Sluts don't lie...or do they?

by Barbie Kiss

'SLUT' such a dirty word but I've heard much worse listening to the morning news so give me a break! I'm taking a break from writing about corsets and French maids. If you don't like, it lump it.

Sluts Don't Lie is a tall tale or is it non fiction? 

Not sure but let's dive in shall we....
Coney Island, Shoot the Freak
Her name is Roxy and she lives in Brooklyn, NY within walking distance of Coney Island with her family. 

Roxy's life is a mess and she is not delusional about it. She lives with her parents in a cramped two bedroom apartment. Her father spends most the day replaying his youth in his head or telling the same stories to whoever is close enough to listen. Her medicated mother pours juice in her cereal and burns her toast every morning.

Roxy doesn't like this episode of her life and is she is desperate to leave but doesn't know where to go. She can't find a steady job but she has several gigs: virtual assistant, dog walker and occasional hostess at this burlesque club in Red Hook to make ends meet.

She makes more money than most of her grumpy friends since her jobs are off the books and the tips are heavy - (not the jingly cup kind on the subway...whenever you hear the man asking for whatever you can spare ...try giving him your pancakes from Sunday brunch and see how annoyed he gets.)

Roxy decides that she can't tolerate her bad sitcom situation and decides she needs to move out and find another hole in the wall of her own.

After days of searching for apartments with seedy brokers and corresponding with weirdos looking for roommate on craigslist she gets lucky and finds a cool chic that is desperately seeking any Susan to help her make the rent by month end.

"Hi, my name is Roxy, I saw your ad and I am interested. I can move in this that cool?" In less than the time it takes for Roxy to comb her hair she has new place to lay her head.

I digress for a moment...what the bleep does this short tale have to do with the title? Nada, I wanted to get your attention.

Roxy spends more time working at the burlesque club and  her tips get heavier. Her thirst for more opportunity at the club becomes apparent.

Burlesque Dancer

Roxy knows she can't do tricks like the other dancers but she can flirt... not for free though and she needs the cash so she can go to San Francisco and find her voice (honest she always wanted to go to CALI and figured what the hay). 

One night at the club she spots him  (her cash cow) he enters the club...tall, lean, muscular with jet black hair like the lead singer of Depeche Mode but less pale. Roxy saunters over and says "I've got your number" staring into his eyes and leaning in close enough to whisper but not so close that it becomes creepy...a trick Roxy learned that helps her get the right kind of attention.

He stares back and says nothing but he is staring. .Roxy knows that her flirtation is working in her favor and gives him a sly smile and then takes his hand and leads him to the bar. "What are you drinking? it will be on me...wink..wink." He shrugs.

Roxy orders vodka straight little ice. As they wait she stares at him while applying her strawberry organic gloss without looking away from his eyes. He smirks and his eyes sparkle.

Toxic Kiss

She sees the bartender with the drinks and grabs her drink  from him. She swallows quickly enough for the warmth of the brandy to take over and heat her throat. She holds onto the the ice cube with her tongue and then she reaches up and kisses Mr. Depeche letting the ice travel from her lips to his lips. The kiss is intoxicating and she feels herself tremble as he touches the slight of her bare back. 

No need for words just more Brandy and ice... wink ...wink.

Lips and Ice Cube

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