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BHM The Dancer and The Detective - by Rellis10 (~BHM, ~FFA)

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rellis10

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~BHM, ~FFA - John Hawkins settles in for a night of lonely drinking as usual but tonight may not be just any other night.

[AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first story here on DIMS so please be kind and I apologise if there are any errors. The characters and locations in this story are totally fictional.]

The Dancer and The Detective
By Rellis10

The night air was thick with darkness and the stench of alcohol. Torrents of rain did nothing to wash the smell away in this part of town, it was engrained into the asphalt itself. This was the kind of night the seedy part of the city loved, with all the shadow and grime rising to the top. Faces appeared and disappeared with ease in the gloom, making it perfect for all manner of sordid activities to occur.

It was this type of night that veteran police detective John Hawkins would have loved twenty years ago. He would have been quite at home trawling the bars and cleaning house when he was still on the streets. Now, though, he had other things on his mind such as a bottle of whiskey in one particular bar he preferred to frequent. In the intervening years he had let himself go, having been a stocky figure before he was now a hefty 300lbs after being stuck behind a desk shoveling paperwork and donuts.

Now, instead of chasing crooks, John chased leads on cases that tested his mental and not physical agility. On his free evenings he spent his time chasing any alcoholic beverage he could find to take his mind off things. One divorce, no kids and a body that wasn’t getting any younger had begun to catch up to the 43 year old, although he was by no means an unattractive man beneath his excessive size.

Stomping through the puddles on this rainy night in mid November, John was huddled inside a brown canvas trench coat that made him look even more intimidating than his large size already did. His short dark brown hair was drenched and the excess water ran off down the ripples of his face. Every drop of water felt like an anvil pushing him into the ground tonight, an unneeded weight upon broad, tired shoulders. John glanced up and recognised these grimy streets of Bison Harbour, it was downtown and in an area known for it’s abundance of sleazy bars. Just one more right turn and he’d be at his favourite.

The sidewalk poked above the growing pools of rainwater as John’s scuffed leather work shoes clicked a slow and steady beat. By now he could hear the melodic tones of slow music coming from around the next corner and see the faint glow of a vulgar pink neon sign. The glow came from a narrow alley that was marked only by a makeshift sign that read ‘Georgie’s Saloon’ in half eroded type. Each step brought him further along the brick wall by his side and eventually to the corner where he turned and stared up again from the gloom.

Down the dingy back alley were the pink neon sign and a door guarded by two heavies. The even larger detective barely flinched at the sight he was now accustomed to and walked forward into their line of sight. His heavy footsteps sent water splashing up over his trouser legs but he carried on regardless. Sending a brief look at the neon signboard, John noticed it said ‘Hard Liquor and Live Entertainment’. Live Entertainment in this part of town meant only one thing, a pole and something to dance around it.

As he approached the couple of brutes on the door, dressed entirely in black, John watched eagerly for a sign that said he was allowed into the establishment. The first man, bald and wearing sunglasses at night, finally began to pay attention to the 300lbs man approaching him and immediately showed an expression of familiarity. John was a regular at the bar by now and the bouncers were used to seeing him around this time. The man gave a nod of approval toward John who gave an identical one back and pushed through the rickety wooden door into Georgie’s Saloon.

The bar was packed tonight, full of louts with loud mouths and thick wallets. As the night wore on the mouths would get louder and the wallets lighter, John knew, and he resigned himself to another night to headachy drinking. There were a couple of seats free at the bar courtesy of the younger customers’ tendency to move toward the sheltered booths around the walls. John shuffled forward while shaking the excess water off his coat, careful to avoid the crowd of people.

As John attempted to make his way to the bar he noticed the music was a slow and sensual rhythm, this meant only one thing: some young lady was stood upon a stage to John’s right grinding herself against a pole. This, however, was none of John’s concern at this moment and he continued toward his targeted barstool. His route took him close to a standing cohort of young business types and as he passed several of them saw him and stared. It was as though they were thinking ”Who is this fat lump invading our space?” but this look was short lived as John stared back with all the thunder his immense form commanded.

His walk was powerful and yet stunted by his tiredness. The bar stool was now only a few feet ahead and beckoning him. In just a few steps John had reached the seat and landed his large posterior on the tough burgundy leatherette. As he settled into his seat John scanned the bar and the assembled characters there. Young and old were there, some regulars who John had seen on his many visits; mostly the older types drinking as he did, to pass the time.

Behind the bar was the patron of this establishment, Georgie. He was a man of around 60, short grey hair at the sides of his head with nothing in the middle and a gaunt look. His slim form ambled across the bar and placed a glass of red wine and a scotch in front of a stylish looking couple before turning back to the centre. It was then that his attention was caught by a new customer. He attended to the request of this man as John shuffled in his seat until he found comfort.

“Georgie!” John shouted over the music in the background to the barman who was just serving a bottle of chilled Bud to another customer. The disheveled looking barman shuffled across the bar toward John and leant in close to hear his order. “I’ll take a Jack Daniels.”

Duly, Georgie the Barman turned to the plethora of drinks behind him and grabbed a bottle of amber liquid marked with the name ‘Jack Daniels’ and then a small glass. Turning back to the sullen figure slumped on the barstool, the barman placed the glass on the bar and poured the liquor smoothly until it reached an adequate level. He slid the glass forward to his customer and was about to move off to serve another when he was stopped dead by John’s voice.

“Leave the bottle.” John’s face didn’t lie, it said he wanted the whole bottle as clearly as his words did. Georgie knew this customer well enough to know a night on the sauce was the aftershock of a rough week. His face showed it, his voice showed it, the squeaking of the leatherette topped barstool under John’s rotund and fatigued buttocks showed it too. John placed a handful of notes down on the bar to pay for his bottle of Jack Daniels and watched as the barman impulsively took them.

“Tough time with work, John?” The barman refrained, only half expecting a response that he didn’t get. Instead John merely twisted his neck while simultaneously extending his hand toward the glass. Georgie gave a sneaky tut to himself and went back to minding his own business for the moment.

Grabbing the glass in his left hand, John lifted it to his parched lips and took a sip. The smooth whiskey swilled around his educated mouth for an all too brief moment before he tipped his head back and swallowed. It would be the first drink of what he hoped was many that night.

As his head twisted to view his surroundings, John’s stomach followed it, sloshing to the side and ruffling his rain spattered trench coat. In response John placed the glass of liquor down and spread out his arms to remove the coat. Underneath the coat was a cheap but loyal charcoal pinstripe suit complete with a faded red tie that John loosened instinctively along with the top button of his off-white shirt. This revealed his double chin properly, poking out below his jaw like a cushion to rest his head on.

Suddenly everything went silent for a moment as the music ceased in the background. There was a small amount of commotion around the entertainment area as the sultry dancer removed herself from the pole and exited the elevated stage, the punters clearly unhappy to see her leave. After taking a brief glance around, John took another sip of Jack Daniels and settled back into his routine. Such an event was nothing special in this place, dancers changed places like glasses from the hands of drunkards.

A couple of minutes passed, nothing caught John’s eye other than the glint of amber in his glass. After a refill from the bottle he was ready to hunker down and settle in for a night on the sauce. He already felt the effect of the drink he’d knocked down, the warming of his insides making a pleasant lift to his somber mood.

This time of silent drinking passed until the music finally returned, with a slow melancholy ballad drifting through the air. The sultry tones caught John’s attention but only because it signaled the arrival of another dancer to the stage, something he wasn’t particularly interested in. The entrance of said dancer was announced shortly by a host of adolescent wolf-whistles and cheers, and then by the morose voice of Georgie the bartender.

“New girl…Been on twice tonight already…” Georgie spoke in the direction of John who looked up from his drink at the realisation he was being talked to. “…how’d you like her?”

John’s expression didn’t change one iota; it kept the same glum appearance it had since he entered the bar. “I really don’t care Georgie. I come here to drink, not to eyeball the broads you picked up from wherever the hell you get them from.”

“Suit yourself, but this one’s a real piece of something…if you know what I mean.” Looking down from the other side of the bar Georgie’s expression seemed to have turned rather lecherous and leery. To John he was an old letch who talked about things he could no longer do, or people he could no longer have. Knowing this, John wanted nothing else to do with his philandering words.

“Georgie, I don’t want to know what you mean. Like I said, I’m here to drink.” The barman heard these words from John and gave a look as if he didn’t care. He had the man’s money, what he did with his time now was his own business. As Georgie turned to mind his bar again, John took a sip from his newly refilled glass and stared straight forward through his bottle.

By now the act on stage was heating up considerably, the crowd of men leaping around like dogs in heat. On stage was Felicity Hall, a dancer gently twisting around a long silver pole. Her long legs, faultless and flexible, wrapped themselves around the chromed shaft to suggest to the watching men “Just imagine how I could wrap them around you.” Her body was tightly held by a luscious deep red Satin dress that stopped just after her hips. Underneath this she wore a similarly coloured pair of slim hot pants, to halt any prying eyes short of anything inappropriate. Finally her feet were hugged close by a pair of black suede boots that came up just short of the knee.

There were cat calls and whistles aplenty that somehow reached high above the blue tones of the music. Felicity drove these hormone-driven men wild wherever she went. She could have been anywhere, dressed in anything, but the looks she got were always the same; lustful and unwholesome. Every man she had ever met wanted to use her for nothing other than a quick lay and at this time in her life it drove her mad. But, she felt, it was the only thing she had going for her.

Her long flowing chestnut coloured hair cascaded over her back like water over a perfectly smooth river bed. Green as emeralds her eyes shone through the intense light of the stage but the faked sensuality on her face did not. She knew long before now that they didn’t care about her emotions, or even how she showed them; these people only wanted her body.

Dancing along to the slow beat of the music, she let her mind wander as it had done many times before. This wasn’t her first job dancing in a dead-end bar. Nor, she suspected, would it be her last. She had a firm grasp of the skills needed to thrill the mob around the stage and now it had become automatic, even easy. So her mind distanced itself and became occupied with thought.

She could only think about the events that brought her into this place. Her life making ends meet that meant she would take any work she was offered. Answering the frequent call for dancers in a bar looking to rile up their male customers was a staple income. But things happened, bars closed, people changed and Felicity invariably found herself looking for another job sooner or later. This time it was Georgie’s Saloon in Bison Harbour.

Felicity rejected the pole now and walked out in front of it, getting as close to the baying mob as she dared. Her hips, slowly but smoothly, swayed from one side to the other. Running her hands through her hair she let it drape over her shoulders in a random but completely sensual manner. Then she lowered herself, crouching to be at head height with the men who desired her.

They could almost touch her, almost but not quite. She knelt there, just out of arms reach, her deep red satin dress shimmering in the concentrated light from above. But her eyes were not on these men right in front of her, but in fact they had drifted toward the bar and one man in particular.

She had never been able to truly admit it to anybody, maybe not even herself truthfully, but her eyes were always drawn by men who were not conventionally good looking. Instead they were caught by the larger men, figures who nobody would have guessed she would rather be with if they saw her in the street. She was, after all, utterly beautiful, what would people think if she were to become involved with a man as large as she often desired?

She’d had relationships before with men who bore boyish good looks and rugged handsome featured but inevitably they had crumbled as even they couldn’t fulfill her desires. She wanted a man that could hold her close and protect her, a man who looked as if he could stand against mountains to defend her. More than that she wanted the converse, a cushion to hold and love her in the tenderest ways. She wanted a man, a real one, not the scrawny pretty-boys that followed her like lost puppies and wannabe playboys. And looking at the bar she thought she might have found one.

John sat there sipping on his Jack Daniels and blissfully unaware the eyes of a stunning brunette were aimed squarely at his back. The warm liquor passed down his throat and into his ample belly and almost subconsciously he turned his head toward the stage. It took a few moments, through the disorganised rabble, but they shone through; two gleaming emerald eyes staring straight into his own.

Surely she was looking at somebody else, somebody behind him he thought. Did he dare look behind him in case he turned back to find her lustrous glare gone? In sheer disbelief that it was him this stunning beauty was staring at, John couldn’t resist turning around and glancing at everybody to see if their eyes were locked on the woman’s. Every face drew a blank, even if they were looking toward the women they were far too interested the dancing to notice her eyes. Not one person seemed as if they were reciprocating the intense gaze of the dancer.

Cautiously John turned his thick, commanding body back toward the stage. He didn’t want to get his hopes up that this woman had been staring at him in that fixated way. If he did he was sure it would be just another disappointment in a long line of let downs and delusions.

As he rotated his broad shoulders in the direction of his hopeful admirer John blinked, and as he opened his eyes again he saw the emerald eyes centred solely on his face once again. This time he knew where to look and spotted them immediately, locked on his features, studying him from a distance. Even as she stood up from her crouched position and moved around the stage to suit all her would-be suitors, her eyes were set on John in an unending trance.

What was she staring at him for? Many people glanced at him as he walked down the street. It was a natural response to somebody so large and imposing that a passer-by would take a second look. Maybe she wanted to poke fun at the fat man sat drinking alone. The myriad thoughts ran through John’s head, the most positive of which being blind chance she had chosen his face to look upon in a moment of boredom. Still their eyes connected as John’s hand grasped the glass of Jack Daniels but dared not take a drink.

Felicity gyrated her hips again and wrapped her hands around the pole, keeping her eyes fixed on the mysterious man at the bar. He was alone, his hand clasped around a glass with a bottle nearby but not drinking. Why? Why wasn’t he drinking, she asked herself? She scanned him up and down as much as she could, his portly body packed tight into a suit part of her mind would much rather he removed. As her eyes moved upward she finally noticed his eyes, even with the distance she could tell the hazel hue because his eyes were staring straight back at her.

“He’s staring straight at me” she told herself in a sudden realisation of exactly why this man hadn’t lifted his drink since she’d begun looking at him. Not only was he looking at her, but he was precisely meeting her gaze, his eyes locked on her own. Felicity’s instincts told her to drag her eyes away and finish her dance, but something deep inside kept her eyes steady. The feeling was something she had very rarely felt before. It was something she had grown to dread as she knew this feeling was so difficult to confront. That feeling was desire.

Nothing could pull her eyes away from him as her body contorted in unison with the chrome shaft. The crowd around her was still as rowdy as they had been all night but to Felicity there was only silence and this man’s body and face. His expression seemed one of disbelief, but behind it a taint of sadness and weariness. Perhaps the sadness came from drinking alone without a friend or partner, the weariness from delving into his job to distract himself from the loneliness. She could only guess, but she saw the depth of feeling in his hazel eyes and wanted to know more. She wanted to get closer to this man even more than she dared admit to herself.

John’s eyes hadn’t left the woman’s for well over a minute but it had felt like hours. He’d gotten lost in her beauty no matter why she was looking at him. The look on her face could easily be lust and sensuality yet this was what he would expect from a decent dancer. He was now almost certain she had merely picked his face from the distance as a way of occupying herself and that he was fooling himself that the glance meant anything more. For now he reveled in the fact she had chosen to look in his direction, but knew once the music stopped her eyes would be gone.

Felicity, knowing she was now enacting the last portion of her routine, wished the music would never end. Once she exited the stage this man, whoever he was, may be gone and her desire gone with him. She dared divert her gaze for a single moment, she was too entranced by his obese yet wonderful form. His legs looked so wide and cushioned, she imagined she could sit in his soft lap for hours. His arms looked so thick and warm he could wrap them around her and she would feel protected from anything. She was utterly certain his whole body would be a perfect pillow to rest on when the weight of the world got too much.

Suddenly the song began to fade out, the final few seconds of her routine culminating in a flick back of the head and her silky chestnut hair floating through the air until coming to a rest on her back. The crowd responded with another round of wolf whistles and aroused cheers as Felicity looked straight past them toward her idol. He sat there with his eyes on her as they had been for a while but once the music had died they returned to his glass.

Still the dancer could not take her eyes of him but knew she had to exit the stage. Reluctantly she moved toward the rear of the stage where a door led to a back room where she and another dancer prepared. She kept her eyes on this unknown man’s immense, succulent body as long as she could but then relented and passed through the door. Her last thought was that he would still be there when she passed by on her way out of the bar.

Sitting at the bar, John took another swig of the Jack Daniels and closed his eyes briefly. The Jade hued irises of the dancer were emblazoned on the inside of his eyelids. He thought to himself that she had just been picking the most boring face in the crowd to keep herself tamed under the pressure of the stage lights, but there was something he couldn’t quite shake about that gaze. Nobody had looked at him like that in years it seemed, not since his ex-wife who gladly shot him out of the door when their relationship turned sour several years earlier.

They had started off as sweethearts, she adored him and his muscular, almost athletic body. For a while they lived in bliss until John’s attention turned to his job and climbing the ladder. While he was an officer he had been a model husband but John had set his eyes on becoming a Detective and soon he spent more and more time chasing his promotion. The time took its toll but John’s wife understood, and it all seemed to be worth it when the promotion finally came. However John still kept up the extra hours of work and the time behind a desk had an effect on his vaguely athletic figure.

”Too many hours, too many donuts” John quipped silently to himself as he sipped another mouthful of amber liquid. His belly had grown, his wife’s patience had not. John was no longer the man she had known many years before and it seemed he no longer had time for her. The time for reconciliation came and went and with it went the marriage and a pile of divorce papers. John had nothing to fall back on but his job and a growing reliance on Jack Daniels.

Since then nobody had given him a second look except for intimidation value. His body was gone and replaced by a flabby hulk of flesh, and he knew people no longer considered him sexy or anything remotely desirable. This fact he accepted with the help of alcohol, with drink he didn’t feel quite so lonely.

Yet now he had experienced the eyes of this Goddess upon him in the same way he had once known those many years previous. He wanted to brush it off as a mere nothing but the look lingered in his mind. Was it just that he was intoxicated, not by the drink but the slightest hint of being wanted? Hell, why not the drink itself? Or maybe he believed somewhere deep down there was still a remote possibility the lustful, covetous gaze was genuine.

Whatever the cause of this lingering feeling, John couldn’t shake it and it bothered him. He’d shook off far more in the past in his job. As an Officer he’d seen things nobody would want to see but shrugged it off as part of the job, images that should have stuck in his mind evaporated into thin air. This one stayed firmly embedded in his mind. Two stunning emerald eyes, focused on him, wanting him. He took another drink and stared back into the glass in reflection.

Several minutes after leaving the stage, Felicity poked her head around a door not far from the bar. Her luscious outfit had been replaced by a pair of faded jeans, a plain black t-shirt and a denim jacket though her stunning beauty was still present. There was no protection from the rain outside, her plan was a dash to the road and to get the attention of the first cab she saw.

Felicity’s thoughts had nothing to do with the torrential rain though, but more how she would get to the exit without looking for the man she had been so infatuated with before. If he was still there he would be sat at the bar and she would have to walk straight past him to leave. She was sure her mind would want her to search for that magnificently heavy and spongy body yet had no idea what she would do if she found him.

Not being able to stand hiding behind a door for the remainder of the night Felicity resolved to walk out. Shutting the door behind her, the slim and sexy dancer walked forward and tried to keep facing ahead. If she spotted her enigmatic man at the bar she would feel like feel like going over and confronting him and that was an act she was certainly not comfortable with in public.

She felt even more conspicuous as she walked toward the door. The bar was still packed with people though there was a clear path toward the door. As Felicity made her way in that direction her eyes instinctively darted to the right and toward the bar. There, sat in the middle with an empty stool to his right, was the man with his head bowed and glaring through his glass. He looked lonely, Felicity thought as she tried to keep walking. Unbeknownst to her however, her pace had slowly to little more than a crawl and then to nothing.

In the middle of the saloon she had stopped and remained staring at this curvy, irresistible hunk of man for whom she had no name. Felicity wanted to walk over and talk to him, to tell him he looked perfect and she wanted him. She wanted to, but more and more she was becoming aware that her being stationary was attracted the attention of several pairs of eyes. They may have been her lusty crowd wanting another look at her exquisite physique or pathetic pretty-boys wanting a crack at her, but she had no patience for them tonight. Any more time spent in the bar would attract more interest and talking to this man would only serve to draw more attention to her and her unconventional desires.

Felicity didn’t want the attention. The crowds around the stages she danced on were more than enough for that. She wanted this man, at least to talk to him, but she didn’t want the leery eyes and disapproving ignorant minds judging her. She wasn’t ready for that kind of attention. Not yet.

Bowing her head, Felicity pulled her gaze away from the man and turned to the door. Every bone in her body wished her to turn back and just talk to the man she found so tantalizing but she couldn’t manage it, not now, not in front of all these people.

Slowly she began to walk again with painful steps and a heavy heart. Each step took her closer to the door until she was stood next to it, so close she could hear the rain pounding at the ground outside. There Felicity hesitated for a second and turned her head halfway toward the bar. If she’d looked out of the very corner of her eye she would have seen him for a last time but she couldn’t bare it. Reaching out she pulled the door open to reveal the two men still guarding the entrance and the rain only stopped from battering them by a small overhang above. The rain was lashing, but it seemed more welcome than a crowd of burning eyes.

Clutching her jacket closer together at the neck, Felicity gave a short longing sigh that only she could hear before walking out into the dark, dreary alley. John twisted his head at that moment, catching only the merest glimpse of Felicity’s face as she disappeared behind the rapidly closing door. The expression on that face was not one of a contented seductress. It was a look John knew well as he wore it on many an occasion. It was sadness, it was loneliness.


TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT POST
 

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