London Punch Clubs - story (941 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.1 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <tempeststorm.at.geocities.com> (View user info) at 2003-04-21 09:38:47 EDT
I wrote this story in college, two or three years ago. It's a little gross, but then again why would I write a story that wasn't gross! :) Note, series of flashbacks within the story.
sky
********
As Claire was cutting lime squares, the knife slipped, scraping the corner of her index finger and drawing immediate bright blood. She winced as the limejuice burned the cut, and sucked on her finger, attempting to stop the burn. "You okay?" the bar manager Jane asked her.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Happens all the time."
"That's gotta burn though."
Claire's finger bled profusely as she fumbled for the first aid kit under the bar. "Yeah, well, I guess its part of the job."
"Why don't you go take care of that honey, I'll watch the bar."
"Good deal," Claire smiled as she wrapped her finger with a cocktail napkin and grabbed a couple Band-Aids out of the first aid kit.
In the bathroom, Claire ran cold water over the burning cut, throwing away the blood stained cocktail napkin. Funny how a small cut could produce so much blood. Claire looked in the mirror as she washed her hand, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. She never wore much make-up, but wished that today she had packed her face powder so she could at least hide her haggard appearance somewhat. She opened a band-aid and covered the cut that had slowed its rushing.
Claire came back to the bar, limboing under the separating plank. As Jane walked back to her office, Claire replaced the band-aids she hadn't used and slapped a drink menu down in front of the older couple who had come in to watch the Friday night improv act, who unlike most of the acts Jane booked, were actually funny. The man motioned for Claire and asked, "You sell cigars here?"
"Yes sir, would you like to see a menu?"
"Could you just get me your thinnest cigar for the lady here?"
"We have Punch London Clubs, would that be okay?"
"Absolutely honey. Can you start me a tab with that and two drams of your Bowmore 17 year?"
"Certainly sir," Claire replied as she reached for an ashtray and a cigar cutter.
Claire thought of Will, who had always smoked cigars, not the Punch Clubs, but big fat Arturo Fuentes. She had despised his cigar smoke when he first started coming to Stage for amateur comedy night. He sat at the corner of the bar, eyeing her and puffing away on his cigar, ordering cheap Friexenet sparkling wine that didn't even come with a cork. The girls at work always giggled at him, a young straight man smoking cigars at Stage, a club for middle-aged gay males. He was moderately tall, standing at about 5 feet 11 inches with a decent build, probably from working out. He had clean cut dirty blond hair and a cute gap between his two front teeth and wore mostly casual clothes, khakis and button downs, and talked with what Claire considered the ghetto Providence dialect, a cross between Long Island and Boston. Had it not been for his eyes, one could classify him as a standard meathead guido type. He had distinctly blue eyes, but not just any blue. The crystalline quality of his eyes was unlike any blue eyes Claire had ever seen. They gave him depth, personality and a sensuousness that Claire found captivating.
It was a continuous flirtation. He would order the cheapest champagne, and Claire would bring him the Friexenet, knowing that he didn't know the difference between Champagne and sparkling wine. She'd twist off the top and pour him his first glass, always focusing on his blue eyes. He'd never say much to her, he'd just sit at the bar and sip his champagne until his turn for amateur stand-up. He was never funny and perhaps that's why his only opportunity was at amateur night. He had good lines but lacked delivery.
Claire was washing highballs that had been left by the bar back from the night before. The blue antiseptic rinse stung her fresh cut. She winced, wiping off the burning antiseptic with a bar towel.
"Excuse me miss?" said the man at the bar. "Could I get two more drams of Bowmore 17? And could I also get two glasses of water with no ice?"
"Certainly sir."
Claire didn't go out much. She worked most nights at Stage, scraping by with her meager bartending tips. Stage hadn't been open very long, and didn't have an established name. It was in a major office building, but by night those offices were empty, and all the real clubbers were in another part of town, hopping between more successful bars. Stage also catered to a specific type of entertainment, and finding regulars that weren't hitting on the gay owner was somewhat difficult.
The last time Claire had a night off she had seen Will at another club. He had been in his usual khakis and button down shirt. After a few drinks, Claire found herself on the dance floor with him, grinding with him and grabbing to sensually unbutton his top button as a signal. She wanted to take him home. Something about his eyes. He lifted her chin while they were dancing and her hesitations could no longer exist as he kissed her, not soft like she had expected, but brutal and needful.
She had taken him home with her to her one bedroom apartment. They talked for a long time about pretentious things she chose not to remember. She began to sober up and realized that maybe the whole thing was a bad idea. Too late though. Soon he was kissing her again, shoving his tongue down her throat and biting her lips.
She never said no. It wasn't in Claire's nature to say no. She tried to avoid it by not kissing him back, or by pretending to be too tired, but she knew that it was inevitable. Knowing it was late and she had to work the next day, she finally gave in, realizing he was relentless and would try anything.
It had felt like she said no. She was bruised. He had held her down so hard that had she wanted to resist she couldn't have, pulling on her hair. He thought she liked it. She eventually started moaning, hoping to have it end sooner. She should have said no, but she never did.
In the morning he slept late, Claire couldn't. She woke at dawn and sat trembling in bed, wanting him to wake up and go home. She took a shower, noticing her red, bruised nipples. Her scalp ached. She really hadn't been battered, but she couldn't shake the feeling of violation as she turned the knob to make the shower water hotter.
"Excuse me miss. Excuse me miss."
Claire looked up at the man still seated at the bar shaking his empty lowball. "Could I try the Bowmore 21? And a glass of your house white for the lady." Claire obediently poured his drinks, and put them down in front of the man. The lady turned around for the first time, a noticeable she-male, encrusted in red lipstick and crafted purple eye shadow, whispering a husky, "Thank you, honey."
When Will finally woke up, Claire was vigorously scrubbing dishes in the efficiency kitchen of her one bedroom apartment. He came up behind her in his leopard print thong and grabbed her in the usual rough embrace. She jumped, shocked and unaware that he was even awake.
"Hiya sweetheart. Whatcha making me for breakfast?"
"You startled me."
"You got eggs in here?" He asked putting his hand on the refrigerator door handle.
"No." Claire stepped in front of him, pushing the slightly cracked door closed. It wasn't in Claire's nature to say no.
"Oh, that's too bad. I was sorta hungry ya know."
"Yeah, well there's a diner down the street, they got great eggs benedict."
"Let's go get some."
"No." Claire looked at him languidly. "You go."
Will had continued to come to the club for a while, smoking his cigars from the corner of the bar and watching Claire bring him his Friexenet. She would slap down a cocktail napkin, a fluted glass and the bottle, no longer bothering to open or pour his sparkling wine.
Will tried to talk to Claire but she wasn't even vaguely interested in Round two. "So darlin. Whatcha doin lata?"
"Home. Cat's been lonely."
"We should head to Challenges. I hear they got a DJ tonight."
"It's not a good idea. My cat's pretty jealous."
"I see." Despite being defeated, Will tried a few tactics on a few occasions, assuming Claire's rudeness was due to her monthly bill. Gradually Will's visits became fewer and fewer.
Although absent, Will's presence remained. Claire hadn't bled in two months, and worry kept whispering in her ear. In the worst-case scenario she knew what she had to do, but thoughts of the clinic scared her. Sitting in a white waiting room reading Better Homes and Gardens next to the sixteen-year-old couple wearing sunglasses. Or the lady with her five kids, three still in diapers, cursing at her husband while she rocks Child #4 to sleep. Hubby stares at the wall, cursing himself for not bringing his NASCAR magazine. And Claire by herself, too proud and unwilling to call her nemesis for financial, much less moral, support. Instead, she watches the second hand on the clock above the plexiglass reception desk, counting the twelve minutes that have already passed since the scheduled start of her appointment.
The torture chamber comes next with the nauseous thoughts of the tilted pink pleather chair with the blue dressing gowns in the bottom drawer. A room like a tiny little jail cell in pinks and blues with white walls, sanitary and neat, but trapping all the same. A steady purr of air-conditioning leaking in a vent on the ceiling, a sight she would watch in pain, cursing her impulsive youth.
Claire had escaped her fate. The little cardboard pharmacy box 1st Response had answered her apprehensions. The ninety seconds she waited hoping that the second line would not appear were the worst seconds of her life. She cried when only one line remained, tears of relief.
"Excuse me, miss. I believe there's a fruit fly in my wine," the husky she-male at the bar breathed.
"Oh my," said Claire. "I'm so sorry, can I get you another? Or would you like something else?"
"The same would be fine honey."
Claire retrieved the she-male's glass, poured her a house white from a fresh bottle and placed the glass in front of the nice lady. "Sorry about that ma'am."
Turning around, she pulled off the band-aid from her fresh cut, surprised at how miniscule the cut really was. She threw the blood crusted band-aid into the trash and went back to washing glasses, using her one good hand.
User Reviews
Submitted by Random Joe at 2003-04-22 16:35:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Immure (user info) at 2003-04-22 13:30:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You have a real talent of drawing the reader in. You should try writing something longer though.
Submitted by Nicole3 (user info) at 2003-04-22 13:07:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Good story sky. You should post others if you have any.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2003-04-22 13:01:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I like it, but if you're going to show real talent, you'll end up leaving Über.
Submitted by kim02721 <kim.at.haha.com> at 2003-04-22 12:31:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hey sky! only disappointing because I was bored at work and the story was keeping me entertained. I was getting into it and was expecting more. I like the subject matter and you worked the flashbacks in there pretty well. good job chica!
Submitted by sky (user info) at 2003-04-22 08:55:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
thanks for the input!
chipolatte...detail lacked in what sense? i'm asking in all sincerity for suggestions....
and kim, why disappointed at the ending? I feel like it builds and builds and then stops, which was somewhat intentional but do you have any suggestions?
weee.
thanks everyone else for reading.
Submitted by HeavensWalls (user info) at 2003-04-21 22:20:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Here's and excerpt from a Stephen King book in the introduction:
"...Most of you have forgotten the real pleasures of the short story. Reading a good long novel is in many ways like having a long and satisfying affair... A short story is a different thing altogether-a short story is like a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger. That is not, of course the same thing as an affair or a marriage, but kisses can be sweet, and their very brevity forms their own attraction."...
Submitted by catscradle (user info) at 2003-04-21 21:36:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it sky
Jimmy- the title refers to the cigar that the couple at the bar orders.
Submitted by Jimmy (user info) at 2003-04-21 21:06:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i skimmed over it and couldnt see anything to do with london - the main point of interest for me. i was hoping you had set it in london so that i could get on my high horse and point out every inaccuracy, but my hopes faded when i saw Long Island in there somewhere. care to explain the title?
Submitted by chipolatte (user info) at 2003-04-21 16:43:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Hmmm...I'm not too sure about this story. It's a little hard to follow it, as sometimes the detail gets lacked.
Submitted by kim02721 <kim.at.haha.com> at 2003-04-21 16:29:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The only problem was getting to the end. I kinda felt jipped, like there should have been more to the story....but you had me interested and I liked it. Should I be offended if I use a 'ghetto providence' dialect?? lol!
Submitted by dasteve (user info) at 2003-04-21 14:08:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very impressive.
Submitted by HeavensWalls (user info) at 2003-04-21 11:09:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
For one thing, the guy wasn't a rapist. Another thing - I liked it...
Submitted by michaelmyers <hillbillyhater.fu> at 2003-04-21 10:36:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
It would have been better if she ended up pregnant with the rapists kid and then killed herself during a coathanger abortion. The last scene could be Will sitting in his chair at the club waiting for her to show up only to read her obit in the daily fish wrap the next day. He would have found out that she was pregnant, assumed it was his, and went on a killing spree to vent his anger.
It's quite obvious that you are living out an erotic fantasy through your character. Otherwise Claire would have been a little more vindictive over her "sore nipples".
Submitted by sky (user info) at 2003-04-21 10:34:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
time to rate it, but not to read it?? whatever. why even bother rating at all?
it actually doesn't have much dialogue at all...set up to be dialogue between flashback narrations.
Submitted by hendrixjrr (user info) at 2003-04-21 09:52:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
My first impression is that there is a lot of dialogue. Maybe I'll read it some time.
Submitted by sky (user info) at 2003-04-21 09:40:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
oop. my paragraphs are all fucked up. sorry.