The Singer's Date, part 2
May. 4th, 2009 06:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisThey entered the bar together and found a table right at the stage. The Joker sent Sidney to the bar with some money and instructions to bring him back a bottle of Captain Morgan and a shot glass. After an intermission, the night’s act was just returning for another set. The band’s name was Hair of the Dog and it featured a female lead singer.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” she said, her contralto voice ringing out into the darkness of the bar. “This next song was originally written and performed by a great Blues artist, Becky Barksdale. If you’ve never heard her stuff, we strongly suggest you find some either online or in the record store. The woman is a treasure. But, while you’re feeling kindly with your dough, please buy our album too, which features our cover of her song, ‘Satisfy Me.’”
The woman looked back at the drummer, who started a slow, rolling beat which was soon followed by a strong, whining guitar intro. But, it was when the woman began to sing that the Joker truly perked up and paid full attention.
“To ease this lonely feeling, there’s nothing I won’t do,
“Abandon time and reason to get back to you
“Cuz you lift up my soul and make my heart skip
“Don’t need a net below, I want to fall into your lips
“You see my arms are open and my legs are weak…..
“SATISFY ME AND DON’T BE SHY
“SATISFY ME, C’MON TRY TRY TRY
“You move so close like you’re movin’ in
“I can feel your breath dancing on my skin
“I can hear the animal screaming from inside
“I can’t help myself like a baby, I still cry.
“You see my arms are open and my legs are weak…..
“SATISFY ME AND DON’T BE SHY
“SATISFY ME, C’MON TRY TRY TRY
“SATISFY ME, DON’T DENY
“SATISFY ME
“SATISFY ME
“SATISFYYYYYYYYYYY!”
When Sidney returned with the Captain Morgan and a couple of hard lemonades for himself, he found his boss slack-jawed and goggle-eyed. Following his stare, Sidney found himself looking at a very pretty brown-haired white girl decked in a soft dark brown cat suit with matching thigh-high boots and a thick black leather belt around her waist. Around her neck was a thick black leather collar with a single silver loop at the front. Her waist-length hair was pulled back under a black head band. Her heart-shaped face was made even paler by her choice of make-up, which accentuated her large dark eyes and small mouth. But, oh my god, the voice that came out of that mouth was like a musical locomotive. No wonder the boss was gobsmacked.
“Mister J, here’s your – “
“Shut-t up-p.”
Sidney was smart enough to shut up. He sat down and began to nurse his drink while the music continued, each song highlighting the singer’s monumental talents. Throughout the set, the Joker sat motionless, his bottle of Captain Morgan remaining untouched. Sidney knew what was going to happen. He mentally prepared himself for another late-night visit to Wayne Manor with a new “package” in tow. Why the Joker insisted on depositing his dates at the gates of Wayne Manor perplexed Sidney, but a lot of what the Joker did perplexed him, so he just rolled with the punches, kept his head down and his eyes open. That’s how he’d survived working for Mister J all these years, surpassing every last coworker to attain seniority.
After the set, the singer thanked the appreciative crowd and stepped off the stage, heading for the bar. The Joker was immediately out of his chair and hot on her heels. When they reached the bar, the Joker said, “Buy you a drink, Song Bird? Wet your lovely whistle?”
The singer turned and faced the Joker, her eyes taking in his clownish features with just the slightest hint of shock. She then met his piercing stare with her own unflinching one. “You’re the Joker, aren’t you?”
“Sh.” The Joker looked around in mock fear. “Don’t tell anybody. Panic may ensue.”
This brought a smile to the singer’s pretty pale face. “Sure. I’d love a Screaming Orgasm. From all reports, you’re loaded, so I figure you can afford an expensive drink for a starving artist.”
“Screaming Orgasm?” The Joker’s eye brows almost reached his hairline. “I can give you one of those, too, but what would you like to drink, Ms. Fresh?”
The singer laughed outright at this. The Joker bought her drink and escorted her back to his table. Sidney got up without a word and left the two of them alone.
Slouching back in his chair, his pinstriped legs spread wide, the Joker eyed the singer and smirked jovially. “So what’s your name, Sugar Smack?”
“Wouldn’t you laugh if I told you it was actually Sugar Smack? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours, or would you rather dance?”
“Ah, a difficult one, are you? Listen, Toots,” the Joker waved his hand and clicked his tongue. “I kinda sorta own this joint, so I can check the books and find out all I wanna know, but I’d prefer it if you just tolllld me and saved me the trouble. Dig-g? And I decline the offer of dancing, thanks. The last lady I danced with ended up kicking me in the head three times and knocking me out cold. No…No, I don’t feel like dancing. Nosireeee, no dancing for me today.”
The singer leaned back in her own chair and crossed her ankles on the table. She looked at the Joker, starting from his Argyle socks and moving up his body in a slow exploration of what was before her. The look on her face communicated approval to the Joker and his smirk got wider as he waited for her to speak. “Lola.”
“Lola? Not as in L-O-L-A Lola, I hope? Because..” and the Joker’s smile widened even further as he turned his head to peer at her sidewise. “Because if you’re not all woman, I’m truleee losing my touch.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Do you know how much I hate that damned Kinks song?”
“This much?” And the Joker used his thumb and forefinger to show a tiny bit of air.
“Ass. So? You gonna tell me your name?”
“Well, it’s not-t Lola,” laughed the Joker. “Just call me J, if you have to. I’m hoping I’ll be hearing you scream it later.”
“Keep making the fabulous impression you’re making now and you won’t.”
The Joker giggled with glee at this and poured himself more rum. He liked rum. It made him feel like a pirate. And he was in a way ~ a land pirate. Aarrrrrr. Johnny Depp had nothing on him. So here he was with the lovely La-la-la-la-Lola in a dark dive filled with nothing but the Blues, plying her with liquid Screaming Orgasms in the hope of giving her the real thing later on. He had a feeling that it would happen. The vibe he was getting from Lola was strong on the sexual side. Or could be that she just naturally exuded a strong sexuality. To be able to sing what she did and in such a manner, Lola had to be a very sexual creature. The Joker was too. In his life, he’d had little trouble seducing the lady of his dreams, despite his facial disfigurements simply because the Joker communicated a particular sexual whisper that could only be heard on a certain psychic frequency. He could tell Lola was listening in as their banter continued.
A good hour passed by and half the bottle of Captain Morgan was gone. Three more Screaming Orgasms had been downed. Both the Joker and Lola were a little on the inebriated side and the Joker had grown impatient. He wanted this singer. He wanted to satisfy her, just like she’d sung earlier that evening. And even more than that, he wanted her to satisfy him. Visions of sex and blood danced deliciously before his tipsy eyes when the Joker suddenly leaned forward, his face looming in the flickering tea light on the table.
Clicking his tongue at her, he fluttered his eyes and said, “What say we ditch this dive and go back to my pad-d where I can serve you up a real Screaming Orgasm?”
Lola moved her legs from the table and leaned forward herself, her face a mere centimeter from the Joker’s. “If you think you can mix them up the way I like, you’re on, J.” And she extended her tongue, licking the tip of the Joker’s nose.
Sidney watched this from the bar, got up and left to get the car. The time had come.
Supporting each other, the Joker and Lola exited Hot Biscuits just in time enough for Sidney to pull to the curb. “Ah, our chariot, lovely Lola!” the Joker exclaimed in a bad British accent. “Hop on in. I’m hoppin’ right-t behindja.”
Sidney sped along the dark Gotham streets back to the Joker’s lair. He parked in back and unlocked the house for J and his sweet-voiced lady friend. They entered the house giggling together, allowing the alcohol to run its natural course.
“So where’re we going, J?”
“Why, to my bed-d room, of courssse, Banana Boat. You sang me a challenge earlier and I want to meet it-t head onnn.”
“What was that?” laughed Lola.
And the Joker sang, “Satisfy me, and don’t be shy, sat-is-fy meeee, c’mon try try try. Oh, and I’m gonna try, Petal, I’m…gon-na….try.”
That last part came out as a savage growl that set Lola’s drunken blood on fire. She stopped, turned, and placed her mouth on the Joker’s, licking and sucking at his rum-tinged tongue. It didn’t surprise him. You couldn’t be shy and be the lead singer of a band, not in the way Lola was. Her confidence aroused and amused him, and the Joker pulled Lola along, their lips still sealed in a tremendous kiss, until they were in his bedroom. Wrestling their clothes off, the two lovers fell into the Joker’s unmade bed and writhed in the glory of their naked bodies. The Joker looked appreciatively at Lola’s nicely-curved body. Her full breasts were perfectly-shaped and he noted that not one rib was showing. He hated women who starved themselves and believed the hype that it was a thing of beauty. They lost their curves, their seductiveness, when they did that. If he wanted to fuck a chicken bone, he’d hang out at KFC. No, he liked his women real and full and juicy. He liked Lola.
And Lola liked him. She rolled on top of the Joker and studied his wiry body. Even though he was covered with various scars, each one added to his mystery and attractiveness for her. Getting up close to him allowed her to look at his facial scars underneath the war paint. They were puckered and swirled in a manner indicative of a poorly-done stitch job or of wounds too difficult to repair correctly. Either way, something about them turned her on. When she bit and licked at them, the Joker pushed her back and glared at her under knitted brows.
“You’re making fun, aren’tcha?” he asked, a swift anger tingeing his voice.
“No, J, I’m admiring every bit of you,” she said, her dulcet voice low and husky with lust. “Just the way you’ve been doing me. I’m just a little more expressive, it seems.”
And, before he knew what was happening, Lola lifted her body from his, then lowered it again, this time on his fully erect cock. Biting her lower lip and closing her vast eyes, she groaned with feeling his thickness inside her, wiggling her hips to make certain she had every inch of his erection inside. The Joker lost capacity for thought and found himself arching his back and licking his lips in response to her bold action. Lola then began to move, not up and down on his cock, but in a rocking motion, not allowing any sort of thrusting on his part. She just moved him back and forth, swirling her hips and squeezing his cock with the walls of her cunt, milking him, encouraging him to come. But the Joker held back, forcing himself to think of anything but his burgeoning orgasm. Instead, he took a thumb in his mouth, wetting it copiously, then placing it on Lola’s engorged clit, applying just the right amount of pressure and motion. She let loose with a scream only a singer could muster. As soon as she began to come, the Joker released himself, enjoying the warmth of his emission as it poured out of her and soaked his pubic area. He could smell sex all around him and it kept him hard, despite the vicious orgasm he’d just experienced. This woman, this singer, this Lola, she was a real treasure. Maybe he should keep her.
Lola collapsed on her hands, her breasts dangling and her nipples grazing the Joker’s own rock hard ones. “You’re a nice ride. No, I take that back. You’re amazing. I could do this all night long.”
She leaned down further and kissed him deeply. He could taste the chocolate covered cherry of her Screaming Orgasms and cherished the flavor. Nothing like the taste of an inebriated woman in heat, no no no, nothing like it at all. He put his hands on her waist and squeezed just tightly enough to elicit a gasp from Lola. Moving her off his lap and beside him, he stretched luxuriantly alongside her like a slumbering cat, almost purring as he did so.
“So I tak-ke it I ssssatisfied-d?” the Joker murmured in her ear.
“Oh yeah… Becky Barksdale would be very happy with you. I’m curious about something, though,” Lola said, exhibiting her complete lack of inhibition, which the Joker admired.
“What’s that, Kettle Corn?”
“How did you get those scars?”
The Joker was shocked. He usually got to initiate this story by asking his date Do you wanna know how I got these scars? But Lola took his chance away from him, which was deflating in a way. He thought about for a minute and felt a little disappointed and deprived. Then he got pissed off about it, although he didn’t show it. He’d show her that sweet emotion later on.
“Oh these?” The Joker said, matter-of-factly. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, absently caressing Lola’s breasts and abdomen. “About fifteen or so years ago, in my heady youth, I was a member of a dance troupe by the name of Sparrrkle Motion. Yes, I know the name sounds seriously Broke..back, but the naaaame didn’t matterrr. What did matter was that we were good, exceptionally so. One day, we got word that we had the opportuniteee for some national exposure, so we contrived this excellent performance filled with all manner of serious hoofing. Michael Flatley would have been envious. He knows nothing when it comes to truly hoofing it.
“Soooo one day, we got some stage time to work on our choreographeee before the big-g day and we were slated to do our thing after this band finished working on their set-t. The band completed their practice and removed all their equip-ment, or so we thought. It turned out that that singer left his microphone and wire on the stage, but Spark-le Motion didn’t notice this, none of us did.
“We got the sound guy to start-t up our music of choice, a fabulous Duran Duran classic. I can’t remember the name right-t off hand, but,” and the Joker waved his hand dismissively before returning to caressing Lola’s soft skin. “That doesn’t matter. The five of us began our performance and were dancing in earnest. And, just-t as I began to run from the back of the stage to the front-t, my toes caught the mic wire on the floor and I sailed through the air, off the stage, and into one of the cameras that was going to be used-d on the performance the next-t day. The matte box on the camera caught me right here.”
The Joker traced his Chelsea Grin from the left to the right. “Who knew that those matte boxes could be so…sharp? Anyway, I fell to the floor and passed out from the pain of it all. I woke up in the hospital, all sewn and bandaged. Sparkle Motion lost our big chance to maybe become the next group of Solid Gold dancers and I was forced out of the troupe because of this…disfigurement-t. The dance troupe actually didn’t survive long after my unfortunate freak-k accident and my own career as a performer, other than being a clown-n was brought to a perm-a-nent-t end. All because of some singer’s poor memory. So, my little cantaloupe, how’s your memory, hmmm? Are all you singers the same? Do you just leave expensive equipment behind for others to trip over later on, bearing no responsibiliteee or sense of guilt? Hm? Can you tell me that?”
Lola just looked at the Joker, a blank stare on her pretty face. The expressionless stare seemed to last forever. Then Lola burst out laughing. The Joker’s eyes widened in true surprise. He was agog at Lola’s reaction to his Scar Story.
“That has got to be the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard in my entire life!” Lola cackled. “Sparkle Motion? Are you kidding me? Y’know I’ve seen Donnie Darko before. Oh my god! You’re a riot, J! A scream!”
The Joker’s ire at Lola grew into a full-on rage. His hand was on her throat before she could say one more thing, and he dug his fingers into the flesh of her neck, digging deeper and deeper with a strength only fury can fuel. When he felt his fingers touch his thumb behind her larynx, the Joker yanked back and Lola stopped struggling. Blood bathed the Joker’s pillows and sheets. The Joker looked almost curiously at his gory hand and the meat between his fingers. That was too bad. Lola had been such a fabulous singer. She’d have gone far if she hadn’t come home with him.
Calling for Sidney, the Joker threw on some clothes and he and his number one guy gathered Lola’s body and belongings and put them all in a big bag. The Joker had Sidney drive them to gates of Wayne Manor after making a quick pit-stop at a musical instrument store. The Joker broke into the store and stole a microphone, nothing else. They left the store and its wailing alarm to shortly arrive at Wayne Manor where the Joker posed Lola like a cabaret dancer with the help of wrought iron bars of the gates. He opened her mouth wide and shoved the microphone into it. The microphone was still a little too large, so the jaw had to be broken. The Joker delighted in the cracking sound it made when he finally got the microphone in. Draping the naked body with a clean white sheet, the Joker finger-painted with Lola’s own blood on the sheet “I’m singin’ the Blues without my pet Bat. Come out and play.”
Stepping back, the Joker admired his handiwork, then stuck an elbow in Sidney’s ribs. “A thing of beauty, eh, Sid?”
“It’s a shame she had to die, though,” Sidney said, risking the comment and his own life. “Her voice was top notch, that one.”
“A damned shame, but she asked too many questions and didn’t believe any of the answers. In my world, that’s a capital offence, and my world is the only one that matters. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
The Joker laughed like that all the way home and Sidney eventually laughed with him. There was no denying that the Joker’s laugh was infectious.
©Tracy Angelina Evans
Darth Shriek
4 May, 2009
In memory of Heath Ledger, Prince Conor and the one and only Joker.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-05-05 01:02 am (UTC)OMG, you are a hoot.
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Date: 2009-05-05 01:07 am (UTC)Gladjoolikey!
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Date: 2009-05-05 01:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 01:52 am (UTC)....those were explosions.
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Date: 2009-05-05 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 02:04 am (UTC)And I think we'd all love to hear him invite us to his pad, wouldn't we? I know I would.
Maybe someone could persuade the Joker Blogs dude to refer to his home as his pad in a future installment. Hmmm....