Steffi

4:
October 23, 1996
Post Bar, Detroit MI

The Post Bar was one of the hottest hangouts in Detroit, regularly attracting the city’s wealthy socialites. From corporate businessmen to Red Wings, Detroit’s finest singles often amalgamated at the Post for dancing, flirting and entertainment. It was the Hollywood of the city; even the hired hands and bartenders were gorgeous.

During her first week in Detroit, Naomi had applied for an open waitress position at the Post. However, she doubted that she would be hired. After all, Post waitresses were goddesses; she had been in the city long enough to know that. Yet, to her amazement, the position had been bestowed upon her after one interview. The manager told her that he liked her “sexy, exotic vibe.” She had been ecstatic when she found out; a second source of income was desperately needed.

Deloitte Touche was a prestigious, prominent accounting firm that paid its employees well. In spite of that, Naomi’s starting salary was not enough to cover both her living expenses and student loan payments. For some reason, Naomi, a certified accountant and an MBA holder, was in debt. After four years of undergraduate studies and two years of graduate studies, she owed nearly $50,000 in student loans. As the saying goes, “payback’s a bitch.”

She decided that a short-term stint at the Post (5 months to be exact) would be worthwhile in improving her financial situation. Waitressing at the Post was not as degrading as exotic dancing in a strip club, yet it remunerated just as well. She only had to wear a semi-revealing outfit, and weather the storm of drunken patrons that tried to hit on her. Otherwise, in her opinion, it was respectable work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the Red Wings victory, the Post was full to capacity, with energetic fans and players intermingling on the dance floor. Brendan, a Post regular, sauntered in, with a sophisticated, suave aura about him, as a few waitresses flocked towards him to get his attention. Only one caught his eye.

“What’s a good wholesome girl like you doing in a place like this? Amelie told me that you worked at Deloitte Touche,” Brendan whispered into Naomi’s ear. The feeling of his hot breath on the nape of her neck caused even the most minuscule hairs to stand on end. She took a second to compose herself before turning to face him.

She exhaled slowly. “Being an accountant pays well, and it will be enough once my student loan is paid off. But until then, I need an extra job to help pay for everything and this waitress job was available. Anyways, how many people are in your party?”

“Three,” Brendan stated simply. She escorted him to a table near the dance floor, and then attended to some other patrons. Soon, Brendan’s company, namely Detroit centre Sergei Federov and Detroit winger Kirk Maltby, joined him.

“Who’s the Chinese chick you were talking to Shanny? I think I saw her at the game a few nights ago. She’s new here, I can tell. Damn, she is fine. Whoo, look at those long legs. Bend over baby, I wanna see those lacy, black panties,” cheered Kirk, as Naomi bent over slightly to retrieve a bill that had fallen on the floor.

“Come on Kirk, give it up, she’s not an object,” Brendan scolded as he rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he realized that that comment sounded strangely awkward, especially coming from his mouth. “What I mean is that she’s not that kind of girl. I know, I tried it. Got her friend though.”

“Good. It almost sounded like you thought me being a horny bastard was bad or something. You should be talking! You’re always horny and screwing around,” Kirk teased, drawing a snicker from the subdued Sergei Federov. “Anyways, you said you got her friend, the one sitting by her in the stands? Well, hate to say it, but I got to her first, I think it was in up in Canada. One of the better fucks, as I recall. Anyways, why don’t you get Ms. Thang over here so I can try her out? Maybe she wasn’t interested in your Canadian sausage, but she might be interested in mine,” Kirk bragged arrogantly. As luck would have it, Naomi approached the table, ready to take their orders.

“What do you guys want to have tonight?” Naomi asked, her ink pen poised for the response.

“How about your lacy, black panties on my bedroom floor?” Kirk seduced, while he eyed her up and down.

Naomi responded with a sensual smile, then playfully ran her tongue across her top lip, slightly moistening it. “Who said I was wearing any?” For the rest of the evening, whenever Naomi approached the table, Kirk would resume his sexually charged banter with her. Before the three teammates were about to leave, Kirk asked Naomi to join him for the night. She courteously declined. He shook his head in disbelief, but did not pursue her any further. He gave her a peck on the cheek and left a generous tip on the table. Brendan insisted that Kirk and Sergei leave the Post without him. He had a score to settle with Naomi.

Brendan fumed, “What the hell were you doing with Kirk?”

Naomi, now aware that her nonchalant flirting had caused all the commotion, fluttered her eyelashes innocently at him. “It’s called flirting. It’s how a waitress makes her tips. Not everyone has the luxury of having a pay-check as sizable as yours, Superstar,” Naomi defended.

“Well, you could get a third job as a sex-phone operator. You sure had Kirk going. And you call that flirting? God, then I’d like to see what you’re like in bed,” he remarked sarcastically.

Naomi laughed quietly. “So that’s your problem? You’re angry that I turned you down a couple nights ago? Whoa Playboy, has no girl ever turned you down? Besides, you had a bed-mate for that evening. Amelie, my best friend, remember her?”

Brendan murmured, “For your information, nobody has ever turned me down. But that’s beside the point. Would you have come back to my place if I hadn’t invited Amelie?” He took a step closer to her; their faces were mere inches apart.

“No, I have a boyfriend. And I'm happy with him,” Naomi countered.

Brendan inhaled deeply, as if her comment had scalded him internally. “Ouch. Tommie, that’s his name right? ‘Tommie, breathe!’ Hah, seems like Tommie boy has a bit of a crush on me. Better be careful, cause I might move in on your man! Let me do some charity today and sign him an autograph. He can look at it and think of me whenever he’s fucking you.” Brendan retrieved a fountain pen from his pocket and signed a puck that he had from the game. He handed it to Naomi.

“For your information, fucking is meaningless transaction between a penny prostitute and a client; making love is a meaningful experience between two people who love each other. There’s a difference between the two. But anyways, thanks for your charity Superstar. I know it was so difficult for you to pick up a pen and scrawl your name on a puck,” Naomi replied, with mock sincerity in your voice. “So how are you gonna survive the next few months here? I mean, you’ll have to see my horrible face every time you come, cause I always work the post-game shift. And that might interfere with your macking capabilities.”

“Who said I’d have trouble picking up girls with you around?” Brendan demanded. “Brendan Shanahan can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants. No matter what ‘distraction’ is around.” When she had no response, he pulled on his khaki coloured Armani jacket and left.

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Steffi