Before we get started: If you're not 18 yet you shouldn't be here. This story is fiction, any similarity to real people or events is purely the result of my lack of imagination. Please consider giving money and/or stories to the Nifty Archive. All authors love feedback. Not much sex in the first chapters, this is more humor than erotica, but can't think of any place better than Nifty to submit it. Enjoy.
Everyone who comes into my bar wants something. For most it's to get drunk/laid. For many it's a bit of privacy so legitimate business men can have legitimate discussions about legitimate business matters legitimately. And for a few it's to find their tribe. The fact that you've made it inside means, whatever you want, you really want it.
First, to be polite, my bar is not in the best part of town. Back in the day this section was booming, but then the 80's came and went and the neighborhood went with it. It was never at just the right level of decay for the artist community to find it hip and undiscovered, so rot set in. (Be careful what you leave in your car.) Next you need to be able to find it; the building looks like all the other buildings in the area, perhaps just a bit better maintained. It takes a sharp eye to spot "Boris' Place" above the door, or the security cameras.
Once you get in the door you have to get past the bouncer: Royal Canadian Marine Lance Corporal John "Moose" Sumner. Six foot four...teen, 375 pounds, on a good day. Brick shit houses are built like him. High and tight haircut, deep set brown eyes, a nose that has been broken more than once, perma-grimace. Black t-shirt one size too small, black jeans over tree trunk legs, size 18 boots to hold down his helium heels. He is professionally unpleasant. On Moose's days off, you get to deal with Tiny....
In addition to being generally menacing, Moose also checks ID/membership cards and takes the cover charge/dues. $10 for a "guest pass" (when available), $5 for members with a $1 look up fee if you don't have your card, members also get a drink ticket. Base membership requires sponsorship and is $35/yr after that we have $60 lifetime cards. Technically this is not a bar, but a private club with a liquor license. Several laws, such as those regarding access, smoking and nudity, do not apply to private spaces.
In place of those we have our own rules, posted for all to see in the entryway. 1: Entry will be denied to those not wearing leather/rubber 2: Between the hours of 7pm and 7am entry will be denied to those not wearing boots 3: No weapons 4: No fighting 5: No fucking in the men's bathroom 6: There is no rule 6 7: We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.
Inside the decor is black on black, On your left as you walk in is the coat check, Past the coat check is the bar that can comfortably sit 25 plus two wait stations. On the bar are three touch screen video games. Over the bar is a memorial of nine sets of hats and boots of members who didn't make it to '95. One set belonged to the original Boris. Of course that was not his real name, however back in school no one could pronounce Ivan Chtgheglovski, so it became Boris. I think one of the reasons he left the bar to me, is that at the interview I said his name flawlessly and without hesitation.
Beers on tap are Bud, Bud Light, Killians, Labat Blue and Woodchuck. We've got another 30 kinds in bottles. Harder stuff comes in a range from well to $45/shot, including 17 kinds of vodka but not a single bottle of Absolut. Order a margarita or a daiquiri and you'll get laughed out of town. Try to be cute and order a white russian from me and I'll throw it in your face. However you should try my bloody mary.
To your right is the DJ booth decorated with a Tom of Finland inspired mural. Then some tables and booths, a reasonably sized dance floor/demonstration space, then more tables. Past the end of the bar is the "Game room" containing two dart boards, a pool table, another touch screen, a boot black station, and a vintage pinball table. This month it's Hurdy Gurdy, free drink if you can get it to roll over. Finally there's the doors to the bathrooms, office, back bar, and patio for those who want some fresh air.
There are also 7 TV's scattered around. Depending on the night 6 of them will be showing the game, opera, or an "educational film". The 7th is a feed from the security cameras. This lead to an interesting episode recently. For about a week we saw this kid -if he was 21 I'm 9 inches, more like 16 to 18- hanging around outside the club. It looked like he was trying to psych himself up to come in. Eventually he made it in the door, but not fully into the bar. I radioed Moose to ask what happened. Turns out kid saw the rule sheet, and looked down at his Converse. Moose did encourage him to come back tomorrow at 6:30.
That night word went out among the membership. By 6:15 the place was packed and rocking, Bob even took it on himself to bring several pairs of boots in varying sizes and styles. 6:30 came, but no kid. 6:45, nothing. Come on kid you're so close, don't chicken out now. 6:52 he shows up on camera and I alert the crowd, a hush falls. 6:57 in the outer door. 6:58 explosion of applause and cheers as he makes his entrance. Welcome home Kid, you've found your tribe.