Pour It Out | by A'Ja Lyons

I wasn’t looking to have a ‘hot girl summer,’ but a freedom one. That Friday night I was out with two girl friends and we were going to dance and drink. I’d never done that when I was twenty-one like I was supposed to. Much of my time lately was spent making up for lost time. Nurturing the baby girl I didn’t get to be. The young lady I didn’t let myself be. The woman I was afraid to let others see for fear of rejection. The shield was lowered as drinks were flowing.

We’d started out downtown at Whiskey River where grown folks got their drink on. The thirty and up crowd frequented there and that was Mickey’s taste. She liked her men silverback and rogue as gorillas. Jamie held a lowkey temperament and seemed content to go along with the flow, even when I suggested we walk a few blocks and visit Dangerous Curves, the local “gentlemen's club” where nothing was gentle or formal. This was small-town Iowa, so they kept their bikinis on. Mickey and Jamie had never been, always too afraid to go. It was a mostly male crowd, but a few other ladies dropped in. I rarely saw other women. We dropped dollars on our sisters in solidarity. We’d arrived just as they began to glisten with a layer of sweat and light air of musk. I tipped a few dancers and paid for a private dance with a surprisingly talented youngster who’d chatted me up half the evening.