Finding Spencer

by Kimberly Knight

  I waited for Christy in my Range Rover in front of her house, dreaming of the chocolate brown eyes of the girl on the treadmill. It had been a long time since I felt this way about anyone, and I didn’t even know her name. I didn’t know what her voice sounded like. I didn’t know if she was single. I didn’t know her age. I didn’t even know if she was into guys. Scratch that, she was, I could tell by the way she smiled at me.

  As I waited, I got a text from Jason.

  Jason: Did you do it?

  Me: Do what?

  Jason: Ask the hottie out?

  Me: No.

  Jason: She wasn’t interested?

  Me: I didn’t talk to her.

  Jason: You’re a pussy.

  Me: Fuck you. Leave me alone, I’m waiting for Christy so I can break it off for good.

  Jason: Or to have your dick sucked.

  Me: Fuck no! I’m done, for real. She’s crazy! Speaking of crazy, I got to go.

  I didn’t wait for Jason to text me back. Christy pulled into her driveway, and I got out of the car, ready to get this shit over with. Luckily, it didn’t look like her roommate, Dawn, was home. I didn’t need two of them ganging up against me.

  “Hey, Honey,” Christy said, getting out of her car and reaching to hug me.

  I stepped back, not wanting any contact. “I’m all sweaty.”

  “I like you sweaty.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “You’re—you’re breaking up with me?” she huffed, her face getting red.

  “Let’s go inside,” I said, reaching for her hand to lead her into her house.

  “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” she asked again, raising her voice more and snatching her hand from mine.

  “Christy, open the door please,” I said, motioning to the doorknob as we stepped closer.

  She finally fished her keys out of her purse and opened the door, the smell of marijuana hitting me in the face. Christy and her roommate, Dawn, liked to smoke a lot. I didn’t. I wasn’t into any form of drugs—I didn’t need them. I didn’t mind that Christy was a pothead; it actually mellowed her out, and I could manage her mood swings better with her high.

  “Why are you breaking up with me?” she asked, slamming the door behind her.

  “I’m not the one for you,” I replied, turning around to face her as she stood in the doorway. I knew she was standing there on purpose so I couldn’t leave. Little did she know it wouldn’t work this time.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Come sit down.” I walked to her couch and gestured for her to sit next to me.

  She didn’t move. “I don’t want to.”

  “Okay, well, I can’t be with you anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m too busy for a girlfriend.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she huffed, rolling her blue eyes.

  “You know I’m busy with the Seattle gym. Once we get the building, I’m going to be traveling. It’s better if we just break it off now before we get deeper into the relationship.”

  “‘Deeper into the relationship’? What does that even mean?” Christy’s voice was getting louder. I knew at any moment that she would blow. The times I tried breaking up with her before were the same way. She couldn’t speak to me as a rational person. She couldn’t hear my thoughts, my feelings, my reasoning. She just didn’t care. If it wasn’t what she wanted, then she flipped the fuck out.

  “You need to find someone who will love you.” The moment the L word came out of my mouth, I knew I was in for it. I never told Christy I loved her. I didn’t. She told me all the time, but I never said it back.

  “Why don’t you love me? Why aren’t I enough for you?”

  “We just don’t have anything in common, and I don’t feel the same way,” I said, shrugging.

  “We have plenty in common.”

  “Like what?” I challenged her.

  “Like…you like to get head, and I like to give head.”

  “Don’t turn this sexual. It’s not going to work this time.”

  “It always works.” She smiled.

  Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, I swear.

  “Not this time. Listen, it’s really over—for good.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t know how many more times and how many more ways, I can tell you that we’re over. It’s really over. Please stop calling me, stop texting me, stop coming to my place, and don’t come to the gym.”

  “Why are you being an asshole?” she asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.

  “I’m not. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to work out between us. There is no future with us.”

  “There’s someone else, huh? I knew you were cheating on me!” Christy shouted, her hands and arms gesturing in front of her.

  Usually I answered no when she accused me of cheating, but it never worked before. “Yes.”

  “What?” Her head snapped back in my direction, her eyes squinting, and I knew the claws were coming out. “There’s someone else?”

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Breaking up with Christy went as expected. I repeated myself over and over until she cried herself to sleep on her couch, and then I slipped out. She continued to show up at my condo a few times, called non-stop, and during the times I was free to work out with the girl I still hadn’t said a word to, Christy showed up, and I had to escort her off the property.

  Thursday night, I ended up threatening Christy with a restraining order, but I don’t think it clicked in her head that I was serious. She still called throughout the night, but I didn’t answer. Going away to Vegas for the weekend was going to be peaceful. I was ready to get drunk, win money playing poker, and just spend time with my friends—plus see a few naked chicks when we went to a strip club for my buddy Ben’s birthday.

  Jason and I went into work early Friday morning so we could catch our flight to Vegas on time. I still hadn’t talked to the brown-haired beauty. I’d seen her come into Club 24 every day but last Friday. I know she likes to take the kickboxing classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and runs on the treadmill the rest of the days. The only day I was able to get away from work—or Christy—and go down to work out with her, was last Thursday. I went to the kickboxing class, but once again, I couldn’t speak to her. I should have. I didn’t know that Christy was going to be so difficult. A week later and she was still a pain in my ass. Part of me also felt like my chance with the brunette hottie was slipping away.

  When I would try to go down to talk to her, Christy would show up. I saw my hottie, but I wasn’t able to get near her. She was starting to smile at other guys, learn everything about the gym, and make a home for herself. We wanted that for all the guests of Club 24, but I didn’t want my brunette hottie to find someone else.

  I needed to get my shit together.

  I wasn’t sure what my problem was. It was as if she overtook my brain and tied my tongue so I couldn’t form a sentence—couldn’t speak around her. Every day I told myself that I would at least say hello, but then I would see her and…nothing…or Christy would fuck it up. I felt like a teenage boy with his first crush.

  Part of me didn’t want to subject the poor girl to the drama surrounded by Christy. I wanted Christy gone for good before I started a new relationship, but time was tickin’, and I didn’t want to lose my chance.

  “Just get the restraining order,” Becca said, bringing me out of my thoughts. We were in a town car on the way to SFO for our flight to Vegas. I should have been thinking about having a good time, but I wasn’t.

  “I know. I’ve never had to get the law involved to keep a chick away from me before.”

  “What about that one night stand right after we opened Austin?” Jason asked.

  “Oh God, what was her name?” I haven’t been with a lot of chicks, but I’ve had a few one nighters, and the one that Jason was referring to wanted to be more than that. I’m not sure what happened to that girl. Just like
Christy, she would show up at the gym. Luckily I never told her where I lived—just that I was the owner of the new gym in town.

  “I took care of her,” Becca said.

  Jason and I both turned our heads to her as she sat in between us in the car. “What does that mean?” Jason asked his wife.

  “I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re thinking” She laughed. “I just talked to her and told her that she was being a psycho and if she didn’t stop coming to the gym, then I would have her arrested. I can say the same to Christy if you want.”

  “Let’s wait until after Vegas. I don’t want to think about Christy, and let’s hope she doesn’t show up, too!” I said.

  “If she does, I’ll fuck her shit up,” Becca said.

  Becca—my best friend—the sister I never had—my savior. I would kill for her. I would do anything for her, and she apparently would do anything for me.

  “Oh, a catfight. Will you do it naked or in a mud pit—no, with bubbles—water, bubbles and white t-shirts?” Jason asked.

  The driver of the town car looked in the rearview mirror with a smile.

  “Yeah, I’d like to see that, too,” I said, winking at her.

  “Men,” she said and huffed, crossing her arms.

  Jason and I laughed as we pulled up to Departures at SFO.

  *~*~*

  We waited at the gate for our flight, planning what we were doing for the night. Becca wanted to go dancing. Jason and I wanted to just go hit the tables, but we knew we had to please Becca for the night, because the following day, Jason and I were getting our fill of tits and ass at Ben’s birthday party, and Becca was cool with Jason going, so we didn’t want to piss her off.

  “I heard Lavo is cool,” Becca said to my right.

  I was sitting between her and Jason. It wasn’t abnormal for us; we’d known each other far too long, and Jason and Becca didn’t need to be side by side 24/7. Any outsider might think she was my girlfriend, but there was none of that. We were close, but not that close. Never had a threesome—nothing—despite me and Jason joking around with Becca about it. Jason would never share.

  “Whatever you want to do, Honey,” Jason said.

  “And we can find a girl for Brando,” Becca said, nudging my shoulder as I looked down at the floor—thinking.

  Yeah—I was a single man, I could hook-up with whomever I wanted to in Vegas. “Sounds good to…” I said, looking up and directly towards the brunette hottie from the gym.

  Our eyes met as the girl she was with yelled, “Damn,” dragging out the word. “He is hot, Spence. And I think he’s going to Vegas, too.”

  Yeah…I was. I flashed her my smile like an idiot. I’d been smiling at her every time I’d seen her for two weeks and now was no different. “There’s the girl from the gym,” I said under my breath to Becca as I slightly turned my head towards her.

  “Where?” she asked.

  I looked up, but she was gone.

  *~*~*

  I knew the hottie was on the plane with us. I heard her friend say that they were going to Vegas, too, but I didn’t see her board. We sat towards the front of the plane, and I tried looking for her—but I never saw her.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of game we were playing. We’d both shared many glances over the past two weeks. Maybe she wanted me to approach her, and I wanted to. Monday, I was talking to her no matter what. If Christy showed, I would sic Becca on her. I never wanted to see Christy again…not after the smile the brunette hottie gave me when she saw me at the gate.

  Spence? What kind of name is Spence?

  Before I could switch my phone to airplane mode, I got a text from Christy. I groaned as I read it.

  Christy: Have fun in Vegas. I’ll be thinking about you.

  I won’t be thinking about you. My brunette hottie is on the plane, I thought as I switched to airplane mode.

  *~*~*

  “Alright, do you see a chick you want me to approach for you?” Becca asked.

  “Are you serious right now?” I asked, shouting back over the loud thump of the music.

  “Obviously you need me to seal the deal for you, because you’ve never approached that girl at the gym.”

  “She’s right.” Jason laughed.

  “I don’t need you to do anything to get me laid, thank you very much. You know why I haven’t approached her.”

  “Yeah and that is the lousiest excuse—ever!”

  “Monday alright?”

  “Dude.” Jason nudged me and tilted his head for me to follow his gaze.

  Her.

  She and her friend were at the other end of the bar, laughing and taking a shot of something. “Hey!” I said to the bartender to get his attention. “See those girls down there?” I asked, pointing to her and her friend. “I want to buy them another round.”

  “Alright,” he said. I handed him my card to charge the shots.

  “See. I’m taking the initiative,” I said to Becca with a smirk.

  She yelled over the music, “You mean, you’re becoming a man?”

  I laughed at her. Yeah, I was a pussy. There was just something about her that fucked with me.

  The bartender placed the shots in front of them, nodded in my direction, and her gaze followed. I smiled at her, tipping my beer bottle towards her, and she turned abruptly back to her friend, slapping her arm in the process.

  I smiled. She wanted me—I wanted her. I could do this. I could just go up and talk to her, dance with her—simple.

  “Get your hands off of me,” I heard Becca shout.

  I turned, seeing a guy with blonde hair and blue eyes holding up his hands in defense.

  Jason was right in his face. “Don’t touch my wife!”

  I stepped in between them. “Let’s not get kicked out. Dude, beat it. She ain’t interested. She’s married.”

  “That’s okay, brunettes are more my type.” Surfer boy turned and left.

  I turned back around, but didn’t see my brunette hottie at the bar anymore. My eyes scanned the club and fell on her sexy ass as she danced with her friend. Her hips swayed side to side as I felt my dick growing in my jeans. I watched her out on the dance floor, living carefree, and I knew—I just knew, she was the girl for me.

  I didn’t know her name—Spence maybe, but I didn’t care. I was drawn to her. I liked the way she carried herself, how she blushed every time she saw me…and that smile—fuck!

  I continued to watch her and her friend for a few songs. Her body glistened with sweat—just like at the gym. The club disappeared; all girls disappeared—but her.

  “Who sings this?” I asked Becca and Jason, not taking my eyes off of her.

  “Jeremih and 50 cent,” Becca replied while Jason shrugged, taking a pull of his beer.

  “I like it.”

  Before I knew it, my feet had a mind of their own, and I was walking towards the dance floor—staring at her ass in her short, black skirt. Other men danced around her, some trying to dance with her, but she showed no interest.

  I pushed through people; there was no turning back. This was my chance. My chance to get close to her. My chance to dance with her—touch her smooth skin, smell her perfume.

  When I got to her, her friend turned around, her eyes growing wide. She knew who I was. Good. This chick had obviously talked about me—a lot. I smiled at her friend and stepped up to the back of her, our bodies flush. She tensed and then relaxed—she knew it was me.

  I pulled her closer, her ass grinding into my dick, and our bodies swayed as these Jeremih and 50 cent characters sang about grinding booties and how they just want her down on them—and I did. I wanted her ass rubbing on me forever. She was so fucking beautiful. I craved her at night. Dreamt about her. Fucked her in my head as I pleasured myself nightly—sometimes twice.

  And then she touched me. Her hand reached backwards, running through my short, brown hair and I tried hard—like really hard—not to throw her over my shoulder and bring her to my room and fuck her all nig
ht. Instead, I pulled her closer against me—like there was any distance between us—there wasn’t. I liked the way she was grinding her ass on me. Her perfect ass moved perfectly with me and my hard cock as it rubbed against her. It felt good. So good.

  I couldn’t take it any longer; I needed to smell her skin.

  I bent down, moved her hair to the side, and ran my nose along the side of her neck. My tongue had a mind of its own, slipping out and tasting her before I realized what I was doing. I didn’t care if her body had a light sheen of sweat—I wanted her. Her soft skin felt nice against my tongue. I could lick every inch of her for hours, but not in the club.

  My cock was aching. Wanting to be touched, stroked, sucked—fucked. I didn’t think this girl was a one-night stand type, and honestly I didn’t want her to be. I wanted to take her out and get to know her. We lived in the same town. She worked out at my gym. She wasn’t going to be a rebound fuck. She was going to be mine. The first time we would fuck, I would take my time—memorizing her entire body. What she wanted, what she craved, how she liked to be fucked—everything.

  Just as the song ended, the DJ started playing the next one. It was a song I actually recognized: a remix of Alex Clare’s song, Too Close.

  I needed to look in her eyes. I needed to see her. Her ass felt nice against me, but the first thing I noticed wasn’t her ass. It was her beautiful face, and now that it was this close to me, I had to look at it.

  I spun her around, my right leg going between hers, and I could feel the heat from her hot pussy radiating through my jeans. Our eyes locked, and she instantly wrapped her arms around my neck, running her hands through my hair again. I wanted her hands on more than my neck, but I could wait. This wasn’t the time or the place. We weren’t horny teenagers, but I was fucking horny now that I had her so close and rubbing on me.

  My hands moved down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her harder against my leg. I knew she could feel the denim between her legs. I wanted her to feel it. I’d never danced this way with a girl before, but I wanted to see her shatter beneath me…come apart with all these people around, not knowing that we had never met or spoken.