T H E T A S T E… sparkling wine. Champagne is like a party in a glass. With fresh and bright notes, Champagne is only brought out in times of celebrations. This isn’t a casual kind of drink unless you’re paid and got it like that… to sip on the best at least. But even if you are the kind to not have it often, if it’s really good, you’ll never forget its name.
TITLE: C H A M P A G N E
For some people, club lights can be a little blinding. The music too loud. And the people beyond obnoxious.
But this was my second home.
The bounce of the beat, my evening’s soundtrack.
The club’s patrons my audience.
Christmas eve always brought out the most people. A night for the 21 and over crowd to be big kids with money before they had to give their tomorrows to the little kids in their lives.
Last Christmas eve ended great for me and I was hoping for a rerun.
I gripped the body of the champagne bottle and raised it over my head. The champagne sparklers, glittering from the bottle’s neck it was banded to, served as a silent siren as people made way for me, forming a soul train line, parting, so I could walk between them.
The destination? VIP.
A spot where T waited.
We’ll call him T for privacy reasons. He wouldn’t like it if I revealed his name so an initial will have to do.
Now, back to the club…
With my legs exposed beneath my snug fitting club shorts I made my way up to where he was chillin’. From a distance I spotted him. Chaos surrounded him, but he sat still. An aura of royalty, authority, with a dash of a I-run-this-shit vibe.
And he did… run shit.
Known to anyone with a radio or cable connection, T had enough zeros and commas in the bank to match his allure. Intelligence obvious but second to his looks. Average height with a more than average build.
I got closer when security stopped me. If it had been any other person, I could walk right in. I mean… I was a bottle service girl. But T was different. He was protected. Guarded like he was the ninth wonder of the world when all he did was speak words into a mic accompanied by a beat. But moves weren’t made without him so the prospect of enemies sporting friendly masks was at an abundance.
I smiled at his guard and gestured at the Dom Perignon with the streamers sparkling from the neck of the bottle. He wasn’t satisfied with just that and reached to take the bottle out of my hand.
“Let her through,” T said over the guard’s shoulder.
The order made me smile.
Security lifted the velvet rope, and I walked in. T and my eyes locked, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. But it was no use. Just the sight of him in person again sent a rush of memories of that night we shared together a year ago.
In a hotel, invited by him. With a view of Central Park from his penthouse suite. Bubbly champagne tickling the roof of my mouth as anticipation wet my walls. He was a gentleman, which I didn’t expect, undressing me with ease while staring me in the eyes. T pressed my back against the chilled glass window as his hands explored every line of my body. We kissed until we disrobed and let our bodies touch the surface of everything in that room except for the bed. On an armchair, I straddled him. Held his mic in my hand as I slowly sat on it. I watched as his head lolled the seat. Gave into ecstasy when his hands gripped my ass. How he spread my lower cheeks to get a better angle. We made music with our moans, percussions with our bodies.
I moved to his measure. Worked with him so that he could experience the best of me. I met his up with my down. Bubbled with excitement as I rocked and rolled my hips over him with purpose.
I knew he had plenty other women to choose from, making it impossible for him to remember their names or even care to recall them at all. So, I hugged him tight inside so he’d know what I offered was real, hoping that every time he closed his eyes at night he’d think of me.
“Mmm, fuck,” he whispered when the hint of my climax encouraged me to grind harder. First it was about pleasing him then it was about me. And in that moment, this man with a honeyed voice who spoke little to me upon us first meeting, talked that shit to get me off. I drenched his shaft in my juices, wet his thigh with my nectar, highlighted his lips with my sweetness when he got thirsty for me. It was like a celebration. Our collaboration mutually beneficial.
That was a year ago, but it felt like yesterday.
Like last year, he sat in VIP with the same girl. Allegedly dating but she was just for show. Pretty eyes, hair, and skin. Similar clout. The typical interest of a celebrity who found herself in the right place at the right time… on purpose and with purpose. They weren’t together, and this was obvious. I never asked, and he never told. But the last time, the two arrived at the club individually, left in separate cars, and slept in completely different hotels.
He did a double take when I got in front of him. T licked his lips slow while staring at me. He watched attentively as I popped the cork. His eyes moved from mine and to my cleavage when I leaned forward to pour out his drink then placed the bottle on the table. My view did a slow crawl to his and I witnessed when one corner of his mouth slid up for only a second. I licked my lips and straightened my posture, prepared to make my exit.
“You’re V… right?” T confirmed.
He remembers. Of course he remembers me.
I nodded, fighting back my smile.
“Cool. Here you go,” he said. T leaned forward with a folded $100 bill in the grasp of his middle and index fingers. I stared at him and he did me.
He gestured for me to take the cash and I did.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No, thank you.” He winked. The move was swift. So quick no one noticed. And that fact thrilled me.
He returned to his conversation, and I turned to leave VIP, grinning the whole way back to the bar.
I grinned because this was the same routine he did the last time. The year before, T slipped me his hotel’s address written in blue ink on a tiny ripped piece of paper that he tucked in the folded bill.
“V,” my boss yelled, making me flinch as I unrolled the hundred midway. “Clock out, you’re off.”
“Thanks, I know.” I turned my attention back on the hundred.
And that was literally all it was.
Only a hundred.
No white paper.
I sighed then swallowed hard. The taste of disappointment souring my tongue.
“What are you still standing here for?” My boss walked up behind me. “Go ‘head. I’m not paying you overtime tonight so you better leave or else you’ll be working for just tips.”
I pursed my lips and prepared myself to leave the floor before he said, “wait, hold on one second.” He leaned forward, reaching below him. When he stood back up he said, “you dropped something, here.”
I smiled when I saw in the pinch of his fingers a ripped piece of paper with an address written in blue ink.
Tomorrow at midnight…S P I C E D W I N E.
Previously… B L A C K C O F F E E.