If it was sleazy or deviant at The Pole, it was at Vixen’s, which is why no elf was ever seen there. (Elfs are notorious prudes.) Dancer had to admit it was the perfect place to meet.
As he opened the door, a mélange of cigarette and marijuana smoke, alcohol and sweat enveloped him. He was barely inside when he was hit in the face with a ping-pong ball from one of the stages. It stuck to his fur and he quickly brushed it off.
Vixen’s was packed and the din from the music and crowd was deafening. Dancer spied Prancer in a corner booth and worked his way over.
Dancer sat and Prancer said into his ear, “Last chance to bail.”
Dancer shook his head. “Excellent,” Prancer said and raised his hand.
Then Vixen was there. Soft lips, large brown eyes, and those legs… Dancer shuddered. She whispered in his ear, “Come with me.” Dancer stood and followed her swaying hips towards a curtained hallway.
The din faded behind them as Vixen led him down the hallway and into a small room. As soon as the door was closed, she kissed him, pushed him gently into a chair set against one wall, and straddled him. Dancer felt her touching him everywhere. As he began to protest, Vixen abruptly stood and said, “He’s clean.”
Then the back wall opened, four huge reindeer rushed in, and Dancer found himself being rushed along a corridor.
Moral: When you want to be secretive, head for the bottom.
(Huh? Don’t ask me.)
Be sure to visit the other writers who are participating in this year’s BlogFestivus:
Shouts from the Abyss
Fix It or Deal
Lynn Schneider Books
1 Point Perspective
So I Went Undercover
Joe Owen’s Blog
Blog It or Lose It!
Voice in Me
Apprentice, never master
A Year of Daily Posts
The Day After
A Spoonful of Suga