I want to go a different direction with Queen of Hearts, so consider the original part 2 non-canon. However I will leave it up.
*
It was at that moment, in the heart of the city, a mere mile away from Alanah's suburban home, where a group had settled. They had all met from their work. Tired, sore, coffee sloshing in their stomachs which kept them from sleep. Ross, the retailer of the group, podgy but kind in his face, had told them of a place where the drinks were cheap, but the women who served them were anything but. The Rabbit Hutch, he said it was called. He had boasted that he knew a girl who worked there, and she reaffirmed that, yes, all the girls were cute and wore playboy style bunny girl uniforms. It was all the other three needed to know to be on board.
Tim had been more worried than excited, he could practically see his friends frothing at the mouth to see some tits and ass confined to sexy uniforms, when women were involved the night usually became a contest to see who would leave first; and eventually, he would be there at the end of the night alone, out of choice rather than that of failed chat up lines.
"It'll help you get over that bitch" Ben had told him, as Tim removed his tie and unbuttoned his black work shirt to show the wisps of his chest hair. "One thing I've learnt? A nice body in something tight tends to help me forget all about an ex."
Tim had smiled and absentmindedly nodded. He had missed Erin, her smell, her dark hair and hispanic fire which overpowered his introverted, yet confident personality. Of course, Tim had not told his friends the reason why she left him. 'Sex with you, it starts to hurt after a while. And besides, our relationship hasn't been the same since you called me Alanah that one night.' Her words clung to him like a parasitic glue, eating away little by little, he hated it. Instead of admitting the reasons, he came up with a lie on the fly; "She said she didn't see a time where she'd like me for more than my body"
The others were disgusted, and, like most friends would, they kindly lied to his face about how they secretly all hated her. It was fine, Tim felt that his excuse was apt. He never saw a future with anyone he had met since his first. Perhaps it was for the better for her to leave him; at least she wouldn't be drunk texting him every week for the chance for a hookup, like a certain few women he had taken for a ride.
"No Claire tonight?" Wilf asked, disheartened over the thought that she stepped into the shadows whenever he was around.
"She's meeting a guy, someone she lost contact with or something." Tim clapped his friend on his wide back, of course there was never a time a friend of Tim's had a desperation for Claire. Wilf was just another notch for the gothic heartbreaker. He knew it turned her on.
As the foursome stepped up to The Rabbit Hutch, a strong purple neon bathed them, symbols of carrots and rabbits glowed brighter than the moon, flickering with an electric hum. The bouncer, who wore sunglasses to dampen the overbearing light had checked them over, frisked them, and stamped the backs of their hands with a glow-in-the-dark stamp, picturing a rabbit with a carrot in his lips, smoking it like a cigar. Underneath the character was the words "The Rabbit Hutch Admission: Please follow the correct harassment guidelines and keep your hands away from the waitresses."
"Alright, first round's on the richest." Ross boomed as they crowded around a small circular booth. Sitting brought the sweet smell through sprays which went off when customers and waitresses passed. Tim sighed, that meant he was paying. Being a low-level lawyer still had its perks; perks being a big wad of cash at the end of every month, at least, more than the others in their small party.
"Fine." He sighed, combing his hand through his thick dark brown hair. "What's everyone's poison?"
He did not get much of a response at first. He saw the three bending their necks and turning in every possible direction at the shadowy figures of slender women passing them. He spied Wilf glaring at a dark skinned girl with frizzy hair, tall, but petite, a small smile and a wink from her was all she needed for him to pay anything for a chance for her to get in close.
"That's how they get you..." Tim mumbled. Drinks were not expensive, that just meant the rest of your wallet was burned on tips and small payments to get a girl to sit in with your booth for ten minutes for idle chit chat; or, to be stared at like a piece of art in a museum until your time was up and you had to move on.
"How much do you think that one over there is?" Ben said loudly, over the booming, upbeat music. He pointed with little discretion at a pretty, innocent looking girl. She was blonde and had her hair in pigtails, with pink rabbit ears and her corset equally pink. Her pantyhose was white, sheer and shiny. Ross and Wilf whistled, impressed.
"Bet she costs a fortune to talk to."
"Worth it though, she's cute, what do ya think, Tim?"
"I think I want to have a drink, and talk about other things." His friends groaned, Ben slamming his hand on the sticky table. "What's wrong with her?"
"Clearly putting on the innocent flower act."
"And you would know, Mr. Lawyer"
"I've seen it before, not just at work." Vivid memories of Alanah came flooding back to him in an instant. The amount of times he caught her playing up with the submissive act was a devious attempt to get him in the mood. He missed that, admittedly. "She acts like that knowing men will pay to talk to her. But the shyness means she doesn't need to talk much. Win win for her: People pay a lot, and she can have a sit down."
"Remind me why we bring you along to these places?" Ross huffed.
"Because I stop your bank account from getting murdered."
"Well, I think yours isn't going to look too good after tonight." Ben nudged him, looking out at the bunnies who swayed their hips and flexed their smiles at every possible moment.
"Come on man, I just got dumped."
"How long are you gonna use that excuse? Hold on, here comes a-"
Tim had looked at his feet for a few moments, and in that time a sudden silence befell the booth. For them, it was unfounded. There was never a quiet moment between the four. He looked up, that curious brow cocked and directed at the three before seeing why they had been left in a stunned silence.
The waitress was a goddess. Her white skin glowed, her soft features and round face. A slightly bent up nose, and above all else large brown eyes of the most vibrant hazel. Her hair was long and fine, silky smooth, matching her eyebrows in a bright brown which glimmered into a pretty blonde under the light. He was so focused on her beauty that it took more than a few seconds to notice her heavy, perky chest and the rest of her hourglass figure. Her lips had parted so a slither of her pearly white teeth peeked out; Tim blushed, and their eyes met for a good moment as she felt her examine him. "Evening gents." She spoke. His heart flexed, as did the other three. She was British. Posh sounding, trying to hide that she was clearly privately educated by the way she shortened gentlemen. "I'm Lola, do you think you'd like me to be your server tonight? Or would you prefer the company of someone else?" Her eyes flicked back to Tim, and a quick comb of her hair behind her ear as she blinked less and less when she looked in his direction.
"C-can you give us a moment?" Ross blushed and scratched the back of his head. "Been a long day, hard graft and all that, still gotta unwind a bit before we-"
"Gotchya, no worries boys, just give someone a wave once you figure out what your poison for tonight is." She giggled, and like sheep to their shepard Tim's friends laughed. "But, I hope you want me to come sit with you for a while...Don't want to be that kind of girl, but I'm not as boring as the others." She smiled, looked at Tim again and with a subtle gesture, tugged her velvet red corset up that caused her chest to shift. She turned and walked away, and the men were gleeful to know her back was just as nice as her front.
"Ok guys, no one ever mentioned they'd be that hot." Ben bit his lip and wiped a nervous bead of sweat from his brow. "Can we all agree to keep her around?"
"Nah." Tim said, rubbing his hands together.
"Dude she was all over you! I don't think she looked at anyone else." Wilf sounded dejected.
"You think?"
"Jesus christ Tim, how can you be so stupid? Look at her."
The three followed the trail which Lola paved, past the pillars which held up the second floor, through the women in tight dresses and men in their casual dress wear. The other bunnies were obsolete, barely comprehensible as Lola outshone them all, by the bar, lips moving gracefully as she spoke to the girl shaking up a cocktail behind the minimalist setup which was lit with electric light bulbs. Tim saw Lola, bending at the hips, breasts pressed against the bar, she smiled, and cocked her head to the side, eyes locking with Tim across the bar. Sheepishly she turned away, feeling as if she had been rumbled.
"Fuck me man, her tits are as big as her head..."
*
Tim expected the night to go similarly to how it always did. His friends would go off, one by one, chatting up women before they forgot about the group entirely. He understood. They were young, all twenty-three, desperate to mate with anything that moved. Ross left first, catching the eye of a pretty woman nearing the end of her twenties. By his second pint, Tim had found himself alone, with Wilf needing to head out early, and Ben deeply in awe of Lola, whom Tim had seen passing their table almost a dozen times since she had been swept away to another booth. He found himself in her direction whenever a group had hired her; and admittedly he felt jealous when he saw a confident guy rest his arm on her. Their eyes had met twice more since he heard her British accent. Once when a guy had paid her to sit on his lap; he noted the worried look on her face as she quickly scanned for his booth before slipping her finely sculpted behind on the man's lap.
The second time had been far more awkward. He had taken himself to the bathroom, and after a desperate relief he practically tackled her to the floor when he exited, colliding with her. He was lucky to catch her, slithering his hands behind her back to feel her flexing muscle tone. Her bunny suit was backless, and he delicately stroked up her back to help straighten her up.
"Sorry!" She squealed, blushing and tugging at a loose strand of her hair.
"No, I wasn't looking where I was going." He smiled, and saw her eyes light up when she heard that he too shared her British cadence.
"It's customary for injured customers to get a drink on the house." She spoke robotically, tapping him on the shoulder. "Stay right here." She hurried away, a spring in her step. Tim waited, and she returned with a drink in her hand, and a napkin. She hurriedly put the napkin in his hand, and stared at him for a long moment before groaning under her breath and leaving without saying a word.
After that he had lost sight of her. The last thing he saw of Lola was her shapely body vanishing in a sea of people who had begun to dance to a provocative song. Disappointment was an understatement. He had only mustered up the courage to talk to her after sipping the drink she got him. He had made a promise to himself. There was no denying that the spark he had felt whenever he noticed her turn her eyes toward him had only been felt once before. He loved her once, and perhaps he still did. But she was gone, that goddess who flew away. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He should have said hi, or at least paid her to sit so he could talk to her. He decided to leave, pint half drunk, friends glued to girls and bunnies alike. There was nothing left for him at The Rabbit Hutch. He left angry, but his fortunes turned when he left, to the cold outside.
