington had recently passed an ordinance outlawing smoking in businesses, even bars and strip clubs.  Most people thought it was an asinine rule, but it was now the law.

“Mind if I sit down?” asked Kat hopefully.

“Sure, have a seat.”

Kat moved the chair against his, positioned so her legs would be against his. She knew she had great legs, even more so in heels.

For the first time, Ricky appraised her from the front. Flat stomach, nice hair. Long nails with a French manicure. Decent rack. Her breasts looked deceptively large in her padded push-up bra.

When Ricky’s Bud arrived, Kat had to suppress a gasp as he pulled out the wad of $100s.

Before the night was over, Ricky had spent $300 on Kat’s company and another hundred for the blowjob in his truck.

In the weeks that followed, Ricky became Kat’s only regular, and he would come see her once or twice a week. They got to know one another and soon he asked her out for dinner. Seeing the opportunity, she accepted.

Two weeks later they were living together in his trailer, or his “mobile mansion” as she called it.

 

 

 

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4 Comments on “Resurrection 24”

  1. ron877 says:

    An all too familiar story (from Kat’s point of view). I reflect on the lives of the girls I have known who were similarly entrapped and I feel a sadness that is overwhelming.

    Despite that, good writing.

    Like

    • Thank you again, Ron. I might have to reach out to you for some advice on writing cops.

      I had a graphic designer a few years ago who was a “dancer” and she gave me lots of insights into how the business works, what the girls are like, etc.

      Like

  2. Nice, very realistic, not over the top…

    Liked by 1 person


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