Fighting for Arielle

by Karina Sharp

  Chapter 2

  McCrary

  “Where is this that we’re going again, Elkins?” I ask, turning to see Elkins and Wyllie, the bachelor himself, grinning excitedly and pumping their fists as we sit in the back of our rented limo.

  “A burlesque show. Best one on the island,” he says, but doesn’t turn to look at me.

  “This is like a Vaudeville show, isn't it?” I ask as I open my beer.

  “No, man. It’s a show where smoking hot girls dance and sing and, most importantly, take off their clothes," he explains as if it makes perfect sense.

  Although, now he has my attention. I take in a swallow of beer.

  "All of their clothes?"

  “Damn near, but they leave enough on to tease, which is half the fun,” Elkins says coolly.

  I don’t know Wyllie all that well because he's new to the island, but Elkins knows him and wanted to show him a good time before he marries. I'm actually a bit jealous of Wyllie; he seems to have found his perfect girl. To me, there are two types of relationships in the Navy: the first one is the kind that doesn't last and every time you come back from travel, deployment, or you change duty stations, she is not there. The second is the one where, despite the disruptions in home life, career demands, and separation, you always come home to the same smiling face and loving arms. After talking to Wyllie, I know he has this with his fiancée. I just wonder how anyone has time to find that perfect girl.

  It’s not as though I never dated anyone. I’ve had plenty of women here and there throughout the years, but I just couldn’t commit to any of them. I always had upcoming cases and trials as well as the navigation of the politics of the military to deal with, and they came first. Even if I had a desire to settle down and start the perfect military family, I have yet to find a woman who makes me want to take that next step. I’m happy being a bachelor with no ties and nothing to distract me from my job, which has worked out well for my career. I’ve been able to move up the ranks pretty quickly, making Lieutenant Commander with under ten years of service. I am currently up for Commander, waiting to hear if I will be promoted. Hopefully, I will meet my goal of making Commander by the age of 35.

  Snapping me out of the abyss of my own head, Elkins yells, “Cheers!”

  I hold up my beer with the rest of the men.

  “To the bachelor!"

  Entering the building, I hear Elkins announce to the group, "You don't need dollar bills or anything.”

  He places his hand on my shoulder saying excitedly, “We go to strip clubs all of the time, so we're going high class for this bachelor party. Plus, I got us a VIP table right at the edge of the stage."

  The place is more like a theatre, with rows of seats, a stage curtain, and a few intimate tables sitting right at the foot of the stage. Stopping first at the bar for a bourbon and Coke, I navigate my way to our seats, find one with a prime view, and settle in.

  The show opens and after a few performances, I realize that this really is like a variety show that harkens back to Vaudeville roots. There are actors delivering dialog and jokes, girls twirling in the air on random apparatuses hanging from the ceiling above the stage, and girls dancing in various shiny and intricate costumes, but Elkins was right: no full-on nudity. I find the dancers to be talented in their own right, but not very overly exciting.

  I look at my watch, then back up to the stage and see a beautiful silhouette standing in the darkness. The stage lights come up and a song comes on. I recognize it to be “All That Jazz” from the musical Chicago, and this is the Bebe Neuwirth Broadway revival version, which is a good choice.

  The silhouette now has a face, but has large, white feather fans covering her body. Her long, chestnut hair beautifully cascades in loose curls down below her shoulders. Her full lips, wearing a perfect shade of crimson, highlight her almond-shaped eyes perfectly. Her olive toned skin looks perfect under the stage lights, causing me to want to see more of it. She gracefully moves about the stage dancing, moving her hips, and twirling her fans around at a speed slow enough to allow a split second view of, from what I could see, her gorgeous figure, but fast enough to make it a cruel tease. I watch, mesmerized by her confidence and poise on the stage, thinking she must be a model or something to be so comfortable with herself.

  She faces the back of the stage and moves her fans behind her back, holding them both in one hand, covering her ass but exposing her back. She looks over her shoulder with one of the sexiest leers I’ve ever seen, and gently moves her hair to one shoulder, giving me a view of her entire bare back. As she slowly and playfully unhooks her bra with one hand, my eyes cannot help but worship every inch of skin I can see. Her back is beyond sexy. I run my eyes down her spine to her waist and wonder how she might respond if I were to run up on the stage and take away her fans just to see the rest of her. As I move my eyes up to her neck, I notice a small tattoo, or maybe a few, in a line just at the base of her neck looking as though they are giving direction for me to run my mouth on a path from there, down to the base of her spine: kissing, licking, and nibbling. I notice a slight throbbing in my pants. I take a swig of my drink and shift the way I’m sitting, but never move my eyes away from her.

  She turns back around, quickly moving her fans to cover her torso and, in rapid succession, throws her bra toward the audience. My eyes are so transfixed on her, I’m startled when I feel something land on my head. It only takes me a split second to realize it’s her bra. Her eyes lock onto mine, and she looks directly at me with the most seductive look. I didn’t even know women could look at you in such a sexy way. Not in magazines, nor in person when women are trying to get me to take them home, have I ever witnessed anything so intoxicating.

  Trying to play it cool, I reach my hand up to remove the bra from my head as fast as possible, but one of the hooks gets caught in the ball cap. I try a few slight tugs that were hopefully unnoticeable, but with no luck. I see my dream woman smile and snicker. At least I think she snickered at me, and she still managed to look sexy while doing it. I look away for a brief moment so that I can remove my hat and get the bra off. Immediately, I miss her gaze. Meanwhile, I become acutely aware that the members of the bachelor party are all laughing at me under their breath, but trying hard not to be rude to the dancer.

  Placing my hat on the table, bra still hooked to it, I witness a wonderfully sweet smell that wafts over me. It smells like flowers and sweetness and joy and warmth. Inhaling deeply, to take in as much of the scent as I can, I turn my eyes back to her. She has moved further away from me on the stage, and already I feel her absence. I want her back in front of me. Looking at me. Dancing for me. Teasing me.

  She glances over to me and winks just before she spins around with the fans in front and behind her. She faces the side with her fans in front of her body, and I can see the contours of her back, ass, and legs. Her ass is perfect as it curves away from the small of her back and then tucks at the top of her thighs. Her eyes bore into me as she rolls through her body, almost calling me to her with her body movements alone. I think I must be dreaming. No woman can have this kind of effect on me.

  As the song comes to an end, she moves the fans behind her, making them look like a large peacock tail. As she stands in this position, her chest is pushed forward, and I gaze upon that silhouette that captivated me in the dark, only this time it’s completely on display. When I thought seeing her figure from the side was perfection, I clearly had yet to behold her from the front. The glitter on her skin sparkles and calls attention to her perfectly shaped tits, which are now only covered by silver pasties. I begin to imagine what her nipples must look like under there. What they feel like. What they taste like. I take in the rest of her body, which has a beautiful, taut stomach, perfectly shaped hips- I love curvy hips -and long, lean, and muscular legs. As she catches my gaze one last time, I see the left corner of her mouth raise slightly, along with her eyebrow. I think about what those lips must taste like and how my name must sound coming from them. In an
instant, the lights turn out, and she is gone.

  I blink a few times to try to wrap my head around what just happened when I hear the thunderous roar of claps, whistles, and cat calls. I don’t remember them being this loud the whole time. I look around the table and see the bachelor party cheering, hi-fiving each other, and telling me what a “lucky bastard” I am.

  The show ends with a big finale of lots of buxom and beautiful girls on stage, bowing to rounds of applause, but I can’t seem to focus on anything. I wonder if I am going to see this amazing woman again. Then, I try and figure out why I even care if I see her again.

  Shaking my head out of that place, I feel a nudge in my side. I glance over to see Elkins displaying the cheesiest, toothy smile. I look back up to the stage, and there she is in a sleek corset, fringed panties, and some really hot stiletto heels. The crowd stands as she garners the loudest applause of all. She curtsies delicately, but still manages to look scintillating as she does it. She looks over to me, blows me a kiss, and moves upstage to meet the rest of the performers so that they can all take a full cast bow, which is customary after all performances.

  The curtains come down, and we begin to regroup, talking about our next destination. Elkins wants to go out to a bar, Wyllie wants to go back and party in the hotel suite, and some other guys want find a place to pick up women.

  As I am listening to everyone talking over one another, I hear a voice behind me say, “I think you have something that belongs to me.”

  Hearing that smooth, sexy, yet calming, voice, I immediately know who it is. Before I can turn around to view the lips speaking to me, Elkins steps in front of me.

  “Hey! You were smoking up there! You were the best one. So fu- I mean, freaking hot!” he gushes, sidling up to her.

  “Thank you so much. That’s really sweet of you to say,” she says as she scans her eyes across the now encircled group of men around her, and then stops on my gaze. Her smile grows wider and I see her eyes light up a little more too. “So, I take it you fellas enjoyed the show?” she asks, more pointedly to me.

  I smile in return and fully take in her sweet voice. I note that it has a hint of a southern twang, and I’ll be damned if it is not the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. I feel like I could listen to her speak all day. Every day.

  “Oh yeah!” “Yes!” “It was awesome!” “You were awesome!” I hear coming from various voices surrounding her.

  She moves closer to me and says, “And how about you over here? Do you share the same sentiments?”

  The mixture of that same aroma I beheld earlier from her bra, coupled with her direct statement to me, causes waves of joy and elation to ripple down my spine. Having never stuttered in my life, the paralyzation– and not I’m making up words -my mouth feels foreign to me as I reply, “I-I-I...I mean...yes, I did.”

  How I managed to earn a Juris Doctor from an esteemed university and argue for a living, but can’t manage to form one simple sentence is beyond me. It’s a problem by which I have never been afflicted before.

  Seeming un-phased, she continues with a wink, “Well, I’m so glad you did. I aim to please.”

  Elkins interrupts us again by shoving his body between the two of us, much to my chagrin. “What’s your name, hottie?”

  She gives Elkins a polite smile and replies, “Marta.”

  “Marta, huh? Well, it’s nice to meet you Marta,” he says with an emphasis on the name she just gave him. “I’m Elkins, this is Watson, McComber, Kirk, Denton, Joseph.” He gestures to each of the guys. “This is Wyllie, and this is his bachelor party,” Elkins says enthusiastically as he slaps Wyllie on the back.

  Her face lights up, and her voice rises in pitch. “Oh, you’re getting married? Congratulations! When’s the big day?”

  “Next weekend, ma’am. Next Saturday.”

  “Oh how exciting!” Marta leans in to give him a hug, “And please don’t call me ‘ma’am. It makes me feel old or something,” she playfully scolds him.

  “Sorry,” Elkins butts in, “It’s a habit. Military and all...”

  “All in the military, huh?” She looks across the row of men. “I figured as much.”

  “Why is that?” Elkins inquires.

  “Ummm... I don’t know…” she says thoughtfully as she looks us all up and down. “A large group of men who are all clean shaven with short hair, dressed nicely, and have no visible tattoos... Call it a hunch.”

  “That obvious, huh?” Elkins smiles.

  “Little bit,” she says as she wrinkles her nose, shrugs her shoulders, and puts her thumb and index finger close together, gesturing a small amount.

  She turns her attention to me. “How about you? Is there something that people call you, or shall you remain nameless?”

  I take a moment to languish in her facial features and get lost in the sparkle of what I think are green eyes.

  Before I can respond, Elkins opens his mouth again. “His name is Ashby.” Placing his hand to the side of his mouth as if he’s telling her a secret, he says in a loud whisper, “He’s the quiet one of the group. He doesn’t get out much.”

  “Really?” she asks, mocking surprise. “Is that true? Are you just a stick in the mud, or are you the quiet, sensitive, brooding type?”

  Bursting into laughter, all of the guys agree with Elkins when he exclaims, “Totally the first one!”

  Her smile lowers, but more into a look of intrigue. “Hmmm... He can’t be too much of a wet blanket as he did come to a burlesque show AND he is currently in possession of a sexy woman’s very expensive bra that she willingly gave to him.”

  She looks over at the other guys with amusement in her voice, “I’ve got to go mingle, guys. You gentlemen have a lovely evening.”

  As she walks away, I say loudly, “Are you going to let me give it to you?”

  She halts and slowly turns back toward me with an eyebrow arched.

  “Say again?”

  “Are you going to let me give it to you?” I say, a little slower and with more command.

  This time, the corner of her mouth curls up slyly, and I know she heard me.

  “So... Point one for the quiet guy as he helps prove my theory.”

  She saunters back over to me.

  “What theory is that?” I inquire.

  “That you’re not a stick in the mud at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. I bet you keep to yourself because you’re keeping up appearances and trying to hide who you really are,” she states as though it is fact.

  “And who might that be?”

  She squares her shoulders to mine, and I realize that even in her insanely tall heels, she’s still several inches shorter than me. But, I can’t help my smile as she confidently lifts her shoulders and looks me in the eyes.

  “I don’t know...you tell me. Perhaps you really play the ukulele in the tulips on the weekends. Or maybe you read joke books in your spare time. Or you could be a beast in the sack. I don’t know what it is, but we all have different masks we wear and personas we take on. We all have sides of us that we don’t want anyone else to know because if they did, they might think us weak or easily manipulated or even too vulnerable. But, whatever it is that we are trying to keep hidden can easily be brought out by the right person, be it good or bad.”

  I don’t know if I agree with what she just said, but I do know that I want to keep talking to her. For some reason, I feel at ease and comfortable with her. She’s clearly intelligent, and the hotness factor is a given, but she also dances burlesque for a living, so I can’t be the first chump she’s encountered.

  “Marta... Isn’t that Spanish for mistress?” I ask her, stepping closer and taking a deep inhale of her aroma. I don’t think I could ever get enough of it.

  She leans into me more cautiously. “Ah... An astute observation for a guy who doesn’t get out much. Habla Espanol?”

  “Si. Y tu?”

  “Muy poco,” she giggles. “I tend to butcher foreign languages. Have you heard this cr
azy southernness coming out of my mouth?”

  Her speech is much less cautious and more relaxed now, allowing me to hear even more of her accent, which just makes her even more appealing.

  “So, are you going to give it to me, or what?”

  “Huh?” I ask in confusion.

  She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

  I don’t know how she stands in those things.

  “My bra? I mean, I’d just let you keep it if it wasn’t so darn expensive to replace. Plus, I’m going to need it for tomorrow night’s show.”

  “Oh...uh…” I look around and spot it on the table, still attached to my hat.

  I reach for it and feel our hands brush against each other. What I feel in that split second of contact is something that makes no sense to me. A warm feeling charges through my fingertips and straight to my heart, and I believe I experience the sensation of my heart literally skipping a beat. Logically, none of this makes sense. Perhaps, it was just static electricity, but as I study her face, I can see she must have had a similar experience.

  She quickly pulls her hand away and laughs nervously. “I tell you...guys are so lucky that they don’t have to wear these things. Ugh... I hate them. I mean, who enjoys constricting any body parts with metal wire and some fabric? Worst idea ever. If it were up to me, no one would ever wear them, and women would just have to let the chips fall where they may.”

  I can tell she’s nervously rambling because her speech is more rapid, but she seems to be amused by something she said because her chest begins rising and falling in silent laughter.

  With a calming sigh, she tells me, “You know, what? Just keep it. Consider it your consolation prize, because I am pretty sure you’re going to deserve one after tonight.” She gestures over to the group of men who are buying rounds of shots at the bar, hitting on women, and dancing poorly.

  God they’re obnoxious. And I’m with them. I guess I have to babysit them the rest of the night.

  “Are you sure?” I inquire, “I think it’s just hooked and I can wiggle it-”