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Where 69 Meets 40; Well Not Quite... A History Lesson
Topic Started: Jun 23 2008, 08:20 PM (272 Views)
Kathryn Velmont Thomas
Southern Belle Beauty - Kick Ass Attitude
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"Oh C’mon Lil, the guy was asking for it!" She defends her actions. Following the blonde down the length of the bar, clearing up spilt beers and collecting empty shot glasses. The club was practically empty, just one or two regulars, slumped over the bar, the bar maids or Coyotes as they like to be known clearing up around them. The clock on the wall reads 3:52am. The Saloon normally closed at 4am, but was usually empty by 3:30. Everyone too drunk to stay any longer. "He shouldn't been grabbin' at me'"

"No doubt Faith, but darlin' I’m not having Coyotes with black eyes dancing on my bar" The blonde retorts.

"This is bullshit and yall know it!" She slams her fist on the bar; knocking over the stacked shot glasses she had just collected, screaming at no singular person.

"Faith, just because your some big shot now doesn’t mean…” Faith tried to cut ‘Lil’ off but it was pointless, Lil continued to speak. “Doesn’t mean you can go around hitting whatever or whoever you feel like, no matter what. Ya know that’s what Joe is for. Now go home. Get some sleep. Come back in three days when the swellings gone down and you can cover it up with some make up." Faith doesn't stop to pick up the knocked over glasses, instead she pulls herself up and onto the bar, leaning over and grabbing her black leather jacket. She swung the jacket around her shoulders and slips her arms in as she headed for the exit, without even saying goodbye to any of the other Coyotes, nor the blonde she had just been talking too.

As soon as Faith stepped outside, she breathed in the warm Tulsa air, she needed to chill out before the long drive home. She propped herself up against the wall next to the exit. Taking out her Salem Menthol cigarettes and lighting one up. She brings up her left knee, her foot pushing against the wall. She smiled as she felt the warm early morning breeze on her bare legs, well as bare as they can be when wearing denim hot pants and black fishnet tights.

She looks down at the scuffed black cowboy boots and the beer stains across the toes. Sighing at the thought of having to clean them again, she pushed her head back. The cowboy hat resting on her head sliding over her eyes slightly as her head pushed against the wall. She exhales and blows the smoke upward into the morning sky.

That damned routine Faith thought to herself. As soon as Lil told her about the new routine she hated it. Candy Man was not a Coyote song no matter how much Christina wants it to be. If it was something like Cherry Pie or American Woman Faith probably wouldn’t have minded so much but that song… it was like a knife cutting through her flesh and scraping the bone beneath. Faith was professional enough to force her way through the routine with a smile on her face.

“Sweet sugar candy man” The girls did their individual thing on the bar, Faith felt the hand grab at her ankle, she kicked her leg, but no so obvious to release the grip.

“He’s one stop shop making all the panties drop” As Faith dropped to a crouch position, that was when she felt the hand on her ass. That was it. She jumped down from the bar to confront the man. That was when he decided to get up in her face. Pushing her against the bar, Faith turned her head away from the disgusting stench of alcohol on his breath. Sure, she enjoyed a drink but that was a step away from alcoholism.

“Hey your that rasslin’ chick… Wanna wrestle…” Like she hadn’t heard that one before.

“Look, take a step back or things are gonna get ugly…” Faith warned.

“Or what? Your gonna beat me up? Pfft… Wrestling’s fake anyway.” The guy dismissed her warning.

“Oh really? Fake this” Faith swung and hit the guy square in the jaw she takes a step up, seeing Joe fro security starting to make his way over, she wasn’t going to drop this one.

Not this time.

Before she could do anything a fist was coming her way and as she went to duck, one of the girl tried to pull her back up onto the bar and the fist connected straight in the socket. She didn’t falter. Instead it just made her angrier and even more desperate to get in another punch, but Lil and the girls were already pulling her over the bar as Joe was dragging the guy out by the scruff of the neck.


GRRRRRRRRRR

Faith giggled being broken from her train of thought by the familiar sound of her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the start of her shift. It was going to be at least another hour twenty before she made it back home to the ranch, so she would have to eat now. There was no way she could last the journey with that kind of hunger. She was hopped up on adrenaline, booze and nicotine so she was far from tired but hungry? Faith would bet anyone the fifty in her ashtray that they couldn’t work a night shift at Coyote Ugly, performing at least four times, and NOT walk away hungry.

She flicked her cigarette to the dusty ground and stomped it out, placing her thumbs in the loops of daisy dukes and began walking towards her car. The engine roared to life before settling into a monotone purr. Faith loved that sound, almost as much as she loved her music, which prompts her to turn the stereo on. AC/DC Hell’s Bells began blasting, Faith nodded her head, tapped her hands on the steering wheel and sang along at the top of her lungs as she pulled out of the parking lot.

It was mornings like these that Faith sometimes wished she had a convertible. So she could just drop the roof and drive. Yes, she loved her bikes too, but it wasn’t the same feeling as the wind gushes through your hair in a convertible. Then Faith would reminisce about how lucky she actually was to be the proud owner of the Impala.
Faith was 18, although her ID said she was 22, and had managed to hustle her way in to a poker game with only the hundred bucks she had in her back pocket, although the buy in was $250 (She would later thank Israel Pilot, the inventor of the wonder bra for the moment and low cut halter she was wearing). Eventually after several grueling hours of playing, drinking and smoking, it came down to her and this one particular guy, she could never remember the name of but could only describe him as evolved sewer scum.

You know the type right? Long greasy, straggly hair, pulled back into a loose pony tail with a trucker’s cap, overweight with a t-shirt two sizes too small bearing his gut, lumberjack shirt, torn dirtied jeans and even dirtier cat boots. Just thinking back to the way he only looked at her chest when talking to her made Faith want to pummel the guy, but she played it cool, using her best poker face. They both went all in. Faith was standing her ground. She wasn’t going to fold now and especially not to this guy. She wanted to up the anty but there was nothing she could offer. Then he spoke.

“Let’s make this a little more interesting.” She stared at him, not flinching, no sign of a smile, nothing. “If you win this hand, you get my car.” Faith knew there was a but coming and from the perverted smirk on the guy’s face. She knew what he was about to say before he had even said it. “And if I win. I get to take you for a ride.”
Faith knew his game. He was trying to play her, make her fold, because he knew if she called it, she was going to win and looking down at her cards, the chances were in her favor.

It was only by a margin, if it was indeed all in her favor. It was probably the worst hand she had been dealt all night and unluckily for her, EVERYTHING, including her dignity, was riding on it. She looked down at the three of clubs and five of diamonds. Then the cards on the table. Two of Clubs, Queen of Hearts. Faith rubbed her temples for a moment. She had nothing. Every last hope was pinned on the final card. Was it really worth it? Running her fingers through her hair, she weighed out the odds in her head. They were definitely not in her favor.

“Fine” She sighed, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her motel key. She threw into the middle on top of mound of notes. He matched her, only this time with his car keys. Faith held her breathe as the barmaid who was doubling as the dealer lays the final card on the table.

Gasps were all that could escape the patron’s mouths as they watched Faith’s face instantly drop, she tilted her head back. She stood up. Reaching her hand into the pile to grab her motel keys.

“I’m sorry this was…” She began sorrowfully. The guys hand reached to her wrist and gripped firmly.

“I don’t think so little lady we had a deal” He hissed angrily at Faith’s attempt to make an escape. Faith dropped her head, she knew that she what she had to do.
“If you let me finish.” She replied, snatching back her hand. She laid her cards on the table. Next to his Two of diamonds and six of clubs. “I’m sorry this was not your lucky night. High pair. I win”

Faith smirked, grabbing the keys and as much of the pot as she could to make a quick exit.

“Thanks for the ride!” She giggled as she ran through the parking lot, finding the car, easily outrunning the overweight sleazeball. She unlocked the car and sped out of there as quickly as possible before she could, no questions asked.

Faith smirks to herself, using a hand to caress the dashboard. Her attention was quickly averted though when she saw a new Waffle House open. With no other cars on the road, she pulled a u-ie and pulled into the parking lot……..

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Love Faith xXx

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