*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: Yes, I need an Editor; no I do not want an Editor. Yes, there's too many people to keep track of. Yes, it jumps around too much. Yes it's too long. Yes it's too short. Yes it's in the wrong category. Yes, this is stupid shit, confusing shit. And, yes, I am barely literate, hardly legible. Honestly? Why even bother?
Just scroll down to the bottom and leave comments based solely on the Disclaimers.
For everyone else, I hope you enjoy this little tale.
*.*.*
Ulysses Lee entered the Dead End bar, still dressed in his nurse's scrubs. He lingered by the entrance for a moment and let his eyes get adjusted to the dimly lighted interior. Loud music was blaring and he bobbed his head along to the tune even though he didn't recognize the song.
His eyes adjusted and he admired the young woman that swiveled and gyrated to 'State Of Shock' by The Jacksons. She was coyly edging her leopard print skirt down, smiling that blank smile of a seasoned pro.
Then he saw him, Dr. Marcus Olsen. The man was waving to get Ulysses' attention. Ulysses approached the table and Dr. Olsen got to his feet and extended his hand.
Ulysses ignored the man's hand and sat down at the table. Again, he glanced at the small stage. The young blonde was now prancing around in faux black patent leather bra and thong panties. Her hair very nearly reached the floor and was a very light shade of blonde, looking almost white in the harsh lights that illuminated the small stage.
A man approached the tip jar at the edge of the stage and the girl smiled and leaned forward, affording the man a good look at her cleavage. She brought her arms together, squeezing her breasts, forcing them to bulge out of the top of her bra. The man smiled and nodded his appreciation and the girl whirled and shook her buttocks for him.
"Well I uh," Marc cleared his throat and also sat down.
Ulysses almost smiled; Dr. Marcus Olsen was used to commanding respect in others. It was obvious that Ulysses' intentional slight perturbed the man.
Dr. Marcus Olsen was a thirty six year old man, six feet four inches in height, with broad shoulders, narrow waist, curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He had a light tan, muscular physique, and a dazzling smile.
Ulysses, with his multitude of freckles, tightly coiled carrot orange hair, and slightly pudgy physique, did not begrudge the good looking doctor his looks. Nor did Ulysses begrudge Dr. Marc Olsen the numerous women on the hospital staff that stood in undisguised awe of the handsome doctor.
But Ulysses did begrudge the young doctor for sleeping with Quinn Lee, Ulysses' wife of five years.
"Can I get you a drink?" Dr. Marc asked, trying to force a smile to his face.
"You buying? St. Elizabeth's draft," Ulysses agreed.
A short Asian-American waitress approached the table, dressed in the black half-shirt and red short shorts that was the uniform of the Dead End bar. The young girl's obviously surgically enhanced breasts stretched the top so that the 'Dead End' lettering was disfigured.
"My friend will have a St. Elizabeth's, draft you said?" Dr. Marc ordered.
"Yes sir; you ready for another Dewar's on the rocks?" the girl chirped.
"Hmm? No, no, I go on duty at nine," the man smiled.
"Be right back; boy's room," Ulysses said and got up from the table.
He returned to the table a moment later. The blonde was now down to just pasties over her nipples and a skimpy thong. When she whirled around, the thong was just a string between her luscious buttocks.
Ulysses nodded to the two men that were looking at his table instead of at the blonde dancer. Both men abruptly averted their gaze to the dancer as Ulysses sat down.
He took a deep drink of the ice cold beer and smiled.
"Nothing like an ice cold..." he started to say.
Then suddenly, his brown eyes opened wide.
"Ulysses, I uh, the reason I wanted to have this little meeting, you and I, is Quinn, well, she's very upset," Dr. Marc said, carefully scrutinizing Ulysses' face. "She would really like, and I'd like it, if we could come to an understanding, one that..."
"Ma'am?" Ulysses stood and waved to the waitress.
"Yes sir?" the Asian girl asked.
"Ma'am, take this beer, take it, do not let it out of your sight," Ulysses said as he pulled his cell phone out of the patch pocket on his uniform top. "Don't pour it out, please."
"What?" Dr. Marc asked.
"What?" the waitress asked.
"Pleaze," Ulysses lisped, tongue becoming thick. "Pleaze, lizzen tuh me; that beer izz evuh denze."
"Nine one one, what is your emergency?" a female voice said.
"Yeth ma'am, my name izz Ultheez Lee and I'm allerthic to suffer," Ulysses said thickly. "I'm at the Dead End bar and my wive's lover jush poizeneded me."
"What?" Dr. Marc squealed.
Had he not been trying to stay alert, stay focused, Ulysses would have laughed at the tall, muscular Nordic god's squeal.
"Hey man, you didn't say..." one of the muscled men at the adjoining table protested.
"Yes ma'am," Ulysses groaned into his phone. Please send an abuanth."
Had he not been gasping for air, had he not been drooling blood where he'd bitten his tongue, Ulysses would have been impressed with how quickly an ambulance, and two squad cars did arrive.
Ulysses showed the paramedics his medical bracelet. The bracelet clearly stated Ulysses Lee was allergic to Sulphur.
Dawn Li handed the mug of beer to one of the police officers. He sealed it in a plastic bag and had the frightened girl initial the bag with a felt tip marker.
For the next forty minutes, no music played, no girls removed their clothing while all the patrons and the staff were questioned.
Dawn Li, the short Asian-American waitress was in tears as she asserted, over and over, all she did was bring the beer to the table. She wasn't even the one who poured it, Mandy, the diminutive bartender had been the one to pour it.
"Shit, dude, I don't know, I'm just sitting there watching some girl dance, next thing I know y'all are in here," one of the muscle bound men at the adjoining table protested.
"Yeah, we don't even know him," his friend claimed.
"Uh, even though y'all all work at the hospital?" Officer Steve Hebert asked.
"Maintenance, man," the first muscle bound man said.
"For the hundredth time, he came in, asked for a beer then went to the bathroom," Dr. Marc Olsen said to Sergeant Elise Richards. "Next thing I know, he's on his phone with you guys."
Then the doctor stated, "For all I know, he could have poisoned himself."
Elise regarded the doctor for a long moment, just stared at him until he looked away.
"And, why would someone want to poison themselves?" she asked. "He even has a medical bracelet saying that he's allergic to Sulphur."
"I don't know," Marc mumbled. "I mean, he's pretty distraught. His uh, his wife and I..."
