My sincere apologies. I found that the version of Nonnie Jules’s story that I received was a draft and not the final. The final version follows:
LEEZA
“Are you gonna buy me a drink or, are you just gonna sit there and stare at me?” Leeza asked the stranger at the bar.
“Uh, sure. What are you drinking, pretty lady?” Swirling to and fro, the man gripped the ridges of the bar to keep from falling from the bar stool. “Hey, bartend, give this pretty lady what ‘er she wants and put it on my tab.”
Leeza looked him up and down. Although not bad on the eyes, he didn’t strike her as a man with deep enough pockets to have a “tab” anywhere, but, who was she to judge?
“Vodka on the rocks,” she said, gesturing to the bartender. When her suitor heard her request, his eyebrows shot up.
“Sure you can handle that strong of a drink, pretty lady?” he asked, still teetering.
“That’s not all I can handle.” Her suggestive wink was all the invitation the stranger needed to move a little closer, in spite of the fact that he could barely stand.
“So, what’s your name, pretty lady?” he slurred.
“Anything you want it to be, honey,” she replied.
“Really? Well, I want your name to be Available. So, are you?”
As he sat waiting for her response, she was reminded of her puppy, Scratches, paws perched on the windowsill, awaiting her return home from work.
“You gotta pay to play with me,” she nudged.
“Well, honey, you finish up that there drink of yours, and let’s head up to my room. I’m in town on business and I would love the company of a beautiful woman going by the name…Available.”
In one fell swoop, she turned the glass up and the vodka was gone. The stranger’s eyes bulged again. Clearly, he’d never seen a woman down a drink like that before.
Turning away from the bar and grabbing hold of his tie, Leeza led the way to the elevator of the hotel…the stranger following close behind, like a leashed dog.
“What’s your curfew, pretty lady?”
The elevator doors had only partially closed, when she took her hand and grabbed his penis through his pants.
“I’m a big girl, single with no kids…does that sound like someone with a curfew?” she asked, as the beep of the elevator signaled their arrival to their destination.
Stumbling ahead of her, the stranger swiped his key and pushed opened the door. Leeza walked past him, falling backwards onto the bed.
“C’mon over here and let’s finish the party we started downstairs,” she said, kicking off her heels and propping her legs up on the bed…spread-eagle.
Balancing as he walked, the stranger stood over the bed with a huge grin plastered across his face. Judging from the growing bulge inside of his pants, it was easy to discern that a grin awaited her there, too.
“C’mere. You look as if you’re really happy to see me.” Leeza forcefully took him by the tie once again and pulled him on top of her. When she began frantically unzipping his pants, he held her by the wrists to stop her.
“Whoa, filly…what’s your hurry? You said you didn’t have a curfew so why the rush? Don’t you even wanna know my name?” he quizzed.
“Well, I thought your name was Ready since that’s the way you came across downstairs.” Leeza was no longer smiling – feeling a bit toyed with; and that was the feeling she hated most.
“You’re a funny one, aren’t cha?” he chuckled. “Ok, well let’s ‘git to what we came here for! By the way, my real name’s Jim. Now tell me yours…”
“Nothing’s changed,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m still…Available.”
Switching off the lamp, she proceeded to undress him by the orange glow of moonlight trickling through the window. This was a typical night for Leeza. Raunchy sex with yet another man she didn’t know, nor cared to. After a while, she just lay there and let him have his way.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the party was over…at least, for her. The banging inside her head warned of the onslaught of another massive headache and there was no getting away from it.
Her enjoyment of the night’s events came to a screeching halt as the next one started to take over.
CHRISTY
Jim opened his eyes to a blonde pointing a gun in his face. Startled, he scanned the room for the brunette he’d brought back with him the night before, but, she was nowhere to be found.
“Give me your wallet!” the blonde demanded.
“Who are you? And, where is Available?” he asked, his eyes still searching.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t want to know what you’re talking about, capiche? My name is Christy and I’m not going to ask you again. Give me…your wallet.”
Jim pointed to his clothes that he’d been stripped of the night before, strewn across the floor. “You didn’t ask me the first time,” he said. “My wallet’s in there. Take whatever you want, just get outta my damn room.”
Christy stooped to pick up the pants, throwing them at him; the gun, nor her eyes, hardly ever leaving the target as she moved.
“Hey, I don’t take orders from you. Remember that. Now give me everything in there that’s spendable.”
Jim snatched the bills from his wallet and threw them at her. “Here, this is all I have,” he muttered, his tone laced with anger.
“I saw plastic. I want those, too. And don’t make the mistake again of throwing anything at me,” she warned, raising the gun to remind him who was in charge.
Jim mumbled something as he gently placed three credit cards on the bed. Christy snatched the cards up and backed slowly towards the door. Her hands had barely touched the door handle when she heard Jim yell, “Get out, you bitch!”
Pushing herself away from the door and calmly walking back over to the bed, she could see the fear which had quickly taken up residence in his eyes…the moment when he knew he had pushed too hard.
The growing smirk across her lips catapulted into a full-blown sneer as she lifted the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
“Don’t you ever call me a bitch again. I told you my name was Christy.”
***
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