The Saxophone Played

We went to an under ground club in the city. It’s simply called black. It is very out-of-the-way, it is only by word of mouth that anyone knows where it is. It is very dark, and it only plays sad blues, mostly saxophone and piano with a very soft drum beat, if you are lucky. There was an exotic male dancer up on the small stage, he performed exotic moves dressed in very little.

Waiters come with drinks on trays. Girls and boys are shirtless, just with bowties. The girls have some kind of band of material, actually covering them up.

“Espresso vodka, martini, vodka and lime, vodka and tonic.” The waiter put the correct drinks in front of the right people.

“I love it here,” one of us said.

“Thank” you,” said our handsome waiter.

“It’s cool.”

“We are, er, very unexclusive,” said the waiter. “The cool comes from that.”

“Unexclusive?”

“Yes, we don’t want to be the place to be, that wouldn’t suit us.”

“Wouldn’t suit you.”

“No, we don’t want a select group of people coming, or anything like that.”

“And the name?”

“We don’t absorb light,” said the waiter. “We just are.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Um, er.”

“Just ask when you make up your mind.” He smiled. 

“Chips?”

“Of course.” He smiled again and left.

A little later he bought a large bowl of plain chips.

Guys Davis, Loneliest Road started playing.