Political Science 101

Chapter Forty-Nine

RAY DOYLE exhaled the sigh of a man filled with inner demons longing to escape. The more he thought about his life and how it had taken so many drastic turns in recent months, or even in the last year, the more emotionally exhausted he became. As he sat at the bar, sipping straight Scotch (something he'd never done before), he looked up at the entertainment which stood above him and asked himself, "Why am I even at a strip club?"

Ray felt momentarily repulsed by what could have previously gone on in the chair where he sat, or on the bar where he rested his elbows. The place advertised itself as a "gentleman's club with class," but as Ray looked at his fellow strip club patrons, there was not a single gentleman in the room (let alone a lady) and the oversized room reeked of cigarettes, cheap perfume, booze, sweat, and shame. And yet, Ray made the conscious choice to be here, alone, sulking in disappointment, lust, and depression.

The woman standing on the bar-side stage above Ray danced provocatively to a song which he assumed was entitled "Hot Sex," and she looked at Ray expectantly, so he picked up a one-dollar bill, folded it long-way, and casually held it up with two fingers. She smoothly took it from him, cupping both hands around his fingers as she lifted the dollar from his loose grip. Then, seemingly and seamlessly, she reached down and took a sexy(ish) hold of Ray's loosened necktie with her other hand and motioned for him to stand up.

Ray, for a moment, took a closer look at this completely naked (with the notable exception of her clear and unnecessarily-high platform heals) lady in front of him. She was not at all unattractive, but then again, being a stripper didn't help. Everything about her seemed average, made-up to look falsely extravagant. Even the provocative gaze in her eyes seemed artificial, which Ray was certain it was. Her sandy-blonde hair was done-up with enough hairspray to be considered a fire hazard and she reminded him of a woman from a Mötley Crüe video. Her eyeshadow was entirely too blue, her lipstick was entirely too red, and she smiled entirely like lust; but actually, her scent was familiar — faint, but familiar.

Not wanting to violate the social convention of being in a strip club (and thus, drawing negative attention to himself), and the coinciding expected participatory behavior, Ray stood at the motioned request of this naked (except for the heels) moving mannequin. She put the dollar bill in Ray's mouth, then leaned forward and removed it with her cleavage as she squeezed her breasts around Ray's cheeks. With this, Ray smelled that lustful scent again — a sweet scent — this time in full force. And sure enough, it was familiar. It was indeed the scent of lust, the scent of passion, the scent of longing, the scent of regret.

It was Amber's perfume; the same perfume she'd worn the night they kissed for the first time; and the night a week later when they kissed again; and the night a week later which progressed to nearly everything except sex; and again the week after that. He hated himself for what he'd done with her; he hated that these interactions led her to quit her job as his assistant; most of all, he hated that he confessed his infidelities to his wife, prompting her to leave him.

This was all brought to his mind by one solitary scent — a scent forced into his nostrils as his face remained momentarily suspended between the glittery breasts of a naked (except for the heels) stripper.

Ray felt disgusted and dirty; and at that exact moment, he absolutely hated himself. He wanted to just pay his tab and leave, not even finishing the half-full glass of Scotch on the bar in front of him. He wanted to walk away from these cheap lustful women and these classless horrid gentlemen as quickly as he could. But he didn't. He merely sat there, ruminating in a mist of his own lust, regret, hatred, and pain.

He just wanted to be away from these people, this music (although, admittedly, "Hot Sex" was a rather catchy song), and this environment; but instead, Ray chugged the remainder of his Scotch and motioned to the topless waitress who gladly brought him another warm and overpriced drink — but in reality, apathy seemed to be the only thing on-tap.