Run To You

invite comment. Or worse, a slap. Not that that was a huge fear tonight. Tonight the males in the bar weren’t interested in her ass cheeks. The only person she had to worry about touching her butt was the owner himself. Everyone said Ricky was just “friendly.” Yeah, a friendly pervert with fast hands. They also said he had mafia connections. She didn’t know if that was true, but he did have “associates” with names like Lefty Lou, Fat Fabian, and Cockeyed Phil. She definitely remained on high alert when Ricky was around. Lucky for her, he didn’t usually show up until a few hours before closing, and Stella was usually long gone by three A.M. She wasn’t the kind of person to hang out after her shift ended. She wasn’t a big drinker, and if she had to be around drunks, she wanted to get paid.
    “Stella!”
    Stella glanced up from the martinis she set on a tray and smiled. “Anna!” Anna Conda was six feet of statuesque queen all wrapped up in reptilian pleather. Over the past few years, Stella had gotten to know several of the queens fairly well. As with everything in life, some of them she liked. Others, not so much. She genuinely liked Anna, but Anna was moody as hell. Her moods usually depended on her latest boyfriend. “What can I get you?”
    “Snake Nuts, of course.” The tips of her shiny green lips lilted upward. If it wasn’t for Anna’s deep voice and big Adam’s apple, she might have been pretty enough to pass for a woman. “Put an umbrella in it, honey.” Applause broke out as Kreme exited the stage, and Anna turned toward the crowd. “Have you seen Jimmy?”
    Jimmy was Anna’s leather daddy, although neither was exclusive. Stella grabbed a bottle of vodka, amaretto, and triple sec. “Not yet.” She scooped ice into a shaker and added the alcohol and an ounce of lime juice. “He’ll probably wander in.” Stella glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. One more hour of competition before this month’s Back Door Betty was crowned. While the stage was set for the next contestant, a mixed murmur of male voices filled the void left by the music. Besides the employees, few true females filled the bar. Although Back Door Betty Night tended to get loud, it never rose to the same level as a bar packed with real women.
    Anna turned back toward Stella. “Your Amy eyeliner looks good.”
    Stella shook the cocktail, then poured it into a lowball glass. “Thanks. Ivana Cox did it for me.” Stella was fairly competent when it came to makeup, but Amy Winehouse eyeliner was beyond her capabilities.
    “Ivana’s here? I hate that bitch,” Anna said without rancor.
    Last month she’d loved Ivana. Of course, that had been after more than a few Snake Nuts. “She did my eyebrows, too. With a thread.” Stella grabbed a straw and a little pink umbrella and stuck them into the drink.
    “Hallelujah. Thank God someone finally got rid of that unibrow.” Anna pointed one green fingernail between Stella’s eyes.
    “It was painful.”
    Anna’s hand fell to the bar and she said in her deep baritone voice, “Honey, until you tuck your banana in your ass crack, don’t talk to me about pain.”
    Stella grimaced and handed Anna her drink. She didn’t have a banana, but she did have an ass crack and she was positive she’d never purposely tuck anything in it. “Do you have an open tab?” She did wear thong underwear, but the string of a thong was nowhere near the size of a banana.
    “Yeah.”
    Stella added the drink to Anna’s already impressive bill. “Are you performing tonight?”
    “Later. Are you?”
    Stella shook her head then looked at the next drink order. House wine and a bottle of Bud. Easy. Sometimes, on a slow night, she took the stage and belted out a few songs. She used to sing in an all-girl band, Random Muse, but the band broke up when the drummer slept with the bass guitarist’s boyfriend and the two girls duked it out on stage at the Kandy Kane Lounge in Orlando. Stranding her in Florida several years ago. She liked Florida and ended up staying.
    She grabbed a bottle of white wine and poured it into a glass. Stella had never understood why women fought over a man. Or hit each other at all. High on her list of things never to do, right above tucking anything the size of a banana in her ass crack, was getting punched in the head. Call her a baby, but she didn’t like pain.
    “Break me off a piece of that.”
    Without looking up and with little interest, Stella