“Absolutely,” Alex answers, and I can tell he still feels bad.
As I’m grabbing my coat from the foyer closet I can smell brandy and cigar smoke coming from my uncle’s study. I peer in and see my father and uncle each sitting in an oversized red leather chair by the fireplace.
“Merrick that’s your third Courvoisier. Is there something on your mind?” my uncle says in his typical jovial tone. Even though they fight like cats and dogs and rarely see eye to eye, they have a special relationship. One I will never understand. Probably because I have no siblings of my own.
My father exhales a puff of sweet smelling smoke and then says, “She just grew up to damn fast.”
What? I blanch. I don’t know what to make of that statement and before I can analyze it any further I hear Emily calling my name. I walk into the study to say goodbye with Alex and Emily on my heels. I give my uncle a huge hug and kiss goodbye then turn to my father. He’s just standing there regarding me with no outward sign of emotion.
“Goodbye daddy.” I try to sound lively instead of drunk.
“Alana.” He responds with a nod of his head, his brown eyes heedful. I don’t know what to make of his energy tonight. It’s different somehow. But I don’t have time to dwell because Emily is pushing me out the door. I turn with one last glance at my father and wonder why I have to have such complicated relationships with all the men in my life. I climb into Alex’s Bentley and slide across leather that feels like whipped cream. Did I say he was filthy stinkin’ rich? I meant disgustingly rich. He makes my family look like beggars on the street.
“Alana, I really am sorry.” Alex says again, searching me out in the rear view mirror.
“It’s okay Alex, really. You didn’t mean to do it.” I drop my head back onto the seat.
“Maybe not,” Emily interjects. “But you are going to let Alana and Ryan borrow the jet so they can fly to France or Italy or where ever the hell they want to go to make up for almost ruining Alana’s life.”
“Yes, dear,” Alex responds drolly as he pulls out of the driveway. “You know what I don’t get though?” Alex goes on. “Ryan is crazy in love with you. So what he’s a stripper? You don’t have to tell your father that.”
Man, he and Emily really are made for each other.
“Alex,” I sigh. “It’s so much more complicated than that. Ryan and I have a past. Emily can explain. It should make for interesting conversation on your drive home.”
I pull out my phone and text Ryan as Alex and Emily exchange glances in the front seat.
Me: We’ve been outed. But don’t worry. Alex is letting us borrow the G6 so we can go to France or Italy.
Ryan: We have to flee the county?
Me: No. LOLOLOL. He’s giving it to us as an apology. I’ll explain everything when I get home. Hopping the train now. Meet me at Penn st?
Ryan: I’ll b there. 90 mins never felt like so long. xoxoxoxox
I just finished my last exam.
I have one semester left, I have one semester left, I repeat the words to myself as I trudge towards my apartment door. I’m physically exhausted and mentally drained; the last three months have kicked my ass. I’ve barely slept, I’ve barely eaten and I’ve barely seen Ryan over the last week. And now that finals are over, I’m going to go inside and crash.
Ryan and I took full advantage of Alex’s jet offer after he exposed us, flying off to Italy and spending a week on the Amalfi Coast. For seven glorious days, I was the only person Ryan took his clothes off for. Mmm.
My father has yet to meet Ryan face to face, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way for a little while longer. When he can’t make me choose between my love for Ryan or my love for the law. It’s still a dicey situation, but Ryan and I are so close to getting everything we want, I know the sacrifice will be worth it in the end. I put the key into the lock and hear music blasting from my apartment, Pitbull’s I Know You Want Me. I swing the door open to find Ryan having way too much fun doing laundry. He has several piles of clothes separated on the couch and he’s bopping to the music as he folds. I can’t help but stand there and be amused.
I don’t know how long I’m watching before he notices I’m behind him. He shoots me a cocky smile, puts the shirt he’s holding down and slides across the room keeping beat with the music.
After doing the logo for my uncle’s law firm Ryan has been taking on freelance jobs for graphic design. Usually, when I’m studying he’s working on a project. It’s beefing up his resume, but it by no means has given him the incentive to quit Culture or give up Jack the Stripper.
Once he reaches me he counts in my face with his fingers then grabs my hand and smashes me into his body. His hips start to move, doing a little circle motion as he grinds against me.
“Showing me your best Johnny Castle impression?” I ask playfully.
“None other, it’s where I learned all my dance moves,” he says as he starts dancing me sinfully around the room, singing the lyrics, rrrrrolling the R’s seductively into my ear. I laugh, because it’s so goddamn sexy and because I can’t picture him watching Dirty Dancing. Then he pushes me down on the couch and really starts to move. He pulls his t-shirt off as he rolls his body, pops his chest and surges his hips, enjoying every second of his little strip tease.
I’m enjoying it too; I think a little too much, because suddenly my cheeks are on fire and a flash flood of heat is soaking me between my thighs.
He creeps down onto his knees, pulls me forward so I’m half lying on my back and positions himself right between my legs. He slams his pelvis hard against me, then pumps three times to the rhythm of the music causing me to cover my face instinctually with my hands, part-embarrassed part-hysterical. When the song ends Ryan pulls my hands away, but I can’t stop laughing. One, because I don’t think I’ve relaxed in the last three months and two, because I’m totally turned on.
“Did I do something funny?” he asks smiling.
“Funny and totally hot.”
“Now that’s what I want to hear,” he leans down and kisses me and the sensation shoots straight to the ravenous desire spiraling inside me. I moan, and compulsively grab for the button of his jeans. I’m dying for the release, dying for him. And Ryan totally knows it.
He smoothes his hands over my hair, kissing me sweetly and urgently all at the same time.
“I like you like this,” he says eagerly.
“Half-naked?” I answer, as he pulls my pants off me.
“Stress-free,” he responds, running his hands down my hips, drinking my body in.
My phone rings, but we both ignore it.
Still on his knees, Ryan lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder then leans forward slightly, bracing himself on the edge of the couch. He sinks one finger, then another inside me and I jolt. God, I can’t even remember the last time we did this. Never taking his eyes off mine, he pushes my legs farther apart, heightening the sensation of his touch. I become nothing but ripples of need and liquidly want under the strokes and lashes of his commanding fingers.
“What do you want, Alana?” he asks in a husky voice, flicking my spot.
I can’t even reply his touch feels so good. It’s drowning me. I close my eyes, throw my head back and buck my hips, but he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Tell me what you want,” he orders, his blue eyes feral, wanton, rapturous.
“You,” I choke out, as he inches me closer to the edge.
He drops my leg and pulls me further down the couch to where my butt is barely on the cushion. He lifts my arms up, pinning them over my head then kisses me hard; his hips stalling an inch away from mine; tormenting me. I struggle to move, the anticipation of what’s to come is exasperating.
“Say my name.” He licks up my neck, a hot tantalizing caress. “I need to hear you say it.” He always needs to hear me say it, especially when we’re like this.
My heart is beating out of my chest and the lower half of my body feels like it’s about to detonate.
“Ryan,” I implore, and just before I don’t think I can bear another second of his teetering torture, he slips deep inside me. The friction catapults me, and I let out a cry. Fuck. I fling my head back into the couch as Ryan goes to work. Coaxing me with his hips and cajoling me with his voice; drawing out every inch of my desire.
In no time at all I’m clinging to him, digging my plum-polished fingernails into his back as my body freefalls into oblivion.
When I blink my eyes open, and remember where I am, Ryan is tensing on top of me, caught in the middle of his orgasm. It’s beautiful to watch. It’s beautiful to feel. And it makes me all warm and wanted and not so disconnected from the world.
He drops down when he’s done panting wildly. “Fuck, I missed you,” he murmurs as he encases my body in his arms.
I giggle satisfied, running my hands through his hair. “Missed me how exactly?”
Ryan groans lazily. “I missed kissing you here,” he plants his lips between my breasts. “And here,” he sucks on my neck. “And here,” he nips my earlobe with his teeth. “But most of all here,” he swipes his thumb between my thighs where I’m all sticky and wet.
“I missed you kissing me there too.” I quiver as he sends tingles straight to my tailbone.
Ryan falls back onto the floor, dragging my loose, languid body with him, positioning me on his lap. His pants are still around his ankles and his hair is a fluffed up mess. He encircles his arms around me and I drop my head back onto his shoulder. We just sit there quietly and bask, Ryan petting me all over. Mmmmmm.
“I love it when you’re on break from school,” Ryan says licking my neck; one, long hot stroke after the other.
“Me too. I can’t believe it’s my last one. One more semester then it’s off to the real world.”
Ryan freezes mid lick. “The real world,” he repeats.
“Is there something wrong with the real world?” I ask.
“No.” He answers and then goes back to brushing his tongue against my skin.
“Ryan what’s wrong?” I roll my eyes in ecstasy. That feels so effing good.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“I don’t’ believe you.”
Ryan lifts his head and looks at me with big, blue vigilant eyes. I know he has something to tell me. I can see it on his face and feel it in his taut muscles enclosed around me.
“I just don’t know if I’m ready to share you with the real world.”
“You don’t have to share me, I’m all yours.”
He drops his forehead to mine. “And I’m all yours.”
“Ryan, are you sure nothing’s wrong?” I ask again, suddenly worried.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’d tell you if there was.” He shifts me off him, lowering me down onto my back. He runs his hands all over my naked body, kissing all the places he said he missed.
“Ah!” I tense when he drops his head between my knees. And just like that, words cease to exist.
After I get out of the shower I look to see who called me, while Ryan re-folds all the crinkled clothes. He snaps my ass with one of his shirts as I walk by him and I jump.
“That wasn’t very nice.” I pout as I hit Emily’s name on my phone.
“I’ll kiss it and make it all better if you want,” he says with a salacious smile.
“You stay right where are,” I instruct playfully. There could be a fun evening ahead us, I think to myself, but then I remember it’s Friday and Ryan has to work.
Movie and take out for me tonight.
“Alana!” Emily answers enthusiastically.
“Hey, you didn’t leave a message when you called.” I haven’t talked to Emily in weeks, and when I hear her voice it makes me realize how much I miss her.
“I wanted to see what you were doing tonight. It’s Jill’s bachelorette party. I want you to come out.”
I could definitely use a night out after this semester.
“Okay, where are you guys going?”
“Where else? Culture.”
I immediately reconsider.
“I don’t know Em,” I glance up at Ryan who’s folding cluelessly.
“Come on, I have an extra ticket to the Male Revue.”
“Emily, are you serious? I can’t sit through that.”
“Sit through what?” Ryan asks.
I freeze. “Let me call you back Em.” I hang up.
“Jill’s bachelorette party is tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Emily wants you to go?”
“Yes, but the thing is,” I bite my lip, “they’re going to Culture. And the Male Revue.”
Ryan holds my gaze like he’s playing a hand of poker, “And?”
“And, would that be weird?”
“For me or you?”
“Both?”
Ryan looks at me with a contemplative expression, “I don’t have to dance tonight.”
“You’re going to blow off work?”
“No, not exactly, I just won’t do the Male Revue. Actually,” he says like a light bulb just went off in his head, “I can belong to you tonight.”
“Excuse me? I thought you belonged to me every night?”
“Yes, I do. Every night, every day, every moment,” he reassures me. “But can you just go with it for now?”
“Owning you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I shrug, wondering what the hell he has up his sleeve.
Ryan grabs his phone off the end table by the couch and punches a button, a few moments later he’s talking to Divan. “Hey man, change of plans tonight,” he turns and walks toward my bedroom. “No Male Revue, and I need…” He disappears behind the door before I can hear anything else.
A few hours later I’m looking at myself in the mirror. Ryan has already left for work, and my cab should be here any minute. I glance at the clock, 9:30 PM. I decided to still skip the Male Revue even though Ryan opted out. I can have a male strip show anytime I want, just look at what happened this afternoon.
I run my fingers through my blonde hair, I blew it out so it’s pin straight, the ends touching just below the middle of my back. My bangs are styled to the side and my eyes smoked out with a black sparkly shadow; my lips are a glossy magenta pink.
I slip on a pair of black knee-high boots over my skinny jeans. My shirt is a sheer peach-colored tunic. It’s pleated all the way around, the front hem shorter than the back with a black tank top underneath.
It may be December outside, but inside, that club will be hotter than the Fourth of July.
I stuff my ID, some money and a lip gloss into my black Coach wristlet, then grab my coat and head downstairs to wait for my cab. Twenty minutes later the yellow taxi is dropping me off on the doorstep of Culture. I step out and immediately see a familiar face; Lorenzo is standing behind the red velvet rope checking IDs. There’s already a line two city blocks long of women and a few men waiting to get in to one of NYC’s hottest social scenes.
“Chicka!” Lorenzo’s voice vibrates when he sees me and, like usual, I hear the chords to Still Not a Playa in my head. Lorenzo’s dressed in his typical threads, black leather jacket, black shirt, black pants and derby hat. “It’s been too long, mommy. Where you been?”
“Stuck under law books,” I tell him as he unhooks the rope, allowing me to bypass the line.
“Ryan got the hookup for you and your girlies tonight,” he tells me with a smile.
“Oh really?” I respond surprised. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see,” he grins. “Have a smoke for old times before you go inside?”
I sigh, “I quit.”
“Good for you.” Lorenzo nudges me and then opens the door.
I curl my lip, “I’m not so sure.”
“Star! Alana’s here.” He yells just before I walk through the doorway. Lorenzo winks at me. “She’ll take care of you. Have fun…” he teases.
“Thanks,” I say, my curiosity piqued. I remember the last time I was here, and my thoughts immediately d
art to the semi-private room in the back of the club. The cluster of alcoves is called the dance quarter, which I later came to find out. And I can’t help but wonder if Ryan and I are going to end up there again.
I walk in and find Star sitting behind a little table with a cash register on it. She’s African American with a huge afro and beautiful almond eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Alana,” she says sweetly, pulling up one side of the black curtain. “Everything is ready for you and your guests.”
Guests?
I follow Star into the club, a remix of Troublemaker by Olly Murs and Flo Rida is pumping through the sound system. It looks mostly the same, except now there are pedestals with stripper poles sprinkled around the floor, and half naked men dancing systematically to the music. There’s also a new Cirque du Soleil attraction on the ceiling. Huge rings hung by ribbon, it’s a spectacle to say the least.
“This way,” Star leads me left.
“Where are we going?” I ask curiously.
“The VIP area.” We start to climb up steps in a dark corridor lit with tiny twinkle lights. There’s a long hallway at the top with several large doors on the right hand side. She opens the second one and motions for me to step through. As I enter the room, I realize it isn’t a room at all; it’s a huge balcony with a bird’s eye view of the entire club. There’s a U-shaped white leather couch with purple spotlights shining over it. A large, shiny, white square table with several bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets, and a small wet bar in the left corner.
Wow.
“The rest of your party is on their way up and Ryan should be here shortly. Would you like a glass of champagne?”
Um, yeah.
“Yes, please,” I say, and she pulls out a bottle of Cristal and pops it open.
Ryan didn’t skimp, I think to myself, as I take the glass from her.
“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll let you get comfortable.”
“No, thank you,” I smile and she closes the door. I walk over to the railing and look out over the club. The acrobats are eye level, and I can see the entire dance floor below. People’s hot, sweaty bodies are mashed together as the lights under the DJ’s booth flicker, the colors of the strobes changing from orange to yellow to purple to red. I hear some energetic screaming coming from the balcony next door; I can’t see what’s causing the commotion, but I can definitely imagine.
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