Stay On My Side Tonight|(Henry)INACTIVE

[cuervo]

[Location – The Cat Scratch Club. This is where Mimi works, she's a dancer. I figured the place was located somewhere in Manhattan so I thought it'd be an accurate enough guess to say it was near Times Square. Here goes!]


Here I am again. Naked. Exposed. Dead, yet very much alive. My arms, covered in goosebumps and the tanned flesh of my tiny waist glistening with sweat as I slinked across the floor. Exhaustion conquers my body, but waves of energy course throughout me like electric shocks delivered to from the crowd, the baseline of the music, the driving beat. I haven't had a fix in seven days now, and I'm as alert as an owl, but still as lithe as a panther.

Without that special shot, there's not much else that sustains me fully. Angel isn't feeling too hot. Mark is busy. Roger...well. I couldn't drop this sort of weight on him, not after all he's been through to face his own demons, many of them still crawling in his conscience, no doubt haunting his dreams. Sometimes it feels like I'm at the end of my rope...like I was climbing, and suddenly someone decided it'd be funny to cut the top. Then there's that feeling when you're slipping off the edge, tightening your grip, but the friction burns your palm...

Step, take another...the light click click of the bottom of the heels on my leopard print boots strike the stage as I serenade a silver pole on the far right side of the stage. It shines brighter than the glitter accenting the corners of my doe eyes and beckons me forward.

The cool metal contrasts with the temperature of my hand and makes my goosebumps more pronounced, and after I've circled around and let myself become at rhythm with it, I let my bare legs wrap around it. For once, I'm not wearing my tight blue vinyl leggings. I felt like a multi-fabric skirt would do the trick. I build up with a few simple twists and turns around the structure before I realize the people are hungry for something more flashy.

Slowly I start pulling myself up the length of the pole until I've reached the top – the audience waits for me to descend, and they cheer me on. My legs spread into a great V as I gradually twirl down, using every muscle in my body to control my movement. I followed it up with a final move, a graceful spin around the pole with one arm extended towards the audience. Bills were thrown my way, and once I crawled to the edge of the stage to collect, some of the bills were tucked into the waistline of my skirt and my ass was grabbed a few times.

I grinned, but it wasn't completely genuine. My thoughts were still with Roger. I missed him. I needed contact desperately, and he was the only one who could satisfy me now. There was no boy cute enough in the audience to even mildly substitute for the time being – even so, wouldn't that be...wrong?

God, everything I was doing here was wrong to Roger. For once in my life, I could identify with Maureen and Joanne, though with us the relationship was still quite different. Yes, my job would require me to give strangers wet dreams and encourage their fantasies – and even flirt sometimes – but none of it matters in the end if I can't have him. Without you...I'm blue. We once told each other that.

I took this cue to slide off the stage, another dancer filling my spot for the time being. The bartender winked my way and poured my a drink. “It's on the house, sweetie. Great job out there tonight” he said.

Holding up the glass to him in cheers, I smiled softly and thanked him before downing it in a gulp. I could often rely on him, and many of the other bartenders here, to support me. If only Roger could surprise me with a back rub right now. That'd complete the night. My hazel eyes wavered to a clock hanging on the wall behind the bar and I saw that it was four past midnight. In about an hour or so, I'd be able to leave and go home to my baby. But for now...I'd have to do what I did best – entertain.

[ricketts]

Henry had been walking nearly the whole day, and now the sun was low in the west, and the long level rays of yellow light had long since spread over the city. He shivered slightly under his jacket as a taxi went passed him and with it brought a chilly wind. The urban centre was involved in darkness now, shrouded in shades of night. It was not Henry’s intention to stay long roaming, as he had other plans in view, nevertheless poor luck seemed to draw him that way. He crossed the road lines in 42nd Street, hurrying across the open space and quickly stood at the doorsteps of a club he had heard booming in the distance. Money was short, and as many rustic jokes he was able to exchange with Hank – the hardware store at the corner of Wall Street wasn’t the best pay. He didn’t want to have to have lower standards of life, making everything poorer, more sordid. He needed a second job, and the day hadn’t brought him any luck. He looked more uncomfortable than ever; looking up at the heights of the club as if it was lifting it’s foot ready to crush him out like some cigarette butt. He remembered the purpose for which he had set out, and it did not keep Henry from being tired, and thirsty too; and he supposed this was his last try.

He moved towards the door and entered. The room might have been benighted in black, but there was illumination – everywhere. Beyond the simple artistic ability to light up the stage, there were harsh reds, blues. Moody colours. Henry stopped as the door clunked closed behind him, the sudden lights causing him to squint like he was looking into direct sunlight. He let his eyes adjust, his ears too – there was an undisturbed hue outside of cars passing but entering into the club there was voluble commotion, chattering clamour and a cacophony of music.

Worth a go, He thought, pushing back his hair which had fallen down over his forehead in the course of his night. Loud money’s better than no money.

But he didn’t know what he was doing. Every other place he had been into had a desk or something, at least someone in uniform you could head to. Everyone here looked unlike in form, dancing close together like sardines in a tin. His face changed, worrying his lower lip. Still, facts were facts. You don’t have a go, you won’t know - he knew that somewhat well enough. By this time he had left the doorway, and entered the squish of dancers. He ducked and slid through them, bumping into the occasional grinder and apologizing softly each time. With a steady eye he managed to see a bar, and pushed on toward it. It was like swimming. Swimming through people, who were reluctant to move that might be added.

Henry rose out of the crowd, with a bit of a stagger in his step, and took an available bar seat. There was great excitement from the others, mainly whooping men, after watching the lusty show. He recognised at a glance the making of it and looked away, eyes accidentally landing on a barmaid who was just flinging a dishrag over her shoulder. Glueing your own eyes onto a poor girl dancing for her dinner wasn't a thing Henry had a fancy for.

The barmaid locked eyes on Henry, marked flagrant. She recognised he was not a gutter boy and saw too, that he had the making of a nice face. She used a strong smile when she spoke, shamelessly leaning toward him. 'What can I getcha hon?'

The spell of shyness was strong upon him, and amidst the excited yelling of the bar people as the girl finished her show he raised his voice. 'I'm looking for the owner or the manager .. whoever's in charge.' He queried

'You want a beer?' She sweetly ignored his question, the work was hard, harder than most work in New York. Too hard for a shy pretty-boy.

Henry was silent for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes with a sigh. Basically, she was telling him no. One of the things that made him feel in low spirits, was the loss of opportunity. 'Uh, yeah. Guiness, if you sell it.'

Laughing gleefully, she chirped and winked at him. 'Sure thing hon.' and was quick to pour him his favourite malt suds. Boastfully patting her carefully rolled hair as she took the pocket change Henry had slid onto the counter. He sighed as he rested his palm around the bottle. In a way he supposed was glad of this; like all youths he longed for fulfillment, and wanted to come to close grips with the things he had set out to do. Picking up broken glass and serving drinks to the drunk weren't down on the list. On the other hand however, he could not help looking forward with dread. When on reading the bills he saw long lists of number, money he was running out of. He had a strange feeling at his heart, and a sinking at the pit of his stomach. It was not that he felt afraid, but there was a kind of dread of the unknown.

Laconically, he downed the neck of the bottle and tried to push those niggling worries aside. The beer went down his throat a bit sharp but the bloom in his stomach was satisfying. If there was one Henry took favourably from Ireland, it was the gratification of a pint of Guiness.

[cuervo]

I was beginning to feel awfully sick of this place. I could feel a case of the shivers coming on, and I coughed a few times to try and clear that scratchy sensation I felt in the back of my throat despite the flow of the alcohol. It usually did something to soothe me, but this night was giving me a more difficult time than usual.

As the last drops of my second drink were drained, I seriously considered asking my boss if I could leave early, just tell him I was coming down with the flu or something. But something told me he wouldn’t be so forgiving today, especially after I’ve taken lots of time off recently to spend it with Roger or to nurse my own disease. He wasn’t aware that I was still using from time to time, and that this withdrawal was driving me crazy. I’ve been such a good girl lately, resisting every opportunity I’ve had to buy a gram or two (and trust me, there were far too many) and even taking alternate routes around the city to avoid encountering my dealer or any of the street junkies. I didn’t need a reminder.

Tom, the bartender, chuckled as he saw one of them notorious barmaids tending to a newcomer. “I’ve never seen that guy around here before. I think he lost his way and walked into here thinking it was a pet store,” he joked.

I smirked and glanced over my shoulder to spot this young man. Upon seeing his face, I pursed my lips skeptically and then looked back Tom. “What’re you talking about? He’s just minding his own business, I’m sure he’s just a little bored.”

I set down the glass, it clinked quietly as it came in contact with the wood, and slid off the stool. “I’ll fix that,” and I sent Tom a last wink before I headed over to him with confidence and a level-head. He was quite handsome, now that I was close enough to properly see his face. He had beautiful lips set in an eternal pout.

I circled to stand in front of him, and allowed myself to take him in fully, my large brown eyes sizing him up briefly. “You’re new here” I stated, not asked, as I slowly edged in closer so that my hips were brushing his knees. I grinned and slowly lowered myself onto his warm lap, my hand resting on his chest. My mane of coils dangled, a few of them threatening to tickle his cheek. Sometimes, I gave lap dances, but they were never very thorough, and my lips never touched any part of another's man ever. They were reserved for Roger. I wanted to pretend this cutie was Roger, but there were just too many stark differences in their appearances to really do that.

“You seem a bit down, so I figured I sit with you for a bit. I’m Mimi.”

My hands slowly slipped up and down his chest and backside as I spoke.

[ricketts]

Henry was gazing upwards, - heavenwards - and his expression was one of rapt and almost devotional intensity. Thus he remained for some moments, motionless as the picture of an expectant angel painted by Raphael; then reluctantly and with a deep sigh he turned eyes towards earth again. In so doing he met the fixed and too visibly admiring gaze of a girl. He started, and a wave of colour flushed his cheeks. She was the girl on stage, fresh from the body-bending show he'd turned away from. A girl who he could see better now she was out of the moody stagelights, with a magnificent uncovered mass of hair, the colour of the tawny sunshine, tumbling over her shoulders, and flashing against her flushed cheeks. Henry was, for a moment, taken aback and at a loss for words as she advanced on him. His own shining blue eyes had an astonished and certainly indignant expression in them. Just what did she want, money? A free drink?

Recovering his habitual self-possession quickly, however, he put down his beer and regained his serenity. 'Uh, yes - I mean, I don't really come here ... ' Then stirred by an impulse he could not resist, he laid one hand detainingly on the rim of the bar and swallowed his throat with a growing discomfort. He sat straighter, compressing his lips together. This meeting with her was a sort of adventure in its way - the first of the kind he had had. He was subject to fits of weariness or caprice, and it was in one of these he felt the girl slide into and seat herself on his knees. Through the quick and unexpected wakening, he raised his eyes up at the girl, Mimi - she called herself, and looked wearily. Female attentions of this sort were a rare occurrence with Henry, and his lack of experience proved him unwise. Proved him to be quite alone.

'Look, um .. Mimi,' The Irish son said with a candid smile, and pleasant voice. As gently he could taking her wrists and moving her roaming hands off him. 'I'm not here for anything like that, I was just going t'have a pint and go. But I'm really flattered, thanks.'

Henry knew he must be coming across as unsporting, but letting the poor girl flirt with a complete stranger seemed to be bigger disrespect than watching her twist around a pole. He finished with a a kind of careless admiration. The strange, weird effect of the strobe lights stole into his eyes, making them glow with witch-like brilliancy.

[cuervo]

For some reason I have expected him to have some sort of American accent - not a classic New Yorker one, but one of those small town voices - and did it come as such a surprise when this low, sexy Irish accent greeted me. So unused to that foreign sound, it tickled my fancy and I bit my tongue to restrain my surprise.

As I moved my torso slowly, suductively, my ass grinded slow circles onto his warm lap, soon to be happy lap. Any other man would have loved this...unless he was gay, of course. That happens sometimes, and that's totally cool, but I didn't get the feeling that this boy liked other boys. He began to shift nervously beneath me, and I wasn't sure if it was because he didn't appreciate what I was doing, or because he didn't feel comfortable with what I was doing.

So he really didn't come here after all, just as Tom had immediately sensed, as if this young man gave off an alien odour that stung the nose and drowned out the Cat Scratch scent. Or that it was as obvious as his head being the target of a gigantic arrow jutting out from a sign exclaiming in bold, unmistakable letters that he was infact NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE. Or maybe, it'd be better if someone let him know, because surely if he had known better he wouldn't have came in the first place.

Frankly, the way he suddenly stopped, his hands wrapping around my own and removing them, reminded me much of Roger on our first few encounters. I would always slide closer to him, and try to get nice and cozy and have a little fun - but he was always cold -he always pushed me away. Of course now, our relationship has grown and strengthened quite some, and I completely understand. But this man - he wasn't cold or bitter to me. He was quite kindly, actually, blunt yet somehow gentle.

I smoothed back the dark bangs that hung by his temple gently and smirked, not completely believing my ears or eyes yet. A good natured, mild mannered Irish gentleman in the most sensual club in the middle of loud and proud Manhattan, New York New York. I took a good look at his face - as gentle as it seemed, his eyes were harsh, and the strobes illinated and boldenned their intensity even more.

"You must really be lost, boy" I said after that prolonged moment, hopping to the floor again as if she were dismounting from a horse.

"This is the Cat Scratch Club, and it's perfectly normal here for a hot mama to come and plop herself on your lap if you're looking too idle." More shamless teasing, oh, don't scare the poor guy away Mimi!

I decided to take the seat right across from him, as this small little table for two had an empty spot that might as well be filled. "I work here, I dance. I was on that stage moments ago. How did you happen to come here?"

Great, now I'm pummelting him with things he probably doesn't want to hear since he's bothered enough. But an individual as intriguing and refreshing as him is just asking to be asked! How many surly bar men have I had to wriggle away from in this place, or any place in this city for that matter? How many times have I wondered if a good-hearted soul resided in the big city, or if the city would eventually turn everyone cold? In my heart I had faith in humanity and love, but sometimes, the people could disenchant you. All night I had been wishing for a prayer - Roger, Angel, someone to save me tonight. Maybe I could make a new friend here...even if my first impression was a likely a little bit shaky.

(I feel shameful for not knowing the picture you are referring to - link please?)

[ricketts]

(rlv.zcache.com/raphael_angel_sculpture_photosculpture-p153972684768463431q9l0_400.jpg

)


With an elegant stroke the girl removed herself from Henry's knees. She fell off with a glint of the brushoff but he could understand that - she was trying to do her job and he was just being a bad sport about it. As far as her job went, she was impressive. Good at what she did from what Henry had seen. He drank on peacefully and made no answer when she tried him, letting him know what to expect with light contempt. Folding his arms, he leaned idly on the table and watched Mimi until she was finished, with a twinkle of satirical humor in his eyes.

'Hmm,' He had just finished another swig of his Guinness, and made the little murmering noise as he swept away the white on the top of his lip. 'Never really have been much good at tellin' a club from a pub.'

A more detailed analysis would have shown that this calmness was of two types. The first, by far in the majority, was the calmness of the complacent knowledge he had some company. A life time of loneliness had taught Henry to love every scrap of friendly contact he could seize and hold. The second was the loss manifested by a day of walking, and still no job. So he would have to stay loyal to his current boss for a while longer, and buy less Guinness. He knew Hank would back him in any way he could, but Henry didn't like being a burden to him, to anyone.

'Job huntin',' He sounded grave within those first few moments, letting out a defeated sigh but then he reflected upon it with a quiet laugh. Opening a wide vista of probabilities in his mind, the waste of a day almost seemed funny. 'Didn't go as I thought it might, so I'm havin' me a good strong drink.'

Henry shook his head - not the best way to calm perplex states but he spoke in perfect good meaning and innocence of heart. His eyes flashed and he smiled - one of those rare, tender smiles of his which brightened his whole visage. If Mimi was really interested in firing up a conversation, then Henry would take it upon himself to start proper like. He extended his hand across the table, fingers straight so the two might engage in a handshake.

'Me name's Henry, and ye', I know.' His rosy face nodded, refering to her being a dancer. 'Saw you up there.'

[cuervo]

(Ah, beauty!)

He was quiet and still, like a body of water. Just the way his eyes...bore into me...it was a cross between unnerving and dynamizing. No one man had ever looked at me with such rough softness, not since Roger. There was a sadness too them, a real genuine loneliness that they shared. When I saw the suffering in Roger's eyes, it snatched my heart, and broke it. Now looking at this boy I wondered if I felt a similar feeling, but because I didn't know for sure, it didn't affect me in the exact same way. There was a flicker of something else in them, as if were mocking someone - himself? Me? No, I don't think he's mocking me...I should hope he isn't! He's barely met me.

Behind those eyes was a world of something else - there must be. I couldn't know yet, but maybe I would find out.

He spoke, and it was gentle. There was no trace of awkwardness over what had just passed, and I admired that he could just transcend it and look at me like I was a person, speak to me like I was a woman. It was a change - as much fun as it was to meet new people at the club and hang out, it always felt like the people viewed me as a great Lionness, a crazy bundle of beauty and sex appeal with disregard to the deeper parts of me, the thoughts that run through my head and the many other serious questions I contemplate - but it's a club. No one comes to a club to get serious.

God, why is he smiling so genuinely for, like a child? He's out of work, and he's trying to remedy that with alcohol. Oh, but I understand that look. He's at his wits end, but it's so funny, right? I was strung in a similar fashion this night. I grinned too, and then I began to laugh. My eyes grew small and my mouth wider and I gripped the side of the table.

"Oh...oh Gosh!" I said breathlessly, wobbling on the stool and just almost losing my balance for a moment there. Luckily I was quick to catch myself. I wasn't sure if he'd understand why I had laughed, and I worried that maybe he'd take it personally. Really, I had laughed because why not take that moment to laugh at the shit that just happens. Shit does happen. It's sucks, but it's okay, too.

I took his hand and shook it. "We're both odd ones out! I've been hoping to meet someone as alone as I feel tonight."

I didn't want to let Henry's hand go because it was cool, from having been wrapped around the Guiness. Shit. My head had started burning when I was on the stage, but now it throbbed and pulsed mercilessly. More pain of withdrawal. So I bit down hard on my lip and placed his palm against my forehead.

"That feels good..." My eyes closed - the small wave of relief. Because all this time, I had been running on back-up power, and my usual energy blinked weakly. Just fifty more minutes...then I'd be released, and as soon as I'd hit the bed next to my love, I'd be lost in sleep.

But for now, there was this Irish boy, Henry. He'd do.

[ricketts]

Henry could not forbear smiling at Mimi's own equanimity, 'You feel alone, really?'

Rather astonished, he blinked feebly those clear blue eyes and turned his head, the side of his chin pressed into his shoulder. Moments were breaking loose from the rabble of mainly men, bunched around the stage as another leggy lass took into the stagelight. Their eyes glittering with libido. Henry leered at the wooting crowd, and dipped his head as some sort of courteous salute. He wasn't a Puritan by any means, it was just that he would rather sit down and have a talk with a girl, much like he was doing now, than watch her spread her legs and tuck a twenty in her knickers. He turned again back to Mimi.

'The barflies seemed to like you.' He said mildly.

Their hands met in a friendly grasp, yet Henry did not briskly shake. He took them up, then down, then loosened his fingers but Mimi hitherto held. Nothing was said by him, compressing his lips as he sensed the heat in Mimi's palm. His face grew a piteous appeal, but turned to astonishment as she turned his hand over and laid it against her forehead. Mimi shut her eyes, lost in some relieved meditation and Henry seemed surprised. He stayed for a moment, then lifted his hand away and drew himself erect, inhaling the warm club air like an old warrior scenting battle. Little by little, the smile crept back.

'You got a fuse running under that forehead?' Henry added brightly, lifting his drink. 'Hey - if your upto five hundred watts I could wire ye' up and you could power me car.'

Nothing serious, only meaning to soothe the evidently uncomfortable, and exhausted feeling she must have had. He bent to his drink and slurped, sighing with refreshment when he lowered it. But he did not lower it all the way back to the table, he offered the bottle to Mimi. Smiling a propitiatory smile. 'Have a go. Not exactly a Harvey Wallbanger, but it's whats keepin' me cool.'

[cuervo]

Though, I wasn't sure I was liking that repressed smile of disbelief on his face. Just because I'm on a stage, surrounded by pigs dribbling saliva and falling all over themselves night after night, day after day even. I remember the times when I would have done anything for the attention of the other boys. I was desperate for attention, I fed off the whistles and cat calls I'd get when I walked down the street, and all the ass grabs and the number of smirks or winks I received (in a day to day basis I got at least five of those and often more.)

All right, not all of them are so terrible. Sometimes I meet an occasional acquaintence or even friend. But it's hard to come by in a place like this, I'll be honest. You should expect that much when you dance at a club.

But now that I'm maturing into womanhood, I've realized those little things aren't worth salvaging so much, or bending over backwards for. Now that I have Roger, the most important person in my life, none of that makes sense to me anymore. A lot of this life doesn't make sense to me anymore - except that I have a goal - supporting the both of us, and making sure the food remains in our bellies and the roof over our heads.

"It's a living...have you tried it?" I challenged him, cocking my eyebrow. Yeah, that'd put him in his place. Or not.

"Good for the barfries..." I shrugged.

I watched as he jeered at the men I had been cursing in my mind and smirked. Nope, this was one of those guys who just couldn't stand for exploitation of any sort, a little more bent on femine rights than the average male still making kitchen jokes. Har har...

It appeared that Henry was mildly startled when I placed his hand to my forehead. Geez, just how much did he get out anyway? I thought that what I had did was toned down...ah well. He made a funny - he's not entirely Victorian.

I forced a giggle. It hurt too much to really laugh anymore. "All right, just give a roar wherever you are and I'll come to help you out immediately."

Then, he did something I didn't really expect. An Irishman offering me his beer, and we've only just met? What a rite of passage! I guess he really likes me. Or my ass. He probably wouldn't ever admit it. Ha.

"Thanks!" I exclaimed, accepting the beer and beginning to glug it down desperately as if it were water. Mmmm...tastes better than I anticipated, actually.

"That hit the spot..." I purred after I had finished drinking...only to notice that I had nearly finished the damn thing. Whoopsie!

"Right, I owe you one..." An irresistable grin crossed my face. My usual tactic for getting anyone to forgive me, or let me get away with murder. It always worked, too.

[ricketts]

Mimi's liveliness was infectious. He had gone out looking for more work with a will and the day had drained him. Her peals of laughter and friendly chatter soon rose an energetic fragrance and mingled itself within Henry, distinguishing the both of them from the rowdy club-goers. A crimson glare streamed just behind Mimi, and he started up in dreamy alarm. His drowsy eyes dazzled, he shook his head. No longer did he feel the need to go home and sleep, his eyelids yielding from the heaviness that once oppressed them.

Mimi was, meanwhile, greeting him with a scene he hadn't expected. Girl liked her suds. His first impulse was to gently remind her who had paid for that beer, but then swept the next that was to sit silent in reverential awe. His brow raised as she had durned well drained the bottle. Unresisting to the feeling to show deferential regard, fair play to the girl that could handle her Guiness. He rubbed his eyes in joke amazement, and lowly let out a brief but strong chuckle.

'Yeah, good Irish beer. Can't beat it.' Then still with clasped hands and smiling face, he shook his head. 'Nah love, you're alright. I wasn't lookin' t'get merry in the first place.'

Henry spoke with soft persuasion, gravely yet tenderly amused. A manner that was gracious and winning, he soothed his ever-lasting lone. It felt good to be talking to someone that wasn't Hank. There was an aloofness, a coolness in his voice as he glanced at the stage, which was only natural, 'Actually, I haven't tried watchu do. I'm not what you'd call an entertainer.'

[cuervo]

Things have been going pretty well so far with this kid...who is probably older than me...so, man. Young man. The older ones were always so fascinating and at least a little more mature than the average teenager. I suppose since there's still a "teen" in my age that I'm not yet a woman. But by my experience I wouldn't call myself a girl, either. It was that weird, fine line inbetween stages. I'd bridge the gap officially soon.

Henry was downright shocked by how I had just downed his drink like that, unapologetically and unabashedely. That wasn't an unheard of notion - many of the girls here were as bold and brash as I was, but the difference was that they were trashier. I had a sense of self-respect about me that they lacked - yes, I could strut my stuff in a mini-skirt and midrift on a stage when I wanted to and hang out with the surly boys, but I knew when to go pack it in, and I decided when I went home to my real man. I called the shots.

I laughed lightly - the look on his face was priceless.

"Very tasty, thank you Mister" I teased, sticking my tongue out a little.

Then Henry redirected his attention to the stage again, his tone shifting to become sort of passive and maybe offending.

"I know that they're not the most tasteful women you've seen, but this is New York, what did you expect? These girls are just trying to get by. Just trying to scrape by..."

I stopped myself from becoming too passionate, and kept the emotion at bay. I didn't want to become too intense all of a sudden, but I knew the struggles these girls faced. Many of them were junkies too, or recovering junkies, and even some of them had babies they were trying to feed. Single mothers, abandoned and working far too hard for their age. It showed on their faces when you saw them up close, when you really looked into their eyes and saw the heavy circles. Undearneath the make up, smiles, and moves was a whole world of pain. I mean...there were also the ones who weren't in pain, but they were fewer.

"I'm going to get another drink, did you want something?" I asked suddenly, hoping that would distract him.

[ricketts]

Henry surveyed without alarm, though so weird an object might well have aroused a pardonable distrust, and even timidity. He tangled his hand back through his hair - thick, rough hair that hung in disordered profusion above his shoulders, and saw there was something of doubt and wonder in Mimi's placid features. His brow clouded, thinking to say nothing but too he was more or less curious about her thought process. Whenever she looked at him, he would meet her eyes and thendrop them shyly under long lashes. He suddenly felt awkward. Having heard her like a mutual friend rather than a fairly new aquaintance, and being a gentleman by birth, he thought maybe he should investigate the thorny volumes.

Rubbing his nose perplexedly, he appeared to hesitate. Henry was not much of an intelluctual speaker, more of a vacillating guy, mostly meek and timid of mortals. But still a gentleman in his own poor fashion, and he had a sort of fluttering chivalry about him, which, though feeble, was better than none.

'Before that - have I said something to, you know .. ' Courteously, the grave, kindly-faced boy re-entered the conversation. ' .. piss you off?'

[cuervo]

Damnit, I should have just kept my big mouth shut.

I guess I was a little on edge tonight, the negative energies drowning my composure, the drawn out period without a fix wearing on my spirit. There was nothing on me, and most definitley nothing on Henry. No, I didn't want to have this dependancy develop and worsen as it had before, but I can't stand the aches anymore, the body shock that comes with the plight. The itch, the scratch, that sting between your eyes that makes your head feel as empty yet crowded, that suffocating feeling in your throat as your mouth gets dry, upchucking every single thing that passed your throat...

That wasn't even the worst of it. What about those desolate nights when one hour felt like five and you were so far gone, that you didn't realize when the sun had finally risen, when people were hudddled around you and screaming and your head was drowning and everything was spinning and it was all too close...

I really could use that drink about now.

But his voice was so sweet and soft, his eyes looked so discouraged. My own eyes dropped. Oh Henry, it's nothing you've got to feel guilty about.

"You're okay, love. I'm just going to get a drink" I said, sending over a smile to him.

With that I stood up and using my newfound cash and bought myself a shot, and another Guiness for the Irishman. He'd drink it, and he wouldn't protest.

I set it on the table in front of him. "Compliments..enjoy," I grinned.

I then plopped down across from him again and threw the burning shot down my throat in one fluid motion.

Why do you always win? I hate how I still need you, but in the end I know it's always too fucking easy to crawl back. But I still do.

"I suppose I just miss my boyfriend a little" I finally said, looking at Henry. "I feel a bit sick."

[ricketts]

There was a sceptical expression around Henry's mouth, but he did not pursue the subject. Letting Mimi get the next round in, Henry glanced around in some mild bewilderment. It appeared that he was in an enchanted chamber rather than a nightclub. Through the dim colourway lights he could barely perceive the girl. He stared through them as though stupefied, then glanced uneasily over his shoulder, like he thought someone was pursuing him. Darkness felt unsafe, especially to a person of such raised paranoia.

It was impossible to resist the urge to review every word he had said, never meaning to sound cruel. Barflies - sticky, leering creatures. Looking like a black cloud. Raining bad humour. Then on top of that, using the emphasis of what you do. Henry came to the conclusion that, he must have come across as a complete twat so far. When he again had the courage to lift his eyes he was confronted by the undisguised gaze of Mimi who threw herself in the opposite chair and replaced his lost beer.

'Cheers,' Henry, nodding his understandings and letting his palm rest around the rounded base. A silence began to fall, and he didn't like it so he began to talk. 'Um, you know if you feel sick, shots might'unt be a good idea .. '

Another twatbag comment. 'Oh, uhm .. I meant ... um .. '

Change the subject. Something nice, something she'd want to talk about. ' .. Your, um .. your boyfriend. He must be a heck'un of a fella to be gettin' lovesick over.' He ended with a nervous underchuckle.

[cuervo]

(Poor guy! haha)

Well, hopefully that drink would satisfy him some. He accepted it and took a sip, visibly looking calmer with the Guiness in his grip. I wanted to talk about him, not me. Anything but me right now. I desired to learn about this Irishman and I wanted to know more about why he was here in the first place. Where had he travelled, ventured? What was it like being raised in Ireland, how were the disco pigs and the pubs, had he ever encountered an IRA member? So many questions I could ask, but he wasn't making it easy to divert the subject.

"Don't worry about me, I'm not really sick. Just a bit under the weather that's all, I'll be right as rain soon."

Aww, he's really giving me advice about how to take care of myself? I thought I had left that behind when I ran away - but no, there was often someone asking me if I was all right or telling me to take better care of myself. I'll go along with whatever he says, as long as it doesn't remind me too much of home, or heartbreak.

"Yes, my Roger is really something else" I smiled. It was slightly melancholic since I was missing him, but you could tell by the look of it that I regarded him very fondly. That I loved him.

"Enough about me. Tell me about yourself...how long did you live in Ireland? I've never been anywhere other than America, actually" I confessed, with a wistful sigh, though I smiled faintly at the thought of exploring Europe, or the Carribean Islands. "I'd love to travel more some day."