I put my mouth on her shoulder and tasted the skin there. She’s delectable and I need more so I bit at her bra strap. Her sharp moan encouraged me so I hooked her straps and pulled them down her arms, still keeping her cups in place. I want to rip this skimpy thing off her body but it’s our first time and we need to feel each other out.
“Purple,” I muttered against the transparent cup. My lips could feel her nipple peaking underneath.
“You like purple?” she laughed. As I lowered myself over her breasts and continued to kiss them over the bra she combed her fingers through my hair.
“I do, but I mean, it’s witty to wear.” I let my short beard tickle her tip until she cupped my head. Then I dragged my teeth over it.
“What makes you say so?”
“You’re a Sagittarius.” I kissed the skin above her navel. “Purple is your lucky color.”
She stopped moving and I slowed my kisses. When I looked up, her eyes were glassy and I stopped. “Jenzy?” I asked. She didn’t say anything and I reviewed what I’d said in the past fifteen minutes that would upset her. “Jenzy?” A tear rolled from the corner of her eye and I wiped it. “Hey, look at me, what’s wrong?”
She still didn’t talk but there was an obvious broken quality to those eyes I love. I rolled us so she was on top then sat up against the wall. She straddled me still in her jeans. The one tear was followed by many and I pulled her bra straps back up. “Shhh,” I rubbed her arms. “Hey, talk to me. Please?”
“I’m really sorry.” She was trying too hard to collect herself. I lifted my lap so she fell into my chest and let me hold her. I rubbed at her back and kissed her ear, breathing in her scent. She uses Vanilla so she always smells like a dessert. Like something I want to eat up.
Just when I thought she was asleep she said, “I thought I was ready.”
I chided myself. “I knew better, it’s my fault.”
“We need to stop seeing each other.” Her words took my breath away, “This is stupid. I want you so bad but it’s selfish. I’m still healing.”
“I know the risks. Can I decide what’s best for me?”
I explained how much I want her despite the dangers and she fought me a little until I told her sex could wait. It can. I want it. I’m blue balling right now. I might need to jerk off till I go blind but she’s worth the wait. I know she is.
“You’d do that?” she asked.
“I want to be in your life. I don’t mind how. Okay? Just don’t cry it’s not important now.”
She smiled and kissed my cheek. It felt so good I almost came from the little bit of contact. So I need to lighten the mood. “The fact that your eggplant smells like burnt popcorn, though, is important.”
She leaped up with big eyes, “oh shit!” and raced down to the kitchen.
I had to talk my dick down with care then I followed her. She was still only in her bra and jeans as she took the eggplant dish of death out and set it on the stove. Then she stood and raked her hand through her hair while she stared at it remembering something. I would bet everything it’s Chris.
I came up behind her and hugged her to my body before kissing her shoulder. She reached back and stroked my cheek and chin.
“Chris is trying to get me back.” She said it like a confession.
I hurt thinking about it, but forcing her to make choices or dramatizing this won’t make this easier or right. I held her hips and kissed the back of her head. “I wouldn’t think he’s much of a man if he didn’t.”
She turned to face me and let her hands rest on my chest. How would it feel if we were upstairs and she was taking me into her body? What if she wasn’t just touching my chest, what if she was clawing at it or pressing under me? I might not know for a long while.
She moved her hands to my shoulders and pushed them down my arms. She stopped to caress the scorpion on my forearm as she spoke, “this might result in heartache Moses. I’m carrying around enough weighty guilt to kill a camel. I want you right now, but I’ve been married so long it feels like cheating. Even if we’re almost divorced, even if Chris knows about us, even if I know it’s okay.”
I didn’t move to touch her, I just let her feel me where she wanted at her own pace. “I told you about Katie. I’m not bitter about it anymore, I even hope where ever she is, that she’s happy but… I don’t think I could take another dishonesty like that. I may want to throw you on my floor right now-,” she interrupted me with a laugh.
I shushed her with a quick kiss then went on, “but knowing that your honor for a man you loved runs that deep makes you totally worth the torture.”
“But you understand that….” She was trying so hard to say the right thing.
“It’s a possibility…you and Chris?” I guessed.
She was glassy eyed again. “I think I’m strong enough to know what’s best for me and moving on from him is best, but… it’s still hard.”
The thought of losing her to Chris is burning a hole through my heart but my Dad’s warnings are bouncing around in my head. She’s not yours…
So I’m coming to a conclusion here in my kitchen, with a woman I want so badly before me and the smell of really awful eggplant parm assaulting my nose.
“I may not win you at the end of all this, so if that’s the case I’m going to take what I can get until the race ends. I’m going to make memories with you and give you …I don’t know… time. All of me and you can ruin me if you want. It might not be good that I try to convince you to try but I think when I’m with you…the good in me is pretty endangered.”
She brought her face close and danced her lips near mine, holding only an inch away. She’s testing me so I stayed still while she took in my face before brushing a kiss over my bottom lip.
Chapter Eight
CHLOE
June
I’m spending more and more time at the studio now. I need to nail this routine for the big event in July. I’m doing the dance I choreographed to the song Gold by Kiiara.
So by now the song is stuck in my head and on repeat. The moves are lacking passion and my body is bored. I need to freestyle but I’m uninspired.
I stomp over to the stereo and shut it off. It’s not moving my bones, I need a break from the sound. Looking at myself in the long mirror I also feel annoyed. I haven’t heard from Moses a whole week and I figure that means he had sex with Jenzy and I’ve been back-seated officially.
I adjusted the batman sports bra and spandex shorts then bent to bring my knee highs up and tightened the straps on my heels. I may look badass but I don‘t feel badass. My hair is in a messy ponytail and though I’m working up a sweat my cat-eye eyeliner is holding.
I need to feel sexy, I don’t. This dance won’t be sexy if I don’t feel that way. So I’m evaluating what makes me feel sexy. The belly button ring, the tattoo of vines going up my side, the Greek words for “love, friendship, and prosperity,” on my thigh. I have the Latin proverb,
“If the wind will not serve, take to the oars.” Inked on the inside of my bicep and the zodiac symbols in a circle around a crescent moon on my upper arm. I’m a stereotypical trouble child with Disney eyes and mismatched skin and hair.
A girl who wasn’t good enough to keep her parents alive. They’d rather be together in the afterlife than stay and protect me. I see a girl who was a stripper, and where most girls would cry in their duck soup over it, this little slut liked it and made a career from it.
I see a girl who can’t keep guys more than six months because she’s damaged.
I see that I don’t like my nose or my curls or my chin. There’s a dimple in it, I don’t like that.
I see…oh…I see Moses because he’s coming into my studio and I stop looking at myself because what was meant to make me feel sexy turned into a bashing.
I turned around and smiled. “Long time no see.”
He came in shouldering his backpack but kissed my forehead, “sorry. Life got busy.”
No, Jenzy got you busy
.
“It’s all good.”
“How are you holding up with the event so close?”
I snorted, “not so good. I’m too pent up thinking about it and I’m sick of my song.”
“Freestyle.”
I did a stretch, “don’t know what to play.”
He observed me and I avoided his eyes, “are you hurting yourself?” Funny question. He knows I mentally pick myself apart sometimes. “Remember what dad always tells you. What your parents did had nothing to do with you. When people are sad they think wrong. Doesn’t mean they didn’t love you.”
I laughed, “God Moses, don’t be so dark. I’m thinking about this event, not them. There’s going to be big time people there and if they like my performance I compete in the same night. If I win the competition it will be like a dream come true and there’s prize money. It’s a win/win.”
He lifted my chin, “you’ve been hurting yourself.”
Ugh!!! “I just said-.”
“You don’t cry but your nose gets pink.”
I pushed his hand away and went to the pole. “So the first dance you do at the event is sensual but no stripping. We can wear whatever we want and be alluring but we can’t take anything off. The competition is acrobatic so we wear like a plain costume. Usually, it’s either sexy or acrobatic, I love that they’re mixing it! It’s freeing!”
He gave me a look because he knows I’m avoiding his question. “So you need a song?”
Thank God he’s letting it go. “Yeah, have a suggestion?”
He thought a minute then pointed to the speaker. “Your iPhone plugged up?”
“Yep.”
He went over and scrolled. He took his time and I watched his back. I’m pissed he went missing for days and that he’s fucking Jenzy. I’m so jealous I can feel it on my skin like sludge.
When a guy puts you in friend zone you may as well grow a dick, they don’t see you. Even now when I dance to whatever song he chooses he’ll see it as a sport, not an invite. However, the raw emotions he’s evoking are making the need to dance very strong. Now I’m feeling ready, to pretend my dance is going to make him see me.
“How’s Brandon?” he asks as he searches my music.
“He’s good. He bought me flowers the other day and left a love note here in my locker.” I’m not trying to gig him. Moses doesn’t feel jealousy. Even when Katie screwed her ex. He was betrayed and hurt not jealous. He’s weird like that.
“Awww,” he mocked.
“How about Jenzy?” I watched his shoulder blades.
He made a happy noise, “it’s great. She was at her parent’s beach house with Chris last weekend but she messaged a lot.”
I swallowed, “how went the date?”
He checked over his shoulder. “It was awesome. She’s easy to be with, like a best friend.”
“Oh cool. You might not even need me one day.”
He frowned but I went to the pole and did a little spin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I laughed, “I just mean, she’s the whole package, you might not need a fill in soon.”
He wasn’t laughing. “You think you’re just a fill-in to me?”
“Jeez Moses, all friends drift a little when they find the right person. You usually go a little M.I.A. when you date but you kinda have too. Our relationship is too weird.”
He went from fussy to remorseful. “I’m sorry I went off the grid. I didn’t respond to you for a week and that was a dick thing. I’m not replacing you. You need me with this event coming and I mean it, I’m sorry. When’s the pre-rivals? That thing where you go and freestyle with the others in the event? We’ll go down that way, get a hotel and-.”
“That was mid-week.”
He looked pretty devastated. “What?! I missed it? Why didn’t you-?”
“I did. I called like three times.” And that means he didn’t listen to the voicemails. Awesome.
“I’m really sorry Baby Girl. That’s not forgivable.”
“Moses, pick a friggin song so I can dance. I’m feeling like a shook up soda bottle here.”
He looked back at my phone and hit a song. Wow. Perfect. He knows me better than I know myself. He chose Might Not by Belly, feat. The Weekend and he knows the dude from The Weekend can sing my soul awake.
While it’s opening he comes over and I take his hand, “stay with me?”
“Always,” he goes and drops his bag against the wall then sits Indian style to watch.
Okay…I’m feeling it now. My body is awake and I want to dance to breathe. This song is about substance abuse and though I don’t have one of the addictions from the lyrics, sadness is mine and sometimes I too feel like I might not make it.
I started with sitting near the pole, with one knee pulled up and the other leg straight out before me. As the song climbed I took my bun out and spun onto all fours; rolling my head so my hair fell around me.
Riding the beat to perfection, I used my hips to thrust me backward so my ass came up and down in quick pumps until I’d crossed the polished floor.
I did a lengthy crawl to the next pole and sat up to grip it. I looked back at Moses because he’s my pretend audience but I don’t really see him anymore, I see my emotions and my need to not hate myself.
Stepping up on my heals I hop the pole and do a full spin with legs up and spread them wide to circle endlessly; one hand high, the other low, then I dropped to the floor with my legs still split.
Going to all fours again, I whip my hair and move like a cat to the next pole and squat while holding on to bounce my ass up and down in jerks before standing and bending over and coming up.
This dance went on the whole song and I didn’t once think about my problems. I let my alter ego the untroubled one come out and I danced my ass off until the last note. I came up from my knees at the end and panted a bit. I looked at Moses finally and he was sitting with his hands in prayer fashion over his mouth. Elbows supported on his knees.
He looks speechless. Almost like he actually did see me. He’s seen me dance but he was looking at me funny this time. Maybe I showed too much slut? I don’t know. I’m too worn out to give a shit.
Chapter Nine
MOSES
I think the lack of sex with Jenzy is making me crazy. I must be crazy because I fought a boner the entire time Chloe danced and that’s my girl. I’m not even the type of guy that views pole dancing as a turn on. Lap dances, sure but not the pole. To me, it looks more like a sport but Chloe fucked me up bad that night and I had to come up with stupid crap to talk about for like twenty minutes so she wouldn’t make me stand up. How would I explain the erection?
I chalk it all up to sexual tension alone, not Chloe. When I got home that night and tried to sleep, the song, and her on that pole, on that floor, was making me hard again. It’s weird and it makes me feel a little fucked up because she’s like my sister but my body is reminding me she’s not.
Lying in bed, I pushed my hand down into my boxers and felt myself go ever harder. Now I’m confused. One stroke and now I feel extremely guilty. I have a girl and the one I’m thinking about is not an option, not ever.
By the next morning, I was normal again. No weirdness. Except I fell off the grid with Chloe again. I don’t mean to but my time is spread really thin with the bookstore, my Yoga classes, and Jenzy.
She and I do a lot together and we talk constantly. We’ve been all over in very little time; the beach, museums, physic readings, a fair, new bike trails, downtown, movies…
We touch more too but it’s still conservative. I can’t complain though because like right now when I’m holding her hand and walking the outdoor mall the bookshop is in. I’m insanely happy.
She was talking so I stopped musing about her to listen.
“…and the fountains were big, bigger than me. So when I was little,” she said, “I used to toss all these pennies in wishing wells for Disneyland! I love all things Disney. I wanted to go so bad. I st
ill do.” She looked up at me and flushed a little, “am I talking too much?”
“Nope.”
She grinned and I flipped inside. She’s too beautiful. Even now in casual wear. She’s got her many necklaces and bracelets on and she’s in wedges so every so often she trips into my side but I keep her upright. I love her clumsy.
“I think it’s cute,” I told her, “your love for Disney. You’re free-spirited in a way most adults grow out of and then become boring or negative. You’re always up.”
“Well,” she narrowed one eye, “I have my down times believe me, but I’m an optimist at heart I guess.”
I saw an ice cream stand and tugged her that way. This mall is made of nothing but brick and the buildings date back to like the 1800’s so even the ice cream stand is historical looking, made from wooden pallets and hand painted signs with an overhead umbrella.
The sky was nothing but pink from the sunset and it cast a peculiar glow that made everything softer.
We ordered vanilla cones and walked on, still hand in hand.
She laughed in the midst of our conversation about her work. “When Dr. Mouser tells me I’m right about something I still go dumb for ten minutes.”
I shook my head, “he’s an incredible ND and his knowledge from being an MD is so profound, I mean he’s been my doctor for years, but holy crap is he grouchy.”
“Oh my God, you have no idea. One time I couldn’t remember the difference between these two herbs, and he literally stood over me and shouted,” she stuck her chest out to imitate him and mimicked his voice, “Hurry up. Let’s go. Tell me now! Do it! Do it! Do it!”
I laughed so hard imagining my old doctor scaring the wits out of Jenzy. “Yeah, but now you’re a herbalist. A step closer to being a Doula.”
She looked stunned I remembered her telling me that. “You really listen.” She wondered aloud then stopped to sit on a half wall of stone.
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