A Date with the Night

This is the second instalment of Polly’s encounter with Dave Grohl. If you haven’t read the first part, you may want to read it first so you know what’s going on.

Just to reiterate, what you’re about to read is fictional…

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A Date With The Night – Part 2

By midday, the streets of Brixton were buzzing. It was another beautiful Saturday morning. Buses and cars clogged the narrow streets and the shops were full of people stocking up on groceries or looking for a new outfit to wear out that evening.

As the sun was out, friends sat outside cafes drinking coffee and chatting about what they’d got up to in the week, while others preferred to sit alone reading a newspaper and watching the world go by.

Polly was oblivious to it all; even the glorious sunshine pouring down on her from her bedroom window did nothing to rouse her from her sound slumber. She was still fully clothed after passing out on top of her bed in the foetal position clutching an empty bottle of vodka.

The phone started ringing and woke her with a start. As Polly tried to decipher what the noise was, she groaned loudly, her eyes adjusting to the bright sunshine in the room as she fumbled around trying to find the phone.

“Shit!” she snapped, as she knocked most of the contents off her bedside table. Hearing a smash, she looked down to see her small mirror broken in three pieces on the wooden floor, surrounded by white powder with her credit card and a rolled up twenty pound note beside it.

“Hello?” Polly said groggily as she finally retrieved the phone.

“Polly it’s George, I need you to work tonight. Raven called in sick.”

“What? Why? Tonight’s my night off! I’ve been working at the bank during the day and working at the club every night this week, I need a night off!”

“I don’t give a shit Polly,” her boss said coldly, “I heard what happened last night and I’m not amused. You fuck another punter on the premises again and you’re fired! Take ‘em to a hotel like everyone else.”

“Yes George.” Polly replied sheepishly, blushing as she hung up the phone.

She laid in bed groaning to herself about the telling off she’d received before rolling out of bed slowly, her whole body aching as she stumbled to the kitchen, still clutching the bottle of vodka.

Polly shuffled over to the bin and threw it away, knowing that she’d gone a step too far, in more ways than one, the night before. The cocaine helped her forget and the vodka helped her to sleep, but in the harsh light of day, all that was left was a hangover and an even more painful memory.

When it was time to get ready for work, she headed for the bathroom, reluctant to wash away Dave’s smell, frowning as she climbed into the shower, knowing that she was about to lose what little she had left of him.

The hot water soothed her aching muscles and she could finally feel her headache ease as she washed her hair. The soft bubbles glided easily over her olive skin and gathered at her feet, covering the baby pink nail varnish on her toes. When she got out, she towelled herself off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading for the door.

It was gone six by the time Polly wandered into work. It was a nice afternoon so she had walked instead of getting the Tube in an effort to clear her head. As she walked in, everyone stared at her and she could hear the bar staff whispering and pointing as she made her way to the dressing room.

She smiled at Blondie, one of the regular girls, as they passed each other in the corridor but she just looked down at Polly as if she were something she had stepped on in the street.

As she walked into her dressing room, everything that had happened the night before came crashing back, hitting her like a punch in the stomach. Luckily Amber was waiting for her, which meant that she didn’t have to be alone.

“God you look like shit!” She said as Polly walked in.

“Cheers!” Polly replied studying her reflection in the mirror only to discover her friend was right.

Her olive skin looked pale and sallow and there were dark circles under her blood shot eyes. Her long black hair looked like it hadn’t been washed at all and her crumpled clothes made her look like she had just crawled out of bed.

“I’m gonna have to put my make up on with a trowel!”

“Yeah if you can find it!” Amber joked, pointing at the lipsticks and broken eye shadows strewn all over the floor from when Dave had swept them off the dressing table the night before.

Polly slumped onto the black leather sofa with a sigh as she looked around the room, filled with regret. She had fantasised about sleeping with Dave so many times but now that it had actually happened, she felt numb.

This time yesterday Dave was her hero, someone she admired and fantasised about meeting some day. But now he was a real-life person whom she had shared something with, albeit very briefly, and now that she’d had that opportunity, she knew she couldn’t go back to the way things were before.

“Everyone’s talking about me. George told me off on the phone this morning and Blondie just looked at me like I was a piece of shit,” Polly said wistfully.

“Fuck ‘em! They’re just jealous. Blondie wishes she could fuck Dave Grohl but he wouldn’t want her ugly ass!”

“Maybe he would, if she’d behaved as sluttishly as I did…”

“Don’t tell me you regret fucking him?”

“I didn’t think it would be like

that

!” Polly admitted, remembering how they had fucked like animals.

“God Polly. You’re so naïve sometimes. You’re a fucking

stripper

! What did you expect? That he was gonna come back here and ask you to marry him after you just shoved your tits in his face? Your tits are great honey but not

that

great!”

Amber’s words cut into her like a knife. She was right.

“Maybe if we’d met under different circumstances…” Polly said.

“Maybe. Just remember what we said when you first started here and hated it: no regrets. It’s a means to an end.”

“But to what end?” Polly thought to herself as she nodded and smiled weakly at her friend, her brown eyes full of tears.

“Do you still work here or what?” George asked sticking his head into the room.

“Yes!” Polly replied, fighting back the tears.

“Well get off your arse and get dressed! And don’t

you

have any work to do? I don’t pay you to sit in here and gossip Amber!”

“Yes George.” Amber said quietly as she made a quick escape.

“Did you hear what I said?” George said Polly who was still on the sofa.

“Yes George!”

“Don’t use that tone with me or you’ll be out on your arse!”

A tear fell down Polly’s cheek as he slammed the door behind him.

Now that she was alone, her tears fell freely as she noticed Dave’s palm prints still smeared all over the mirror. She bent down and picked her make up off the floor before getting dressed slowly, sighing as the MC told her she was on in ten minutes.

When Polly eventually went out on stage, she may have been wearing the same outfit and dancing to the same song, but there was no passion or conviction in the way she performed. It was as if she was detached from her body, looking down at herself as she contorted around the pole.

It seemed to go on forever and with every step of the well-rehearsed routine, Polly distanced herself further from what she was doing to the point that she didn’t even notice George waiting for her in the dressing room when she got off stage.

“What the fuck was that?” he said callously as she pulled on her robe.

“What do you mean?” Polly asked, pouring herself a large vodka.

“That

performance

. I’ve seen sexier overweight housewives! What the fuck are you playing at Polly?”

“I’m not playing at anything. I’m just doing my job George.” She replied as she downed the vodka and poured herself another one.

“Well maybe you need an incentive like the one Dave gave you last night!” George grabbed her arm and reaching for his belt buckle.

“Let go of me!” Polly screamed, dropping her glass on the floor as she struggled to free herself from his grip. The glass broke into tiny pieces at their feet and she screamed again as she heard George unzipping his trousers.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked running into the room.

George let go of Polly and spun round to face Amber who suddenly looked very scared. Amber flinched as he walked towards the door, getting out of his way and running to stand next to Polly.

“If either of you say a fucking word about this you’re fired!” he warned as he stormed out.

“Are you okay? What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Polly said bravely.

“I was just coming to tell you that he’s back.”

“Who’s back?” Polly asked, her hands shaking as she lit a cigarette.

“Dave.”

The cigarette nearly fell out of Polly’s mouth as she heard his name and she could feel the blood draining from her face.

“Are you OK?” Amber asked again.

“Yeah…”

“Look I’d better get back or George will kill me. Are you gonna be OK?”

“Are you sure it’s Dave?” Polly said quietly.

“Of course. I just served him. He’s with some blond guy.”

Amber left the room and Polly sat there quietly, trying to regain her composure. She found another glass and poured herself a vodka as she puffed nervously on her cigarette. Why had he come back?

“Don’t forget you’re on again in fifteen minutes,” the MC shouted through the dressing room door as he walked past, interrupting her thoughts. She had completely forgotten that Raven did two sets, one at the beginning of the night and another one towards the end.

Polly’s heart raced and her whole body shook violently as she realised that she would have to dance in front of Dave again. Why did he come back? Did she mean more to him than a quick fuck?

At this point, there was only one way she could calm herself down, and she scrambled in her handbag to retrieve her small bag of white powder. Polly anxiously poured some of it on to the dressing table and with her credit card cut two lines. Her eyes filled with tears as she rolled up a ten-pound note and snorted the cocaine quickly.

It hit her hard and fast and her insecurities eased momentarily as she fought to forget the memories the drug brought back. It was the reason she was so in debt and had to work in the strip club in the first place. But the torturous Catch 22 was that she relied on it to give her the courage to get on stage every night. But as long as she continued to take it, she would never be able to stop stripping to pay for it.

As the drug took hold of her, Polly could feel herself calm down and the mist begin to lift. She wanted more than anything to see Dave again. To feel him. To touch him. To taste him. To feel his arms wrapped around her. And even if he didn’t want to have a relationship with her, all Polly wanted was to have

one

more night with him.

Polly paced around the room nervously, a vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other, overwhelmed with a feeling of déjà vu. She deluded herself that if she spent more time with Dave that he would realise that she was different from all his other conquests and that she was more than just a stripper. But the irony was, if Polly wanted to see him again, she had to strip for him.

It wasn’t long until she was due on stage so she got dressed quickly, slipping into her stiletto-heeled boots and a tight back shirt as she struggled to secure the Velcro on her leather rip-away trousers as she made her way on to the dark stage.

“And here she is again, just for you, Miss Polly Styrene!” the MC announced as she stood by the pole facing the VIP table and waited for the spotlight to hit her.

Hearing the intro to the thumping rock song, Polly took a deep breath and braced herself as her body was bathed in light. When her eyes adjusted, she was looking directly at Dave, and as their eyes locked for that brief moment, Polly remembered how sexy she felt when she danced for him the night before and she was desperate to please him again.

Polly watched Dave with a wicked smile as she began her routine, recognising the blond guy sitting next to him as Taylor Hawkins, the Foo Fighters’ drummer and Dave’s best friend. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of Dave bringing him to show her off. Polly was his trophy and she loved it.

Taking hold of the pole with both hands, Polly looked over at Dave and swung around it acrobatically, so that she landed on the stage on her knees. Throwing her head back with a dramatic sigh, she pushed her firm breasts towards him as her long black hair cascaded down her back, his eyes following her as he smoked a cigarette, watching her every move.

Feeding off his excitement, she launched into her routine with renewed rigour, strutting around the stage as the adrenalin coursed through her body. This is when the cocaine came into its own, giving Polly the confidence and nerve she needed to do what she did best.

Swinging around the pole again, Polly arched her back, giving Dave a quick glimpse of her breasts under her tight, black shirt before grinding herself against it, rocking her hips provocatively in time to the music. When she was facing him again she put her arms over her head and held on to the pole as she moved up and down, rubbing it between the firm cheeks of her ass.

Dave watched her closely, licking his lips as she writhed around on stage, knowing that it was all for him. Deciding to really give them something to look at, Polly strutted down the runway towards him and when she reached the end of the runway, she stopped, hesitating for a moment, before reaching down and ripping her leather trousers away from her shapely legs.

“Fuck me!” Dave said, his eyes wide as the Velcro gave way and he admired her black panties and long legs, silently begging her to take off her shirt. His eyes ran up from her stiletto-heeled boots, over her flat stomach, over her breasts and up to the wicked smile on her face.

Polly threw her trousers on the stage and stood there with her hands on her hips as Dave stared at her. Excited by his attention, she reached up and tore open her black shirt, buttons flying across the stage as she pulled it over her shoulders and exposed her perfect breasts.

“Jesus,” Dave gulped as he reacquainted himself with her figure, his eyes lingering on her chocolate brown nipples as he remembered the sound she made when he first took them between his lips.

Polly pulled her shirt off with a pout and threw it at Dave so that it landed on his head. He laughed as he pulled it off, bringing it up to his face and inhaling her familiar perfume. She smiled as she watched him do it and winked at him before turning round and bending over to show him her perfect ass.

Looking between her legs, Polly noticed Dave admiring her ass and she strode off stage with a smug smile as she heard him wolf whistling after her.

George was waiting for her in her dressing room again.

“Much better,” he clapped as she pulled on her robe.

“Thanks.”

“Nice to see you finally got your act together Polly. I guess now it’s time for me to say thank you like Dave did last night…”

Polly gasped as he grabbed her by the arm and threw her roughly on the sofa.

“Get off me!” she cried, as he forced her legs apart and lay on top of her. Trying to struggle free, she reached up and scratched his face, making him wince with pain.

“You slut!” he hissed, slapping her as hard as he could, annoyed at her resistance.

The blow made her cheek sting and stunned her momentarily as her head spun out of control. Taking advantage of her surprise, he pulled open her robe and began grabbing her breasts.

“Please! Get off me!” she begged as he continued to paw at her.

“Shut the fuck up and do as you’re told!”

“No! Stop! Please!”

“I said shut the fuck up Polly!” he spat, slapping her again.

Suddenly, she felt his weight lifting off her and she looked up to see Dave who had George by the scruff of the neck.

“Get the fuck off her!” Dave said as he pulled him off Polly.

George growled viciously as he swung a punch at Dave who ducked and slugged him in the stomach. The blow winded George who bent over as Dave grabbed the back of his shirt and literally threw him out of the room.

Polly heard George cry out with pain as he slammed into the wall and Dave kicked the door shut with a grunt. He turned to Polly who was still quivering on the sofa and he helped her to her feet.

"Are you OK?" he asked, cupping her face and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. Polly nodded, still numb with shock as he looked at her with concern.

"Come on baby. Get dressed, we’d better get outta here."

When she was ready, Dave put his arm around her protectively and led her to the door. She had never felt so safe, and she wanted to tell him how grateful she was for saving her from George, but she just couldn’t find the words.

George was nowhere to be seen as they got Taylor and made their way outside. Dave hailed down a cab and helped Polly inside, directing the driver to their hotel.

When they got there, the doorman smiled and nodded at them as they made their way through the revolving doors and into the elegant lobby.

Richly coloured Persian rugs softened the well-polished marble floors and as Dave put his arm around her again, she melted into his embrace. Polly instinctively held her head up, telling herself, "I do belong here," over and over.

The people waiting in the lobby watched them as they walked past, recognising Dave and whispering under their breath. Polly could see them pointing and a smile crept across her face as she strolled proudly with Dave to the elevators.

When they eventually made their way to Dave’s room, Polly watched as he put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the handle and locked the door.

"Take a seat Polly," he said warmly as he took off his jacket.

She did as she was told and sat on the sofa with her legs crossed. The suite was exquisite with high ceilings, a big window dressed with theatrical drapes with an impressive view of London, beautiful antique furniture and best of all, a large bed that was sure to feature in all of her fantasises for many years to come.

Dave went to the mini-bar and poured Polly a large vodka. She smiled as she accepted it, touched that he remembered her favourite drink. He got two bottles of beer and handed one to Taylor as they joined her on the sofa.

"Feeling better?" Dave asked as he put his arm around her again and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

"Yes thanks," Polly smiled from ear to ear, touched by his concern.

They chatted for about half an hour before Dave took the glass from her hand and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. With her face in her hands, he leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers, which made Polly moan as she accepted his tongue into her mouth. He stroked her face with his fingers as he kissed her gently, their tongues dancing.

It felt so wonderful to kiss him again and Polly savoured every sweet moment of it. She didn’t want it to end and she could have stayed there all night just kissing Dave and feeling his face brush against hers.

Their kiss became more passionate and Polly buried her hands in his short, dark hair as his tongue explored every corner of her mouth. Feeling movement next to her on the sofa, she suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone and reluctantly broke her kiss with Dave.

"Sorry Taylor," she said softly, not meaning to get so carried away.

"That’s OK," he replied with a smile.

"Maybe Taylor would like a kiss as well…" Dave whispered in her ear as he showered her face and neck with gentle kisses.

Polly averted her gaze and stared at the floor before looking up at Taylor who didn’t look surprised and her heart sank as she realised that he and Dave had come back to the club with exactly this in mind.