esmio06: (Default)
one thing about hell is the longer you are here, the more detached you become from who you were, but every now and then, something will trigger a memory. A smell, the way somebody walks, the wind through a girls hair, it can be the smallest thing that sends you back spiraling into a lucid memory. I have been in that state for a week now. Im not even sure right now if i am really dead, or if all of this is some weird dream.
I still dont know what happened last week, or should I say how it happened. Im in a whirlwind. I havent seen her in the bar again since that night, but I still feel like I know her.
HE tells me that is what separates us from god and the angels; we can feel and that is why we are in hell. We were destined for this place the first time we refused to let go of a memory.
Anyway, tonight its Denise's birthday and this should prove to be interesting. Last year, well last year is probably a little rated R for this story, I will leave it at that for now. maybe once I start drinking I will share it.
B has gone back to her bar and I havent bothered to hire anybody to fill in yet, so I guess i get to stay behind the bar all night. Glad I set up for the night before i left last night cause I am really not in the mood right now to set up. It is kind of cool that HE isnt here bugging me right now, though Im sure HE will show up now that I thought that.
Well we open in an hour and Im going to go take a nap before people start showing up. I will write more later.
esmio06: (Default)
It’s funny how things go in waves. Nudist night now has a group of people that must have all OD’ed on heroine to die. I really want to line them up and play xylophone on their ribs..
Our regulars are wonderful. They welcome just about anybody. I know I have said this before, but one of the cool things about hell is you look like you pictured yourself when you were alive. Anorexic supermodels now weigh 300lbs (fortunately they stay home for most of these nights).
Tonight we have several games lined up. We set up a sushi bar on whoever’s name gets drawn. Then we are doing a slave auction. Both are rigged (don’t judge me, I’m in hell for a reason).
He music is lower than normal tonight so that people can chit chat.
Being behind the bar, it is weird how conversations mld together. Listening to the intetrtwinings of about 3 different conversations now.
In one, where I think they are talking about their previous lives, “at times it was all just instinct. I would just react and hope I was right.”
A few chairs down, another conversation seemed o have a reply, though they were talking about people they had met since dying, “Yah I just turned around and there she was.”
Almost on queue, the conversation fades. Electricity fills the air. Before looking, I pour a cinnamon martini and walk to the edge of the bar. Where, even naked, her presence commands the respect of every eye in the room. Handing her her drink as the breath pours out of me, she smirks and says, “Thanks david. Good to see you again.”
Stunned that she would be here, on this night, struggle to gain composure as I reply, “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Fucking cheesey,” I think to myself, “come on David.”
“Watch the Bar!” I holler to B as I step around the bar to attempt to learn more about this lady, this presence.
“Three times in one week…”
“So far,” she interrupts.
I smile, of course. She perceived my lack of come back and just leaned in and kissed me.
I think I forgot what blushing felt like, but the warmth in my cheeks and the impending giggle made me feel like a 17 year old human again.
She giggled first. Contagious. For some reason, I am one of those that cannot contain giggling once others have started, so we laughed. No other sound in the bar except us. All my questions about who she is, how she knows me, and how she carries herself melted with each chuckle.
My lips draw to hers as I lean in, put my hand in the back of her hair, give it a slight tug, and kiss her. Her moan lets me know that I read her right. So entwined in the kiss, and lost in her eyes (dammit I love it when a girl will look in your eyes while kissing you), barely notice that she has one hand tracing the moon tattoo on my chest while the other is caressing its way lower.
Lost in her eyes, my own hands decide they have waited on my mind long enough and begin exploring her back. They split directions as one goes back to mingle with her hair and the other maps out the contours of her lower back and ass.
Some thought of the bar and the customers flies over my head, but my mind refuses to reach out and grab hold of it.
She whispers my name, “david.” Whispers is an overstatement. She mouths my name on my ear and my body shudders.
“Yes.” I whisper back and she just smiles, grabs my hand and pulls me to a booth. Not a booth in some corner, but, just the closest booth he could see.
She is still in control, but somehow makes me feel that I am taking the lead. The strangest feeling of comfort and freedom.
“I watched you the other night,” she whispers as she sits on the corner of the booth.
“The other night?”
“Yes. With Denise.”
“Oh,” I reply. Her reply was muffled by her full mouth and I forget what we were talking about. Locked in her eyes, all I can think is, “this is how it always has been.” I struggle to close my eyes and give into pleasure, but my eyes refuse to leave her gaze.
Grasping her shoulders, I pull her up to me, kiss her, and gently lay her down on the booth. I pull the table out into the room and kneel down beside her to kiss her. My fingers are tracing lines between the goose bumps all over her body as I begin kissing my way down. As I cross her belly, her back arches and she lifts her head then locks me in her stare again.
Every quake of her body throws me deeper and deeper into trance. The intertwined moans and grunts, calling like a beacon leading me to safety. For a second, the sounds stop, time stops and her body tenses. Then her cry cuts through me and for a brief moment I am aware of the rhythm of the music and the noise of the bar. Her eyes open, and I am lost again as I draw up to her, kiss her again and join her.
The music breaks in as the bass melds us into one body, one soul, one rhythm…
esmio06: (Default)
“Did you have fun last night?” HE asks.
“You watched the tapes, you know what happened,” I reply slyly.
“Now, what would make you think I would do that?”
“We have met before, “ I smarted back.
“Touché,” HE replied over the sound of me dumping ice into the bins.
“Man we sold a lot last night, “I comment while making my list of bottles that need replacing.
The band begins sound checks, so our conversation is forced to shouts that seem to almost always awkwardly land just in the silent moments.
“So, did you fuck her?” HE shouts during one of those silent moments that draws every band members’ waiting stares.
“Watch the rest of the tape.”
“Or you could tell us,” the singer replied over the mic.
“See, you aren’t powerless to cause trouble, “I reminded HIM.
HE laughed, “Nah, I just let people be people, Ya’ll make your own trouble.”
I head to the back after finishing whipping down the bar to restock jest as B is showing up fo her shift.
Her evil grin tells me she saw everything last night.
“Like you were so innocent,” I pop off to her snicker.
“Prove it,” she fires back as I point to the cameras. “Oh yah, forgot bout those,” he mutters as her face turns pink.
Setup has become routine, that I don’t even realize we have finished and are ready for the rush that should be here soon.
The band and their crew disappeared sometime ago to get food. Im sure we wont see them ‘til about fifteen minutes after their set is supposed to start.
The first few regulars start showing up and a small crowd is already gathering at the bar. I notice that HE has cornered some new guy at the end of the bar. Poor soul. This is is the torment we were warned about: listening to the Devil whine about how he has such a bad rap and how powerless he really is. Seems every new person that dares to venture here alone and early get it. For a second I debate sending a shot down to him to end his boredom. I decide against it and laugh to myself thinking, “At least it isn’t me this time.”
I must have been watching them longer than I realized because when I look back down the bar the place has started getting packed.
Diane and Marie are back, leaning on the bar and wearing the same clothes they had partially on when they left last night. Trent isn’t with them. I grin and wonder if they left him tied up in a hotel room someplace. Pretty sure it was worth it to him, no matter what.
The crowd pushes towards the stage as the band, amazingly, starts playing on time. Very interesting sound. Kind of Dire straights meets Lenny Kravitz. They engage the crowd well and all of the girls are going crazy. They must hav been big after my life, ‘cause I have no clue who they are but the crowd knows and loves them.
Most of the regulars have either retreated to he darker quieter corners, or the patio. Sounds like a fucking good idea. I head out to the patio as well.
The new girl “working” the patio bar is already topless, making out with Marie and ignoring customers. She wont last long. The customers don’t realy mind though, I think they prefer watching these 2 girls over getting drinks.
Diane is sitting at the edge of the patio, grinning and knocking beer bottles into the lake. The glass melts before it even reaches the throngs of tormented down in the lake. Every now and then you will hear a louder than normal scream as the melted glass apparently hits one in the face. God I love Diane.
I glance back through the window to see B shoot me the eye. A fight has broken out on stage between the drummer and the singer. Security reaches the stage just as a Zildian is cracked across the singer’s head and he falls, bleeding into their arms. Guess they wont be playing here anymore.
Times like this I’m glad we have such a good DJ. Not even a minute of dead air before he is playing the Beastie Boys, “You’ve Got to Fight For your Right to Party.” Fucking smart ass…

back home

May. 31st, 2008 04:42 pm
esmio06: (Default)
It feels good to be back home again. That familiar smell of sulfur from the lake, Clorox sprayed in the bathrooms, stale cigarettes, and spilled beer brings a strange sense of comfort.
B is helping me out tonight while sh has the some remodeling done to the barge. Feel like old times with her behind the bar.
Should be an interesting evening. Some of he regulars are visiting us over ehre for the first time. I wonder if she warned them ho risqué this place gets. Guess we will find out soon.
HE and I sit in the office as I recount my visit to the barge for HIM. For some reason most of my memory of that night revolves around that lady. Her presence was like no lady I had ever met. I never got her name that night, but I’m confident we will meet again soon.
Things are already getting interesting. Diane and Marie have started their competition. Recently they decided to see which of them could get more guys to buy them drinks. Tonight, however, they seem to have added a twist. I might have to go out of the office and watch this. They are hitting on women. Their skills are honed and by the time I make it to the bar, each of them have three women around them in what looks like some form of “Survivor: nightclub edition.” Each girl is competing for the attention of their prospective conquest.
Before the heads even turn, I feel her. She walks into my bar with the same air that carried her onto the barge.
Whatever game Diane and Marie were playing is now over. Every eye in the place is desperately trying to find something to glance at so as to not get caught staring.
B hands me a cinnamon martini and nods at her. The hint is not wasted on me. Drink in hand, I push my way through the crowd to where she stands, talking to her long lost strangers about matters you could never guess bored her.
“I believe this is yours,” I said as I handed her her drink.
“Thank you, David,” she replied, though we had never been introduced.
“Nice,” I answered, “and you are?”
“Rach,” she said in a way that mad me feel I had known her for years.
Curiosity as killing me; I had to know more about her, but not yet.
“I will let you get back to your friends. Talk to you soon.” I said as I forced myself away.
I couldn’t make out her reply as I walked away, but I cold feel her eyes on me. Hell I could feel every eye in the bar on me as I stepped behind the bar.
The bar is busy now, so I give B a hand with a few orders. The electricity is flowing. It is definitely going to b one of those nights that make me love this place so much.
The dark corners are conducive to drawing out the bohemian in even the most straight laced.
Diane and Marie have now ditched their entourage, having gotten more than enough free drinks, and are making out with this Trent Reznor look alike. Diane wastes no time slipping her hands down his pants as Marie caresses his chest. He feigns embarrassment, to who’s benefit, I have no clue.
B has even gotten back into the spirit, removing her top to reveal her stomach laced corset piercings. The wounds are fresh and the droplets of blood under each piercing merely glimmer off the black lace.
“Man I hope I remembered to turn on the cameras,” I think to myself as I realize that this may be too much even for a voyeur such as I to take in all at once.
From behind the bar it appears that Diane has disappeared, but I can tell from the smile on Trent and Marie’s faces that he hasn’t gone far.
I grab a shot of patron as my heart pounds with all of the excitement my customers now enjoy.
As I put my empty shot glass in the sink, I notice a pair of panties on the corner of the bar. Denise is here somewhere. I spot her husband first. I follow his gaze, expecting to see her at their usual game, but his eye are locked with Marie’s and the veiled smile on her face lets me know where Diane is focusing her attention at the moment.
These nights never cease to hold new surprises, even for me.
A hand reaches over my shoulder and down my shirt as another reaches around and unbuckles my belt. I don’t have to turn around. I found Denise, or she found me.
I look up at one of my cameras and smile…
esmio06: (Default)
I haven’t been to the barge since the first week we launched it. B has been running it and frankly our other place is my first love. B has done wonders with this place. I walk into the first level and Bob Marley was chanting to some Eurobass backed rhythm that blends with the chattering of the crowd flirting, ordering drinks and debating irrelevancies to form a hypnotic pattern of voice, bass and glass clanking. I can see why B loves this place so much.
Still probably about an hour before we sail and already the place was over half full. I should venture downstairs and check out the dance floor, but this dark corner is just too damn comfortable.
It isn’t long before my secluded corner is overrun by conversations between pseudo intellectuals too scared to actually ask their counter parts for what they really want and Bob Marley has been replaced by salt n Peppa. Guess its time to go downstairs.
The red glow from the river is the only light on the spiral staircase down. If we weren’t already in the abyss, I would be forced to draw that image.
My heart starts pounding as “I am The walrus” echoes in the voice of Morrissey is mixed in with Concrete Blonde’s “Boodletting.” I wonder who the DJ is.
Funny how, even down here where we know hell is real, the Goths still love everything dark and ominous. At least some things never change.
I pull out a Camel, fumble for my lighter and finally get it lit as I enter the room. Red light floods the room from the portholes as the smell of cloves stifles me. Guess some other things don’t change either. I never was sure why I have to have a cigarette lit when I enter a room, but damn the crackle of that cherry glowing brighter sure is comforting.
Even through the vibrations from the stacks of subwoofers placed all around the dance floor, I can feel he engines begin to spin up. The music, the dronings of the horny, the clanking of the glasses all fade to the background as my mind drifts decks below to the turning of the motors. All four engines spinning, creating their own rhythm that would even make dead Can Dance cry.
Then my concentration is shattered.
She bounced into the room, changing the rhythm of the music to her own beat. Every ye was steady pretending not to notice her, but she knew they were staring, lusting, envying. She lived for it. There is no doubt she owns this place. I may have the deed; B may take care of business; but she, whoever she is, owns this place…
esmio06: (Default)
Well the crowd started showing up around 8pm last night. I have no idea how the word spread so well, but it wasn't until 11pm that I had somebody show up in clothes.

This couple showed up in full club attire. The line was almost all the way around the building by the time they got here. They didn't seem to be alarmed at all by the fact that they were the only ones clothed. I watched them as they inched their way around the building on the camera in my office. At first she was clutching to his arm staring intently at the back of the person in front of them's head. He was the first to start letting his eyes wonder. His head would fall slightly, and his eyes would dart around the crowd. He would notice somebody look at him and his glance would return to the blonde hair of the guy in front of him. She was less subtle when she gave in. She watched this couple move to the back of the line and actually turned her head to follow them as they walked past. As she watched the different people her hands began to caress her lover's arm. It is always fun to watch confusion give way to lust.

When they approached the door, they asked my door girl, "What is going on tonight?"

K responded, "D is having her birthday party up here and has asked that no clothing be allowed. Of course, as shy as we all are, she really had to twist our arm."

"So nobody will be wearing any clothes?"

"You got it." K said as the couple began stripping right there.

"You can wait to get undressed until you get inside if you want. We have lockers in the restrooms."

It was too late, once you start peeling off latex, it is a real pain to get it back on.

D and Jason showed up promptly at midnight. She was blindfolded but other than that had nothing but slippers on. Jason was guiding her through the door, trying to keep her moving towards my bar. I say trying because everybody and their brother was stopping them to wish her happy birthday.

Across the bar, there was a young man that I had never seen before just staring at her. He followed her every move with his eyes. I would say he was undressing her with his eyes, but he seemed way to comfortable with her nudity to need to do that. There was definitely lust there, in his gaze, but more than that. There was familiarity.

As she reached the, Jason removed her blindfold, and the roar of "Happy Birthday," seemed to echo from the very bowels of the lake beneath us. Her eyes were sparkling as she took in the scene around her. I had not known that nobody told her the party was naked only. It was apparent in her eyes that she was just now learning that fact.

The crowd around her thickened into one large heap of human flesh as everybody took turns groping her and wishing her a happy birthday. Those waiting to get to her settled for groping those closest to them as the wave of flesh rotated until all had had their chance to show their friendship to her. All but the stranger that is, he just sat and stared, Well sat, massaged himself a little, and stared that is.

This is where the night got interesting…

Back home

Jun. 20th, 2007 01:03 pm
esmio06: (Default)
Man it feels good to be back in my place again. I finally got the barge project turned over to B and she is doing a great job running it. There seems to be more of a draw for the floating bar than I could have ever imagined. I guess people like the idea of sailing the river Styx with the house band playing. Styx only play on Friday nights, but everybody seems to love the cheesy irony.
I really won't have a lot to do with that place any more, or at least it appears that way. B has everything under control and frankly I like the original bar better.
Last night I just sat on the porch overlooking the lake of fire for hours. How did I never appreciate that view before? It is amazing the patterns in lava that the tortured make up if you stare and don't focus. The bodies swirl around and form designs everywhere. Their moans and screams dance with the shadows on the caverns all around. It is a beautiful ballet.
Tonight is a big night. We have a birthday party for one of our regulars and her husband has requested that nobody be allowed to wear clothes. He is bringing her by at about midnight, so the party should be nice and warmed up by then. I will have to keep yall posted on how that turns out.
Well anyways, I have a lot to do to get everything ready for tonight. Somebody is coming by in about 15 minutes to install new cameras so that we don't miss any of the action :
If you are free and not too shy you should stop by, or at least those of you who are already dead should stop by. I know the rest of you are dying to check it out… literally.
esmio06: (Default)
The light creeps in as my eyes flutter and struggle for freedom from the weight of the oppressive lids that don’t want to surrender their control just yet. A dank familiar smell startles me and I realize that I fell asleep in the office of the bar yet again. There really is no smell like a bar after a busy night. A mixture of alcohol, vomit and sex hang in the air like an early morning fog.
Last night was insane. B, one of my best bartenders, opened for me, so I didn’t bother coming in until almost midnight and by then the crowd was already enjoying the taste of oblivion.
One of my favorite X’s made an appearance (this always leads to the good kind of trouble for me). She only shows her face around me when she is either leaving a relationship or has just left one. This time her boy toy was just getting on her nerves, so I grabbed a bottle of Patron and we retired to the office to see if we could erase time. We could. We did.
She has always had my flair for exhibitionism, but she seems to still be able to take me places even I wouldn’t think of. Last night was no exception. After killing half of the bottle of Patron, she suggested we go to the new deck and dish out some of her pain on those more deserving (in her mind, everybody is more deserving of pain than her).
We were pouring buckets of water over the edge and laughing like hyenas at the reactions of the politicians below when she dumped a bucket of the water over herself. The water seemed to enjoy her body as much as I did, weaving its way over each and every curve, lingering in all the right places. The rayon shirt she was wearing turned to glass as the water removed all opacity from its fibers.
I leaned my back against the rail t enjoy what I was sure would be a classic Beverly show. Behind Bev, I noticed a couple just sitting and caressing each other while watching us. Turn about is so nice. Usually I am the one watching this couple and their escapades. It is funny how every exhibitionist has a little voyeur in them. Electricity flew through my body, my mind, my very being. I love the anticipation. I could live in these moments forever.
As the crowd mingled past, some oblivious and some not so much, we danced our little dance building the anticipation more and more. At some point during my haze she had removed my shirt and flung it over the balcony. I honestly do not remember this at all. I just remember glancing over to see my shirt get incinerated about half way down.
As I lay here now, alone and grinning like a Cheshire cat, I realize that even in death, it is the simple pleasures that make getting up in the afternoon worth it.

And yes I left out the details… I’m just evil that way.

New Deck

Jan. 17th, 2007 02:23 pm
esmio06: (Default)
Well the remodeling is complete and we are open for business again.
We added torture deck for the truly sadistic bastards. This deck overlooks the lake of fire. (For those of you that remember where the old bay windows were, they are now glass doors leading to the deck). From this deck people can grab buckets of water and pour them over to the attorneys and politicians that are writhing and burning below. The deck is just high enough for the water to turn to steam just before it reaches the wailing mouths of the eternally thirsty. It is beauty in motion to see them almost smile through their pain as the water leaves the bucket, only to watch that smile evaporate in synchronization with the water.

Last night was our first night open. The crowd was exceptionally early. I guess we were missed after all. Yes I am still insecure even in the afterlife. I constantly wonder if people really like my club or just come because it is convenient.

I never really announced the closing for remodeling, so a few of the old regulars were pissed off. It is amazing how fast tequila can cure that. Within an hour of opening, the time off had been erased and the masses were mingling as though they had all been here the night before.

At the end of the bar sat the only regular to never miss a day even while we were closed. I shouldn’t be surprised by that since he has taken me on as his regular therapist, chatting away about all the woes of the world and how the world still blames him for every last one of them. This night was no different, except for the clockwork interruptions of the paying masses. I am convinced that he really thinks of the bar as intrusion into his personal time on my couch.

Sitting at the other end of the bar last night was a face I had remembered vaguely from my living days, but could not place. He was obviously a recent arrival into our beloved Hell. You can always tell the newbies by the look of shock at the lack of torture for the majority of us in Hell. Several times during the night he would ask me questions about how long I have been here and other things that I had no way of answering. It is hard to explain time when you first arrive, but that is a tirade for a different blog. He was a very young and handsome man, though all of us looked pretty damn good if I do say so myself. A flock of my usual ladies spotted him and every now and then one of the vultures would swoop in to try to capture the meat, but this prey was adept at dodging the predators. Maybe too adept… gay perhaps? No, probably just in culture shock. None of the gay men were chasing him, and I trust their GADAR a lot better than my own.

Well all in all it was a pretty uneventful night, but I am quite sure that Friday will bring tales…

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