Read Online Rift by Richard Cox - Free Book Online

coming over here, I’ll need a stronger buzz to relax. I order another pitcher. Tom is in heaven.
    â€œI knew you’d come out of that shell if I gave you a chance!” he yells over the beginning of the next song.
    â€œGo to hell,” I laugh.
    We drink for a few more minutes. When our dancer doesn’t join us right away, Tom heads back to pervert row. I let him go alone this time. Don’t want to stand up my new friend.
    I don’t know why I asked for a table dance. I don’t visit strip bars very often, mostly because the whole idea seems like an incomplete transaction to me. When gorgeous women gyrate their nude bodies just inches from your eyes, there is no immediate way to relieve the tension. At home you can sneak a magazine into the guest bathroom or watch pornographic movies when your wife isn’t around, but in a strip bar you are forced to keep a lid on your excitement. And it
is
exciting. No healthy heterosexual man can deny such a claim.
    Her dress is black, almost elegant, with the obligatory low-cut neckline and short skirt that falls nine inches above her knee. She stops at my table and sits beside me. I know in my mind that attraction between men and women is more than physical, that without a chemistry of personality there can be no real relationship, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining myself with her. In this setting all pretense to civility is gone anyway. And while many argue that bringing sex out of the bedroom and into a public place goes against what is considered “proper” or “civilized,” I disagree. People who try to hide their desire by speaking about sexuality in hushed tones, who feel guilty about this most basic human instinct, are the truly uncivilized.
    â€œI’m Crystal,” she says.
    â€œSure you are. My name is Cameron. Nice to meet you.”
    â€œIt sounds like a stage name, I know, but it’s not.”
    â€œIt’s a beautiful name, then.”
    â€œThanks.”
    For a moment we just sit there. She stares at me closely, and I wonder what she sees. Is there something on my face? A lump or bruise forming where I hit my head earlier? What she finally says startles me.
    â€œAre you bi?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAre you bisexual?”
    â€œOf course not. Why do you ask?”
    â€œBecause that man over there is staring at you.” She nods over my shoulder.
    â€œWith all due respect, Crystal, if he’s staring at anyone at this table, I’m sure it’s you.”
    â€œThank you, but he was looking at you before I ever got here.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œBecause he never looked at me when I was onstage. He just kept staring at you.”
    Despite her explanation, I find it difficult to believe that I am the object of this mystery man’s fascination.
    â€œI was joking about the bisexual thing, of course. But I wonder why he would be so interested in you?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œAre you wanted by the police? Hiding from your bookie?”
    â€œReally, Crystal, do I strike you as—”
    â€œNo,” she says. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still staring at you.”
    I want to turn around and look at the guy, but I don’t want him to see me do it. Instead, I change the subject.
    â€œYou’re a very good dancer,” I say, my tongue looser now because of the beer.
    â€œThank you again,” she says.
    â€œBut maybe you’d rather just hang out for a while. Save the act for your next stage performance. Can I buy you a drink instead?”
    â€œSure. You seem like a nice enough guy. But it’s expensive.”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œNineteen dollars.”
    â€œWow.”
    â€œYeah. And I usually don’t like to do it all that much. Most guys who just want to talk are lonely geeks. It gets creepy sometimes.”
    â€œI don’t want to make you