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 Seduced by the Mobster
The Club Risqué Chronicles
Book One
Rebel King
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Rebel King
All rights reserved.
First Edition
 Table of Contents

The Club Risqué Chronicles Release Schedule

Book Description

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Authors Note
 The Club Risqué Chronicles
Release Schedule
Book One: Available Now
Book Two: Available Now
Book Three: Available Now
Book Four: Available Now
Connect on my Facebook Page at
https:www.facebook.com/authorrebelking
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exclusive excerpts and more Click Here.
 Book Description
Curvy, Broke and Desperate... For Day Jamison, life can't get any
worse!
As fate would have it, she would meet one of the bosses of
Atlanta's premiere upscale strip club, Club Risqué, he presents
her with an offer too good to refuse. Day never saw herself as an
exotic dancer, but for her desperate times call for desperate
measures.
One night while dancing she sees a handsome man in the crowd
named Knight. The last thing she needs right now is a guy adding
to her already complicated life. Nevertheless, Knight's charm is
hard to resist.
As she delves more into the club, she realizes that there is more
than meets the eye than the exquisite décor. Something is not
quite right about the infamous Club Risqué and the ruthless co-
owner Tony Mendoza only furthers her suspicions.
Will her connection with Club Risqué improve her life or will it be
the death of her?
*This is the first entry in the Club Risqué Chronicles, a
four book dark mafia romance series. This book is sexy,
fast paced, addictive and ends on a cliffhanger! The story
was originally published as "Day & Knight: The Club
Risqué Chronicles (Book 1)".*
“If I knew then what I know now— I would’ve stayed far away
from Club Risqué. Once you enter those walls, your life will be
changed forever…”-Day

Chapter One
FUCK MY LIFE! I yell aloud as my voice echoes through my
primarily empty 600 square feet studio apartment. I barely have
enough money to cover rent and utilities— let alone fully furnish
the space. Thankfully, I was able to afford the furniture I do
have, which is only my black full-sized sleigh bed with a matching
dresser, a futon, clock and old AM/FM radio with a cassette
player. I lucked up and overheard this sweet old lady tell the
cashier at the local grocery store that she was having a garage
sale just after I moved in here. I told her that I didn’t have any
furniture and she practically gave me the items.
I asked her what she wanted for it all. She said in a tender
sentiment, “Give me what you have in your pocket.” I pulled out
the only thing I had which was a crisp twenty dollar bill and she
replied, “Sold!”
People like her make me believe there is still some good in the
world. After all I have endured in my life though— I know that
for every glimmer of goodness, there tends to be a mass of
darkness to eclipse it.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. The sound of the alarm clock on my iPhone
starts to vibrate for the third time in the last half hour as it
slightly moves across my dresser. I have pressed the snooze
button twice before.
Usually, I would’ve been still asleep preparing for my night
shift at work but I haven’t been able to get much sleep lately. I
seize the bottle of Absolut Mandarin Vodka that I purchased last
night after my shift from off of my dresser. I unscrew the cap with
vigor. I stand leaning back on my dresser. It’s been one long week
— and it’s only Wednesday. I am in desperate need of this quick
libation escape to prepare for the whirlwind I am about to face at
work. I have been drinking since I left my day job today. I take a
big gulp of the liquor straight from the crystal clear glass bottle.
“Whew, that was strong.” I exclaim as the alcohol penetrates
my palate.
I look over at the framed 8x10 picture of my ex-boyfriend
Christian and I that we took the day of my 19th birthday— the
day he took his own life.
I reach over to hit the dismiss button on my cellphone to stop
my alarm from buzzing and pick the picture up so that I can view
it more closely.
“Why did you have to leave me Christian? You were the only
person I had!” I profess to myself, unable to hold back the tears
streaming from my deep gray eyes.
I place the picture over my heart. Somehow, whenever I do so,
I seem to feel a bit better. However, there is nothing that could
ease the agonizing pain of losing your first and only love.
He held the key to my heart. He shared a piece of my soul. He
made life worth living. And now he is gone— forever.
I gently wipe the tears from my face to no avail. The tears
begin to pour harder from my eyes as if they are little beads of
hail hitting a window pane.
“Christian, you were my everything. You left me here all
alone. You promised that you would protect me— but you lied. I
miss you so much…” I scream launching the picture I was just
holding toward its target, the reddish brown brick wall located
behind my bedframe. The photo forcefully reaches its destination
and shards of glass carpet the glossy hardwood floor.
I glance at myself in the mirror. The beautiful reflection does
such a wonderful job at hiding all the ugliness deriving from the
torment, hurt and abandonment that dwells within me.
I haven’t been able to contain my emotions this week. This
very week two years ago I experienced the best and worst
birthday of my life.
I can remember that day like it was yesterday.
“No, Day don’t even go there.” I instruct my mind.
Nevertheless, it disobeys me and starts to relive the terrific
moments that occurred before tragedy overtook that day.

It was a picturesque day in April— April 20th, 2012 to be

exact. Christian had devised this scavenger hunt for me. He
knows how much I love surprises so I was ecstatic to learn of the
birthday adventure he had orchestrated for me. I got up bright
and early to find the scent of food permeating the air. I arose to
find a tray with a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, grits, toast and
a carafe filled with orange juice, an empty glass and a bouquet of
my favorite color roses, peach, in the bed adjacent to me.
“Wake up, sleepy head! You have an exciting day ahead of
you.” Christian sung out.
I got a bite of bacon and a few scoops of grits just before I
poured a glass of the ice cold orange juice.
Then, Christian walked through the door with what looked like
a million balloons. I could barely even see him through the sea of
balloons he was engrossed in.
“Aww baby, thank you!” I gushed as I rushed to him to relish
in some of his sweet kisses.
 His masculine hands were gentle and firm as he caressed my
body. His tongue commanded the depths of my mouth. He knew
just how to touch me to bring just the right amount of pleasure. I
stood on my tippy toes to gain better access to his French kisses.
He was 6 foot 4 inches— a giant compared to my 5’ 4” stature.
“All of this for me… Wait, did you cook this?” I asked with a
curious tone and side eyes. Christian was no cook. I mean he
couldn’t even boil water right. So I know he had some assistance
with the birthday breakfast.
“My dear, I called in a personal chef from the local Waffle
house. They prepared this delectable cuisine for you. Then, I had
my butler go to the botanical gardens and hand pick the roses.
I’m glad you enjoyed your first gift my queen.” Christian replied
in a British accent mimicking a member of the royal family with
an enigmatic smile showcasing his pearly whites.
“Hmm, your highness I apologize for not bowing before my
king. I didn’t know you were royalty… Well, you are a royal pain
in the ass!” I giggled.
“Is that right? You love all the royal passionate pain I bestow
on your ass…” Christian replied seductively.

I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he was yearning for
me sexually. He could never conceal his emotions for me, no
matter if he tried.
“Whatever!” I stated in a nonchalant tone.
Just as he couldn’t conceal his emotions for me, I most
certainly couldn’t hide my emotions for him. I was addicted to his
love. I loved him so much it was scary. Not because I thought he
would hurt me— I was scared that the type of love we shared was
so rare, that I was afraid of ever losing it.
 Christian was the first guy to ever take the time to get to
know me— the real me. Growing up as a fat girl, most guys just
viewed me an as easy fuck. So I had my guard up— but Christian
put in the work and broke through the barb wire, iron fence, and
steel bars I had placed over my heart.
“Did you open your card?” He asked pulling me closer to him.
“No, I haven’t.” I answered wondering what the card entailed.
I leaned over the bed. I slid the tray over to the side to get the
card placed on the stark white duvet I had just purchased the day
before.
A slew of emotions filled up within me as I eagerly ripped open
the hot pink envelope. I pulled the card out and started reading
aloud the hand-written message, “Now, that you have had
birthday breakfast in bed… It’s now time for you to receive some
birthday head.” I started blushing as soon as I finished reading
what Christian wrote.
Before I could turn around to face him, he had spun me back
around, lifted me off of my feet and threw me on the bed.
“You know what time it is. You got to enjoy your meal— now I
shall enjoy mine!” He declared with sensual conviction never
taking his eyes off of me.
I sat up in the bed as my heartbeat raced in anticipation.
Every time Christian and I made love, it was magical. I could feel
the first of many orgasms I felt that day, building up within me
as my throbbing pussy yearned for the man I loved. He squeezed
my thighs as his hands rubbed up and down. I removed his white
wife beater he was wearing exposing his bulging muscles.
Christian was a dream come true— literally. I thought that a
guy like him would like a girl like me only in my dreams. He had
magnificent blue eyes, a handsome face with a cleanly shaven
mustache and connecting beard cut with precision that framed
his face perfectly, silky smooth sun-kissed skin, full semi-short
golden dirty blond hair, and beautifully sculpted muscles that
would make any fitness guru jealous.
I glided my fingers along his beard then traced his full lips.
“Take that off.” He instructed me.
I quickly removed the cobalt blue negligée I was wearing. He
then started sucking on my right nipple as he caressed the other
DDD breast. The matching cheeky boy shorts I had on were
filling up with wetness as his rock hard cock pressed against my
inner thigh.
His lips released my right breast. Not one second later, his
mouth made its way up to my neck. His moist kisses sent a spark
of sexual heat through me. Then his lips embarked on a trail of
kisses down my body.
“Lie back,” Christian commanded in his sexy voice.
“No,” I defied his command.
His captivating eyes glanced at me in shock and amazement. I
am usually submissive and do as I am told in the bedroom— but
for some reason on that day, I wanted to be in control. After all it
was my birthday and he had to do what I wanted.
“No,” He retorted with a devilish grin.
He opened my legs wider and pulled me closer towards him.
He snatched my panties off of me and I felt two of his fingers
entering my wet tenderloins.
He moved them around in a come hither motion causing a
creamy eruption between my thighs. I let out a sigh of ecstasy
and exhaled deeply as my legs started to tremble. I felt my juices
dripping all over my new satin sheets— but at that moment I
didn’t give a damn.
 “Harder baby,” I whispered with bated breaths yearning for
more.
His fingers smashed deeper into my sugary walls. Suddenly,
he got on his knees. Afterwards, he started nibbling on my clit as
he continued to massage my inner captivity with his long, thick
fingers. His tongue lapping up my juices as if it were the last
thing he would ever taste.
“So wet. So sweet. I’ll make you regret telling me no.” He
groaned before his tongue dove back into my river of wetness.
I grabbed his hair tightly as I felt the first orgasm blast
through me. My body shook in sheer ecstasy.
“Christian, I want to feel you inside of me.” I vowed almost
breathless.
“No,” He uttered in a blasé tone.
He stood up and said, “Well, I satisfied my hunger.” He began
to walk in the direction of our bedroom door.
“Baby, I want to feel you inside of me.” I repeated myself. I
hoped that he would stop playing games and fuck me real good.
“No, you have to beg first.” He responded again as he licked
his lips.
“Beg… Never!” I expressed flirtatiously with a giggle.
“Hmm, you are being quite defiant today birthday girl.” He
stated looking ever so scrumptious.
I wanted him so bad in that moment but I knew that I couldn’t
give in to the sexual power game he was playing.
He walked back over towards me. He stood right in front of me
and grabbed me by the hair pulling my head upward bringing my
lips inches apart from his.
 He didn’t say a word.
I knew that he wanted me to beg.
By putting on his dominant demeanor he probably thought
that I would break— but giving in and begging was the last thing
I was about to do.
He loosened his grasp on my hair.
Then, I slowly rubbed my hands up and down his chest. I slid
down the navy blue Nike shorts he was wearing to free his long,
thick glistening cock. His cock bounced eagerly as I released it
from the barrier of his shorts. I took my index finger and circled
the shaft of his cock. Next, I moved my hand up and down his
ready cock, keeping eye contact with Christian the entire time.
I could play this game too… He wanted to feel me just as much
as I wanted to feel him.
He bit down on his lip trying hard to resist my temptation. I
moved closer toward him and lined his cock across my labia. He
groaned as I opened my legs wider, revealing my plump pink
pussy. I circled his massive cock around and around teasing him
with his own body against mine.
“Shit… Stop playing and stick it in, Day.” He stated longingly.
“No, you have to beg first.” I whispered coquettishly.
I clinched down on his cock with my pussy before allowing it to
enter me.
“Day, please let me go inside. Please baby. I need you right
now. Please-e-e.” Christian pleaded giving in to my reverse
psychology tactic.
“Yes, you may enter.” I obliged grabbing him by the ass,
pulling him deeper into me.
 “Ooh,” I moaned as he entered me with intense force. There
was no denying how much his cock wanted the permission to the
entrance of one of his most prized aspects of my body.
“Damn, your pussy feels so good.” He growled as he began to
fuck me incessantly.
“I could stay inside you forever… Day, don’t ever give my
pussy away.” He whispered as his cocked banged in and out of me
faster and faster.
Another orgasm ripped through my body as a sense of
euphoria entranced my entirety. At that point I felt Christian
sliding out of me. I squeezed tightly on his cock with my pussy
muscles, doing all that I could to maintain the good feeling he
ignited between my legs.
“Baby, don’t stop… Why are you stopping?” I was puzzled. I
knew for sure that he hadn’t come yet and I was more than ready
to feel the multiple orgasms I hadn’t released yet.
“You want this dick?” He questioned with authority and a
smirk.
I sighed heavily but didn’t respond. We made eye contact. I
knew that my eyes answered and spoke what my lips didn’t say.
His eyes blazed with complete desire as well. I was too horny. I
started to move my hips in a circular motion to get more of his
cock back inside of me.
“No, you have to beg for it I said. If you want me to keep
fucking you, you are going to beg me for this big dick that you
love so much. Now do you really want this big dick birthday girl?”
He teased withdrawing even more from my super wet hole.
I nodded my head but didn’t answer.
He kissed me on my neck— in the very spot located where only
he knows, which takes me to another dimension.
 “I don’t believe you want this dick.” He stated arousing me yet
teasing me with his pleasure instrument. He rammed his dick
inside of me sending a titillating chill down my spinal cord. Then
he started to retreat once more.
“Do you want this dick real bad?” He questioned tantalizing
me with the shaft of his penis pleasing the nerve endings at the
entrance of my pussy.
I nodded my head again. I wasn’t about to beg— but I wanted
to feel him completely again so bad— real bad.
“Tell me how bad you want me.” He told me in a stern tone.
His blue eyes ferociously eyeing my body as if he was the king of
the jungle and I was his unsuspecting prey.
“Christian, I want to feel your big dick bad, baby. I need to feel
you real bad. Please fuck me. Fuck me now, Christian!” I begged.
He broke me. I had succumbed to his irresistible sexual prowess.
I felt him slowly moving deeper inside me again. All I could do
was close my eyes as he filled me up. As much as I enjoyed when
he fucked me, what I craved most was our lovemaking.
We slid up on the bed so that he was positioned right on top of
me. He increased his pace creating a knocking sound as my head
gently hit up against the dense cherry wood headboard. He
moved his cock back and forth smashing against my g-spot. I felt
another orgasm boom through me and my body shuddered
against him as he stimulated me with precision. I wrapped my
legs tighter around his torso. He graced me with passionate
lingering kisses. The sweet moisture of his tongue combined with
his cock deep inside of my love box had produced a tidal wave of
wetness on the bedspread that had curled up beneath us.
“I love you, Day… More than you will ever know.” He
whispered in my ear. Then, he commenced to sucking on my hard
nipples decreasing his pace to nice and slow.
 “I love you more, Christian.” I moaned as his cock pressed all
the right erotic buttons.
“Oh shit, I’m about to come, Day!” He proclaimed as he sped
up his pace again. His cock hammered in me with immaculate
intensity.
“Baby, not yet not yet.” I breathlessly cried out feeling a
climax building within me.
I clenched the sheets as I felt him and me simultaneously
reaching our peaks as we came together.
He exited me slowly. Next, he rolled over so that he was now
beside me. I laid my head on his sweaty chest feeling his
heartbeat thump as his breath gradually returned to normal. He
ran his fingers through my thick curly dark auburn colored hair.
“Day, I want you to promise me something.” Christian stated
in a serious tone.
“What baby?” I inquired as I felt a shift in his energy.
“That no matter what happens, you will never forget about
me.” He stated with melancholy.
“Baby, I promise… You know I could never forget you. Why,
would you say that?” I questioned curious and concerned. It
seemed a bit strange to say that right after we had just engaged
in mind-blowing sex.
I didn’t know where that statement was coming from. I felt
uneasy as I thought about how life would be if he ever left me.
I cringed as I envisioned for a split second how life would feel
minus my significant other. I would never forget the aching in my
heart as emptiness overcame me visualizing me with no
Christian.
 “No reason… Just remember that I’ll love you forever.” He
replied, with his winning smile.
I felt his spirits lift as he kissed me on the forehead. He
wrapped his brawny arms around me squeezing me tenderly in
his warm embrace.
With Christian, I felt safe. I felt secure. I felt alive.
That was the last time Christian and I made love— and the
first time I ever imagined life without him. The day he died, a
piece of me died with him— and I’ll never be the same.
 Chapter Two

I drift back to modern day. If only it was as amazing as the

good times I shared with Christian.
“No time for a pity party, Day!” I state to myself outwardly. I
don’t have time to sulk about the losing hand life has dealt me. I
survey the large white clock with sizeable black roman numerals
and metallic gold hands on the wall. It reads, 11:58pm.
My cellphone starts to play Anna Nalick “Breathe” signifying
that my phone is ringing. I peek at the caller id to see that
someone is calling from my night job. I answer the phone with
reluctance.
“Where are you, Peaches? There’s a group of guys here asking
to see you.” The voice on the other end barks. I hate hearing
Peaches slither off of Tony’s tongue, my boss and one of the two
owners at the establishment I work at night.
“I’m on my way.” I snap letting out a heavy sigh. I hate when
someone is clocking my time.
“On my way is not here! Get here soon or I’ll dock your pay.”
Tony warns in a threatening tone.
“Alright Mr. Mendoza,” I answer and disconnect the phone.
“Let me get ready for work.” I pronounce unenthusiastically.
I turn the radio on as I begin to prepare myself for tonight’s
shift.
I hate working at the club on Wednesdays. W.O.W. better
known as Wild Out Wednesdays are always the worst.
 The guys start piling in around happy hour and never stop
coming. They get totally wasted.
Consequently, they start to get really rowdy and start to
violate the staff’s personal space. I hate when the drunken guys
start to grope and touch all over me. Many would say, “Well, Day
isn’t that what you get paid for, to get fondled.” I know that I’m
an exotic dancer but that gives no one the right to disrespect my
body.
Contrary to popular belief, every “stripper” is not a whore. I’m
far from it. I have only been with one person in my entire life.
I glance over at the stack of overdue bills on the corner of my
dresser.
I’m just out here doing what I have to do because all these
fucking bills are due.
I wouldn’t have even taken the position. But I desperately
needed the money to save up so that I can move to The Big Apple
— Manhattan, New York to be precise to pursue my dream of
being an actress.
I don’t make much money at the Buckhead Grille where I am a
waitress. You would think that a luxurious restaurant, in the
center of Atlanta, Georgia, where the crème de la crème frequents
would yield sizeable tips.
I have served celebrities, socialites, politicians and diplomats
and believe it or not, they are some of the lousiest tippers. Just
the other day a notable rock star came in, ordered over five grand
in food and liquor and left me a $27 tip. I was livid! He and his
entourage had me running back to the kitchen so much, I was
starting to think I was in the summer Olympics.
“Ugh, fucking cheapskates.” I state inwardly.
 “What a beautiful spring night! The ninth caller will win
tickets to see Snow Patrol this Saturday at Stadium Park.” The
radio disc jockey announces with a sultry southern drawl through
the speakers. Snow Patrol “Chasing Cars” starts to play.
Christian and I would ride in his candy apple red 1972
Chevrolet Impala Convertible through the city and listen to the
song on repeat sometimes as the wind blew through my tresses.
He adored the car— despite the fact that it was a piece of junk
when he got it. Although, I am sure in its hay day it was a fancy
automobile. Christian worked tirelessly to salvage the antique to
its original splendor. Initially, I thought he was crazy to even
think the crappy car would see a glimpse of revival. Yet he fixed
the car— and it rode and looked just like new.
His ability to be able to see the true beauty in things that
others overlooked was one of the reasons why I loved him— and
probably why he appreciated me so much.
My thoughts start to flash back to last Wednesday and the
chaos that ensued at the club. Two guys got into a fight just as I
was about to exit the premises. I was walking out to my car, when
I saw Candy, one of the other girls who dance at the club, running
in my direction with angst on her face. I instantly became
alarmed.
“Peaches, there is a guy over there threatening to kill my
boyfriend if he doesn’t reimburse him for the lap dance I gave him
earlier.” She sobbed as her knees shook in terror.
For it to be an upscale gentlemen’s club, it was notorious for
an occasional nut the girls cautioned me the night I started
working there. My first instinct was to run and go get security.
But security at the club is a joke. Unless it is revolving Tony,
Luke, the head of security, advised us girls that anything outside
the club i.e. the parking lot, is no concern of Club Risqué security
team. So to me that basically meant, I had to protect my damn
self at all times— which isn’t difficult for me. I am used to having
my own back. When my mom died of breast cancer and I was
thrown in the foster care system at the age of twelve, I learned
really quickly that I was going to have to fight my own battles—
and to never depend on anyone for anything.
“Stay here,” I instructed Candy. She is a fragile girl. She is
only 4’ 11”. Honestly, if the story of her hard life wasn’t written
on her face and she didn’t have double F breasts, I would think
she was a high school kid as opposed to a twenty five years old
woman.
I ran over by Candy’s car where the two guys were fighting.
Candy’s boyfriend was doing his best to dodge the sharp blade of
the machete the other man was swinging his way. I froze as I
witnessed the man lunge the knife closer and closer to Candy’s
lover.
“Help me.” Candy’s boyfriend yelled out to me snapping me
back into reality.
I pulled out the pink nine millimeter handgun Christian gave
me on my 18th birthday.
“Every woman should be able to protect herself.” He advised
me. He knew I hated guns but insisted I have one since someone
had just broken into our neighbors’ home a few days before that.
I aimed the gun at the man watching in fear as he sliced
through the arm of Candy’s boyfriend.
“Move that machete an inch and I will put a bullet in your
head.” I scorned.
The guy looked back at me with a deranged stare. He
proceeded to walk in my direction. Police sirens started to blare
through the air. He stopped mid stride and ran to his car
abruptly. I sighed in relief. There wasn’t a single bullet in the
chamber. I cringe at the mere thought of what could’ve happened
if the crazed man would have continued to come at me instead of
fleeing. A gun without any bullets is usually considered useless.
Nonetheless, the empty weapon served me well in that instance.
The sound of Anna Nalick “Breathe” starts to resonate
through the room again.
“I’m not answering the damn phone. I’m coming Tony sheesh.”
I huff as I see 404-555-0000 on my caller id screen. It is the club
number but something tells me to answer the phone.
“Hello,” I answer with a slight attitude.
“Well, hello to you too, Sunshine.” The female voice states with
a hint of sarcasm and humor.
“Asia, hey I thought you were Tony.” I rejoice. I’m elated that
it wasn’t my sleazy boss.
“Where are you? I have been waiting on you. This place is just
not the same without you here. It’s a fucking madhouse right
now.” Asia giggles as I hear beer bottles clinking, numerous
voices and loud music surrounding her.
“I already know. I’m about to get dressed now. See you in a
bit.” I answer with a chuckle.
“Alright, see you soon, Peaches.” Asia states before
disconnecting the call.
“Let me stop stalling and get this show on the road.” I say to
myself. I grab my car keys. Then, snatch the small soft pink
duffle bag that contains the ensemble I’ll be wearing tonight on
stage, makeup, and some personal hygiene items as I head
towards the front door of my studio apartment. I usually take a
shower before I go to the club. However, I took a shower just after
I got in from my shift at 9:00pm at the Grille and since I’m
running late, I don’t have the time right now to take another. The
last thing I want to do is hear Tony’s screeching in my ear about
my tardiness—again.
I hit the button on my keychain to unlock the doors of my car.
A brisk spring breeze comes through sending my curls flying
across my face as I enter my vehicle. I throw the duffle bag into
the back seat and start the ignition. At the first try my car
doesn’t start.
“Come on, not tonight. I’m already late!” I shout as I pound my
fist on the steering wheel of my 1992 Honda Accord. I turn the
key back as I prepare to get the engine running.
“Come on Honda, start for me please.” I tell the car in a polite
tone as if the inanimate object possesses feelings. I inhale sharply
and turn the ignition once more, squeezing my eyes tightly as I
pray that the car starts.
The sound of the engine running brings me relief. I pull out of
the vacant parking lot and embark on my destination. The bright
skyline of Atlanta, Ga is a beautiful sight to behold at night. The
tall buildings decorate the city. I often wonder how it would feel
to be one of those privileged individuals who lived in the
penthouse on the top floor as I pass by the residential building
where many affluent members in the city reside.
Before I realize it I’m at the club. I circle around the packed
parking lot trying to locate a space to park my car. I find one at
the very end of the parking lot in a dimly lit area. I hate parking
this far from the club. I prefer to be closer to the building where
it’s well lit and more secure— well where more people are in close
vicinity. I look in the rearview mirror and wipe my middle and
ring fingers across my tired eyes after retrieving my duffle bag
from the back seat.
I hop out the car and briskly walk towards the five story
building. The signage illuminates the front entrance with neon
red words that read “Club Risqué” written in a gigantic bold font.
 “Hello,” The stocky bouncer Kent who controls the entrance
area says to me.
“Hey,” I reply as I rush by him to get to the dressing area. I
grip my duffle bag tightly adjusting the shoulder strap as I make
my way past the first of four bars to head to the elevator. I pray
that no one is by the elevator as I approach it. I never liked being
contained in a tight space with strangers— and I really hate
when they’re drunk belligerent strangers.
A sense of relief overtakes me as I get to the elevator and see
that no one is standing by it. I press the silver button with a
black four engraved in it. I wait patiently for the elevator doors to
open. I scan the ornate space surrounding me.
Even though I think Tony is a total creep, he did a fine job
with the construction and design of the club. Each of the five
stories showcases a distinct design from different parts of the
world.
The first story mimics the exquisite Italian architecture. The
second story has a Moroccan theme with rich deep colored linens
and décor. The third story showcases a Parisian atmosphere with
a large Eiffel Tower style structure that has a stripper pole in the
middle. I was in awe when I first saw it. I’ve always wanted to
visit the historic landmark. The third floor is also known as
Ménage à Trois. The floor is the epicenter for hedonism. BDSM
acts are conducted as well as orgies. The third floor is swingers’
paradise— I steer clear of that floor. The fourth story is my
favorite of them all. It has an oriental concept. The dark red,
black and metallic gold color scheme, posh accents and opulent
lighting creates a breathtaking space. I haven’t been to the fifth
floor. I was told that the dancers aren’t allowed up there. I asked
Asia why we weren’t allowed on the fifth floor. She said that she
was told sternly by Luke “Mind your own business!” when she
asked once. My inquisitive nature has been dying to see what is
happening on the fifth floor. I haven’t gotten the chance to
explore just what that particular floor holds. Something tells me
that what is happening on that floor, may not be something I
necessarily want to get involved in. However, my inner sleuth
won’t rest— until I find out.
Finally the doors open to the elevator. I board the elevator
expeditiously. I press the number four button. Just as the
elevator doors are about to close, I see a rough hand slide in
between the doors causing them to open back up. It is hard to see
who is entering the elevator, the rest of their body still hidden in
the dark corridor. A man moves closer in the elevator and the
lights within it reveal who the person is. It is the one person I
was prepared to avoid the rest of the night— Tony.
The doors shut behind him. I move back into the corner of
the elevator trying to distance myself from him. Besides the fact
that he is a colossal creep, there is something else about Tony
that doesn’t quite sit well with me. On the nights that I work at
the club, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily, in the two weeks
that I have been working here I haven’t had much interaction
with him.
However, every time I do see him, I get an uneasy feeling in
the pit of my stomach.
Out of the many things my mother taught me before her life
was taken from me too soon, there is one piece of advice she
taught me that I’ll never forget— always trust your intuition. And
in spite of the fact that on the outside Tony is a very good looking
man, my intuition keeps telling me on the inside lies a very bad
spirit.
“So you finally decided to grace us with your presence.” Tony
states looking at me with lust in his eyes.
I don’t respond. “Maybe if I don’t say anything to him, he will
get the drift and just leave me alone.” I think to myself moving my
duffle bag in front of me covering my lower abdomen and upper
thighs.
I swear if I didn’t absolutely need the money, I would leave
Club Risqué and be alleviated of all of Tony’s crap— once and for
all.
“Is there something in your ears, Sweetheart?” Tony questions
with ice in his tone as he moves closer near me. He stands right
in front of me, extending his arms and placing his hands on either
side of me locking me in place. I turn my head away from him.
“No there isn’t, Tony.” I respond as I roll my eyes. Tony has to be
about six foot five inches in height and approximately two
hundred and forty pounds all muscles. There is no way I could
overpower him if he tried to take advantage of me, if I wanted to,
without any defense. But trust and believe I’ll fight like hell to
get him off of me.
“You know out of all the girls I think you’re the sexiest.” He
whispers in my ear then commences to squeezing my right ass
cheek desirously. I feel his hot breath on my neck sending a
petrifying chill up my spine.
The elevator door opens and I’m overjoyed to depart from it. I
couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“I’m free” I cheer inwardly. I still can’t believe that I’m an
exotic dancer. If someone would’ve told me that I would be a
stripper one day, I would’ve laughed them out of the place. For
one thing, I thought that strippers had to be super skinny with
big tits. The idea of girls built like me, overly curvaceous, was
preposterous. Yet, here I’m walking towards the dressing room as
I get ready to dance for some of Atlanta’s wealthiest men in one of
the most notable strip clubs in the city.
When I was first approached at the Grille by Sebastian, part
owner of the club, I thought he was joking when he presented the
job position to me.
 I was working a double when he and some other guys who are
employed at the club walked in. I was beyond exhausted, but I
put on my best waitress act with a plastered Miss America smile
on my face as I began to service his table.
“What would you like today?” I asked batting my eyelashes. I
knew that being a little flirtatious with some guys yields bigger
tips.
“You,” Sebastian responded with arrogance and a smirk on his
handsome face.
“Well, I am not on the menu. However, we do have many
delicious options. Would you like to start with an appetizer sir?” I
quipped.
“Are you happy, Day?” Sebastian inquired looking me deep
into my eyes. I got ready to ask him how he knew my name, but
then I remembered I had on a name tag.
I wanted to respond, “I lost my mother. My best friend killed
himself. I’m dead broke and these heels I’m wearing hurt like hell
so what do you think.” Instead, I ignored his question.
“Have you figured out what you would like to order yet?” I
asked one of the guys sitting at the table holding my tiny notepad
with Buckhead Grille’s letterhead imprinted on it and a black
ballpoint pen. The guy gave me his order. The others followed
suit. I started servicing my other tables going back to their table
periodically.
I arrived with the check when Sebastian’s table was nearing
the end of their meal. Sebastian gave me the money for the meal
in cash. He and his employees started leaving the table.
Sebastian handed me a business card.
I scanned it and chuckled when I read the tagline, “Not your
typical upscale Gentlemen’s Club” and saw an attractive
voluptuous woman who resembled my body type on the card. I
placed the card in the pocket of my skin tight black denim jeans, I
had them on because my normal black slacks that I usually wore
for work at the Grille were ruined in the wash so I opted for the
jeans as an alternative.
I assumed Club Risqué probably was one of those seedy joints
like I saw on television and movies.
“Upscale my ass! The place probably is a dump.” I presumed
with skepticism. More times than I can count, have I seen words
like upscale, luxurious, pristine and other synonyms of that
nature to describe a less than stellar establishment.
“There will be a job waiting for you.” Sebastian stated with a
hint of eroticism and he exited the restaurant. I began to clean up
the table. I removed the white cloth napkin and was astounded by
the thousand dollar tip Sebastian left me. I contemplated the idea
over and over and decided to take a chance— that was how my
career as an exotic dancer began.
 Chapter Three

I finally reach the dressing room. The girls are scurrying

around. The glamorous space is in utter chaos as it always is.
Some girls are applying their makeup; some are adjusting their
breasts in their bras and pulling up their G-strings, some over in
the corner gossiping— probably talking about one of us in the
room and others preparing to hit the stage.
I walk over to my area and take a seat. I remove my duffle bag
from my arm and place it on the floor by my feet. I unzip my bag
and uncover my makeup kit. I paint my face and then retrieve my
ensemble. I get dressed. When I’m done, I gaze at myself in the
mirror.
I’m in awe of the stunning woman staring back at me. I’m
impressed at how far my makeup skills have come. Tonight, I
have transformed into a Geisha girl.
I look over to my right and see Asia strutting over towards me
with her six inch heels clacking against the tan marble floor.
“Oh my God! Peaches you look incredible.” Asia states viewing
my attire for the stage.
“You think so?” I ask bashfully.
I know if anyone knows how this look is supposed to be its
Asia.
She’s a Japanese beauty. Her exotic features are stunning.
Her lush bone straight raven colored hair flows down her back.
Most of the time her hair is in a tight bun— that is when she’s
not dancing.
When I first met her, I thought she looked out of place here
at the club. She was dressed more like a wholesome librarian
than a stripper— and she wasn’t in costume.
She told me that her parents are loaded. They’re the founders
of a multi-million dollar international beauty and skin care line
so she really doesn’t have to dance. The nineteen year old told me
that she does it to get a rise out of her overbearing parents. She
also mentioned that she grew up with strict rules and wasn’t
allowed any time for leisure. The moment she turned eighteen
was when she was finally able to embrace her wild side.
Asia was the first and only person to befriend me when I
started at the club. I usually don’t associate with women that
much.
When I was in the foster care system, I had to fight constantly
with the cruel girls who despised me for some unknown reason. I
have always been shy and rather reserved. I never really engaged
in the useless rhetoric of he said she said— mostly she said she
said.
What the girls really hated was my body. I developed pretty
early. So the boys would flock to me. I have been called a fat bitch
more times than I can count. I’m fortunate to carry my weight
well— mostly in my thick hips and wide plump ass. I used to be
very self-conscious when I was young but I learned to love my
body— cellulite and all.
It’s ironic… The main thing that others used to taunt me
about is the very thing that’s helping me pay the bills— my
luscious curves.
“Yes, you’ll steal the show tonight.” Asia assures me and gives
me a big old hug. I’m pretty sure she can see the nerves written
across my face. Asia has this sincerity about her. She reminds me
a lot of my mom. I could be having the worst day when I enter the
club. Nevertheless, as soon as she speaks to me, her bubbly
personality becomes infectious and I can’t help but feel a little
more jovial.
I still get nervous just before I’m about to hit the stage. The
idea of taking my clothes off for random men still makes me a bit
uncomfortable. The only man I felt fully secure with exposing my
body to was Christian.
From the moment I met him, we had a strong connection. I
never had to hide any part of myself with him… I could be totally
naked— physically and spiritually.
“Thanks, Asia.” I reply graciously as I head out of the room.
Upon my exit, I’m met by two of the club’s notorious
troublemakers Nadia and Kiera.
“Watch where you’re going, bitch.” Nadia snaps as she brushes
up against me trying to start an altercation. Her sidekick Kiera
grimaces at me waiting for a response. They probably are hoping
I say or do something to feed their negativity— I know girls like
them all too well.
From day one at the club, those two have been trying to pick a
fight with me.
I didn’t know what the problem was until Asia informed me.
Asia told me that Nadia was pissed that I didn’t have to go
through all of the preliminary rounds that Tony and Sebastian
usually puts the girls through. Asia said, Nadia had a conniption
when Tony told her that a new girl was coming in.
Nadia acts as if she owns the place. Supposedly, she started
dating Tony a week before I started at Club Risqué.
Asia expressed to me that I should watch my back around
them. She said that it’s no secret that Tony has had his eyes on
me since the day I started. Asia also said that Kiera was mad
because Sebastian made the call to hire me. Kiera has been
secretly dating Sebastian for three months from what Asia tells
me.
I snicker as I look at the pitiful young ladies. They couldn’t be
any older than 18 or 19. I kind of feel sorry for them. They believe
that sleeping with men of power and affluence will bring them
the same.
“What’s so funny?” Kiera yaps with her annoying valley girl
accent.
“You two,” I state as I push them both out of my way with one
movement of my arm. I know that they’re more bark than bite.
They have to work together. Asia voiced that they never cause
ruckus when one of them are alone at the club. Sebastian
approaches as they rev up.
“You fill out that kimono well… I can’t wait to see what is
underneath it.” Sebastian states amorously then takes my right
hand and accompanies me out the door.
I smirk at the girls who faces hit the floor. Nadia and Kiera
stand in silence sneering as I walk past them.
They know better than to cause any incidents in front of
Sebastian— especially with me. He made it clear the first day I
started here, that if any girl bothered me, he would handle them
personally.
From what I overheard some of the other girls saying, his
penalizations are harsh— but nowhere near stringent as Tony’s.
Sebastian took a liking to me. I utilize that to my advantage.
It’s always good to have the bosses favor.
Sebastian and I make our way down the hall leading up to the
stage.
 “You ready?” Sebastian asks me with his signature smile.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I state in a confident tone. I lied I’m
truly thoroughly nervous.
Unlike Tony, Sebastian gives off a more genuine vibe. He does
some flirting here or there but he never does it in a disrespectful
manner.
Many of the girls who work in the club throw themselves at
him on a regular. I can see why they gravitate to him. He’s
charismatic with a certain sex appeal. The tailor made suits he
adorns daily does not hide in any way the nice physique that he
possesses.
Hell a blind person can see the broad shoulders and
protruding muscles that he maintains so well. His alluring green
eyes can easily entrance you if you look at him too long— that’s
why I ensure that I don’t.
His intoxicating cologne invades my nostrils. No doubt about it
that it’s the good stuff. The cheap kind always makes me sneeze,
but whatever he’s wearing is top quality. He probably doesn’t
even know where to go to purchase the cheap stuff I surmise.
I’m sure he can buy anything he wants— even those many
women who throw themselves at him who probably would give it
up for less than a penny. I hope he didn’t think that by leaving
me a bountiful tip that I would just jump in bed with him.
I’m not that type— the type that can be brought.
“Alright then, it’s time to show them what you got.” Sebastian
commands in a seductive manner. Sebastian cues the DJ on the
balcony built behind the stage.
“Gentleman, get ready for the main attraction! Making her
way to the stage is one of the juiciest and thickest peaches that
Georgia has to offer.” The DJ announces. I hear some of the guys
in the crowd chanting out my stage name, Peaches.

I carefully walk up the grandiose glass staircase encased with

Swarovski crystals. Doing my best not to fall while maintaining
my balance in the sky high wooden platform heels I found at a
trendy boutique in Lenox Square Mall. I reach the top of the
stairs. The stage is pitch black except for the red spotlight
shining on me.
My anxieties instantly diminish as I hear the sound of the
Japanese koto Shamisen music rock through the fourth floor.
I close my eyes and picture myself starring in a big budget
Hollywood film. I imagine myself dancing for my true love
Christian who is playing the leading man. The scene involves a
skinny starlet and me dancing to win his heart. I open my eyes—
I’m ready for war.
I hear a roar of guys cheering in the front of the stage in
anticipation. Just knowing I’ve generated a following at the club
stimulates my confidence.
Before I came to the club, the girls just did a regular routine in
the usual stripper attire. I knew that in order to generate more
money, I had to be different. So I came up with the idea to do
different characters whenever I performed.
The first time I stepped out on stage as a scantily dressed
Persian princess, the guys were falling over each other to get to
me— another reason why Nadia and Kiera envy me.
I’ve always had rhythm but I didn’t know just how skilled and
flexible I was until I started at the club. I surprise myself at some
of the moves and versatility that I display while on stage.
Well the more I think about it, I shouldn’t be all that
astonished. As a child my mom enrolled me in gymnastics. I
participated in the sport for seven years. I even thought that one
day I would become a world class gymnast. I won a few trophies
as well.
But the chunkier I became, the less interest I showed for my
once beloved extracurricular activity. I thought that my keen
skills had been lost.
One night at the club, and the countless myths that Hollywood
often perpetrates in the films where big girls are even cast in is
shattered— such as big girls are lazy, big girls are limited by
their weight, for example being able to swing around the pole
with accuracy as a skinny girl could and one of the biggest myths
of them all big girls being undesirable to attractive men.

I have been asked out by some highly popular NFL and NBA
players since starting at the club— many of whom have girls in
various cities swarming them on a daily basis. I politely decline
though— my heart already seized by another.
I always find one guy I can avert my attention to. It makes it
much easier and makes the guys throw more dollars to get me
near them.
I spot a man who catches my eye as another red light blankets
the audience. He’s posted on the side of the stage. Unlike the
other guys, he isn’t vying to get my attention. He sits watching
me with indifference palming a stack of money on the table.
I dance over to him, removing my obi, the sash holding my
kimono in place, revealing the minimal garments covering my
ample body while displaying my best signature moves— but he
still doesn’t seem entertained. I glide down the stairs to his table.
After the first couple of times I went down where the guys
stand, I damn near got ambushed. So I vowed to remain on the
stage from then on.
 But this guy has made me break the rule I set upon myself. I
reach the table and grab him by the hand. I walk him up to the
stage where a chair is sitting by the pole.
“What’s your name?” I whisper in his ear as he takes his seat.
“Knight,” The strikingly handsome man who looks about my
age states in a deep fervent tone.
“Mmm, I like that.” I purr still in character. I rub my left hand
across his chest. The beat drops on the song playing and I sit
down on his lap.
“Every woman wants a knight in shining armor, right?” He
whispers in my ear brazenly. I can tell by the look on his face and
his whole demeanor that he’s a cocky one— the hardest to crack.
The cocky ones are infamous for rationing out the dollars. You
have to practically fuck them on stage to get them to give you any
money.
I start to gyrate my hips back and forth on him in unison with
the music picturing that he’s Christian. I close my eyes and get
lost in the moment. For a minute, I forget where I am as Knight
moves his hands up and down my body with aggressive
tenderness. He touches me in just the right spots bringing me
pure pleasure— just as Christian did. Knight kisses me on my
neck, his supple lips pressing on my hot spot. This sends a
magnitude of emotions through me. I’m in a state of complete
bliss as his fingers slide down my back and in between my round
ass cheeks.
“You’re the best girl I seen thus far.” Knight informs me as I
feel his hard cock beating against my black mesh and satin thong
I’m wearing. My 44 triple D breasts smashing against his brick
hard chest as he lures me closer to him.
I snap back to reality and realizing where I am, I hop off of
him swiftly. I sashay over to the stripper pole and begin to engage
in my classic pole aerobatics.
Knight never takes his blue eyes off of me. If I didn’t have his
attention before it’s very apparent that I have it now— as if his
hard cock didn’t just divulge that.
Knight ignites an amazing feeling that I haven’t felt in a long
time— since before and after Christian entered my life.
In a way, it makes me feel a bit dirty— in a bad and good way.
I struggle to shake off the feelings. I don’t want to feel those
feelings about anyone else.

I’m still grieving over Christian. Friday will be my 21st

birthday and mark the two year anniversary of his death. The
pain is still so fresh for me. It may be a generous amount of time
to some but it seems like he just passed away yesterday to me. If
the roles were reversed, I would jump out of the grave if
Christian had moved on from me in just two years— so this
feeling I’m feeling about Knight has my mind racing like it’s in
Nascar.
The music stops. A round of applause rumbles through the
room as men yell out, “Encore”.
I’m finally done with my routine. It seemed like I was dancing
for an eternity. Yet, I only performed for twenty minutes.
I run over to get my money as the thick black curtain hits the
bottom of the stage now shielding me from the audience.
I pick up the money scattered on the stage floor. I start to
walk away when I see a stack of money nestled on the chair that
Knight was sitting in. I count it up. He left me five hundred
dollars— not bad for a cocky one I state to myself. I proceed to
walk back to the dressing room.
I’m drained— mentally that is. I just want to go home and
jump in my comfy bed.
 “You killed it girl. I told you that you would steal the show.”
Asia states as she transforms from a sex kitten back to an
understated doll faced young lady.
“Thanks girl. I made some good cash tonight. One guy left me
five hundred dollars tonight.” I tell her in an unaffected tone.
However, inside I’m jumping for joy because I need the money
and I still can’t shake the feeling Knight produced.
“I know you aren’t talking about that guy you brought up on
the stage.” She asks in shock.
“Yes, I’m talking about him…” I answer wondering why she
said it like that.
“Us girls were just talking about him. He didn’t tip any of us
other girls. We had all written him off as a cheap cocky bastard
before you got here. Hmm, seems like he enjoyed his trip to
Japan.” She responds with a sly smile.
“Maybe he did,” I state as I gather my things putting on my
duffle bag.
I really like Asia. She’s a great girl from what I gather but I
wasn’t about to tell her how Knight caused a burning sensation
inside of my body. I don’t know her all that well— so I don’t fully
trust her.
“Oh he did… I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says as she walks out
the dressing room.
“Goodnight, drive safely.” I advise her as I grab my keys off of
the vanity.
I make it down to the entrance. Words can’t express how
happy I am to be able to have some money in my pocket and be
able to sleep in peace tonight. I can now pay my two months late
electric bill— most importantly get some groceries. I’m over
eating Maruchan brand ramen noodles.
 I exit the club. I hear footsteps following me. I tense up. “Lord,
please don’t let it be Tony.” I pray to myself.
“Peaches, some guy was waiting for you. But his friends got
into a scuffle with some other college aged kids and he left in a
rush.” Kent tells me out of breath like he was just running a
marathon.
“How did he look?” I ask narrowing my eyes as he starts to tell
me who was waiting on me.
“He was about 5’11” or six feet tall, short brown hair, tan
complexion. He was a dapper little guy. He came in the club
earlier tonight.” Kent describes before he runs back into the club
when he hears a commotion coming from the bar area.
From who he described it seemed like he was speaking of
Knight— well at least from what I could see in the gloomy red
lighting during my dance.
“He waited for me… I wonder what he wanted to say to me.” I
think to myself as I sprint over to my car swiftly. The last thing I
want to have to deal with tonight is a confrontation with a
maniac— like I encountered last Wednesday. I make it to the car
with no issues. I start it up and pull out of the parking lot.
 Chapter Four

“Home Sweet Home,” I express vehemently as I hear the lock

click on my front door.
I drop the duffle bag at the entrance. I hurry to my bed. I eye
the bed in delight before I remove my white cotton V-neck t-shirt
showing too much of my enormous tits, tight light pink denim
shorts showing too much of my copious ass and flat white
gladiator sandals that lace up my calves. The t-shirt and shorts
fit me good last summer. It is obvious that I have put on more
weight since then. Unfortunately, I don’t have a sugar daddy with
his credit card at my disposal— like Nadia.
The air conditioning in my apartment isn’t working. The
spring heat is almost unbearable within my dwelling. I walk over
and open the French doors to the balcony to let in some of the
crisp fresh air outside have to offer. The twinkling of the stars
illuminates the heavenly navy blue sky. The glint of the
moonlight through the floor to ceiling windows feels as if there
are no barriers between the studio and outdoors. I loosen the
straps to my bra. Then I go diving into the bed landing right into
the center of my soft mattress.
I adjust the feather pillows under my head. I close my eyes
and try to go to sleep— but the events that occurred earlier
tonight keep playing in my mind like a movie on repeat.
All I can see is Knight. How he touched me. How his cock felt
so phenomenal pressed against my thong fighting to escape his
pants and enter my pussy. How his voice made me melt.
 “Day, he is just a customer… Nothing more!” I remind myself
trying to dismiss the scintillating emotions overcoming me.
My mind agrees discarding the sentiments developing for
Knight. My body defies what my brain is telling it craving more of
his presence.
“How could I feel like this about a guy I barely even know?” I
ask myself.
“This is crazy!” I think. I look over at the picture of Christian
and I lying on the floor. The feelings and thoughts about Knight
start to rapidly subside— at least for now allowing me to cross
the threshold into dreamland.
The sun rays radiate through the balcony doors.
I feel nice and well rested. It’s amazing what a solid six hours
of sleep can do to your body. I sit up in my bed ready to prepare
for my shift starting at 10:00am. I have to work over tonight
which I’m dreading.
I hear my cellphone ringing. I pat my bed trying to find it,
swiping my hands across my sheets and then I remember that I
never took it back out of my duffle bag once I came home.
I hop out of the bed. I go over to the door where the bag is
placed. I kneel down and unzip the bag getting my cellphone. By
this time the phone has stopped ringing. On the screen 7 missed
calls is posted. I scrunch up my face a little confused at who can
be calling me at this time of morning. It’s only 8am or a little
after by my accounts. No one calls me this time of morning. I peep
up at the clock on the wall that reads 11:07am.
“Oh shit, I’m late!” I panic. I brush my teeth, take a shower
and get dressed in a flash. I grab my keys off of the kitchen
counter. I dash to the car, speeding the whole way to the
restaurant— running a couple of lights in the process.
 I make it to the restaurant in record speed. The manager,
Craig, is a stickler for time. Unlike Tony, he’ll surely dock my pay
and fire me on the spot— something I can’t afford to happen right
now.
I make a beeline for the waitress’s station as soon as I arrive
in the Grille. I put on my yellow waitress apron, stuff some
napkins in one of the pockets on the apron, snatch a notepad and
pen then head to my section of the restaurant.
I see Craig coming my way out of my peripheral but I don’t
stop. My plan today is to stay busy— busy avoiding him. He won’t
bother me if I’m servicing a table or doing other work related
tasks.
I go to the first table in my eyesight seating a group of guys
that just sauntered in. They appear to be of the rich stock.
“Welcome to the Buckhead Grille. Would you like to try any of
the specials today?” I ask energetic and perky. The good night
sleep really has helped me to be more chipper this morning.
Shoot, I should sleepover more often.
“Get me a glass of your best red wine.” One of the guys state
sliding the black Ray Ban wayfarer sunglasses up on his face he’s
wearing.
I can’t believe he’s ordering alcohol this early. Then again, rich
folks don’t mind having a drink every hour of the day— at least
that’s what the well-to-do women on the top rated Bravo “Real
Housewives” franchise portray. The television captures the
woman drinking morning, noon and night.
“Best… Not that cheap imitation wine you served us the last
time we came.” One of the other guys state in a pompous manner.
I have seen him here several times before. A few times with
his distinguished parents— who cater to his every whim. He’s the
typical trust fund baby. The type of guy who thinks the world
revolves around him— and that everyone who doesn’t have a
substantial amount of money in the bank is subservient.
“It most certainly will be of superior quality. We only serve the
best, sir.” I reply biting my tongue.
“Fucking elitist jerk,” I mutter under my breath with a smile
gleaming across my face.
I turn around to hand a couple of napkins to Betsy, a waitress
here at the Grille who is in her early fifties. Her face is flushed
and she’s sweating profusely. I have seen her like this numerous
times— she’s enduring one of her dreadful hot flashes.
“Thanks, Sweetheart.” She responds kindly. I pray that I don’t
have to be working in my fifties. I want to be retired and filthy
rich by then. I made a promise to my mother before she died that
I would never give up my dreams of acting. She’s my driving force
so I know I have to succeed in life for her.
I turn back around as I hear and see the guys at the table
greeting another guy who has just come into the restaurant.
“Would you like something to drink, sir?” I ask as the guy sits
down beside the pretentious patron. He’s wearing some aviator
sunglasses with preppy boy attire. I wait patiently for him to
respond to my inquiry.
“Peach schnapps would be good right about now.” The guy
answers placing an emphasis on the word peach. He removes his
sunglasses and places them on the yellow linen tablecloth. I knew
instantly from the voice that it was Knight— but his bewitching
blue eyes are truly what confirm that it’s him. Atlanta, Georgia is
a major metropolis filled with lots of people and countless
restaurants— those that serve similar food with a comparable
atmosphere of the grille.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
daran gewöhnt hatte, bei den Kamelen zu kampieren, schwamm von
selbst hinüber.
Schließlich wurde das Gepäck hinübergebracht; dann wurde das
Lager auf dem rechten Ufer aufgeschlagen. Die Wassermenge
dieses Flusses betrug 47,5 Kubikmeter in der Sekunde. Es war der
größte Fluß, den ich bisher in Nord- und Mitteltibet gesehen hatte.
Verschiedene Wassertierchen wurden von der Strömung aus dem
Süßwassersee mitgeführt, um, sobald die Salzmischung ihnen zu
stark wird, einem sicheren Untergang entgegenzugehen.
Ein Kamel und zwei Pferde hatten wundgescheuerte Stellen auf
dem Rücken und trugen daher während der nächsten Tage kein
Gepäck. Auch mein alter Wüstenschimmel bedurfte der Ruhe, und
ich bestieg deshalb ein anderes Pferd. Gewöhnlich pflegte ich meine
Reitpferde so zu dressieren, daß sie stillstanden, sobald ich eine
Kompaßpeilung vornehmen wollte. In dieser Beziehung war das
Wüstenpferd vorzüglich. Ich brauchte nur die Hand in die
Kompaßtasche zu stecken, so stand es ohne weitere Aufforderung
unbeweglich still.
Wir zogen die aus lauter weichem Material, ohne Spur von
festem Gestein bestehenden Hügel, welche die beiden großen Seen
im Süden begrenzten, hinauf. Hier und dort wuchs an den Bächen
vortreffliches Gras, das nebst Quellen und brennbaren Sträuchern
zum Rasten aufforderte; aber die Tiere waren jetzt so ausgeruht,
daß wir unseren Weg fortsetzten. Ein niedriger Kamm wird
überschritten; südlich davon erscheint ein neuer See, der keinen
sichtbaren Abfluß hat, aber doch süß ist.
Zwischen den Hügeln im Südwesten des Sees grasten 18 Yake,
und höher hinauf sah man eine Yakherde von über hundert Tieren,
alten und jungen; der Boden erschien von ihnen ganz schwarz
punktiert. Während wir sie beobachteten, wurde es sowohl im
Westen wie im Osten dunkel, und das Rollen des Donners, das wie
das Brüllen des Löwen ein tyrannisches Warnungssignal zum
Aufpassen ist, verkündete, daß ein Sturm im Anzuge war. Der
Hagelschauer schlug mit überwältigender Macht nieder, die Yake
verschwanden im Nebel, und Aldat, der mit der Flinte auf der
Schulter nach den Höhen auf der anderen Seite des Tales geeilt war,
ebenfalls. Er wurde sich selbst überlassen, während wir längs des
Sees weiterzogen und an einem einige Kilometer von seinem
Südufer gelegenen Tümpel das Lager aufschlugen.
Gegen 9 Uhr ertönten Rufe durch die Dunkelheit, und ein paar
Leute wurden ausgeschickt, um Aldat entgegenzugehen, der ganz
müde nach Hause kam und unter der Last eines großen
Fleischstückes und eines Yakschwanzes keuchte. Er hatte geglaubt,
daß wir am See bleiben würden, und deshalb Pelz und Flinte liegen
lassen, um sie später zu holen. Sein Opfer war ein ziemlich großes
Yakkalb, das beim ersten Schuß zusammengebrochen war. Die
anderen Tiere hatten nicht die Flucht ergriffen, sondern sich nur ein
wenig höher auf die Hügel hinaufbegeben. Aldat hätte leicht noch
einige schießen können, hatte es aber für unnötig gehalten.
Da der folgende Tag, ein Sonntag, zur Ruhe bestimmt wurde,
begab er sich mit Kutschuk nach der Stelle, und beide holten eine
ganze Ladung Fleisch, das eine unschätzbare Verstärkung unseres
sehr kümmerlichen Proviants war. Tscherdon briet mir ein paar
Schnitzel, die nicht schlecht waren; es war aber auch ein junges Tier
mit zartem Fleisch.
Am 27. August ritten wir direkt nach Süden. Auch an diesem
Abend lagerten wir im Lager Nr. 35 am Ufer eines großen Salzsees,
wo es in der Nachbarschaft eine Quelle gab und wo die Weide zu
gut war, als daß wir hätten vorbeiziehen können (Abb. 136, 137,
138).
Am 28. August wurden wir wieder von einem Labyrinth von
Tümpeln, Seebuchten und Wasserläufen aufgehalten. Einer der
letzteren war recht bedeutend und hatte eine starke Strömung.
Mollah Schah versuchte es, an ein paar Stellen hinüberzukommen,
aber das Wasser war zu tief.
Jetzt standen wir von neuem da, von einem unüberschreitbaren
Flusse gehemmt, und bereiteten uns gerade vor, an seinem linken
Ufer hinaufzuziehen, um weiter aufwärts nach einer Furt zu suchen.
Doch über uns lauerte ein anderer, wohlbekannter alter Feind.
Obwohl Ostwind wehte, verfinsterte sich der westliche Horizont, und
bleischwere Wolkenmassen wälzten sich über das Land wie eine
Schlagwelle, die auf ihrem Wege alles zu begraben droht. Das
Ganze glich einem riesenhaften Netzzuge oder einem Heere,
dessen beide Flügel in gleichmäßigem Takt zum Angriff stürmten.
Die Wolken des linken Flügels hatten dunkelrot gefärbte Ränder, die
auf dem rechten waren rabenschwarz. Die alleräußersten Vorposten
waren in die unglaublichsten, von einem dämonischen Sturm
gejagten Gestalten zerrissen. Noch badet sich die Landschaft im
Osten in Licht und Sonnenschein. Doch von Westen her schnürte
sich das unheimliche Netz immer dichter um uns zu. Wir
beschlossen also, schleunigst zu lagern, aber ja nicht zu nahe an
dem Ufer dieses Flusses, der vielleicht von den heftigen
Niederschlägen anschwellen würde. Wir halfen alle beim Aufrichten
des Jurtengestelles und hatten gerade ein paar Filzdecken über die
Dachlatten gezogen, als der Sturm über den Teil der Erdoberfläche,
auf dem wir uns befanden, hinfuhr und die Hagelschauer an der
Erde entlangfegten. Es schmerzt im Gesicht und an den Händen, als
sei jedes Hagelkorn aus einem Blasrohr geschossen, und man läuft
buchstäblich Spießruten, ehe man unter Dach kommt.
Am anderen Morgen war das Wetter wenig angenehm. Im
Norden hatten wir jetzt den letzten Salzsee und im Süden einen
neuen See von achtunggebietenden Dimensionen. Von diesem
strömt das Wasser, wie auch der von Westen kommende Fluß, nach
dem ersteren hin. In seinem Unterlaufe erweitert sich der Fluß zu
nicht unbedeutenden Becken. In ein solches ruderten wir aus
Unkenntnis der Flußrichtung hinein und gerieten dort in eine
Sackgasse. Auf dem innersten Ufer saßen ungefähr 50 Gänse, die
vermutlich auf ihrer Winterreise nach Indien hier Rast hielten. Alle
flogen langsam und niedrig, außer einer, die auf dem Wasser
liegenblieb und untertauchte, als wir an sie heranruderten. Wir
verfolgten sie nahezu eine Stunde. Das Untertauchen dauerte immer
kürzere Zeit, und als sie nur 10 Meter vom Boote auftauchte, begann
ich, sie mit der einzigen vorhandenen Waffe, dem Ruder, zu
harpunieren. Mehreremal wurde sie von dem Blatte gestreift und
schließlich mit einem gutgezielten Schlage getötet, worauf sie
gerupft wurde, um uns eine angenehme Abwechslung im
Speisezettel zu bereiten.
 Nachher fanden wir die Mündung des Flusses in dem sehr
breiten Arme, der vom Süßwassersee in den salzigen geht. Wir
bestiegen am anderen Ufer einen Hügel und sahen uns dort beinahe
auf allen Seiten von ansehnlichen Wasserflächen umgeben. Gerade
nach Osten erstreckte sich die Landenge, auf deren äußerster
Zunge wir uns befanden, im Norden dehnte der Salzsee seinen
großen Wasserspiegel aus, und im Süden lag der neuentdeckte
süße See. Die Mittelpartie dieser Landenge bestand aus einer
kleineren Bergkette, an deren Südfuß es gute Weide und reichlich
Wildbret zu geben schien. Ehe wir noch in dunkler Nacht nach dem
Lager zurückkehrten, hatte ich schon den Plan zu einer besonderen
Exkursion um diesen neuen See gefaßt.
 Dreißigstes Kapitel.
Über stürmische Seen und
himmelhohe Berge.

D as Lager Nr. 36 am Flusse wurde jetzt zur Operationsbasis

gewählt. Hier sollten Turdu Bai, Aldat und Nias mit allen
Kamelen und vier müden Pferden zurückbleiben. Mich sollten
Tscherdon, Mollah Schah und Kutschuk begleiten, und die Karawane
aus dem Maulesel, sieben Pferden und den Hunden bestehen. Wir
hatten Proviant für eine Woche und nahmen nur absolut notwendige
Sachen, Filzdecken und Pelze mit. Meine Instrumente wurden in das
Futteral des großen photographischen Apparates gepackt; in diesem
von Seen überschwemmten Hochlande war auch das Boot
unentbehrlich. Nur die Hälfte meiner Jurte wurde mitgenommen,
d. h. die Holzgitter, die den unteren Teil ihres Gerüstes bilden. Das
Gepäck war also leicht; es wurde zu Boot nach dem
gegenüberliegenden Ufer gebracht. Die Pferde durchwateten den
Fluß.
Darauf wurde die Karawane beladen, und wir setzten uns in
Marsch. Doch wir waren noch nicht weit gelangt, als uns der Sund
zwischen den Seen Halt gebot; wir mußten wieder alles abpacken,
das Gepäck hinüberrudern und die Pferde über den Sund
schwimmen lassen. Endlich standen wir jedoch auf der Spitze der
Enge und konnten im Ernst darauf losgehen, indem wir dem
Nordufer des Süßwassersees folgten. Bald erreichten wir jedoch
einen Teil desselben, wo die Berge steil ins Wasser abfielen, ja
sogar überhingen, so daß wir zu einem Umweg über den Kamm
gezwungen wurden. Dort hatten wir sowohl links wie rechts
weitgedehnte Wasserflächen.
An einem kleinen Bache wurde unsere sehr provisorische Jurte
aufgeschlagen. Auf den Abhängen weidete 300 Schritt von uns
entfernt eine Herde von elf großen schwarzen Yaken, die nicht die
geringste Miene zur Flucht machten. Man konnte sich versucht
fühlen zu glauben, daß sich Nomaden in der Gegend aufhielten und
zahme Yake bei sich hätten. Doch als unsere Pferde auf die Weide
geschickt wurden und allmählich nach den besseren Weideplätzen
hinaufgingen, blähten die Yake ihre Nüstern auf, spähten
aufmerksam nach unserer Richtung hin und bewegten sich dann in
langsamem Trab über den Kamm nach dem Salzsee.

152. Blick nach Süden von Aldats Begräbnisplatz. (S. 364.)

 153. Lager Nr. 60 in 5111 Meter Seehöhe. (S. 366.)

Meine Jurte war so eng, daß Tscherdon erst mein Bett

zurechtmachen und dann die Gitter über dem Bett aufschlagen
mußte. Ich mußte wie in eine Hundehütte hineinkriechen; sobald ich
aber erst drinnen war, hatte ich es gut und warm, und Jolldasch half
noch wärmen.
Nachdem wir über Nacht es bei einer Temperatur von −5,2 Grad
hatten aushalten müssen, erwachten wir am 31. August an einem
wirklich herrlichen Sommertage ohne ein Wölkchen oder einen
Windhauch. Der See lag wie ein Spiegel da. Ein Kulan kam heran
und besah sich die Pferde so ungeniert, als wisse er ganz genau,
daß Tscherdons Patronen schon lange zu Ende waren. Auf dem
Südufer erhoben sich zwei blendendweiße Schneeberge ohne Spur
von Wolkenkranz und spiegelten sich im See wider. Ein
mehrstündiger Marsch am Ufer entlang führte uns nach dem Ende
des Sees, aber dieser wurde nur durch eine mehrere hundert Meter
breite Landenge von einem neuen getrennt, der sich weit nach
Osten erstreckte und dessen nördlichem Ufer wir ebenfalls folgten.
Eine Strecke weit gingen wir oben auf den Uferfelsen zirka 70
Meter über der Wasserfläche, einen Kulanpfad benutzend, der so
dicht am Rande entlangführte, daß einem beinahe unheimlich
zumute wurde. In dem tiefen Wasser sahen wir einen Schwarm
ziemlich großer, schwarzrückiger Fische, die besonders Kutschuks
lebhaftes Interesse erregten. Wir lagerten in der Nähe, weil wir
versuchen wollten, einige von ihnen zu fangen. Jolldaschs Halsband
lieferte Material zu Angelhaken, die in der Glut des Lagerfeuers eine
entsprechende Gestalt erhielten. Für den Fall, daß es in der Gegend
Wildgänse oder Enten geben sollte, wurde aus einer Holzlatte ein
Bogen fabriziert. Wir lebten ungefähr wie Robinson Crusoe und
mußten uns mit der dürftigen Ausrüstung, die uns gerade zu Gebote
stand, weiterhelfen.
Der Abend war kalt und windig, und die Aussichten auf den
nächsten Tag waren wenig hoffnungsvoll. Meine Jurte stand fest wie
ein Berg, und ich lag darin wie ein Begrabener, aber es war dort so
eng, daß die Toilette mit gewissen Schwierigkeiten verbunden war.
Am nächsten Morgen machte ich in aller Frühe einen Spaziergang
nach den nächsten Hügeln in der Nachbarschaft und hatte von dort
aus einen großartigen Überblick über dieses eigentümliche Gebiet,
das reicher an Wasser als an Land ist. Der innerste Teil des Sees
erstreckte sich keilförmig nach Nordosten. Er liegt 4848 Meter über
dem Meere. Wir waren hier wieder in verhältnismäßig tiefere
Gegenden gelangt, und doch befanden wir uns noch höher als der
Gipfel des Montblanc!
Unterdessen wurde das Boot ins Wasser gebracht und
ausgerüstet, und nun ruderten wir dicht an die senkrechten roten
Sandsteinfelsen heran, unter denen die Fische standen. Die
Karawane zog um den See herum weiter, um an seinem Südufer
gegenüber einem Berggipfel zu lagern (Abb. 139, 140).
Das Boot wurde ganz nahe am Ufer verankert. Die Blöcke der
Bergwände schienen oft nur an einem Haar zu hängen; es war, als
drohten sie herabzustürzen und uns zu zerschmettern.
 Als Angelruten wurden Zeltstangen benutzt, als Köder kleine
Stücke Yakfleisch, und eine leere Zündholzschachtel diente in
tadelloser Weise als Kork. Die Fische bissen gut an, aber die
Ausbeute war doch gering. Nur vier mittelgroße Asmane blieben an
unseren Angelhaken hängen. Wir angelten nicht zum Vergnügen,
sondern der Nahrung wegen, der Fang reichte jedoch nur gerade zu
einer Mahlzeit für uns. Wenn unser Mittagsessen an diesem Abend
auch nur dürftig ausfiel, so war es dafür aber wenigstens
außergewöhnlich und delikat.
Während ich in Gedanken versunken saß und mich des
Sonnenbades und der Ruhe erfreute, flogen die Stunden nur so hin,
und es wurde Zeit, nach dem Sammelplatze zu steuern. Im Westen
wurde es dunkel, und der Himmel überzog sich bald mit Wolken. Ein
Sturm war im Anzug. Wir mußten uns entscheiden, ob wir ihn erst
vorüberziehen lassen wollten, was sich nicht verlohnt hätte, da es
schon 2 Uhr und die Karawane wahrscheinlich bereits am
Vereinigungspunkte angelangt war, oder ob wir uns auf den See
hinauswagen sollten; ich zog das letztere vor. Kutschuk brauchte
nicht lange zu rudern, so kamen wir in den nordwestlichen Wind
hinein, der uns großartig weiterhalf. Im Süden strichen schon
blaugraue Wolken mit lang herunterhängenden, nachschleppenden
Hagelfransen längs der Berge hin, die allmählich verschwanden, und
hinter uns verdichtete sich die Luft auf dieselbe Weise. Der Sturm
kam immer näher, der See ging immer höher, und um uns her waren
die Wogen mit weißem Schaum bedeckt.
Jetzt schlug die Hagelbö nieder, und die großen Körner
prasselten auf das Wasser. Das Innere des Bootes wurde binnen
wenigen Minuten kreideweiß. Nach allen Seiten hin war nichts weiter
zu sehen als Wasser und Hagelwolken, keine Spur vom Ufer und
von den Bergen. Wir mußten der Wellen wegen, die der
anschwellende Wind zu bedeutender Höhe aufpeitschte, scharf
aufpassen; da sie aber mehrere Male so lang waren wie das Boot,
wurden wir gut mit ihnen fertig. Die Jolle wurde wacker nach
Südosten getragen, und der Schaum spritzte um den Vordersteven.
Unmittelbar südlich von den Felsen hatte die Tiefe 48,67 Meter
betragen, die größte von mir in Tibet gemessene, nach dem Südufer
zu aber nahm sie schnell ab. Je weiter wir uns von diesen Felsen
entfernten, desto mehr waren wir dem Sturme ausgesetzt, und ich
fürchtete, daß der See so flach werden würde, daß unser Fahrzeug
wie eine Nußschale von der Brandung umhergeworfen werden
könnte.
Nachdem der Hagelschauer aufgehört hatte, tobte der Wind noch
ärger; aber jetzt konnten wir wenigstens sehen, wo das Land lag
(Abb. 141, 142). Wir hatten noch nicht den halben Weg zurückgelegt
und steuerten nach einer Landspitze hin, hinter der wir im
Windschutz sein würden. Die Wellen waren jetzt so hoch, daß wir
das Ufer nicht sehen konnten, wenn wir uns in ihren Tälern
befanden. Sie sahen unheimlich aus und waren, wenn die Sonne
aus den Sturmwolken hervortrat, blank wie Delphinrücken und
glänzten bald grün, bald blau, während die Sonnenstrahlen den
spritzenden Schaum wie Juwelen funkeln ließen. Der
Segeltuchrumpf der Jolle bauchte sich bei dem Stampfen aus; er
war so gespannt, daß ein heftiger Seitenstoß ihn hätte sprengen
können, und wir mußten das Boot jetzt mit beiden Rudern
manövrieren und die Stöße parieren. Doch auch diesmal lief alles
glücklich ab. Der Sturm ging vorüber, der Wind legte sich, die
Einzelheiten des Ufers ließen sich erkennen, und wir änderten den
Kurs, indem wir ihn jetzt gerade auf das Lager richteten. Der
Sonnenuntergang war prachtvoll. Die Sonne selbst versteckte sich
hinter einer kohlschwarzen Wolke, ihre reflektierten Strahlen aber
glänzten wie Quecksilber auf der Oberfläche des Sees.
Wir hatten uns jetzt so weit von Turdu Bais Lager entfernt, daß
wir an den Rückzug denken mußten. Nach meinem Besteck konnten
wir nicht mehr weit von den Quellen des Jang-tse-kiang sein, und ich
hatte den Gedanken an einen Versuch, sie zu finden, noch nicht
gänzlich aufgegeben. Daß die drei großen Seen, die wir in dieser
Gegend entdeckt hatten, mit ihnen nichts zu schaffen haben, war
klar; diese Seen bilden ein abflußloses Becken für sich. Ganz sicher
war ich meiner Sache jedoch noch nicht und ich beschloß daher, den
2. September einer Exkursion nach Süden zu opfern. Diese führten
uns über wellenförmige Ebenen mit spärlichem Graswuchs und
morastigem Boden, und nach einer Wanderung von 27 Kilometer
machten wir am Ufer eines Flusses Halt, der sich in den nächsten
See, einen südöstlich von den vorhergehenden liegenden kleinen
Salztümpel, ergießt.
Weiter konnten wir mit unseren abgetriebenen Pferden und
unseren zusammenschmelzenden Vorräten nicht gehen, sondern
mußten am folgenden Tage wieder nach Westen ziehen, wobei wir in
dem tückischen Boden beinahe steckengeblieben wären. Die Pferde
sanken bisweilen 60 Zentimeter tief ein. Ein mächtiger, von den
Bergen im Süden kommender Fluß strömte nach Norden, nach dem
von uns übersegelten See hin; sein Bett bot uns guten, festen Boden
zum Reiten dar.
Diese Gegend ist außerordentlich reich an Wild. Von
Orongoantilopen sahen wir ein halbes Dutzend Herden von etwa je
20 Tieren; Yake und Kulane traten einzeln oder in kleinen Gruppen
von ein paar Tieren auf; Feldmäuse, Murmeltiere und Hasen gab es
überall, und am Seeufer schrien Gänse und Möwen. Die Karawane
ritt in zwei Gruppen, zwischen denen eine Lücke von 50 Meter war.
Gerade durch diese Lücke jagte Jolldasch drei Kulane, die in
schmetterndem Trab vorbeisausten. Kaum war ich mit meinem
kleinen photographischen Apparate in Ordnung, so waren sie schon
fort. Eine Weile darauf verschwand der Hund, einer Orongoherde auf
den Fersen folgend, und als er nach langer Abwesenheit wieder
erschien, war er mit Blut befleckt und augenscheinlich übersatt. Es
war ihm gewiß gelungen, eine der Antilopen zu erwischen, und er
hatte an ihr eine ordentliche Mahlzeit gehalten. Auch Wölfe und
Füchse streiften auf den Ebenen, die sich im Süden des Sees
ausdehnen, umher.
Es war meine Absicht gewesen, am Tage darauf nach Norden
über den See zu rudern, um eine neue Lotungslinie zu erhalten, aber
wir erwachten unter höchst ungewöhnlichen
Witterungsverhältnissen. Der Himmel war ganz klar, die Sonne
schien in all ihrem Glanze, dabei aber wehte ein halber Sturm aus
Norden, und die Wogen rauschten gegen das langsam abfallende
Ufer. Aus einer Seefahrt konnte demnach nichts werden. Wir ritten
daher westwärts weiter, immer am Ufer entlang, das hier so weich ist
wie ein großes Moorbad, ein Schlammpfuhl, ein abscheulicher
Sumpf, worin man bei jedem Schritt Gefahr läuft zu versinken. Ein
seltsames, unwirtliches Land! Sogar die Erde scheint gleich der Luft
verdünnt zu sein, ja selbst die Berge sind porös wie Bimsstein. Alles
ist in einer Art Auflösungszustand; auf das Wetter ist hier gar kein
Verlaß, und es ist lebensgefährlich, sich den Seen anzuvertrauen.
An einigen Stellen trägt der Boden, geht aber in Wogen und
schwankt unter dem Gewichte der Pferde. Endlich nimmt der See
ein Ende, und sein Wasser ergießt sich durch einen breiten, ziemlich
großen Flußarm in den unteren süßen See. Hier hatten sich
Hunderte von Wildgänsen niedergelassen, die in kurzen Kreisen ihre
neugefiederten Flügel erprobten und sich zu der bevorstehenden
Reise nach wärmeren Himmelstrichen vorbereiteten. Ein einsamer
Königsadler beobachtete sie.
In der Nähe des Punktes, wo der Fluß in den unteren See
mündet, wurde das Lager Nr. 62 aufgeschlagen. Von hier aus
konnten wir von dem Hauptquartiere, wo Turdu Bai wartete, nicht
mehr als eine Tagereise längs des südlichen Seeufers entfernt sein.
Während Mollah Schah und Tscherdon zu Land weiterzogen, fuhr
ich mit meinem sicheren Ruderer Kutschuk diagonal über den See.
Ich trat die Fahrt im herrlichsten Wetter bei günstigem östlichem
Winde an. Der Wind wurde stärker, schlug nach einer Weile aber
wieder um. Die gewöhnlichen Vorboten des Sturmes, die schwarzen
Wolken, verdunkelten den Himmel im Westen. Sie teilten sich in zwei
Abteilungen. Die eine zog über die Berge im Süden hin und ließ eine
weiße Schneedecke hinter sich zurück, die andere eilte uns über
den See entgegen. Wieder erhoben sich die unruhigen Wellen,
denen hier nie Ruhe gegönnt ist. Das Klügste wäre gewesen, mit
dem Sturme zu treiben; aber dann hätten wir uns von den Unseren
entfernt, die uns vom Nordufer, von welchem sie der breite Sund
trennte, nicht hätten abholen können.
Wir beschlossen, mit Aufbietung aller unserer Kräfte gegen Wind
und Wellen anzurudern. Schon stampfte das Boot greulich, und ich,
der vorn saß, nahm das Spritzwasser jeder hohen Welle in Empfang
und war bald klatschnaß (Abb. 143). Ein Gußregen tat das Seine,
um die Situation noch unbehaglicher zu machen. Wir arbeiteten mit
je einem Ruder, daß diese knackten, aber die Wellen warfen uns
immer wieder zurück. Das Boot schwebt auf einem Wogenkamme
oft zur Hälfte über dem Wasser und plumpst dann in das Tal mit
einem Knalle hinunter, der leicht ein Sprengen des schwachen
Fahrzeuges verursachen könnte.
Jetzt trat ein neuer, unheilvoller Umschlag in der Windrichtung
ein; der Wind sprang mit ungeheurer Geschwindigkeit nach Süden
um, so daß ein neues Wogensystem, welches das bisherige kreuzte,
entstand. An den Kreuzungspunkten bilden sich Wellenpyramiden
von doppelter Höhe. Es gilt ihnen entgegenzutreten, sie zu parieren
und möglichst auf den verhältnismäßig ebenen Wasserflächen
zwischen ihnen zu bleiben. Doch ehe man sich besinnen kann, wird
die Jolle auf einen Wellenkamm gehoben, und balanciert man dann
nicht, so kann man leicht kentern. Lotungen konnten nicht mehr
vorgenommen werden. Man darf sich freuen, wenn man von diesem
Abenteuer mit dem Leben davonkommt, und wir fragen uns
unwillkürlich, ob diese oder die nächste Welle unser Boot umreißen
wird.
So arbeiteten wir anderthalb Stunden, ehe sich die Sturmbö und
mit ihr auch die Wellen legten. Doch der Himmel sah noch immer
unheilverkündend aus. Überall sah man Sturmzentren, die Tromben
mit schwarzen, hängenden Wolkendraperien glichen. Das Ufer
schien noch immer gleichweit entfernt, als die zweite Bö kam und
uns mit Massen von Schnee und Hagelkörnern, die uns gerade ins
Gesicht schlugen, überschüttete. Man mußte den Kampf
aufnehmen, denn ein unvorsichtiger Augenblick des Erschlaffens
konnte bewirken, daß eine Welle die Gelegenheit benutzte und das
Boot umkehrte. Den ganzen Tag arbeiten wir wie Galeerensklaven.
Während der Pause, die jetzt eintrat, beeilten wir uns Terrain zu
gewinnen, denn der Himmel verfinsterte sich zum dritten Male, und
die dritte Sturmbö sauste mit strömendem Regen auf uns los. War
das Innere des Bootes vorher kreideweiß von Schnee und Hagel
gewesen, so stand jetzt in beiden Hälften Wasser, das mit den
Wellen im Takte plätscherte.
Nach achtstündiger angestrengter Arbeit erreichten wir endlich
das Ufer; es war ein schönes Gefühl, wieder festen Boden unter den
Füßen zu haben. Von einem Hügel sah ich Mollah Schah, der uns an
einer Landspitze mit vier Pferden erwartete. Wir steuerten dorthin
und hielten zur Messung der Wassermengen in dem Sunde an, den
wir vor einer Woche passiert hatten. Die Breite und die Tiefen
wurden gemessen, aber nur drei Geschwindigkeiten konnten
bestimmt werden, als die vierte Sturmbö kam. Obgleich die Sonne
noch über dem Horizont stand, wurde es so dunkel wie bei Nacht,
und nur zackige Blitze erhellten das unheimliche Chaos. Nur mit
Aufbietung der äußersten Kräfte konnten wir über den 60 Meter
breiten Sund hinüberkommen. Es war ein gründlicher Abschiedsgruß
des entfliehenden Sturmtages. Wir hatten wirklich genug davon.
Segel, Mast, Ruder und Rettungsbojen wurden am Ufer unter das
umgekehrte Boot gelegt, ich verteilte die Instrumente unter uns,
dann stiegen wir zu Pferd und trabten langsam nach Hause.
Das Reiten war gar zu schön nach all der anstrengenden
Ruderarbeit. Jetzt glänzte der Mond zwischen zerrissenen Wolken
hervor, und sein Licht vermischte sich in phantastischer Weise mit
den zuckenden Blitzen, die einander unaufhörlich ablösten.
Ganz erschöpft kamen wir endlich in unseren kalten Hütten an,
wo alles gut stand. Aldat hatte vier Orongoantilopen geschossen; wir
hatten daher Proviant für ein paar Wochen. Die Kamele und die
abgetriebenen Pferde waren fetter geworden und hatten sich
ausruhen können. Doch der Sturm jagte noch immer über die Erde
hin, als wir uns in Morpheus’ Arme warfen.
Der 6. September, an dem wir im Hauptquartier verweilten, hatte
beinahe den Charakter eines Winterabends. Kein Schimmer war von
der Sonne zu sehen, und die Hagelschauer folgten dicht
aufeinander. Ich beschäftigte mich mit den Ergebnissen der
Exkursion, Tscherdon und Kutschuk gingen auf ziemlich
erfolgreichen Fischfang aus, und die anderen präparierten
Orongoskelette. Eine der vier Antilopen hatte, schwer verwundet, die
Flucht ergriffen und Aldat hatte sie verloren gegeben, Turdu Bai aber
verfolgte die Spur und fand das Tier tot an einem Tümpel liegen,
bewacht von einem Adler, der schon ein paarmal in die von der
Kugel verursachte Wunde gehackt hatte. Er wurde jetzt eine leichte
Beute.
 Vielleicht erwähne ich in dieser Reisebeschreibung viel zu oft
solcher Dinge und Verhältnisse, die dem Leser als reine Bagatellen
erscheinen mögen; es geschieht jedoch, um ihm einen Begriff zu
geben von dem Leben, das der einsame Wanderer in diesen öden,
unbewohnten Gegenden führt. Aneinandergereiht können sie ein
vollständiges Bild liefern von dem Verlaufe der Tage durch Monate
und Jahre hindurch in dem kleinen Gemeinwesen, das unsere Welt
ausmachte. Letztere ist nicht groß und sie lebt unter einförmigen
Verhältnissen; dieselben Beschäftigungen kehren regelmäßig mit
dem Glockenschlage wieder, und nur das Land, das wir
durchwandern, hält mit seinen beständigen Veränderungen das
Interesse wach.
Mit der Wahl meiner Diener hatte ich allen Grund zufrieden zu
sein. Turdu Bai sorgt mit stoischer Ruhe für die Kamele, als wären
es seine eigenen Kinder. Tscherdon ist ordentlich, pünktlich und
aufgeweckt und überdies ein sehr komischer Geselle mit seiner
eigenen kleinen Philosophie. Mollah Schah pflegt die Pferde
tadellos, ist aber ein bißchen wortkarg, brummig und verschlossen.
Während des Marsches wird die halbe Pferdekarawane von
Kutschuk geführt, der, wenig über zwanzig Jahre alt, ein Riese ist,
stets heiter und zufrieden, besonders wenn er auf dem Wasser sein
kann, denn seit seiner Kindheit hat er die Ruder geführt. Ohne Aldat
wäre unsere Lage jetzt recht besorgniserregend gewesen. Er hat
uns mit frischem Fleische versorgt und läuft stets hinter Wildbret her.
Sowohl im Lager wie auf dem Marsche mag er am liebsten allein
sein, und er redet nur wenig. Nias verrichtet die gröberen Arbeiten,
trägt Wasser, wenn wir lagern, sammelt Feuerung, treibt morgens
die Tiere ein und hilft beim Beladen.
Am besten haben es die Hunde; sie erhalten frisches Fleisch im
Überfluß und haben weiter nichts zu tun, als Wache zu halten; bellen
sie einmal des Nachts, so gilt es nur Yaken, Kulanen oder unseren
eigenen Tieren. Sie spielen mit dem letzten Schafe, das zu
schlachten keiner übers Herz bringen kann; treu zu den Kamelen
haltend, weidet es mit ihnen und ruht nachts zwischen ihren
wärmenden Leibern.
 Das Lager Nr. 43 wurde ein Wendepunkt. Weiter südlich konnten
wir nicht gehen, da unsere Vorräte nur für 2½ Monate berechnet und
wir schon 1½ Monate unterwegs waren. Reis hatten wir noch genug,
aber mit dem Mehl mußte mit der größten Sparsamkeit umgegangen
werden. Es war davon zuviel draufgegangen, als wir versuchten, das
Kamel, welches starb, zu retten. Der Winter würde nicht lange auf
sich warten lassen, und wir mußten daher in einem großen
westnordöstlichen Bogen nach dem Hauptlager im Tschimentale
eilen.
Ich wollte, bevor wir diesen Teil von Tibet verließen, noch eine
der latitudinalen Bergketten, die in einem im Südwesten sich
erhebenden gewaltigen Bergmassiv mit ewigem Schnee kulminierte,
überschreiten. Im Lager Nr. 44 (4888 Meter) beschlossen wir also,
die Karawane zu teilen. Turdu Bai sollte mit dem größeren Teile nach
Westsüdwest durch das sich in dieser Richtung öffnende Längental
ziehen. Er hatte Befehl, uns auf offenem Lande unmittelbar
nordwestlich von dem Bergmassive, um dessen Südseite ich
herumgehen wollte, zu erwarten. An dieser Exkursion, deren
mutmaßliche Dauer auf vier Tage berechnet war, sollten Tscherdon
und Aldat teilnehmen. Wir hatten nur sechs Pferde, die kleinen
provisorischen Jurten, Proviant für eine Woche und Feuerung für
zwei Tage. Ich würde mich mittelst meines Besteckes und des
Kompasses schon zurechtfinden, aber von dem Gesichtspunkte aus,
daß sich die Muselmänner verirren konnten, war das Ganze doch
etwas abenteuerlich. Indessen mußten die Spuren der einen
Gesellschaft doch immer der anderen als Leitschnur dienen, und
gab es in der zum Sammelplatze ausersehenen Gegend gar keine
Spuren, so sollte die zuerst angelangte Gesellschaft dort warten. Für
den Fall aber, daß alle Spuren durch Schnee oder Regen bald
verwischt werden würden, sollte Turdu Bai, wenn wir nach einer
Woche noch nichts von uns hören ließen, alle Nachforschungen
aufgeben und sich nach Norden nach dem großen Hauptquartiere
durchzuschlagen suchen. Ihr Proviant reichte im Notfalle aus, und
was uns betraf, so würde uns Aldat wohl mit Fleisch versorgen
können.
 Am 8. September brachen die beiden Abteilungen gleichzeitig
aus dem Lager Nr. 44 auf. Nachdem wir den Fluß, der vor einigen
Tagen unseren Marsch nach Süden gehemmt hatte, in seinem
oberen Laufe überschritten hatten, gingen unsere Wege
auseinander. Wir eilten nach Südsüdwesten. Nach einem
mehrstündigen schnellen Ritt gelangten wir an eine Hügelreihe, der
Quellen entsprangen, die kleine Becken kristallhellen Wassers
bildeten und von niedrigem, dichtem, intensiv grünem Grase von der
Weichheit eines indischen Rasens umgeben waren. Da nach Süden
hin keine Weide zu erblicken war und wir in der Nähe der Quellen
reichliche Feuerung fanden, weil Yake und Kulane sie zu besuchen
pflegten, blieben wir dort in einer Meereshöhe von 4973 Meter.
Während des Rittes hatten wir Gesellschaft von ein paar großen,
ganz hellgelben Wölfen, die uns mit gespannter Aufmerksamkeit
beobachteten. Jolldasch, der sie in die Flucht jagen wollte, mußte an
die Leine genommen werden; er wäre ihnen ein willkommener
Bissen gewesen. Das Wetter war natürlich abscheulich. Es war der
achtzehnte Tag mit Schnee- und Hagelsturm aus Westen; die Nacht
aber war wie gewöhnlich windstill und sternklar.

154. Unser Lager in Togri-sai am 8. Oktober. (S. 370.)

 155. Die Kamelkarawane. (S. 372.)

156. Das Illwe-tschimen-Gebirge aus dem Tschimental. (S. 374.)

 157. Obo beim Lager Nr. 71 im untern Togri-sai. (S. 373.)

Auch am 9. ritten wir bei starkem Wind nach Südwesten. Es geht

bergauf und bergab über eine Menge Hügel. Wir nähern uns immer
höheren Regionen. Ein aus lauter Moor bestehender Ausläufer
mußte umgangen werden, bevor wir wieder nach Westen
abschwenkten und das Schneemassiv vor uns hatten. Steifgefroren
und abgespannt lagerten wir auf dem letzten Grasplatz.
Als das Lager fertig war, meldete Aldat, daß ein großer Yak in der
Nähe weide, und bat, auf die Jagd gehen zu dürfen, was erlaubt
wurde. Ich beobachtete ihn, wie er katzengleich in den
Bodensenkungen hinschlich, um auf genügende Treffweite an das
nichts Böses ahnende Tier heranzukommen. Er hatte dem starken
Gegenwinde zu danken, daß er sich dem Yak bis auf 30 Schritt
nähern und die Flinte auf die Gabel legen konnte. Der Schuß
krachte, und der Yak machte einen Satz, daß der Sand hoch
aufwirbelte, lief dann noch ein paar Schritte, blieb stehen, taumelte,
versuchte sich im Gleichgewicht zu halten, fiel, stand wieder auf und
wiederholte diese Bewegungen mehrere Male, bis er schließlich wie
ein Klotz auf die Erde fiel und liegenblieb. Aldat lag noch,
unbeweglich wie eine Statue, hinter seiner Flinte, um nicht die
Aufmerksamkeit des sterbenden Tieres zu erwecken.
Tscherdon und ich begaben uns nun dorthin. Alle drei bis vier
Schritte bleibt man stehen und hat das Gefühl, als müsse man in
dieser ungeheuer verdünnten Luft von der Anstrengung sofort einen
Herzschlag bekommen. Der gefallene Yak war ein großer
fünfzehnjähriger Stier. Die Messer wurden hervorgeholt, der Kopf
vom Rumpfe getrennt und die Eingeweide herausgenommen; dann
blieb das Tier bis zum nächsten Morgen liegen, da das uns
besonders nötige Fett erst dann geholt werden sollte. Betrübten
Herzens mußte Aldat das prächtige Fell zurücklassen, das ihm in
Tschertschen eine hübsche Summe eingebracht hätte, aber wir
hatten nur drei Lastpferde, und ich versprach ihm, seinen
Meisterschuß zum vollen Werte zu bezahlen.
Der 10. September war ein harter Tag. Vor Sonnenaufgang trieb
Aldat die Pferde ein, die sich bis weit ins Tal hinunter verirrt hatten;
dann ging er wieder fort, um das Fett und den Yakkopf in das Lager
zu holen. Der Westwind, unser schlimmster Feind, verschlief sich
und stellte sich erst um 9 Uhr ein; er entschädigte sich aber für den
Zeitverlust, denn so arg hatte er selten getobt. Das Lager lag auch
sehr offen und in einer Höhe von 5143 Meter, so daß der Wind in
den hohen Regionen freien Spielraum hatte. Im Westen zeigte sich
der auf der Südseite des Schneegebirgsstockes liegende Paß, über
den wir hinüber sollten. Man bebte zurück vor dieser unheimlichen
Schwelle, deren Höhe bedeutend sein mußte. Gefährlich sah der
Paß jedoch nicht aus.
Da Aldat noch immer nicht kam, schickte ich Tscherdon aus, um
tragen zu helfen. Erst um 11 Uhr kehrten sie zurück. Tscherdon hatte
den jungen Jäger krank neben seinem Opfer liegend gefunden,
außerstande, seine Arbeit fortzusetzen. Der Kosak half ihm nach
dem Lager zurück und brachte einen Teil des Yakfettes mit. Der
arme Jäger sah wirklich sehr angegriffen aus und hatte heftiges
Kopfweh und Nasenbluten. Er mußte sich ruhig verhalten, während
ich und Tscherdon das Zelt abbrachen und unsere Tiere beluden.