Nouvelle Bardot's Stories

Velvet's Mercy

2008-05-13T04:39:49Z

Ignoring her, Paul got up and crossed over to the window, peeking out behind curtains and bars, mumbling off a mental checklist.

“Gun, we’ll need a gun. Two guns. No…three guns. One for you, two for me…”

“Paul!” Velvet snapped, “Get ahold of yourself! How are we going to get three guns? Do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

“Well, it doesn’t look that hard…” he said, still ignoring her, “Look, I’ll leave and I’ll head out into the city and get some guns, then I’ll come back.”

“How do I know you’re coming back?” She asked, her eyes showing her fear.

“I will, Velvet, I promise you,” Paul said softly. Velvet leapt up from the bed and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly.

“You can’t leave me here, you just cant,” she wailed, now turning from seductive to desperate. Paul stood there, letting her hold him, feeling her tears wet through his shirt. He stopped for a moment, letting the tug in his heart pull him down deeper and deeper, and he hugged her back.

Breaking Out Velvet

2008-05-10T19:48:53Z

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” Paul said embarrassed, “But I think that’s why I stopped here in the first place. I needed to lay out my soul to someone. Its sounded like a good idea at the time, I guess.”

“You needed to confess your soul to a prostitute?” Velvet said bewildered.

“Like I said, it sounded like a good plan at the time,” Paul defended.

“Fair enough,” Velvet sighed, closing her eyes, “I’m listening.”

“Really?” Paul asked.

“Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” She said, opening her eyes and raising her eyebrows at him.

They sat up for most of the night sharing stories, and relating to each other’s experiences. Paul didn’t even notice that the time was already 3 am.

“Look, I feel kind of like a creep here,” he finally said, “You know, you’re locked up here and I’m just telling you my pathetic life story.”

“And your point is?” She asked.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he said matter-of-factly.

“And how do you propose to do that?” Velvet asked.

Paul's Story

2008-05-10T19:37:37Z

“So why don’t you just slip out whenever a guy leaves?” Paul asked.

“They patrol the doors. Make sure that only paying customers are the ones leaving. If they catch you leaving, you’re toast,” she said.

“Haven’t the authoritites ever come?” He questioned. Velvet gave out another sugar laugh.

“Sweetheart, they are our best customers.” Velvet crossed back to the bed and resumed her original position, propped up against the satin headboard.

“So tell me, Paul, what’s a nice guy like you doing out here?”

He paused for a moment, and sat back down on the bed opposite of her. “I guess I’m just running away,” he said.

“From what?” She asked.

“Life, responsibility…all that stuff. I just got sick of it all. Got in my car one day and just drove away. I was going to Harvard, you know. I had everything ahead of me, and you know what? I didn’t want it. Someone else wanted it for me…but its just not…me.” He said blankly to the wall.

“That’s deep,” Velvet said sympathetically.

Believing Velvet

2008-05-10T19:29:37Z

Paul was silent for a moment. “How am I supposed to believe a story like that?” He questioned her with a glare.

“How can’t you?” She said excitedly.

“Well, you did say you’re an actress. How am I supposed to know that this isn’t a scam?” He continued.

“This is always the hard part,” she groaned, “getting them to believe you.” She looked hopeful for a moment and crossed over to the window and drew back the pink shades.

“Look here,” she pointed, “There are bars on the window, and here? The door only locks from the outside. And do you see a phone anywhere? I didn’t think so.” Paul followed her with his gaze as she pointed out each thing.

“That does really seem suspicious,” he said, standing up to investigate for himself. He paused by the door, and pointed to the intercom. “What’s this?”

“That’s how you get out,” Velvet said with a scowl, “I page Bella whenever a guy is done doing his business or if there is a problem.”

“This is creepy,” Paul said.

Velvet's Escape Tale

2008-05-10T17:16:12Z

“Jesus!” Paul said, “How long have you been here?”

“About six months I think. Seems like forever,” she said, narrowing her gaze to the floor, “I almost got out once. This one guy, a real sleazeball if you ask me…well, he really wanted me all to himself. He was going to bust me out, take me to Vegas and go to one of those cheesy wedding chapels…I pretended to go along with it, just so I could get out of here. I wasn’t actually going to go along with his stupid plan. I was just going to steal his car or something…”

“What happened?” Paul asked.

“Bella caught him dragging me outside…what an idiot. The jerk had a gun, he could have used it. But Bella called the boys in and they took him away. He was kicking as they dragged him out across the highway into the desert. I only heard one gunshot. You see that pink caddy outside? Its been there for months.” Paul started to sweat and a nervous glance flew over his eyes.

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten into sweetheart,” she smiled sweetly.

Velvet's Story

2008-05-10T04:58:56Z

“Alright,” she said getting comfortable, “It’s not like this is my profession or anything you know…It just happens.”

“Naturally,” he said thoughtfully.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m actually an actress. Or…was anyway until I got tied up in this joint.”

“What happened?” He asked.

“Well, I was on my way back to New York, you see…from a gig in Las Vegas. I had this job lined up, and I hate flying, so I decided to drive. So, I drove…a lot. About the time I got far into the desert enough, the car starts acting funny. I have no idea about cars…Anyway, about nightfall the car dies, I mean really dies. I thought I was done for. But then this car comes, says they’ll take me to a motel, pick my car up in the morning. Of course, I was dumb enough to believe them.”

“They…as in?” He questioned.

“That, I haven’t figured out yet. I think they’re some kind of mafia based out of Las Vegas. They keep guys posted around the perimeter so we can’t escape…believe me, I’ve tried.”

Velvet IV

2008-05-09T20:04:42Z

“Its like Hotel California,” she explained, “you can check out anytime, but you can never leave.” She sat there for a moment, looking thoughtful and sad. Immediately his brain broke out into song, pumping out the Eagle in full throttle.

“You mean they lock you up in here?” He said, finally coming to a realization.

“How else do you think they keep this place staffed?” She said, “Do you see a lock on the inside of the door? No.”

“What kind of creeps do that to people?” He said with a scared expression.

“Sweetheart, we’re in the middle of the desert somewhere on Route 66. The only people that know we are here are the pervs that stop here…and you don’t see them complaining,” she explained.

“So why are you here?” He asked.

“You really want to know?” She said. He nodded.

“Well, before we go sharing stories, we should probably introduce ourselves,” she said, “what’s your name, darling?”

“Paul.”

“Nice to meet you Paul,” she said, sticking out her hand, “I’m Velvet.”

Velvet III

2008-05-09T16:53:04Z

“What’s the matter?” She said. He shook his head.

“Really,” she said, inching herself over to him, “What are you doing here?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing,” he replied. She laughed again, it was soft and musky like a rich perfume.

“You first,” she said, sitting up as if ready for an epic tale of disaster.

“Fine, fine. God, I feel so stupid…You see, I’ve been driving for days really…and well, I needed a place to stop. But all I see is desert for miles around and out of nowhere in the darkness there’s this place. I just didn’t really know the room had a catch or anything.” He explained.

“Oh, so I’m the catch, I get it. So, how am I supposed to believe that line?” She said with a raised eyebrow. He gave her a look that implied how tired he was and she immediately understood.

“You don’t have to stay here with me, its okay,” he said, motioning to the door.

“Sweetheart, I can’t leave. Its policy. I’m like a bird in a cage here,” she said.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He said.

Velvet II

2008-05-09T15:54:19Z

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she said almost robotically as she lay back, propping herself up by her arms behind her.

“No, no…I’m not here for that,” he stammered, looking at her. As he drew closer he could see her fully, blinking behind two large eyes and a peaches and cream complexion and a waterfall of dark hair. She was like a living breathing doll. He stopped breathing for a moment. He didn’t know that these girls were so pretty. He had expected a much older woman, bleached hair, red lipstick with a cigarette dangling from her mouth that coughed out raspy words from wrinkled lips.

She gave him a worried glance, and edged back a little.

“You aren’t going to kill me are you? They always warn me about this, I mean, this is dangerous country out here in the middle of nowhere desert, you know.” He could see she was inching her hand slowly to the bedside table. He hoped that she didn’t have a bowie knife stashed out somewhere.

“No, please,” he began. “Really, I’m not even going to touch you.”

An Issue of Italian Maxim

2008-05-09T03:40:03Z

“Well,” Margot began, “if its any consolation…I really really liked your performance. Well, compared to everything else out there. You were like my own personal Bob Dylan serenading the masses out there…”

There was another rapid vomitting noise followed by a second flush of the toilet.

“Don’t drag Dylan into this,” he mumbled from the other side of the door. He began to groan. Margot knocked lightly.

“Can I get you something? Some water? A magazine? I think I saw an issue of Italian Maxim floating around by the bar…I mean, If you’re going to be in there awhile you should have some reading material…or..you know…” She waited patiently for a response. The water came on in the bathroom.

“Are you still standing out there?” He called out.

“Uh, yeah,” Margot responded.

The water turned off. “I’m coming out now.”

He opened the door, and stepped out towards Margot. She smiled at him expectantly…and he threw up on her shoes.

“I didn’t think you had anything left in you,” she said.

Velvet

2008-05-09T03:18:15Z

The first thing he noticed when he walked into the motel room was the wallpaper. It was like a bad acid trip and it made he had to squint against the intensity. It was only then that he saw her, clad in a white lace nightgown propped up on the bed with the red velvet duvet. Only then, of course, was it too late.

“Who are…” he blinked back. Her eyes flew open, two big round dinner plates that took in his every inch.

“Does it really matter, sweetheart?” She said with a sly smile.

“I think I have the wrong room, I mean, the lady in there, she told me it was this one…but..” he stammered. She laughed, a child’s laugh and sat up, crosslegged, letting one of the straps on her shoulder fall down.

“You didn’t know your room came with a girl did you?” She laughed.

“Well, uh…I…” he continued to stammer, “I guess so. I mean, I didn’t know you’d be in here…I’m not really sure how this whole system works…”

“First time?” She asked inquisitively.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, well you know…”

A Bathroom Number

2008-04-21T02:34:48Z

He finished the song, but nobody in the audience clapped for him except for Margot. Everyone turned to stare at her, so with all her drunken might, she stood up, and kept applauding him. The man on the stage glanced at her, then made a face that implied he was going to be sick.

He covered his mouth and ran off the stage. A few people laughed and sneered. Margot stood there dumbfounded, still clapping. Before anyone had the chance to turn and comment on her, she was grabbing her purse and running towards the restroom.

She stood meekly outside the door, bracing herself against the wall. Margot could hear violent puking sounds on the other side, and it didn’t sound pretty.

She knocked lightly, “You okay in there?” Her only response was another vigorous vomiting splash into the toilet bowl followed by a low groan and a flush.

“You okay?” she tried again.

“I’m a little to biased to answer that one right now,” he replied from the bathroom.

Where is My Mind?

2008-04-20T20:48:07Z

He pulled nervously on the collar of his white button down shirt that he looked very out of place in and cleared his throat.

“You know what I hate?” he began, “Eighties music, I just can’t bloody stand it! Any time I hear Peter Gabriel I just want to blow chunks. Alright, don’t get me wrong here, I don’t hate all eighties music, just the popular stuff. Give me a little Husker Du, I’m good. But none of that other shit…”

He paused for a moment. People in the audience murmered comments, a few that Margot caught, such as “What’s this guy’s deal?” or “Where’s that dancer?” Margot glared at them, and sat on the edge of her seat waiting for the man’s next move.

He shook his floppy brown hair out of his eyes and let out a deep cry from within and jumped up and down and let out a very passionate cover of The Pixies “Where is My Mind?”

And at that very moment, perhaps guided by the scotch in her system, Margot fell in love.

Open Mic Night

2008-04-20T03:41:05Z

Margot sipped idly on her scotch, heaving an overly dramatic sigh with such practiced effort that she almost stopped to congratulate herself on the intensity. She took her seat at the back, waved the drifting smoke from her face and focused the last of her attention on the stage.

Open mic night was always the worst, she thought. Only a bunch of degenerate losers who thought they had talent completely embarrassing themselves in public. Well, a drunkened audience who couldn’t possibly distinguish talent sober or not…Margot dared herself not to heave another one of her famous Scarlett O’Hara sighs.

A man in a skin tight sequin leotard, finished a very rigorous interpretive dance and bowed. Margot gave out a “Hmphh,” accompanied by a sneer obvious enough for other patrons to acknowledge. Judging by the stares she recieved, she knew she was becoming, very drunk.

Then the spotlight hit him…he was nervous, the typical case. But then he began to speak, and Margot couldn’t conjure a sigh.

grr.

2008-04-20T03:32:39Z

the walls
they’re white
does that mean they’re blank?
or merely full of hidden meaning?

what’s in a laugh?
is that sarcasm…
or that hollow choke burning
up from inside?

i’m so full of questions
do you think i’ll make it
to the point
of concentration?

or will i just buckle-
into a deep, orgasmic
scream
that will hurt your ears

and make you close your eyes
against the ferocity
and quickly clap-
your hands over your ears

oh…

...dont be unsatisfied
i’m the one who’s frustrated.