Sweet Dreams

My head is reeling tonight after penning the connection between Ahab and Precious May. Precious, a woman embodying both light and darkness, possesses a beauty that is not just ephemeral but perilous. She has the power to drive a man to murder just for a chance at her soul.

Afterwards, at 5:00 a.m., I found myself walking in the rain to the river, seeking solace from the intense presence of Precious May and Ahab Erikson.
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There's something about the quiet solitude of the night that allows creativity to flow more freely, unburdened by the distractions of the day. The darkness and stillness provide an intimate space for the mind to explore complex characters and relationships. Writing at night can be a cathartic experience, where emotions are raw, and ideas can be fully realized without interruption.

Chapter 13: Precious May (DRAFT)

​Precious May entered Aunt Charley's Lounge on Turk Street, a dimly lit dive bar adorned with 1970s decor, meat racks under wall mirrors, and a disco ball shimmering near the lavatory's darkness. The bar, filled with a diverse crowd of men varying in size, shape, and ethnicity turned their attention to see her stride confidently across the worn carpet, her fiery red hair a stark contrast, leaving them uncertain if she was a woman or a drag queen or transgender unabashed by her profession or appearance. She wore a sequined emerald, green dress that clung to her curves, reflecting the dim light with every step she took. Her stiletto heels, though soundless, dug rhythmically against the carpet in the way she walked, and a silver choker adorned her neck, adding a touch of elegance to her bold ensemble. Completing her look was a black feathered boa draped over her shoulders, swaying gently as she moved through the crowd and found a seat at the end of bar by the disco ball.

The bartender, a mature man with striking white hair and a Polish-sounding accent, approached her.

"What may I bring for you, lovely lady?" he asked, his accent unmistakably European to Precious's ears.

"I'll have a strawberry daiquiri," she replied, "and make sure it's loaded with strawberries."

"For you, my lady, it shall be overflowing with strawberries," he affirmed.

"Thank you," she said.

"Beautiful hair," he complimented.

She smiled and crossed her legs. The gaze of every man in the room was on her, but it didn't bother her. She knew they were all powerless queens to charm her, which was why she loved gay bars. For Precious May, gay bars offered a sanctuary where she could be herself without the judgment or unwanted advances she often faced elsewhere. The camaraderie and acceptance she found in these spaces allowed her to let her guard down and enjoy a sense of belonging. Moreover, the vibrant atmosphere and colorful personalities made her feel alive, providing a welcome escape from the mundanity of being a whore for pay. The bar boasted a jukebox that played 'Billie Jean' by Michael Jackson, a tune she found pleasurable. The bartender came back with her daiquiri, adorned with more strawberries than she had imagined. He watched as she took a sip. Her approval brought a smile to his face.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Call me Precious."

"Precious," he repeated, extending a welcome with a warm handshake, "I've never seen you here before. Welcome to Aunt Charley's. Are you by yourself?"

"No, I'm waiting for a friend."

"Lucky friend," he remarked.

"I believe so," she murmured.

"You're safe here," he assured her before departing to assist another patron, just as she took another gulp and Ahab's deep voice resonated. His presence was commanding yet comforting, a gentle giant in Precious’s eyes. And his contagious laugh that she admired so much could be heard above the music. As Ahab took a seat on the stool beside her, he inquired, "What are you drinking?"

"A strawberry daiquiri. It's quite good for a place like this," she replied.

"Sissy drink," Ahab scoffed and signaled the bartender, who approached promptly.

"So, you're the lucky one?" the bartender asked.

"What?" Ahab furrowed his brow in confusion.

Precious laughed, "He thinks you're my date. My man. It's alright."

"Got a Pabst?"

“You bet, big guy!" the bartender replied and left to get him a Pabst Blue Ribbon.

As Rod Stewart’s ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy' began to play on the jukebox, Ahab turned to Precious and asked, "So, does one roll in the hay mean I'm your date now?"

"Well, you're definitely not a client.”

"Seriously," Ahab said, taking hold of Precious, which concerned the bartender. However, Precious reassured him with a nod that she was fine. "I don't like you streetwalking. A girl like you should be adorned with diamonds and furs and well taken care of. You're the kind of woman a man wants to spoil.  It's like unwrapping the gift you've always wanted and expected to find under the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. Then, you open it and see the joy reflected in your face."

"You know, I was expecting a three-way the other night with you and Terry, even wanted it," Precious said, "but I was surprised and yet elated that old Terry passed out on the bathroom floor."

"Me too, baby," Ahab said, kissing her neck and then her lips as the bartender brought over his beer. Ahab made a toast and clinked his can against Precious's glass, his hazel eyes twinkling, feeling something for someone else that overwhelmed his heart for the first time in a long while. “It was just us for each other without Terry that night,” he continued. “Fuck a three-way, I didn't want it with no man. But with you, me, another woman," Ahab gestured with a big grin. "My 8 inches wouldn’t get enough. Damn your eyes, girl. Damn your curves. Damn the sight of you for entrapping me inside of you without mercy."

"Honey," Precious exhaled, "when do you plan to clean that thing?"

Ahab gave her a puzzled expression. "What thing?" he inquired.

"Your bathroom, silly. It's a disaster. An absolute mess."

"Now you're patronizing me after all I’ve said."

"Absolutely not."

“Okay. I'm waiting for you to help me clean it."

Precious laughed, "You'll be waiting an eternity then. Even though I am a working girl, I don't clean windows or bathroom floors. I don't do housework at all. Don’t be stupid, you know that."

“But girl, you do one thing,” Ahab paused after taking a swig of his beer.

“What’s that?”

“The best blowjob a man can stand. Your throat is a perceptual windshield-wiper. Magnifica!”

"One might say my skills are honed from extensive practice."

"As the reigning champion of organized chaos, your methodology delivers. Girl, you got me cummin’ right now in my trouser just thinking about it.”

"Be quiet," Precious insisted, placing a finger over his lips.

"Modesty? From you?" Ahab murmured.

"I deserve respect as a woman. Why should it be otherwise?"

“I am not paying no hooker.”

"But you will," Precious declared, "With your brother's tainted millions, you'll become my Adam. We both crave the whole tree, Ahab, just like Eve and the fruit she gladly ate from that tree.  I am your Eve, and you cannot forsake it." She kissed him fervently as 'Sweet Dreams' by The Eurythmics emanated from the jukebox.