Leg Spreader
3713 Words
June 13, 1997
The marque reads: Pump Presents Ladies Night. A red plush carpet lines the front of a stylish black brick building. Inside, obnoxious lighting has illuminated the smoke-filled room. Amongst the unfiltered air, are dozens of tables surrounding a semi-circular stage. Ladies swoon over the almost naked dancer in front of them.
The radiation from the room of over-packed, under-sexed females, create beads of sweat on Sean’s handsome, boyish face, and his well-modeled physique. He looks through a large cutout in the floor beneath him, down a once highly polished brass pole mounted to the stage. A nearly naked Prince is concluding his performance under the hot spotlights, gyrating to Little Red Corvette.
Sean scans tonight’s voyeurs and sees a woman who looks hauntingly familiar. He slips into a trance;
Sean is at his desk working when the phone rings. “Hello, this is Sean. How can I help you?” His demeanor turns from arcane to concern. “What? I’m on my way.” His thoughts turn to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital Emergency admittance. He frantically approaches the check-in desk. “I’m Sean Collins, my mother Vivian is here.”
The admin nurse attempts to console Sean. “I know this is a difficult time, but please have a seat and I’ll have the doctor talk to you as soon as he’s available.” Sean paces helplessly. Twenty minutes pass until a doctor approaches Sean.
“Mr. Collins? Sean nods yes. There is no easy way to say this, so I am going to be straight with you. Your mother was involved in a major car accident. After hours of surgery, there is nothing more we can do for her. The severity of her head injury is irreversible. Her brain is clinically dead, and she will need assisted breathing, the remainder of her life. I’m sorry Mr. Collins.”
The shrill sound of a siren snaps Sean back to reality. Michael Walker, the club manager tapped Sean on the shoulder startling him.
“Are you ready mate?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Sean states calmly.
“Your fans are going to miss you. Here comes my favorite part. Knock ‘em dead Sean!” Michael jumped and slid down the pole to the stage, landing with a huge grin on his face.
A dapper Michael stands before a pack of ravenous wolves, and in a disarming Aussie voice he asks.
“Are you ladies having a good time?”
Yeses, catcalls, and shrills deluge the club.
A young woman from the first-row yells. “Why don’t you take something off?” A multitude of encouragement from the rest of the crowd followed.
Michael positions the wireless microphone to protrude from between his legs and teases the worked-up ladies by slowly unbuttoning his shirt and thrusting his hips, in and out. The DJ takes the cue and plays a little classic strip music with a heavy thumping beat. Michael stops three buttons down and yells.
“You want me to take something off?”
The ladies yell back in unison. “Yeah!”
Michael slowly slides the mike out from between his legs and announces.
“Alight, half-off all drinks the rest of the show!”
First, there was a pause, then a wave of yea’s exuded from the restless and horny patrons.
Michael continues. “Down to business, we’ve saved the best for last. Warning, this ride will get you wet. Without further ado, direct from firehouse 69, it’s smokin’ hot Sean!”
The sound of a siren blares again, this time from the Ohio Players Fire playing through the over-amplified, distorted sound system. Sean hears his cue. He adjusts his jacket, grabs his ax, and hops onto the pole. He corkscrews down acrobatically in authentic fireman’s garb swinging his hatchet wildly. His long golden-brown hair swirled around his smiling mug. Deafening screams and cheers come from the mob. He lands on his bare feet and his ax makes a thud, after he threw it on the stage behind him.
He pranced around, tossed off his jacket, and stripped down to only suspenders and shorts, revealing his ripped powerful body. He jumped back up onto the pole and hung by his crossed legs, doing sit-ups.
At a table, dead center to the stage, are Charity, a red-headed, spirited Irish lass and Stacy, a beautiful, confident woman in her early forties. They are both fixated on Sean’s fire hose.
“Ay, ah I’m, speechless.” Says Charity, barely able to get the words out.
“That’s a first!” Chuckles Stacy. “They’ve definitively saved the best for last”
Charity raised her eyebrows and nodded in agreement. Sean jumped and grabbed the pole with both arms spread out in a locked position.
Executing a gymnastic type maneuver, he extended his legs out at an angle parallel to the pole and held the pose for a few seconds. He gracefully dropped from the pillar and continued confidently strutting around the stage. He further enticed the crowd, who have become much less ladylike, by slowly unlatching the suspenders from his pants, causing them to drop to his feet. He steps out of one leg, and then kicks the trousers off altogether, sending them flying out into the crowd. He is now only wearing plump metallic silver square-cut shorts and a devilish grin.
The noise is at a fever pitch. He approached and passed Stacy’s table again.
Charity was taken aback. “Oh my god, call UPS, that package needs to be delivered.”
Stacy smiles. “It looks like Jiffy Pop. Heat it up and watch it grow.”
“The magic treat, as much fun to make as it is to eat” Sings Charity. They both burst out in uncontrollable laughter.
Sean continued getting closer to the tables with each lap, across the well-worn cheaply carpeted stage.
All makes and models of ladies are yelling and holding up various bills, hotel keys, and autographed bar napkins. He took the bills and deposited them into his safe deposit box.
“How big do you think?” Charity muses.
Stacy shook her head. “I don’t know, hard to tell folded over like that. Pretty meaty to be sure. Let’s see if we can find out.”
Stacy pulled a wad of cash from her handbag and peeled off four twenties. She gave one to Charity and kept the others. They waved the dubs frantically over their heads. The denomination got Sean’s attention and he hopped off the stage down to their table.
He caressed Charity’s shoulders and kissed his way down her Celtic tattooed arm, taking the bill from her hand with his teeth. He winked at her and tucked the bill into his shorts.
Moving behind Stacy, he forcefully pulled her chair towards him. He gyrated around her and rubbed his chest on her back, breathing gently in her ears. He couldn’t help but be intoxicated by the sweet scent of Stacy’s lilac perfume and took deep breaths.
His cup is filling up, not just with bills, but with blood as well. Stacy felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Sean gently took her twenties and tantalizingly slid each one down deep into his skivvies, each time with a euphoric look on his face.
He then straddled her lap, not quite touching her, and moved up and down and around to the rhythm. She cupped her hands on his firm pecs and then slowly serpentined her way down his ab cracks with her fingers to his shimmery package. Sean stopped her just before entering the promised land. He grabbed her arms and restrained her. She did not resist. He leaned into her face slowly and gave her a passionate mouthwatering kiss.
Stacy caught her breath. “Hey hot stuff, how about giving us a private show later?”
“That’s sweet, but I don’t do that.”
Stacy ups the ante. “My friend and I will tip you, a hundred dollars an inch.”
Sean chuckles. “Ah, that’s cute.”
“Look for us after the show.” Pleads Stacy.
Sean slowly dismounted her, winked, and then returned to the stage to finish his number.
Sean left the dressing room after showering and changing into his street clothes. He sat in the office with Michael unraveling and obsessively straitening his bounty from the show.
“So, how did you do in your farewell performance?” Asked Michael.
“Looks like about $250-$300 with the very generous donations from those ladies in the front.” Sean smiles.
“The United Way, thanks to them, it works for all of us.” Michael smiled.
Sean laughed. “Get this, they offered me a hundred dollars an inch to go home with them.”
“Seriously, what the hell are you still doing here? That would be quite a hall with your beast.”
“I don’t know, it just seems so, whoreish.”
Michael gives Sean a vacant, sarcastic look.
“Are you having a stroke?” Said Sean.
“I will if you don’t get the hell outta here.”
“All right, good luck buddy, stay in touch.” Said Sean.
“For sure, it’s been a pleasure mate.”
They hug and pat each other on the back in compliance with the bro code.
Sean exited the back of the club and is walking to his car. He’s dressed in all black, fashionable clothes. Suddenly, a limo pulls up next to him. Stacy and Charity pop out of the moon roof like harlot jack-in-the-box clowns.
In unison, they shriek. “Help, help, fire! Save us, Sean! Save us!”
Sean can’t suppress a huge smile.
“Very funny.”
Stacy follows up on her previous pitch. “Did you think about our offer?”
“A C-note per inch huh?”
“Yes, for the fireman’s fund.” Said Stacy.
Sean thinks for a moment. “It wouldn’t be right for me to let the kids down. I’ll do it.”
“Yea!” Stacy and Charity exclaim.
Sean is pulled into the limo and they drive off.
They arrived at a fantastic Victorian-style mansion on a lagoon. Before they enter the house, the girls blind-folded Sean making him slightly apprehensive.
They carefully guided him through the entryway, stopping inside a breezy, sandalwood scented room. They turned Sean around three times and then propelled him onto an enormous, Alaskan king-sized bed. Working like piranhas, they stripped him down to his shorts in a matter of seconds.
The pair proceeded to strap Sean’s legs to the bottom posts of the intricately carved four-poster bed. The two ladies shuffled to the headboard and tightened cuffs on his arms, pulling him taught. Sean winced. They’ve obviously done this before.
“There, now you stay put.” Charity giggled.
Sean wiggled and tugged his arms and legs with little give. He was helpless, lying face-up in only his form-fitting silver metallic briefs, which were becoming increasingly fuller by the moment.
What is it about this that is making me so excited? These two could cut my throat and bury me in the backyard for all I know. Thought Sean.
Stacy smiled and said, “Mission accomplished.”
Charity gets a colossal smile. “Oh look, our Jiffy Pop’s is getting warm.”
Stacy moves towards Sean with a pair of sheers in hand, opening and closing them making a snipping sound.
Oh s**t, now what? Wondered Sean.
Stacy hopped up on the bed at Sean’s feet. She snuggled up to him, mounting his right shin and gave it a little grind, writhing in ecstasy for a moment as she’d hit the spot. Charity licked her lips and worked her hands around her personal, favorite pleasure zones.
Stacy wiggled up Sean’s muscular thigh and pressed the cold steel shears on Sean’s skin, slowly making her way up to the edge of his undies. Sean, still blindfolded, recognized the sound and became a bit squeamish.
Stacy delicately worked the blade under and sheared through one side of Sean’s shiny shorts, leaving the other side in place, for now. He was still covered, but it made him much more accessible.
She backed off his leg and got off the bed. Stacy quickly moved to the waiting Charity. She grabbed the straps of her teddy and ripped it off. Charity returned the favor. They exchanged kisses before removing each other’s panties in a much more tantalizing manner, leaving nothing to the imagination. They kissed and embraced each other for a few moments and then went back to work on Sean.
Stacy went to one side of Sean and Charity the other. Stacy kissed down Sean’s left arm and used her hand to lightly rub her fingers on Sean’s ribs and to his abdomen. Sean was unfolding and peeking out the slashed side of his briefs now, revealing a shiny gold beaded ring.
Charity looked up from kissing and caressing Sean’s right thigh, her eyes bugging out. “Wow, you’re full of surprises, I’ve never seen one of those. I’d like to hear that story.”
Sean smiles. “That is an interesting story.”
Stacy picks up the shears again, and slowly works her way down Sean’s stomach, but stops and lays the cold snips on Sean’s thigh. She removes his blindfold.
Sean blinked his eyes and surveys the room. He was somewhat relieved. Okay, it’s not a dungeon, just a bedroom.
“We’ll let you stew for a while” Said Stacy.
Stacy and Charity are wide-eyed and engrossed with each other for the moment, kissing, fondling, and rolling around the bed beside him.
Stacy rolls over with her back to Sean. He can’t help but see the deep scars on her back.
“Hey, sorry to disturb the party, but what the hell happened to your back?”
Stacy was unsettled for a moment, manufacturing a lie. “Nothing, it was an accident from a long time ago.”
Looks like she was whipped. Sean thought.
“Your concern is sweet, I think we’ll keep you.”
“Until we’re done with you.” Adds Charity.
“Eventually I’ll have to get back to the firehouse, girls.”
“We’ll see.” Stacy said.
Stacy reaches in and grabs a bag of white powder from her pillowcase. She unzipped the baggie, took out a rolled-up $100 bill, and dumped a healthy amount of the powdery contents into two crevices of Sean’s well-defined abs. She sealed the bag back up and tucked it away.
Reverse mounting Sean, with her nicely shaped arse inches from Sean’s face, she snorts one of the lines with the fabricated straw. Charity grabs the Benjamin and inhales the other line. They exhale with pleasurable sighs and shake their heads.
Stacy turns back to Sean. “How rude of me. Want some Sean?”
“No thanks, I’m trying to quit.”
“Adorable.” Says Stacy. She is suddenly startled at the familiar rumbling of a big block engine.
“Oh s**t, he’s not supposed to be home until the morning.” Stacy’s in a panic.
She grabs her wedding ring from her nightstand and slips it on.
“Beau’s new hot rod?” Charity deduces.
“Yes!” She hops off Sean as if being shot from a rocket launcher.
“I’m taking that is not good. Is there something you failed to mention ladies?” Sean states with a concerned look.
“No, it’s not, and yes. If he finds you here, he’ll kill us all. Literally. Charity grab his clothes!”
Sean struggles to free himself from the restraints. “Houston, I’ve got a problem here.”
“Oh yeah, sorry.”
Stacy unties Sean’s arms and legs and motions to the window. Sean jumps up and rubs his wrists.
“Sean the window, hurry!”
A completely indecent Sean crawled out the bedroom window, hung from the ledge, and then dropped ten feet to the ground. Charity threw his clothes on him and blew him a kiss.
“Give us a ring another time.” She said.
The window slammed shut. Sean displayed a half-hearted smile. He hurriedly hopped around on one foot tucking himself in and putting his clothes on.
Stacy opened the window again.
“Thanks doll, you’re amazing.”
One hundred-dollar bills rained down on him and the window shut. He picked them up faced them, and counted one, two...seven.
Damn, a couple hundred short, but close enough. I’ve got to get the hell out of here!
Beau is calling for Stacy, but she doesn’t answer. Stacy and Charity jumped into bed and got under the covers. Beau barged into the room.
“Stacy, where the hell are you?”
The girls pop their heads out from under the covers and in tandem greet him, “Hi Beau.”
“Charity, I should have known. You’re burning that s**t I can’t stand again.”
Stacy nervously chimes in. “What happened to the poker game?”
“God damn it Stacy, why the hell didn’t you answer me right away? Nothing happened to it. If you must know, I need more cash.”
Beau walks to a large oil painting of the In The Chips in the Sea of Cortez, on the opposing wall to the bed, and swings it to the left revealing a wall safe. He placed his right hand on the biometric scanner and the mechanism opened.
Stacy and Charity repeatedly look out the window and quickly back to Beau.
Outside, Sean scans the yard. The ten-foot walls are overgrown by thick, thorned branches around the entirety of the compound. He dashes to the closest wall and leaps using the branches to propel him. He grabs the top of the wall along with handfuls of barbed wire.
“Ouch, damn it!”
As he pulled himself over, a thick branch caught his arm and then recoiled, gouging him in the chest. It ripped through his shirt, carving a laceration into his chest. He landed on the other side, then stared at his bloody hands and chest.
“Son of a b***h! This was a $100 shirt.”
The girls watched Sean and are giggling.
Beau turns back to them and says. “God damn it you two, what’s so fricking funny?”
The bedmates are unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face.
“Nothing Beau, guess you’re having some bad luck.”
“You know what happens when you test me, Stacy.”
Stacy’s smile turns upside down. She gently touches a healed scar on her face. Beau rummages through the safe. He tosses a videotape to the back and grabs a stack of bills. The safe clicks and re-locks again with his handprint.
“I’m out of here.”
“Okay Beau, see you tomorrow.”
“Not if I see you two first. Keep your noses clean!”
“Yes sir captain.” Charity salutes him.
A minute later they heard the sound of the loud exhaust pipes blaring and then dissipating. They expelled a huge sigh of relief.
“That was close.”
“I thought I was going to lose it when I saw Sean fighting with the branches.” Charity chuckled.
Stacy laughs. “Yeah, Beau’s organic security system. Poor baby.”
“So that’s where Beau keeps the dough.” Smiles Charity.
“Yes, behind the painting of that stupid boat he loves so much. It’s atrocious.”
“Can you get into it?”
“Nope, it can only be opened with his hand-print. You know the most insane thing about that boat?” Said Stacy.
“What’s that?”
“He can’t even swim.”
“No shite.” Said Charity.
Sean found a payphone at a convenience store across the street and called a taxi.
He is waiting on the corner for the cab to arrive when a candy apple red 63’ Corvette cruises up and stops at the light beside him. The driver looked back and forth at the disheveled Sean standing on the corner.
What the hell are you staring at?
When the light turns green, the motorist rumbles off from the stop, smoked the tires, and yelled out the window.
“Damn degenerate!”
Sean flips him off and yells back.
“Your wife has a great ass!”
The driver continued, oblivious to Sean’s comment.
A few minutes passed and a yellow cab pulled up. Sean got in and slid onto the pink and purple tuck-n-roll upholstered back seat.
The wide-eyed cabby looked at Sean’s wounds.
“What happened to you, my friend?”
“Ah, I was in a three-way pile up.”
“I will be taking you to the doctor then my friend?”
“No, just to the other side of town, my friend.
“Please do not be getting bloodstains on my seats.”
“I’ll be careful not to. What was once a good shirt has soaked up most of it. 235 Spooner Street please.”
“You’re the boss dude.”
The Cab drove off.
- Writer
