Her eyes roll to the skies and I reach for her hand to pull her up. She takes it and I pull her to me and my arms go around her. I start to sway and dance with her. “I’m so sorry I thought you had a humble bone in your body. Forgive me, Joe.”
I pull her a little bit closer, smelling her hair. It’s pulled back with a headband, spilling down her back and smells like tangerines. “You’re forgiven, just dance with me while I try not to make a joke about my humble bone,” I say when I feel her pulling back a little. She relaxes, even laughing at my dumb joke. We just stand in the middle of my music room rocking back and forth to no music but our own.
Eventually, I let her go and she heads down the hall to her room. I know I should go to bed, I have to get up at the ass crack and pick up some pieces for the bannister and all of the wood for the stairs. Then spend the day dealing with Don and Denver, my carpenter. Denver is basically Jesus. He is a long-haired hippie, wears these tunics that look like robes, and he’s a carpenter. Most of the crew call him Jesus. Marisol and Luz started it but they pronounce it Hay-seuss instead, Den gets it but I don’t think he likes it very much. Anyway, Don is tiring most days, but he and Denver together are downright exhausting. Because of the way Denver looks, a lot of people assume he’s this free-thinking dude. He is actually the most conservative of all my friends and employees. Don, who was one of the first hippies ever, likes to give him a hard time and talks politics constantly. I stay out of it but it can get to be a bit much even as a bystander.
Instead of heading to bed, I go downstairs and outside to the hot tub. I fire it up and go back in to get myself a beer. When I’m back outside, I take all of my clothes off at record speed and jump in the tub. It’s a chilly night, like most in our fair city. I rest my head on the side and close my eyes, letting my day and everything else melt away. The jets are loud so I don’t hear Betsy slide the door open and come outside. When she gets in, I feel the movement of the water and open my eyes. Bad idea. She has her hair up in a cotton candy swirl of a bun on her head, her face is clear and pretty. Her bare shoulders peek out of the water and my eyes trace the petals of the dahlia at the base of her throat.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she says back and settles her head back, eyes closed just like I was. Except she places her feet gently on mine. I’m 100% down for the hot tub footsie happening and return my head back but I keep my eyes open. I won’t pass up an opportunity to see her when she’s right before me.
We stay like that for about half an hour. I can’t take the heat for more than that so I’m the first to move. I stretch my arms above my head and then stand in front of her. Quickly, I realize my dick is face level and turn and hop out. I’m not sure but her eyes don’t open until I’m about half turned so she didn’t get a full face of penis. She did finally get a glimpse of my full moon. Lucky lady.
I grab a towel and dry myself off slowly. Betsy sits up a little and her tits come up out of the water. Her nipples sharp points when they hit the cool air. She just sits and watches me so I drag it out a little. Take a little bit longer drying my hair with the towel barely covering my abs. Then I finish the show drying my backside, dick swinging. Finally, I tuck the towel around my waist, give her a big ole obnoxious wink, and head inside.
I only realize my mistake once I’m in my bathroom showering off. I left before she got out.
Just a Creep
HERE I AM AGAIN. IT’S Thursday and I’m back at the same table—it’s my table now. I’ve reserved it for the whole weekend. Lady Marmalade is just as crowded on a Thursday as it was on Saturday and I’m just as much as a fucking creeper as I was then. I’m not sure why I am here, alone, sneaking around. Maybe I like having this for just me. I mean, me and the hundred or so people here. I think I just like to think she’s dancing just for me, no one else I know has seen her like this yet.
I’m half-way through my first gin and tonic when the lights go down. There’s a ripple effect with the lights that make the stage look like water. Wicked Game starts playing and from behind a curtain I didn’t see, Betsy appears. She is in a two-piece, the bottoms an iridescent pearl, the top a complicated dark green with silky fringe. At first, it doesn’t seem like much at all, but when she starts to dance, undulating her body across the stage, the lights hit the hidden sparkles on the top and on her skin. Her tattoos again look like they’ve been enhanced, I want to ask her about it but that would give me away. Her hair is in a high braid on the top of her head and I’m reminded of the first day I met her. She’s wearing her stage make-up and a lot of sparkles so it’s hard to see her eyes. Again, she moves sensually around the stage, touching herself, touching my soul.
There’s a moment where I swear she looks right at me. This moment is also the one where she unties her top at her neck and shimmies as it rolls down to reveal her breasts. They are covered in more glitter or whatever to make them reflect the lights and enchant the audience. She dances for a few more bars of the song and is joined by another woman who also miraculously appears from behind a curtain. This woman immediately glides her hands around Betsy, sliding them up to cup her glittery tits. It’s super hot, but I’m not happy that someone other than me is touching her that intimately. In my head, I know it’s just an act and Betsy probably doesn’t see it as anything more than a performance. She and her partner begin to dance together and it’s gorgeous. The other woman has black hair and is wearing a similar costume, but her top is blue. They dance and touch each other and eventually Betsy removes her partner’s top. They roll apart until they are on either side of the stage when a third dancer suddenly appears from the curtain. She is unreasonably tall and very blonde. Her costume has a deep crimson top which she spends about 30 seconds unwinding from behind her neck until she is topless too. All three come together in the middle of the stage dancing and touching each other. It’s almost too much to look at. The music starts to wind down and Betsy slides to the floor on her knees, legs spread wide, she is still but because of the lights effects, it looks like she is still moving.
I’m not sure what happens with the other two because I only see my Bets. Her chest is moving with her breath, a bit heavy from her exertions. The shimmer of her breasts moving with the lights and her breaths are mesmerizing. I want to lie and tell you I was gazing into her eyes, but I wasn’t. I’m team glitter tits all the way.
There are a few more acts after that and I have another drink. When the tango couple comes out, I know Betsy is on next and I do something you’ll think is weird. I leave. I get in a cab and have it take me home.
When I get there, Jack is in the living room watching a movie with a pretty girl. This must be the girl from his class because I see her crutch leaning against the coffee table. He introduces me and I find out she’s the Kel he was visiting the other night. I raise my eyebrows at him and he gives me a warning look. My hands go up, I say my goodnights and head to my room.
I undress and get into my bed, feeling changed again. The vision of Betsy being caressed by other people conflicts me. Visually it was appealing but deep down I didn’t like it. Maybe I’m feeling a bit possessive, an unfamiliar feeling. My hands fold behind my head and I lay there, staring up, trying to process my feelings.
I must have fallen asleep, naked on top of my covers because I wake up in the dark, my head turning to my chair. Betsy is there, her hair down and loose around her shoulders. She is asleep, book in her lap, mouth open in her soft snore. I get up, slide some sweats on and lean down to pick her up. She startles as I lift her, my face buries into her hair. “Please tell me you put pants on,” she says, her voice raspy with sleep.
I chuckle, tightening my hold on her as I walk down the hall. “Why? So you’ll be disappointed?”
As I place her gently on her mattress, she sneaks a look and I don’t imagine the wistful look she gives my covered crotch. “Ha, you wish.”
“Betsy, I wish a lot of things,” I say as I kiss her forehead then look in her eyes.
“Thanks for put
ting me to bed, Joe.”
“Anytime.”
* * *
The next morning, I make a Black Jet run out of guilt, and because we are out of coffee. When I get back, Jack and Kel are sitting at the bar quietly arguing. Kel notices me first and nudges my brother.
“Hey, bro, please tell me one of those coffees is for me?”
“I’ve got a tray of four coffees and a full bag of pastries. Do you think it’s all for me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You can be selfish with caffeine and baked goods.”
I hand Kel a coffee and then empty the bag onto a plate and offer it to her. She takes a strawberry scone and smiles at me. “Thanks, Joe.”
“You’re welcome, Kel,” I say, returning her smile. Turning to my brother I shove a coffee at him and grab two danish, blueberry, his favorite, put them on a plate and walk away with it and the remaining coffees.
“Hey! You took my faves.” He looks like a sad little panda and I laugh and skip up the stairs and knock on Betsy’s door.
“Room service,” I call out in falsetto.
The door opens and I am rewarded with an already showered and ready Betsy. She is wearing a tight grass-green skirt and a slinky pink top. She looks like springtime and I want to roll around her garden. Her smile at my offering is wide and friendly. “You are my favorite person today Joe Davis.” She grabs the coffee and the danish, heads to my room and plops down on my chair. “This is officially my new favorite spot in all the land.”
I laugh and sit on the ottoman facing her. “Did you get a load of Jack and Kel down there?” I ask my thumb over my shoulder.
She nods. “Yes, I went down before my shower and he had her up against the fridge, tongue down her throat. I tiptoed out of there. Thank god you brought supplies.” She pops half of the danish in her mouth and takes a big swig of coffee.
“They were at a respectable distance both times I saw them, now I’m bummed I didn’t catch them,” I say fake pouting.
“Like last night when I got home from work and they were clearly getting busy in his room,” she says. “They were so loud I had to come into your room and read until they were done.”
“Oh boy, well I guess the ‘can I borrow you’ line worked.” We laugh and finish up our breakfast.
The kitchen is empty when we bring our dishes down and the “kids” are long gone. I throw the coffee cups in the trash as Betsy puts the remaining pastries in the fridge. When she closes it, I crowd her, my hands on either side of her head. “Is this how they were when you caught them?” I ask as she huffs out the breath she was holding.
“Just like this Joe,” she says, then angles her head, kisses my cheek and then ducks out from where I have her caged. I turn and lean my back against the cold metal watching her grab her things for work.
“See you later?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, face flushed. “You will.”
Just Addicted
IT TURNS INTO A WEIRD night. Our show at Bix starts out great. Halfway into it, Frank gets some unwelcome news from an unwelcome source. His lady’s ex-fiancé came to our show and told Frank something Mikey should have told him. He says he’s okay, but I know better. I also know to give him space until he wants to talk about it. Frank is not the type who needs people to push him to open up. He will come to you when he needs you and no sooner. He’ll come to me.
He thinks I don’t know he calls me all sorts of names, denies being my best friend and secretly wants to kill me sometimes. I do know all these things. We have been friends a long time and there’s no one other than Jack that I consider more a part of my family. Frank know this too and he values my friendship, even though he’d be loathed to admit that. I’d do anything for him. Even put up with his surly ass and the sometimes hurtful things he says to me.
We finish our show around 10 pm and I take care of Frank’s stuff so he can bolt out and deal with talking to Mikey. I drive home, put our gear away and then call a cab. I don’t even change out of my tuxedo—we get really classy when we play Bix. When I arrive at Lady Marmalade, it’s well after 11 and it’s an intermission. I take my reserved table and nurse a whiskey on the rocks. Feels like a whiskey kind of night.
The lights go all the way dark except for a single spotlight in the corner of the stage. A song I recognize as a slowed down version of Teardrop by Massive Attack plays. Very slowly and seductively a stockinged leg slinks into the spotlight, followed by a gloved hand, then followed by a huge dark green feathered fan and then another matching fan. With both fans covering her body, Betsy steps out fully into the spotlight. Her hair is again in some complicated braid situation with the rest cascading down her back. Her stockings are a sparkling black and thigh-high connected with garters. Other than the delicate stilettos I can’t tell if she’s wearing anything else since the feathers cover her torso.
The dance she does is complicated and such an artful tease I can barely stay seated. Betsy works the fans so that we never know what she’s hiding. It’s sexy, seductive and stunning. Just like her. About halfway through the song, she’s joined by some other dancers and I realize this is the finale dance. My eyes stay glued to the only dancer that matters. When the song comes to an end, a raunchy jazzy instrumental starts and people start whistling and whooping. Each dancer one at a time takes a walk across the stage, ending with a sharp close of their fan, revealing the various states of nudity. There’s no downstairs action, Betsy had mentioned that it was topless and g-string only. No full frontal, which initially I thought was boring, but boy was I wrong.
Still, I couldn’t look away from Betsy. She continues to dance and move her fans until it’s her turn and she’s the only one on stage once again. She draws out the tease a little more until finally, she raises the fans overhead, displaying her gorgeous body. Her only other piece of clothing is the tiniest little sparkly g-string. Her tattoos are on full display and are stunning. Nothing matches her lovely face though, and I know I’m probably the only person not focusing on her heaving breasts, but on her glittering eyes. She’s looking right at me and I know she sees me. Whether she knows it’s me is the mystery.
The lights go down and then seconds later the house lights are on. I make my way down the stairs to the side exit. As I’m leaving, I turn my attention down the long hallway and at the end I see Betsy. She’s in a feathery robe and is staring in my direction. I turn and head out the side door and jump in a waiting cab. As it pulls from the curb, I see her at the door chatting with some fans, her eyes set on the cab. I think the jig is up.
* * *
I’m home for all of ten minutes when I hear the front door open and then slam shut. I’ve managed to get my tux off and hung up back in my closet, a quick shower and am sitting in my chair when she knocks on my door.
“Bets?” I ask. Knowing full well it’s her.
She opens the door and enters. Her hair is down and natural and her face is make-up free. She’s wearing a long coat and when she takes it off, I can see that she’s still wearing the feathery robe and not much else. “Hey, you look cozy,” she says, looking me over. “How was Bix?”
“It was interesting,” I say. “Frank got some bad news in the middle so the second half wasn’t our best showing.” She is standing directly in front of me and I idly rub her fancy robe in between my fingers. “You should go change and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
She leans down, pushing my shoulders back. “I will, I really want to hear the whole story, Joe. The whole story.”
I get her meaning and I have no idea why I’m playing this silly game with her. Obviously, she knows I’ve been coming to her shows and not said anything. I think I’m just going to keep playing dumb about it unless she asks me point blank which she has yet to do. I’m leaning back in the chair when I hear her shuffle back into the room. She’s in short shorts and a tank top and I’m regretting having her change. She plops down on the ottoman and places her feet in my lap. I laugh but take a foot and start to rub her instep.
“Lay it on me, Joe,” she says and I dig a little deeper into her foot.
“My friend, Fucking Frank, has been dating Mikey for a while now but she lives in Sonoma and he lives here in the city, Outer Sunset. They are spooky together, like twins. They were born the same day in the same hospital at the same time. They have the same hipster clothing style and wear the same shit all the time—it’s fucking weird if you ask me.” I shrug. “They make it work though and are really good for each other. They are going through a rough spot because of the living situation and Mikey’s job. She’s a winemaker so location is important.”
“I get that. Who wants a long-distance relationship? Sounds lonely.” She stares out my window as she says this and it hits me that she may be projecting a bit. I know she’s a loner, but I didn’t think she was sad about it.
“Definitely not Frank, he’s a stage five clinger,” I say and she laughs. “Anyway, they’ve been figuring it out and then her ex, stupid fucker named Archie, came to our show tonight and told Frank that Mikey had taken a job with her parents and was looking at real estate in Calistoga. My Frankie boy was all bent out of shape because she trusted this d-bag instead of him, the guy she’s in love with. Frank got all sensitive about it and left after our last set. I brought his bass home and I’ve been hanging.”
She eyes me warily. “Poor Frank. I understand him being upset. Sounds like there was a breakdown in communication mixed with some trust issues. I hope they work it out.”
My hand moves to her other foot and we sit quietly, staring while I dig into her other foot. It feels a little bit like she’s staring me down, but I’m the master at staring contests so she gets nowhere. I finish my foot rub and just hold her feet in my hands and stare at them. She has cute feet and I tell her that.
“You have the cutest feet.”
She pulls her legs from my lap and stands. “I know,” she says and leaves my room.
“Goodnight?” I ask and she doesn’t hear me.
Just Joe ~ Jen Luerssen Page 8