Strip Me Bare

by Marissa Carmel

  “I know Uncle John,” I pacify him. “That’s why I’m keeping my relationship to myself. I don’t want to rock the boat and lose focus.”

  He smiles then puts one strong arm around me, “Always level headed.”

  “I try,” I quip.

  “I’m extremely proud of you,” he says and his sentiment is sincere.

  “Thanks,” I rest my head on his chest. I truly love this man.

  “I’d like to meet him,” my uncle says delicately.

  I look up alarmed, “Oh…I’m not…I don’t know if that’s-”

  “When you’re ready,” he cuts me off.

  I carefully consider.

  “Okay.”

  “And we don’t have to tell your father.”

  “Um, that would be a written clause,” I laugh.

  “Good, good.” He gives me a squeeze. “Now go on and conquer the world like only a Remington can.”

  I lift onto my tippy toes and give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you on Thanksgiving,” I tell him, and then breeze away.

  I look at the time, it’s 6:30 PM on a Wednesday night and I’ve been studying civil procedures for the last three hours.

  If I didn’t love it so much, I’d ask someone to put me out of my misery. Ryan drops his backpack by the front door. I glance at it impassively. I know what’s in it. His costume or uniform if that’s what you want to call it; his cowboy hat, eye mask and tasseled g-string for the Revue and the little blue metallic shorts for the club. It’s Thanksgiving Eve, the biggest clubbing night of the year, so there’s an extra show this evening and all hands working at Culture tonight - yayyy… I sort of just block it all out when Ryan goes to work. There’s a lot to be said for blissful ignorance. I usually pretend he’s a car salesman or a waiter or a gas station attendant, basically anything that requires him to wear clothes.

  Over the last three months things have gotten routinely comfortable. I don’t get to see him much with school and studying and all, but he’s usually there when I wake up and sometimes when I go to sleep.

  Ryan comes over and sits on the floor next to me. He smells good, a heady mix of my shampoo and his deodorant. The middle of the living room is my favorite place to study, with all my books and papers spread out. He leans up against the cream leather sofa and props his head onto one hand. “You going to wait up for me?” his tone is suggestive, and it immediately uncurls a very dark desire from somewhere deep inside me.

  “Maybe, are you going to be a good boy tonight?”

  “Baby, if you want a good boy, you’re wasting your time with me,” he flirts.

  “I didn’t say I wanted a good boy,” I counter, “I just want to make sure you remember who you’re coming home to.”

  Ryan inches closer to me, almost like he’s stalking me. “I could never forget,” he growls.

  “Good,” I groan as he pushes me onto my back. He crawls on top of me and slowly starts licking my neck, teasing his way up until he reaches my mouth.

  “I thought you were leaving for work?” I ask right before he kisses me.

  “I am, but I want to show you just how good I can be before I go.”

  “Do you have time for that?”

  “I can make it quick.”

  “That’s disappointing,” I joke.

  Ryan snaps his head up and there is a feral look in his eyes. “Oh baby, this is just the warm up.” Then he attacks me, his tongue on a mission. I moan into his mouth, letting him have me; my hands raking through his hair, my body arching up to feel his.

  “What’s underneath here?” he asks alluringly as he slides his hand under my shirt. I’m dressed in my usual studying attire, a gray Columbia sweatshirt and black leggings. No bra.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I taunt.

  “I would like to know, and I’m going to find out,” there’s fight in his voice as he forces my sweatshirt up, the warmth of his hands spreading deliciously across my skin. God, I need him.

  Just before Ryan gets a chance to pull my top over my head, my phone rings.

  “Don’t answer it,” he says immediately, a decibel short of desperate.

  I glance down at the screen; if it was anyone else calling I would have listened to him. Instead, I push Ryan off me and adjust my shirt.

  “Hello?”

  I sit up straight as soon as I hear his voice.

  “Hi daddy.” I look at Ryan, who’s kneeling in front of me with lustful eyes.

  “Yes, everything’s fine.” Ryan tries to kiss my neck as I talk, but I push him away.

  “Here? Outside?” I try to keep my voice even, but I’m suddenly struck with terror. I get up and rush to the bay window in my kitchen. The one that looks down onto the street. And sure enough, there’s a black town car double-parked out front with the hazards on.

  “You want to come up?” I turn to Ryan who is now standing behind me.

  “Okay, I’ll buzz you in,” I say, and then he hangs up.

  I immediately panic. Not even thinking I start to push Ryan. “You have to hide!” I hiss.

  “What?” he snaps.

  “Quick, get in the closet.”

  Yes, I’m twelve years old and hiding my boyfriend from my father.

  “Alana,” Ryan’s voice is firm.

  “Shhh,” I shove him inside just before the buzzer rings. I hit the button to let my father in then spot Ryan’s book bag by the door. Shit. I grab it and throw it in-between the wall and the refrigerator. I glance around my apartment making sure there’s no other evidence of him lying around.

  The pounding of my heart is echoing in my chest as I open the door. My father is standing there assertively.

  “Alana,” he addresses me with no emotion in his voice. It’s just flat. Like the liquid in a glass.

  “Daddy,” I answer him, and I know my cheeks are a little too flush, “Come in.” Like I have to invite him. He pays the rent. He steps inside my medium sized apartment and seems out of place, like he’s too rich for my humble home. “What are you doing in the city?”

  “I have a dinner function and I thought I’d check in on you,” he says looking around.

  Translation: I wanted to check up on my investment and make sure it’s doing what it’s supposed to be doing. Which of course, when he shows up, I’m not.

  He catches notice of the books and papers in the living room. “What are you studying?”

  “Tonight? Civil procedures.” I glance behind him at the closet door, he doesn’t make a move out of my small front hallway.

  “Do you need anything?” he looks down at me. Merrick Remington has never let me want for anything. And I’ve never had a problem asking for anything.

  Except maybe one thing.

  His love.

  “No, I’m good,” I try to smile.

  He nods, “Well, I’ll let you get back to studying.” He turns and leaves without a hug, without a kiss, without so much as a goodbye. The door clicks and I just stand there staring, left cold, like whenever I’m in my father’s presence.

  I hear Ryan clear his throat behind the closet door and I immediately snap out of my haze. I swing the door open, and find him standing there with his arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face. He steps out and brushes past me, and I know I’m in trouble.

  “You shoved me in the closet?”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I step closer to him, but he backs away. His rejection hurts. “I just didn’t want to have to deal with my father.”

  “Deal with him how exactly?”

  “He’s a complicated man, you know that.”

  “I do, but that still doesn’t explain why I had to hide in the closet.”

  I scramble for the right words.

  “Who was I supposed to tell him you are?” I shout, surprising us both. “Do you want me to lie or tell him the truth? Because I don’t know which is worse, Dad this is Ryan my friend, or Dad, this is Ryan my stripper boyfriend who, if you don’t remember, you convicted five years ago on
a drug charge.”

  Those were definitely not the right words. “Trust me when I tell you Ryan, that him not knowing about you at all is the best circumstance for all of us.”

  Ryan doesn’t respond, he just huffs, and it’s this half-hurt half-pissed off sound that rips my heart right in two.

  “I’m sorry,” I rush, but Ryan just stalks around the apartment looking for his bag. Once he finds it, he grabs it and then storms out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  I jump a little from the sound.

  Shit.

  I’m alone, left staring at the door with my arms wrapped around myself, written off by the two men I love the most.

  I feel a nudge, and then, “Alana?”

  I lift my head slowly off my arm; I must have fallen asleep studying, because I’m propped up on the couch with Ryan sitting next to me. When I rub the sleep out of my eyes everything comes rushing back to me. Before Ryan can say anything else I launch myself on top of him and spew, “Ryan, I’m so sorry, that was a shitty thing to say. It wasn’t directed at you. It was a dig at my father. I just-” I stammer, “I just got scared. I got scared of losing everything.”

  Ryan stares up at me soundlessly, an array of emotions churning in his eyes. It makes me want to erase every painful moment of his life, this one especially. I didn’t mean to make him feel small or slap the stripper stigma right in his face.

  With his head in my hands I kiss him emotively and contritely. “I’m sorry,” I whisper between gasps of breath. Ryan is stone cold; which only causes my regret to magnify. I try to spark some kind of reaction. I don’t care if he yells at me, screams or cries, I just need some kind of response. Suddenly, he shoves his hands into my hair. His tongue invading my mouth, drawing me into a deep controlling kiss, while pulling at my strands so hard there’s a sharp sting on my scalp. His forcefulness takes me by surprise. Holy Fuck. This isn’t the Ryan I know. This isn’t the confident sex god who isn’t afraid of anything. This isn’t the man who touches me adoringly and affectionately, who reveres me like a priceless piece of artwork. This Ryan is seeking affirmation; who wants to know if I’ll ever see him as anything more than just a stripper. As anyone more than a man my father put away.

  This is Ryan, stripped bare.

  In one swift, unexpected move, he rips my leggings in two. I gasp as he deftly undoes his fly and pushes himself inside me. Holding me tight he begins to move, urgently, systematically. One deep thrust after the other.

  With one arm snaked around his neck, I brace myself against the driving force. It’s unfamiliar and stern and makes my head spin.

  And I utterly love it because it’s with Ryan.

  “Alana, say my name,” his voice is commanding and slightly uneasy. “I need to hear you say it.”

  I can barely think - let alone speak - as he tortures me with slow steady need, but I do as he asks.

  “Ryan,” I gasp in blissful distress and he slams harder. “Ryan!” I cry out as he hits my spot; my whole body tensing and shuddering as my orgasm shreds me apart. Ryan follows right after me; stilling beneath me with a ragged, tormented groan. Lightheaded and breathless, I drop my head into the crook of his neck; the two of us clinging desperately to each other.

  After a few moments of heavy breathing, I rest my forehead against his. Ryan doesn’t say a word; he just stares at me quietly with raw blue eyes.

  “I know who you are,” I tell him lovingly. “I know who you are.”

  “Alana,” Ryan’s voice calls to me, “wake up, let’s go to bed.” We’re still on the couch; I’m straddled over him with my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. I start to move but he grabs me by both thighs. “Hey,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I rub my eyes, “I was the one who stuck you in a closet.”

  “For being rough with you. I never should have done that.”

  I put my hand on his face, “It’s okay. I get it.” I kiss him softly in the dark.

  “It’s not okay, you don’t deserve to be treated like that, no matter what you say or do to me.”

  “Ryan, it's fine. I sort of liked it,” I confess guiltily. “Maybe I should piss you off more often.”

  “No,” he says strictly, and then he wraps his arms around my waist. “I hate fighting with you.”

  “That’s too bad, because the make-up sex is amazing,” I joke, my voice quiet.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, I haven’t even begun to blow your mind yet,” he bites me just below my collarbone.

  “Ouch,” I giggle. “You mean there’s more where that came from?”

  “So much more,” he says and his tone provokes all of my senses.

  Ryan shifts forward on the couch and forces my legs around his waist, then he stands up with me in his arms. As he walks towards my bedroom I nibble on his neck.

  He constricts his arms tighter around me. “I love you,” he whispers in my ear.

  “I love you too.”

  “I was miserable tonight,” he tells me, his voice low.

  “So was I. I tried to stay up and wait for you, but that didn’t work out so well.”

  “I came back later than usual. I went out with a few of the guys after my shift. To blow off some steam.”

  “I can tell, you smell like alcohol,” I tell him as he crawls onto the bed with me still latched to him.

  “I got a little wasted and wasn’t sure if I should come back here or not. I didn’t want to fight. But I couldn’t stand sleeping anywhere else than next to you.”

  “I’m glad you came back,” I say as we get comfortable; Ryan lying on his back with me resting on his chest.

  I start to drift off when Ryan’s voice calls me back, “Alana? What did you mean when you said you were scared of losing everything?”

  My eyes pop open and I stare out into the darkness.

  “Ryan,” I sigh. “There’s one thing I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. And then you came along, and now all I want is two things, to be a lawyer and you. And my father is the only person who can take it all away.”

  “He can’t take me away, Alana.”

  “He’d try.”

  “I wouldn’t let him.”

  “That’s the thing.” I pick my head up to look at him, “I’d fight for you, and when my father rejects me because you’re not the likeness he’s picked out for me in his head, he’ll cut me off, essentially murdering my dream.”

  “So, the male stripper he convicted five years ago isn’t his first choice for his daughter?”

  “Ryan,” I groan. “Are you going to hold that against me forever?”

  “No, I just see his point. It’s not who I’d want my daughter with.”

  “If he’s anything like you, you could see past his indiscretions.”

  “Why don’t you just take out student loans and pay for law school yourself?”

  “Do you have any idea how expensive Columbia is? I’d be paying off debt for the rest of my life. We’re sort of in the same boat.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, why do you strip? The money, right? It’s fast, it’s easy, it’s good?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s going to get you where you want to go faster than working some crappy minimum wage job?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “It’s all about a means to an end. I don’t want to graduate and work my ass off so all my money can go to student loans. I don’t know where I’ll end up after law school. I want to work in a big law firm that’s fast paced and high profile like my uncle’s. But there’s no guarantee that’s what kind of job I’ll get. So I have to be smart about my future.”

  “You’ve thought about this, huh?”

  “It’s all I had to think about up until recently.”

  Ryan runs his thumb across my cheek, “I want all of your dreams to come true.”

  “Then don’t be mad that I have to keep you a secret. Believe me when I tell you it breaks me every time I have to l
ie to my father. And it killed me tonight that I couldn’t open that door and tell him who you are. Tell him how much I love you, how happy you make me. I wish things were different. I wish he were different. But he is who he is, and…“ I turn my head and look away, shit I’m getting emotional.

  “And?” Ryan can’t see my face in the dim light of the room, but I know he can hear the affliction in my voice.

  “And, I’m scared-”

  “Of losing everything.” He snaps the puzzle pieces together.

  “Yes.” I nuzzle my face against his. “My everything is him, you, and me.”

  “And law school.”

  “And law school,” I agree. “Do you think you want me enough to suffer through it until I can gain some independence?” I drop my head onto Ryan’s chest.

  “Of course,” he answers without any hesitation. “I want you enough for the both of us. And I can’t imagine one second without you.” He kisses my head and I squeeze him tightly.

  “Good, because I promise once this is all over, I’ll make it up to you for the rest of your life.”

  Ryan snickers, “smooth move stealing my line counselor.”

  “What can I say? I’m a girl who does what she has to, to get what she wants.”

  “And what’s that exactly?” Ryan asks as he runs one finger delicately through my hair.

  “You, and happily ever after.”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  I shrug, “I guess we’re going to find out.”

  My last exam for fall semester was Thursday, December 16th. So as part-celebration and part-big gesture for Ryan, I set up dinner with him and my family at the Palm, a steakhouse on 2nd Avenue. Well, with my extended family that is. My father may never accept him, but I have no doubt my uncle John will. I want Ryan to know he’s important and my uncle has been salivating to meet him, so I’m satisfying two cravings at once.

  We stand on the sidewalk, right outside the Palm’s entrance, sharing a cigarette. It’s a cold December night, the air is crisp and it smells like Christmas. Ryan is jittery, and has been since we left my apartment. He shakes his hands out and cracks his neck like he’s about to step into a boxing ring.