Maureen
Maureen is not the kind of girl you’d want to marry but she is the type of girl you can’t seem to live without.
As I wait patiently on the corner bar stool, her hand slightly caresses my own which triggers an immediate tingle reaction down my spine as she moves effortlessly within her confined space behind the bar, pouring drink after drink for each lost soul bellied up at the bar’s ledge. She leans into each male patron never breaking eye contact; ensuring that every individual receives the special attention they each believe they deserve but don’t ever earn.
She has mastered the skill of seduction or at least the illusion of it as she works the room
tirelessly and without hesitation; each calculated move being awarded with monetary payback which is what must keep her coming back night after night. Her short leather skirt and front tied tank top, never appropriate outside this bar, fits her like a glove and is instantly noticed.
A hush falls over the room as the name “Maureen” is announced over the loudspeaker, inviting all the attention to her and the front stage. Immediately her persona begins to change into the person everyone here is willing to pay to see. Maureen, wearing her four-inch red stiletto pumps, pushes her way through the crowd swatting off pathetic attempts of attention-grabbing comments and unwanted advances and waits for her music cue to begin. As she advances the round center stage, I observe her from a nearby table as I do most evenings, take a lengthy deep breath and retousle her hair before it is her time to shine.
The moment the cold and smooth metallic pole is tightly embraced between both of her hands she becomes a living God to the rest of the room and all eyes are fixated on her. The way she moves tells me she must live for this moment…this attention…this adrenaline. An overwhelming sensation engulfs me and within seconds I am transported somewhere else becoming someone else as her movements and counterfeit lust flood the room. When I catch her eye, even just for a brief minute, I can tell that the physical high this provides to Maureen no man or drug could ever replicate.
After her shift comes to an end and Maureen makes her way back behind the bar to clean up for the night, I slide a fifty-dollar bill with her name written on it down the dark wooden bar top. She hesitates but then smiles back faintly in my direction and then without another thought, places the gift in her cleavage for safe keeping. As I slowly make my way to leave, I turn back around briefly with the hopes of catching her attention one last time before the night comes to an end, but my glance is only met with emptiness as she has vanished and is no longer in sight.