Murphy intended to drive straight through, but at Pennsylvania's maximum speed limit of 55 mph, he soon realized it would be impossible. His stomach churned as he traveled at a snail's pace on the narrow highway that was bordered by continuous four-foot mounds of road-grime stained snow. The ugly plow dung reminded him of the truck-stop food he had ate earlier, but still couldn't digest. The landscape was dull and lifeless, even the sunset was gray. God--he hated this miserable state and couldn't bare to spend another evening in it. Elliot had obviously spent some time in Pennsylvania when he decided that "April was the cruelest month!"
To make matters worse the state had a restrictive alcohol license. You couldn't even buy beer without going to a bar or a special liquor store. He felt like a fool when a grocery-store-clerk had scratched his grizzled chin as if perplexed at the notion of the local A&P actually selling real live beer. "Asshole!" the clerk had muttered when Murphy had made certain innuendoes about the governor's mother before leaving the store.
He passed yet another victim of the highway patrol's wolf pack and rechecked his speed. Every few miles he passed the only color splattered on the dull Pennsylvania canvas in the form of yellow caution signs that constantly reminded the motorists "STILL 55 MPH--AND PROUD," followed by reproachful listings of the penalties for breaking their precious law. One thing was for damn sure, they weren't spending any of those collected fines on improving the roads.
Joe stopped at a small steel town just before the connection I-80 and I-81. He drove through the town and saw a motel advertised on the country road that led out toward the south. His car zoomed over the rolling hills past the farmlands. His eyes caught a glimmering neon light a few miles ahead and he slowed down thinking it was the hotel. As he came closer he realized that it was a small tavern. He decided he needed a drink and that perhaps he could check for directions when he got inside. He pulled into the parking lot and looked up at the neon sign. It advertised "SANDY'S SHOWBAR: exotic caged dancing girls inside."
Joe laughed as he read the sign and surveyed the cars in the parking lot. This seemed like a strange location for a go-go bar. The remote location didn't seem to be affecting the patrons. The parking lot was nearly full on a Monday night. More intriguing was the bizarre mix of vehicles in the lot. Joe counted two BMW's, a few Audis, several pick-up trucks, a number of battered sedans and station wagons, three Cadillacs and one Mercedes. His Ford Explorer was the perfect addition two the odd mixture.
Joe went inside and was caught up immediately in the warm atmosphere and the rich music that flowed from the sound system. He went through a second door and looked toward the bar for an open seat. He was standing right next to the cage. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen danced toward him and leaned out of the cage and smiled at him. She stretched her long sinuous body, seductively arching her back like a predator cat. She flashed him a devilish smile and placed one long leg on his shoulder. The woman was nearly naked, but Joe could not pull his eyes from her dark blazing eyes.
"Hi. I'm Sable." She smiled at him as she pushed her raven hair off her shoulder and winked. Her ankle rested on his shoulder and her foot wiggled playfully in his hair brushing his left ear. His eyes moved slowly along the curves of her muscular calf and shapely tan thigh where a garter stuffed with dollar bills was wrapped around her leg. He dug into his pocket and reached for the first bill he could find, not caring what denomination it was. His hand caressed her leg on a slow path toward the garter where his money joined the dollars of the other patrons. She thanked him and went back to dancing.
The other men at the bar laughed and smiled making room for him. The man sitting next to him shook his head, tears coming from the corners of his eyes because he was laughing so hard.
"Welcome to Sandy's, partner. Men come from miles around just to see Sable dance--she the best. Most of us go broke on Monday nights tipping her." Joe ordered a beer and nearly drained the entire draft, unable to pull his eyes from Sable's dark sinuous body. She seemed to be dancing just for him. She moved closer to him, her hips slowly bumping and grinding. Her flimsy costume could barely keep up with her slow deliberate movements. Her body was rippled with muscular tone, yet she was very sensuous and feminine. Joe's eyes were locked in a deep gaze of her savage beauty, torn between the depths of her fiery eyes and her marvelous body. She seemed to read his every thought and curiosity as she danced closer and closer. The spell was finally broken when the man next to him elbowed him and offered to buy him a drink.
"If you like that buddy--wait till she does her blanket floor dance. It'll blow you away."
