Drowning Tucson by Aaron Morales Read Free Book Online

the pussy up in this bitch be finuh than hell, and laughing and bellying up to the bar before the lights dimmed and the first stripper took the stage in her ten-inch black leather stiletto go-go boots, with a hyena tattooed on her left ass cheek that laughed at everyone who wanted to touch it.
    The DJ—a man with a smug face who loved his job, had even called all of his buddies up the day he landed the Loveboat gig and gloated about how he gets paid to look at naked chicks all night long—told everyone give it up for Desire, and they did, raising their beers in the air and whistling smoky ear-piercing whistles and juggling their dice in anticipation, nodding and grinning and ordering a few spare drinks to hold them over until her set was finished. They did not want to miss a thing. Not even one bead of the sweat dripping between her jugs oralong the small of her back, teasing them, dancing on the edge of her thong, threatening at any moment to dive into the miraculous cavern between her ass cheeks.
    By the time Manny had arrived, the Loveboat was already filled with airmen and the stench of testosterone, that overwhelming scent of sweat and smoke and alcohol seeping from a billion pores. Excitement crept down between his legs. He watched Desire hanging upside-down from a brass pole in the middle of the stage with her legs wrapped around it and her hair brushing the ground and her tits covering the bottom half of her face. He made his way to an open spot at the front and center of the stage and sat down, making sure to look directly at the stripper jiggling and slapping her cheeks while she bent over and then ran her middle finger up the length of her crack. The chair next to him was open, so he placed his jacket on the seat to reserve it for Vinnie.
    When the waitress came, Manny told her get me a Dos Equis and gave her a slap on the ass, then looked around to see who saw him do it. Another patron in a leather bomber jacket made eye contact with Manny and winked and nodded—the universal look that said we’re paying customers here and we gotta let em know who’s boss.
    Manny settled into his seat, laying his head back for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to regulate his excitable heart. The shouting and laughing sounded more like the men were at a boxing match than a place where they came to admire young, tight, naked women. Boy was Vinnie missing out. Earlier Manny had heard him ribbing some guy at the base, telling him be sure to come out to the Boat tonight, wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea if you keep turning down invitations. Manny hadn’t exactly been invited, but he was sure Vinnie knew him well enough that if he said hi or offered him a beer he’d probably stop and talk to him.
    A man behind him talked about how I fucked Yolanda and she’s a freak, man, lets me do all typa crazy shit, the other guy not believing him, saying man, you aint got to fuckin lie about that bitch, and laughing and giving each other some dap then silence while they drank from their beers. To Manny’s left, two black airmen said we’ve got to find us some hoes, ya know, new tail, not this old airbase pussy running aroundhere on the weekends. Yeah, I’m tired of useless bitches like Vicki pushin her babies down Kolb, hopin to find a daddy for them kids, all used up and lookin for a joint to smoke. Yeah, we can bounce, but first let’s get an eyeful of some of this prime college ass.
    Manny covered a smirk with his beer. What do these Air Force punks know about women? Thinking they have them all figured out when they’re just kids themselves. He saw guys like these every day in his office, re-class pilots from other branches of the service who’d seen
Top Gun
one time too many in high school. Didn’t they even know the
Top Gun
pilots were Navy? These chumps parading around as grown men when they’re kids, really, with dreams of showing up in a club like this one and making girls swoon as soon as they see