Writer’s Challenge #13- Rusty Nail, Netting

                                                                        By David Crerand

   The sun was bright in the autumn afternoon sky, so when Elwood strode through the door into the club he needed to step off to the side to let his eyes adjust to the darkness within. Like all other topless bars, the windows were completely covered over with heavy drapes and enticing invitations preventing any opportunity for free gawking.

   The music was pounding and there was a young lady, nearly naked, dancing her heart out, trying to coax dollar bills out of the patrons sitting right up close to the stage. Most were eager for their turn to get a close-up glimpse, slide a rolled up dollar bill as far into her g-string as she would let them and whisper some semi-lewd, semi-humorous line that she’d only heard five thousand times before. She would laugh like it mattered, maybe give a peck on the cheek and dance off toward another dollar, thinking about the rent or the car payment, whichever was due first.

   His eyes finally adjusted to the dark and Elwood made his way to the bar.

   “Give me a Rusty Nail,” he told the girl tending bar. She bent lower than she had to, flashing a smile and several inches of cleavage to retrieve a glass and cram it full of ice hustling her own tip. She poured cheap scotch and Drambui over the ice.

   “Eight bucks, darling” she said, setting the drink in front of him.

    He tossed a ten on the bar. “Keep the change.” He turned away before she could thank him. He headed up to the stage side seats. He sat, taking a sip out of his drink while the girl on stage finished what was to be the last dance of her set. Before the last beat of the drum had finished, she had picked up the little clothing that she had shed and wriggled down the length of the stage toward the dressing room, trying to wrangle another buck or two out of whoever she could.