One of the major differences about ALARM on the weekend nights was that a lot more high breds showed up, looking for fun. It meant people might tip you, if you got them a tab, it meant a chance to make some money if they were interested in you and wanted to get you to dance. Christina, who'd dance for anyone and knew all the dealers by cock size, got a lot of tips.
"Anything for me?" she said, but Pharrell wasn't having it. "Nothing," he answered, "till you pay me. get yourself a tip, then come back."
"Fucker," but that was business, no ex till she coughed up something, some cash, some girl, some information. "Fine, what if I get you a song played?"
His eyes lit up. Christina also knew all the DJs by first name and had watched, last week, while Chris got a blowjob from D. Pharrell loved the music more than anything. "New girl, singing?"
Christina glanced over to where the temporary stage was set up, in amid the seats usually reserved for high paying fight fans. They were tucked away in one of the corners of the entrance to the dance floor, people forming a line against the wall and stuffed together in the narrow hallway beyond, most of them already moving in time to the music. The stage was directly opposite, and, yeah, there was a girl standing, mic in hand. Pretty girl, too, looked high class.
Christina nodded. "Do my best -- it shouldn't be hard. She looks easy. Gimme a whole sheet, then. I gotta sell tonight."
Pharrell looked her up and down, winked. "You always sellin'."
"To make money, baby." The line wasn't moving; guess inside had hit maximum occupancy, and until the people in the inner rooms of the club pressed together, moving as one, people would be stuck outside. "Kay, that's my cue to get inside," and she pushed to the front of the line.
"A, baby," and Busta, who along with two other very large men were keeping people outside, "always a pleasure."
Ignoring the protests from people who'd probably been in line for an hour, she shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring as people complained. "B, you gotta do something about the crowd. It's gettin' rowwwwdy..."
He grinned at her. Busta managed the boxing ring and made sure the fighters actually got paid something for their efforts. He'd jumped the fence of the highest class housing complex as a teen and never looked back. Busta belonged down here. "yeah, s'about time to let s'more people in."
Actually standing in the doorway meant that they could barely hear themselves over the music anyway. "Gone, B," and she went inside fully, nine pm and already the crowd was full and excited and right *there*. For a minute she wished she was fighting tonight.
Past the fetishwear, the animal heads and furs and feathers crowd, straight back to the DJ platform. Had to get some tabs if she was gonna make any money, had to get some money to make sure Mer and her weren't thrown out tomorrow.
A couple of twinks gave her a hand up to the stage. "You gotta put something together for me," and Christina looked at where the girl, black skirt and green top covering more skin than probably half the crowd below them, was standing. "Need a favor."
"She's not for sale, and I don't think she's fishing," Chad said, not looking up from his computers and consoles. "Would have tried by now."
"Need a song," and she jerked a thumb at the classy girl, "from her."
Chad flipped the track over to something slower, less uptempo and more grinding. The girl glanced over and he crooked a finger at her. She came. "Ask her yourself."
"Uh, you," and the classy girl bit her lip. "Fine, okay. What do you want?"
Christina grinned, cocked her hip to the side. "A song, for now. You willing?"
She shrugged, and grabbed the mic. "Fine. If you'll do something for me."
Licked her lips, and Christina looked up at the wall clock, counting down the minutes to one am. "Right." She stepped back, leaned against the window up here which was open a little and letting in actual night air.
Chad mixed the normal dance track in with some synth and a melody, and the girl started to sing.
And she was *good*. The tune slipped up and down Christina's spine, crawled along her skin and dug its nails in, pulled at her hair, rubbed at her limbs. Good stuff. Good voice. Good and hot and apparently everyone else thought so too, and Christina was stroking her thigh when the girl finished.
Better get her favor out of the way. "So what you want?"
The girl, blonde and uncomfortable, stepped away from the edge of the stage, and they went back down the stairs and into the shadows.
Chad spun the dance track back on. She had to speak right into Christina's ear to be heard. "I need to know my way around, here."
Christina nodded. "It's pretty obvious you don't belong here."
"usually I'm over at the Sunset. This is just--"
"One hell of a step down, then," Christina said, saving her the trouble. "Yeah, so what the fuck are you doing here anyway?"
"uh," and the blond chick glanced around, back out at the crowd.
"Ohhhh, I got you," and Christina was off, hand clasped around the girl's wrist. "you're looking for someone who got lost down here."
"I, yeah." The girl followed, couldn't break Christina's grip on her wrist anyway. Clutch just tight enough not to crush the bones. "What's your name?" she said, close to Christina's ear where the music wouldn't drown it out.
"I," and, "no one really ever asks that, here. A, or, Chris."
"See," Christina halted in front of the DJ booth for the second room, where an older man was spinning and the trannie sitting beside him was adding in echos and reverb and effects. "I didn't ask you."
She waved at the glamorously made up woman sitting languidly there, and, "yo, D, this little gal's looking for someone, thought you might know where they could be."
A full body glare, in between tracks, and the painted lips curved into a smile. Chris and D had actually been together, god knows how, as long as she'd known them. It was a fucking miracle. "A lost little boy?"
The girl squinted as the strobes started flashing, and Christina tugged her closer. Britney stumbled, almost falling into D. "I," she stuttered, then as the music picked up and Christina pressed into the crowd, everyone pressed into her, she almost yelled, "his name's Justin."
Foam fell from the sprinklers, and already Christina could feel the ache in her bones, the gnawing. She brushed a hand against Britney. "wanna dance?"
Britney pulled away, still disoriented from the strobe lights and looking right at D. "You know where he is?"
"Justin," and she sighed, D was gonna tell this one the truth and they'd lose another boxer to some fucking wife, "he'll be in the ring in ten minutes. Why don't you stick around and watch him?"
Christina snapped, as her body shook, "Not baby-sitting."
D shrugged, already mounting the DJ platform. "She's a big girl."
Christina looked at the girl, the same height as she was and not even moving. "I'm not sticking with you. If you're here, deal with it."
Britney snapped, "I've been to clubs before."
"This ain't the Sunset, baby."
Britney tilted her head, then rolled it back on her neck. She snapped a hip to the left, in time, and then closed her eyes, rolling her hips and moving a hand across her stomach, bare and clenching.
Watch, watch, and then a little shimmy, Christina moved towards her, let the crowd push them together and flowed like liquid across this girl. "You picked it up somewhere," she said, bit on Britney's ear. "I like you."
Britney kept one hand loose on the back of Christina's thigh, trailing it up and down, and heat and fire everywhere her fingertips touched, oh yeah. Right in Christina's ear, in her head almost, a honey sweet and sexy tone, "We don't all start out as high as the Sunset."
The foam coated them, slicked up their stomachs as they rubbed up against one another. "You interested in going somewhere more private?"
"Waiting for Justin," and that was it, Britney's hand was gone and she pulled away, wasn't anything but an ache in Christina's groin saying now now now and goddamned, this girl was hot. "You go get off," Britney said in her ear, "and I'll be here."
"Fuck," rolled low and gutteral out of her mouth. Christina wiped her forehead off. "I'd go down on you right here."
She could barely hear herself over the synth and bass and feet stomping, all of it echoing over and over and over, but Britney shook her head anyway. "Waiting for Justin," and fine then, Christina could go find somewhere else to get off. That boxer from before maybe, ride him while people watched. Don't need to get it here.
J headed into the ring at one am sharp, just like Christina. He was the feature Friday nights, leather and always the hat, that never fell off no matter where he landed. Never been knocked out, never lost. Bets on him were always good odds, you couldn't make a lot of money but it was pretty much a sure thing. A lot of people were waving around bet tickets that Christina knew had his name on them.
The real bets in J's rounds were always on how fast the other guy would go down. Even this time, three hundred pound black guy with brass knuckles and all he did was kick him in the balls, in the head and that was it, two minutes in and J's won again.
Most of the crowd were yelling, naked chests on the boys and some of the girls, arms waving in the air. Christina was sitting on the boxer's shoulders, screaming too because J's good people, he was gonna make it. His body handled the stress and the workout and he was pretty, tough and pretty so everyone loved him. That was the most important thing, that everyone loved him -- and the boxer's hands were gripping her ankles, holding her down on his shoulders so that she didn't fall off.
"Red," and she leaned down, "lemme go, hey?" He did, and Christina raised herself up and flipped off his massive shoulders, head over heels and body bending wildly. Landed lightly on her feet even among the people crowding around the ring, and the boxer stepped back a little to give her enough room to climb up onto the platform.
The music, paused only long enough for J to do a triumphal lap around the ring and then down amid the crowd, nothing but a bass beat, the steady thump thump thump still ringing strong. His curly head of hair was easy to spot as people congratulated him, everyone wanted a piece of him. Christina watched, hanging off the ropes of the ring so she could see over people's heads, as he paraded, then was pulled up short as he looked into Britney's face.
That one. That one was trouble, and so she let go of the ropes and hopped back down. J may be pulled back to suburban life but this was the only life, the real life and -- there, the synth back up and more tracks on top of the bass, the crowd dispersing into one big mob of sweaty bodies again. Everyone moved in time, one crowd, one entity, and Christina yelled out as she went to join up with it again.
Shimmy down to the floor, two guys pressed on either side of her and groping each other over her head. Kissing over her head as she worked the floor, the vibrations from the room and all the people coming through the soles of her feet. A part of her. In her. Nothing else.