Under the Amoral Bridge - Chapter 1

August 29, 2028
12:14 a.m.

Bridge made his way across the dance floor with a false air of confidence. He couldn’t afford to let the plebes who might actually be paying attention think he wasn’t in control. Dodging flailing arms and grinding hips, he was reassured that most were ignoring him completely, engrossed by their drunken mating dance. Halfway across the floor, he was stopped by a high-pitched squeal. “Bridge! Oh my God! Where have you been?” Even over the music, he could hear her voice. It was a keening wail he’d never wanted to hear again.

“Lola!” Bridge only just succeeded in sounding excited to see her. Her body slammed into his, her arms crushing his neck in a forceful hug that drove the air out of his lungs audibly. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Dancing, silly!” she screamed, jiggling her hips provocatively. Lola was an average beauty, the kind of barely pretty face that dreamed of lighting up the GlobalNet in movies and films. She unfortunately lacked the charisma, acting skills and perfection of form that would have given her even half a chance. It never stopped her from trying, of course, but it had been many years of fruitless attempts, marred by countless exploitations. Bridge knew she was never going to make it. Her voice alone could wilt erections. “I never heard from you! Did you show that producer guy my disc?”

Not all of Bridge’s transactions involved money, and Bridge had collected his fee from Lola without ever following through on his end of the unspoken bargain. She was the perfect mixture of unfulfilled desire and lackluster intelligence that made taking advantage so simple. Code words like producer, screen tests and lunch dates were all it took to unlock her resistance. Now Bridge had to think fast. “You know, I did, and he’s supposed to get back with me when his schedule clears. He’s knee-deep in a project right now.”

She pointed at him, her eyes squinting as she smiled with a drunken mirth. “You’re not lying to me, are you? You really showed it to him?”

Bridge pointed at his chest. “Would I lie? You can stand on me.”

Leaning over with lustful intent, she breathlessly cooed, “Oooooo, Bridgie! And he liked it?” Bridge lied again with a nod. “You want another audition, baby?” Her breath was thick with alcohol. Bridge could just imagine Aristotle smirking behind him. He turned her around and extricated himself from her cloying grasp as delicately as he could. 

“Another time, baby, I’ve got business to attend to. I’ll call you.” With that lie, he was away, his eye locked on Barney, ignoring the hurt expression darkening her features. ‘The things I do for guilt-free sex,’ he thought.