@achedabsence
CLUB AUSTER has it’s many charms. maybe you came for the girls, or the show, the music or the haus specials, maybe just because you heard it was new york’s best kept secret. stefani has always adored how each table for the cabaret will always have two things: a candle lit lamp, and a telephone. the only lines ran from table to table, dial a table number and that’s what you’ll get.
her show finished an hour ago - thursday’s are never too hectic. an hour of burlesque, another singing while the girls strip. she’ll be back onstage after midnight to croon the regulars to sleep, but for now it’s breaktime. perched in her usual spot - a dimly lit corner booth, cigarette in hand and a fingertip tracing the rim of her whiskey glass. she watches each table closely, writing stories for them in her mind.
sally, the most regular of guests. a true queen in her own rights - literally, she’s often told the girls stories of how her family fled the motherland for fear of being killed by it’s people. a man and who can either be his daughter or hooker. hopefully hooker, from how he’s watching her mouth as she speaks. and the furthest table --- so lonely. the prettiest little thing all by himself. he’s shrouded in sorrow, she can feel it radiate across the room. while the band softly plays on she dials his table number and waits, knowing the placement of her table keeps her hidden. she sees him, he won’t see her. when he answers her voice is soft, raspy, a sweet noise that floats on cigarette smoke and sends a warm shiver down your spine.
“ ---- darling forgive me if i’m intruding, just --- you look very lonely. did she not show up? “
