The Love You Crave

22.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you’re in for a treat,” the emcee says, “because it’s time to play PNQ!”

The rules are simple. Anyone who wants to play gets a card to fill out. The card costs ten dollars. Carmine insists I play, and buys me a card. At the top left is the number one, and beside it are pictures of a penny, a nickel, a quarter, a half-dollar, and a silver dollar. The pictures are repeated for numbers two through eight. There will be eight strippers on stage. The idea is to pick the smallest coin that can completely cover the aureole on the left breast of each girl.

We’re given a marking pen to make our choices. Looks like thirty of us are playing. Winner gets half the pot and a lap dance from the stripper of his choice. The girl he chooses gets one-fourth of the pot, the house gets the rest.

First girl up is Shirl, wearing her nurse costume. She walks to the front of the stage and peels down to her bra and panties, which surprises me, because she’s wearing an actual bra and panties instead of stripper gear. Gear’s probably not the right word, but I don’t know the lingo. I don’t frequent stripper bars. They’re too depressing. Take Shirl, for instance.

While she’s up there, smiling, the men hoot and holler. She puts her arms in the air and moves for them, and ends her little dance by turning her backside toward the audience and shaking it. The men like what they see. They like it a lot.

This is why I don’t do strip joints. I’m quite annoyed watching Shirl perform for these rowdy drunken customers like some sort of stage monkey. If I weren’t Carmine’s guest, I’d walk out right now. Of course, if I weren’t Carmine’s guest, I wouldn’t have entered the Top Six in the first place. I watch Shirl play up to the men. She’s facing us now, caressing herself, licking her lips while giving that universal bedroom look these women have all perfected. I can’t imagine why Shirl would act like that.

Then it hits me.

She’s trying to win the lap dance money.

I think about the emotions I’ve just experienced, and realize what a colossal hypocrite I am! Getting all worked up wondering how a girl like Shirl could do this. Wasn’t it just this morning I had sex with Gwen, who danced on this very stage eight months ago? Look at me, Mr. High and Mighty, indignant about this poor waif. If Shirl was two years older and a little prettier, I’d almost certainly pay her for sex tonight.

I think about Kimberly, and how she wanted to shock me by telling me she’s having sex with the pet salesman. I wonder how shocked she’d be to learn I’ve been dating a 20-year-old hooker named Miranda.

When she’s done milking the crowd, Shirl moves down the stage, not far from where we had the altercation with Roy a few minutes ago. With nothing to go on but a hunch, I put an X on the picture of the penny, meaning, I think when she takes her top off later, the aureole circling her nipple will prove to be smaller than a penny.

Next girl up is Tina. She’s heavy, maybe five-four, one-eighty. She’s wearing a cow girl outfit, but again, a real bra and panties. I put her down for the half-dollar. Third is Allison, who’s about thirty. Allison’s dressed in a business suit, complete with reading glasses. I figure her for a quarter.

The game continues through the progression of eight, then several guys go through the crowd, inspect the cards, sign them, and collect the pens. The emcee calls out “Girl number one!”

Shirl comes to the front of the stage and removes her bra. Guys are yelling now. Some are screaming “Penny!” Others, “Nickel!” They’re all claiming to be right. The emcee makes a few demeaning jokes about the size of her chest that piss me off, then Shirl produces a coin, pushes it onto her nipple, ending all speculation.

Shirl’s a nickel.

Guys are hollering at each other in a good-natured way.

Carmine smiles. “Helluva game, right? Really gets the crowd worked up. Great for business!”

“Gwen came up with this idea?” I say.

“She did.”

I’m thinking Gwen’s creativity might be a good thing for Ropic Industries. Then I remember she doesn’t want me around to see it.

The heavy-set girl, Tina, amazingly, is a penny.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Carmine says.

I shrug.

Allison, the business woman, is indeed a quarter.

“One out of three!” I say, more enthusiastically than I would’ve expected.

By the time the last woman proves her size, I end up with a paltry two out of eight. I’m amazed to see three men on their feet, holding up their cards, claiming to have gotten them all. One of the winners is Tony Spumoni.

He’s got an enormous cast covering one side of his head. Looks ridiculous.

“You did that to his ear?” Carmine says.

“How’s it possible three guys got them all?” I ask, realizing I’m more interested in the contest than Tony’s condition. What does that say about me?

“They’re regulars,” Carmine says. “We always bring in one or two housewives to make it interesting, but the rest are our girls.”

“So the system rewards those who support the club day in and day out.”

“Pretty clever, right?”

It is clever. Proving Gwen has a lot more going for her than a great face and killer body.

Before they bring the next stripper out to break the tie, Carmine says, “Come with me.”

We get to our feet and start walking toward his office. As I pass Tony I say, “I’ll meet you after you collect your lap dance.”

He nods.

In Carmine’s office, I move the chair he wants me to sit in so that I have a clear view of his office and bathroom doors.

“It’s in your nature to disrespect me,” he says.

“Too much respect can get a guy killed.”