"Don't you want to go there and cheer me on?"
"OH! The King, ladies and gentlemen!" he said with pride.
"Michael?" Maria asked, not that it mattered.
Her smile wilted just slightly but her eyes really showed the pain if his rejection. Max glanced over from his spot next to Michael and caught her expression. He had been ignoring her for the better part of the school year because of his own problems with Liz, and the alien history that seemed inescapable. But, sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw that expression for him. At those times he was too much of a wimp to right the situation but now it wasn't directed at him and he had the opportunity.
"I'll go with you, Maria."
"What? Maxwell, this isn't the plan," Michael reminded.
"It'll only be about an hour, right, Maria?" he said, directing her a look that urged her to agree. She just nodded mutely. "See? I'll be back before you even realize it."
Michael turned and let out an annoyed sigh at Maria. "Fine, do what you want, but one hour. Just one."
Max gave noncommittal nod and then went around Michael, grabbing Maria's hand and dragging her very happy self away.
And Michael went back to his craps.
"What happened?" Max asked, springing from his chair as Alex and Maria exited the 'audition' room. Maria walked right past him and Alex followed slowly behind. "She didn't get the job?"
"Oh, she could have had the job," Alex answered.
"What happened then?" he followed.
"I'll tell you what happened," Maria said, abruptly turning to face them. "I was auditioning for a stripper. Me! Sweet, innocent me."
She spun around and continued her path while her companions took up their trek. Max looked to the ground; he had figured something was happening. Far too many women were striding past wearing little more than a bra, a skirt, and a flirtatious smile.
Before he could stop it there was a laugh escaping his mouth, sadly, Alex too could no longer hold his façade. Maria stopped short, turning with fire in her eyes.
"Jerks!" she yelled, proceeding to pummel them both.
"We're sorry! Geez, Maria, come on," Alex complained as she gave a shot to his ribs.
"Fine, fine. I don't care!" she swirled around and stormed off.
"She really hurt my arm," Alex complained, rubbing the soreness.
"Did she already give you the cash?"
"No."
"Here, take mine, I'll take care of her."
"Seriously?" Alex asked as Max handed him a thick of bills.
"Yeah, go ahead."
His friend gave a grateful smile before leaving. Max followed the path Maria had taken; luckily they had traveled the twisting hallway when they first arrived so he knew that it led to only one place. He met the slightly smoky bar in the end and he spotted her already seated on one of the stools sipping on some icy, pink thing.
They really should have suspected something was up. The 'lounge room' had four separate stages and he has no clue why they hadn't noticed the metal poles before. Perhaps they had been distracted by the multitude of tables covering the floor and the neon lights over the bar proclaiming 'Drinks'. In any event they didn't figure it out soon enough and now Maria was stewing about it in a not yet open strip club. He avoided the few busy waitresses that were getting ready for the crowd as he made his way over to her.
"M--"
"Margarita."
"Right. What are you drinking?"
"My name."
"Your name."
"Figure it out, Robby-boy."
"I got it, I just--"
"No, none of that. Sit, have a drink; we have time to kill.
"What are you so excited about?" Max laughed at a jumping and fidgeting Maria.
"We are getting drunk in Las Vegas." Maria giggled taking another sip -- that seemed closer to a gulp -- from of her 'signature' drink. Her third 'signature' drink. Margaritas seemed very easy to like.
"Wh--"
"OW! Brain freeze!" she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Max laughed lightly.
"*You* are getting drunk in Las Vegas," he pointed out. "I'm watching you so that you don't do anything crazy."
"Me? Crazy? Phfft!" She shook her head before finishing up and slamming her hand on the bar. "Another one, my good man. And put more of the alcohol in there, I couldn't even taste it this time."
"It's less noticeable as you go along," the bartender humored as he began to make up another drink.
"Mar--"
"Margarita," she amended.
"Right, Margarita, maybe you should lay off now."
"What?" she asked, truly surprised. "Ma--"
She stopped and erupted in a fit of giggles as Max realized she had almost spoken his real name after chastising him to be careful.
"Ro-Robby . . ." she said as she gasped for breath. "I meant to say Robby." She looked at Max and even though he had a slight smile she slapped his arm anyway.
"Lighten up, Robby, I -- Oooh, my drink is here." She reached into the neckline of her dress and threw a ten on the wooden surface before lifting the margarita to her lips and taking a generous mouthful before clutching the bridge of her nose again. "You'd think I would have learned the first time!"
"You'd think," Max agreed. She gave him a pout.
"Oh, stop. You're ruining my fun . . . Oooh, pretzels, I need those." She stuffed a few in her mouth in a very unladylike way and Max peered at her curiously.
"Maria, what did you have for breakfast?"
"Nom-fing," has her answer and he assumed it was 'nothing'.
"Lunch?"
"We were goin' to Vegas," she said, giving him a look to point out his stupidity as a few crumbs flew from her full mouth. She chewed a bit and lessened the amount before she spoke again. "I was too excited to eat!"
"So you've had four margaritas on an empty stomach? Ma--"
"Margarita!" she yelled, though he got the hint not to use her name long before.
"I don't think that was such a great idea."
"I'm eating now," she answered, shoving in a more few salty snacks. She wrinkled her nose and looked at him. "These taste like feet."
"Well, they've probably been sitting on the bar since the real Elvis was headlining." She shook her head in disgust and shoved the small bowl away, "Nasty." She sighed and suddenly seemed sad as she stared at the bar.
"I don't like Dr. Love," she pouted.
"What?"
"Dr. Love SUCKS!" she yelled before sighing again and taking a drink.
"Margarita, he's just . . ." he trailed of looking for the right description but she filled in for him.
"A big, steaming pile of poo?" Max laughed but she just picked up a pretzel from the discarded bowl. "You see this, Robby? This is my heart."
She set the stale, twisted snack on the bar.
"And this is my heart on Dr. Love."
She brought her closed fist down on the helpless thing and crushed it effectively; even through it's hardened state. Then some of the dust and small pieces were gathered before being dropped on the floor. Maria stood from her seat and brought her heeled foot down to crush it to oblivion. She looked at him and held her index finger up to indicate one minute. She turned her back and began to walk away before spinning around wildly and coming to stomp the dust again, jumping up and down.
"Hey, if you can't control your friend your going to have to get her out of here," the bartender interrupted. Maria seemed to have no intention of stopping so Max stood and wrapped his arms around her still jumping body to drag her to the seat. She breathed in a withering breath as she looked at the slight mess.
"That's my heart, Rob. Right there," she whispered. Max sighed himself and turned slightly to the man at the beer tap.
"Cola, please," he requested before returning his eyes to the same point as Maria.
Drake stared at the depressed couple seated at his bar. He saw many depressed people but it was possible that these two took the cake…Okay, maybe not, but there were still pretty bad. Friends, it seemed, best friends possibly and one or both with a broken heart. They'd have a lot to go through from here on. He didn't know why they were here before the club opened but since they had exited from the back offices he had served them anyway, gave him a warm-up for the customers now pouring in the club's open doors.
Poor kids. He heard the chatter when they arrived in a limo so he knew they wouldn't be driving. Shrugging Drake poured a little whiskey in the boy's cola.
No extra charge.
Max glanced behind him when the glass was set down and he took his last three dollars to set on the counter but the bartender waved him off. He laid the money anyway as a tip. He lifted the glass and took a drink, his mouth screwing up at the taste. He blew out a breath before taking another, longer drink. The cola mix was half gone before he realized, yeah, that's too gross to drink. He put the heavy glass down with a slight stumble and almost considered taking his tip back.
Max looked back to the patch of carpet that held him attention before but he didn't feel so bad anymore. An actual giggle rose in his chest and broke his lips. He turned to Maria who was still very low and gave her a little shove with his shoulder. She looked at him as if he were insane but when he crossed his eyes she began to laugh too.
While they were cracking up at each other the first wave of dancers took the stage in the now-packed club. Maria went at her margarita with vengeance, concentrating on it until there wouldn't be a drop. Max, however, didn't need to bother with his drink and turned his eyes to the stage second from the left. A woman began her dance as another sang to a wild, fast beat. The one his eyes were glued to was blonde, her hair long and it draped the ground as she straddled the metal pole and leaned back completely. He couldn't make out her features perfectly but it didn't really bother him. She brought herself up; slowly ridding herself of the satin-like shirt that laced up and hid little.
She danced with a motion of her hips; hands trailing over her body to scrape nails over the red satin bra she wore. He didn't know quite how but soon the faux suede skirt she had once worn was tossed away and her back faced the audience as she seductively rid herself of her bra.
She turned to a few hoots, flashing a smile as her hands once again took trek over her skin, teasing her breast as she pressed her back into the pole. She was nice, Max decided, blondes where nice.
Much better than brunettes with big eyes and avoidance issues.
Max lazily let his head loll to the side. It landed on Maria. Blondes were good. 'Specially blondes with beautiful lips. The woman on stage didn't have those lips, least he didn't think so, and her breasts didn't seem as nice as Maria's either. That he was pretty sure of.
A grin slowly spread over his face as Max put a hand on Maria's exposed knee. She looked up him expectedly and he leaned into her.
"Blondes are really good."
"Thank you," she nodded, finishing her drink.
Good lips, such . . . *good* lips. His hand slid further up her knee until it was all of the sudden her thigh and all the sudden partially under her skirt. She didn't seem to notice but Max's drunk hazed brain paused at the situation and quickly pulled back. This was Maria. *Maria*. He wasn't allowed to think of her like that.
"Ma--"
"Margarita!" she reminded.
. . . Margarita . . .
. . . Right. She wasn't Maria, she was Margarita, and he wasn't Max, he was Rob.
. . . Right.
His smile was back as he turned fully and brought her to him. His mouth covered hers, immediately slipping his tongue into the warm cavern and she welcomed him. Soon she pushed him away with confusion.
"Ma--"
"Rob," he puffed. "My name is Rob, Margarita."
He seized her up again and she let him, accepting his kisses, his touches. She crawled off of her stool and onto his, seating herself on his lap. Her dress was mid-thigh, as the kisses became more aggressive. His hand began to make an accent up her leg, just brushing the fabric of her dress, when they were interrupted.
"HEY!"
They broke apart slowly and looked to the voice. The bartender watched them with great annoyance.
"You two *can not* do that in here. This is the second time I warned you about something.
You're OUT!"
Drake felt bad for giving the kids the heave ho, but rules were rules and he didn't want anyone thinking they could do anything in his club.
Max and Maria looked at each other, both breathing heavily, before turning to the flood of tables.
Every eye was on them.
Maria let out a short laugh, then a longer one. She slid off of Max and grabbed his hand, pulling him away. They stumbled through the darkened 'lounge' to a different hall, one proclaiming 'EXIT' in bold pink letters. They looked left, then right; unfortunately, they didn't see the helpful arrow in front of them and ended up choosing the wrong path.
"Where? Robby-boy, where the hell are we going?" Maria asked as she turned them off into a narrow, empty corridor.
"I don't care," he responded, pulling her back to him and then against the wall.
His lips crushed hers and he lifted her until he felt her legs tighten around him. Maria's dress was somewhere around her ribcage and Max's pants were gathered at his calves within seconds. His fingers gripped her outer thigh before trailing down and playing under her panties before pulling them to the side.
Max struggled with himself and her body before he positioned his cock, shoving it inside of her with a bit of force.
"OW!" Maria screamed, bringing her fist down on Max's shoulder. He felt his muscles bunch up under her hit and let out a yell of his own.
"Sorry," he breathed, panting into her neck.
"Hurry, start," she responded, rolling her hips into him.
He began a rhythm slowly, trying to get something steady out of his uneven movements but it didn't seem like Maria minded. She groaned and whimpered as he plunged into her over and over, finally finding a semblance of stable.
"Robby . . ."
"Margarita," he whispered with a smile.
They moved against the wall with noisy efforts until Maria found her end and Max followed. They met their release with moans, slight shouts and the names they had been issued for gambling fun.
Maria slid bonelessly down the wall as Max left her, she sat on the carpeted floor with her legs closed tightly, knees up as she revelled in the lovely afterglow. She tried to fill her lungs with as much air as possible and even though she was still quite in a haze of alcohol Max had completely sobered.
"I'm sorry," he muttered with wide eyes. The second time he said it in one night, unfortunately this time it was in an entirely new frame of mind. He fixed himself as he averted his eyes from her.
"Don't be," Maria said with a sleepy smile. She tried to get off the ground but was slightly impaired. Max went to her immediately and gently helped her up. She giggled at his effort and he lifted her into his arms as he retraced their path to find the way out.
The suite was empty when they returned and Maria had managed to do well on her feet, reaching not only the room but navigating to the bedroom with little assistance. She plopped down on the ultra-soft mattress with a satisfied sound in her throat as she looked up at Max dreamily. He sat down next to her with extreme discomfort and watched her sweet expression.
"We were drunk, Maria."
"Margarita," she said in a singsong voice and Max looked away. "I think you do better drunk than most men do sober."
She began to giggle until she was gasping and rolling around a bit on the bed.
"I'm not drunk anymore and I don't know if your even going to remember this and . . ."
"Spill it, Robby," she said with false sternness.
"I just want you to know it meant a lot to me, Ma . . . Margarita. I know I haven't told you lately but *you* mean a lot to me and I don't even know if you want to know about this in the morning."
She looked up with slightly sad eyes, flushed skin, and a half-pout.
"I don't think I will, Robby."
He felt a crick, a break of pain in his chest.
"Okay. Okay, Mar . . ." he trailed off knowing he what name he would have said.
He rose, leaving her to drift off in the plush bed in the plush room in the plush casino. The door clicked and the part of her mind that had yet to sober hoped he heard her when she replied.
"Maria, call me Maria."
