No One to Hold

by Arell Rivers

  A few minutes later, I walk toward the main entrance, nodding at the nameless bouncers standing guard. They drop the rope and let me pass.

  Once inside, I’m greeted by a couple of Barbie Dolls who offer me a logoed parka and gloves. They eagerly help me put them on my body, but from the lascivious looks they’re casting in my direction, I bet they would rather be taking all my clothing off.

  “Thanks, ladies.” I offer them a smile, and am rewarded with giggles. The brunette, by far the more aggressive of the pair, adds, “Find me later and I’ll be sure to get your motor revved up.”

  Choosing not to respond to her suggestion, I enter the main club area. I haven’t been here in months, but it’s exactly as I remember. The bars, furniture, everything is made of ice. The lighting makes the most of the venue, sending different colors and patterns reflecting off the ice. The chilly temperature seeps into my consciousness, snapping me out of my reverie.

  I walk straight toward the back bar situated adjacent to the VIP section, where Rose has arranged for Jessie and me to meet. On my approach, I see a bundled up Rose deep in conversation with Brandan. At least she got in without a problem. Like we’re connected, she lifts her head in my direction and I give her a barely noticeable nod, which she returns. All set. Catching the bartender’s eye, I order a beer and check my watch: 10:30. Time to set the plan into motion.

  Taking a sip from my bottle, I survey the VIP section. Several women give me “come hither” looks, which I politely ignore. I sign a woman’s cocktail napkin and give her a kiss on the cheek, causing her to swoon.

  Jessie and Brandan are now seated at the same table, a few chairs apart. All set. I need to give the impression that I’m on a mission to get Jessie back, so I stalk determinedly over to her. I hear a buzz erupt. Feel the pricks of many pairs of eyes following my progress.

  I stop in front of my friend, and Jessie places her hand on my arm. She asks, “Can we talk?”

  Making a show of being romantically interested in Jessie, I lean down and give her what I hope appears to be a possessive kiss on the lips. They’re the wrong lips. I brace for what’s coming next.

  Slap!

  Damn, that woman didn’t sugar coat it. Putting my hand to my cheek, which has to be bright red, I step back. The crowd has fallen silent; everyone in the VIP section is openly staring at us. They pull out cell phones to capture this lover’s quarrel, manufactured by my girlfriend. The irony.

  Moving my jaw back and forth, I say in a low roar, “Jessie, you can’t want to be with him.” I nod toward Brandan. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Cole, I’ve moved on. And, yes, I’m with Brandan.” Jessie’s voice is low, but loud enough to be overheard by the onlookers. She looks at Brandan with what appears to be true devotion. She’s good.

  “But we belong together. I know that now.” My volume is increasing. I reach out and grab at her shoulders. She shrugs me away.

  “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” she says, shaking her head.

  Brandan approaches us with a shit-eating grin on his face. I smell the alcohol on his breath as he places a possessive arm around Jessie. Looking directly at me, he pulls her to him and plants a kiss on her lips.

  “You can’t be serious, Jessie!” I shout.

  Breaking away from him, she gives me a sad look and says, “We’re over, Cole. I’m happy with Brandan, happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  She pauses dramatically, but not overly so, allowing her words to sink in for our audience. “Just go away. Find someone else to take to your backroom.”

  I’m impressed with her reference to the title of my first album, but I can’t show it. “Low blow, Jessie. Well, don’t you worry, I’ll find plenty of willing women to join me. And when you’re done with him, don’t even think about crawling back to me. We’re through.”

  Feigning disgust, I slam back the rest of my beer and leave the empty bottle on Jessie’s icy table. “Have a nice life.”

  Storming away, I join a group of about ten women who all seem more than happy to ease my pain. I make a big show of ordering tequila shots for everyone. It gives me no small amount of pleasure to know the bill is going on Brandan’s tab.

  Once we all have shots in hand, plus salt and limes, I get the group’s attention and say, “Here’s to a night that’s off the charts, ladies! Lick it, slam it, suck it!”

  A chorus of giggles erupts, and the ladies chant each instruction before acting it out. Damn, tequila does go down easy. I order another round and a bottle of beer. Two shots for me will be enough.

  After the second round is delivered, one brazen chick approaches me. “Body shot?” she offers.

  Fuck. I can’t refuse her, but I have no desire to drink tequila from her bellybutton. I give what I hope looks like a wolfish grin rather than a sick grimace, and answer, “Gladly, darlin.’” I don’t dare glance in Rose’s direction.

  She quickly opens her parka, lays down across an ice table, lifts her top up to her lacy black bra. At least it’s too cold for her to take it all the way off. Trying not to think too much about what’s about to happen, I whisper, “Lick it.”

  Dutifully, I turn her head and push her bleach-blonde hair to the side, licking her neck and sprinkling salt onto it. I position myself between her open legs, drape myself over her and take a long swipe of the salt with my tongue. She shudders. The circle of women around us are all hooting and hollering their encouragement. Cell phones are capturing every second of the fiasco.

  Ignoring them all, I murmur, “Slam it.”

  I take my shot and pour it directly into her bellybutton. Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, I immediately bend down, grab her around the waist, and tilt her hips. I bring my lips to her navel and coax the liquid down my throat. Not even the burning of the tequila can erase my guilt for doing this. Please don’t see me now, Rose.

  “Suck it,” I mutter, much to the delight of the girls around me, especially the blonde chick on the table.

  I crawl up her body, supporting my weight with my arms, and watch her position the lime in her mouth. I just have to get that lime into my mouth and I can get off her. Smirking down at her, I mentally curse Brandan for the hundredth time tonight and promise the bartenders an overly generous tip on his behalf.

  As I position my mouth above the lime, the circle around us chants, “Suck it! Suck it!”

  I extend my lips to grab the lime. Of course, Blondie won’t let me off so easily. She pushes her mouth to mine, encircling both her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and pulses into me. Really?

  Gaining possession of the lime, I retreat up and away from her, disentangling her body from mine. I hold up the lime as if it were a trophy and the group erupts in applause. Blondie is smiling rapturously up at me. Just how many of those shots has she already had?

  Offering her a hand, I graciously help her smooth down her shirt and refasten the parka. The old me wouldn’t have bothered—I would have been looking for an alcove where I could explore what she is so freely offering. The new me, however, returns her to her friends, grabs my beer and makes a deliberate show of looking for Jessie to gauge how much more of this I have to endure before escaping. I’m terrified of what I’ll see on Rose’s face.

  Jessie is sitting on Brandan’s lap, staring at me with what appears to be venom in her eyes. Brandan’s arm is around her, and he’s nibbling at her ear. Please leave soon, my eyes beg her. She blinks slowly, and though she turns into his arms and continues their intimate show, I believe she got the message.

  Before returning to the group of ladies, I quickly scan the crowd. Rose is talking with Amanda now. This must be so difficult for Amanda too, seeing Jessie all cozy with Brandan. Rose won’t look at me. I knew this was a bad idea. I take another long drag on my beer.

  Sighing, I turn back to the bar and order another beer to replace the one that seems to have magically emptied itself. I’ve had enough tequila shots, that’s for sure.
Blondie sidles up to me with a giggle and clinks her glass to me.

  “I can help you forget all about that one,” she propositions me, nodding in Jessie’s direction. It’s amazing how easily people are led to believe a completely fabricated narrative.

  “Darlin,’ what’s your name?”

  Smiling up at me, she replies, “Skye.”

  “Skye, that’s very sweet, but I’m no good for you right now.” Not to mention not interested. “My heart’s over there.” Well, that’s true, just not in the way she thinks.

  “It’s not your heart I’m after, Cole.”

  Well, that’s direct. I shake my head, “Thanks, Skye, but I’m afraid not.” With girls like this, there’s no choice but to be blunt. I kiss her on the cheek, gladly accept my beer from the bartender and join another group of women. I notice Jessie and Brandan are making the rounds at their table, obviously saying their goodbyes. Thank God. Once they leave, I only have to stay here for another thirty minutes before I can make my escape.

  This new group of ladies seems more interested in harmless flirting than Skye’s group did. Thankful for the reprieve, I chat them up for a while. Around midnight, Jessie and Brandan finally gather their things and say their goodbyes. I make a big show of watching Jessie. The girls around me try their damnedest to comfort me, so I guess it’s convincing enough.

  A few minutes pass and I’m cajoled onto the dance floor. I’m on my fifth—or is it sixth?—beer. Feeling elated that I’ll soon be able to leave this night behind me, I want to do a celebratory dance. Rose will be under me soon.

  My friend Ozzy Martinez’s latest song starts playing, and we all start gyrating to the beat. It’s a good rhythm. I need to shoot him a text congratulating him.

  Another blonde woman is getting a bit too handsy with me, so I politely try to move away. She must have been taking lessons from Skye, though—she mimics my actions and somehow gets even closer to me.

  I turn my back to her, hopefully in a playful move, and she grabs my hips and grinds against me. She slips one hand into my pocket. Ugh. In response, I place my hands on top of her wrists, pull her hands away from me and turn to face her. Taking both her wrists in my right hand, I lift them above her head. Now what are you going to do with her, Einstein? She’s obviously expecting a kiss, but she’s out of luck because she’s not Rose. All the alcohol raging through my system is making it difficult to coordinate my movements. At least this woman appears buzzed, too.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?” When in doubt, stall.

  Licking her lips, she replies, “Whatever you want it to be, Cole.” The name “Rose” pops into my head and almost straight out of my mouth. Thankfully, I stop that train before it wrecks. A vision of an angry Rose, naked and begging me to let her come, pops into my head, making me smile. The girl in my arms apparently thinks the smile is for her and tries to wriggle her arms free, but I keep them raised.

  “I’ll call you Starr.” Why not? That’s better than Skye Squared, I suppose. She looks at me with adoration. Clasping her by one hand, I twirl her away from my body and then let her hand go. She turns to face me again on unsteady legs, but luckily another woman has stepped in between us.

  Whew, close call. I need another beer. Turning and leaving the dance floor, I make my way to the bar. Before I even reach it, the bartender is handing me another beer. I check my watch and know that my escape is minutes away.

  A few guys stand by the other end of the bar. I’ve done enough cavorting with the ladies and don’t want to spend the rest of my night fending off unwanted advances. So, I walk over to them instead. “Hey.”

  The guys nod at me and extend their bottles toward me. We all take sips.

  “Looks like she went with that other guy. Tough break, dude,” one of the guys says.

  “Yeah. This whole night sucks.”

  Another chimes in, “Why don’t you take your pick of one of those chicks over there to help you forget her?” They all snicker. At least the charade seems to be working. Everyone believes Jessie chose Brandan over me.

  “Not interested, you know? But I’m sure you guys could lift their spirits.”

  The third guy responds, “We may not be Cole Manchester, but we can show them a good time.”

  I give him a smile, my first real smile since walking into The Ice Lounge, and say. “Listen, I’m so done in here. Let me introduce you to that group,” I point to Skye’s circle. “Just promise me that you’ll give me cover while I leave.”

  “You got it, thanks. Hey, you’re pretty cool.”

  “Appreciate it.” We walk over to Skye’s group and I introduce my new friends. As arranged, they provide a good diversion and I make my escape.

  As I walk rapidly toward the exit, two different greeters step forward to strip the parka and gloves from my hands. “We hope you had a good night, Mr. Manchester.” Assuming they are well aware of what went on inside, I don’t bother to answer.

  I purposefully weave toward the valet. I have to endure only a couple of minutes more. One last scene for the paps. Fishing out the ticket for my car from my pocket, I hand it to the valet. The bouncer reaches over and takes the ticket.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Manchester, but we can’t let you drive out of here in your condition.”

  “What the hell, man! This has been a shitty night and now you won’t let me leave?”

  Calmly, he repeats, “You’re in no condition to drive. But Ms. VonStein has provided a limo to take you wherever you want to go.” He points to a sleek black limousine with dark tinted windows.

  Grumbling and thrashing, I’m half led, half pushed toward the vehicle. At least the paps are getting their shots.

  “How does it feel to be left behind?”

  “Why did Jessie Anderson choose Brandan Rogers over you?”

  “Is Brandan a better man than you?”

  “Is Jessie pregnant? Is the baby yours or Brandan’s?”

  The paparazzi are ruthless. Throwing one last growl for the cameras, I let the bouncers thrust me into the limo and slam the door behind me.

  My eyes take in the privacy screen separating me from the driver, then find the car’s only other occupant. “Oh God, Ro, that sucked. Please say you’re not mad at me.”

  “Of course I’m not mad.” She pauses. “Maybe a little jealous, even though that makes no sense.” She shakes her head. “Come here and let’s both forget the past couple of hours.”

  She opens her arms in welcome, and I hungrily fall into her embrace. Ravenously, I kiss her, taking time to worship her eyes and nose and ears with my lips as my hands explore her body. My tongue plunges into her mouth. I remove her top and bra in record time, even with all that alcohol in my system. Her jeans and panties follow in quick succession, while she opens my belt and pushes my jeans and underwear down my legs. She dips her hand into my jeans’ pocket, pulls out a condom and rolls it onto my rock hard cock.

  My index finger enters her pussy. Knowing she’s wet just for me crumbles whatever restraint I had left. “I can’t wait, Ro,” I utter, thrusting into her.

  She takes me all the way, moaning softly. Our eyes lock. This is where I should have been all night. I thrust into her warmth, eliciting a shudder from her body as I bring my hand down between us and begin stroking her clit.

  “Come for me.” I can’t hold back much longer. My hips are moving faster than a drum roll, pounding into her body. I latch onto her nipple and give her little bites.

  “Ahhhh, Cole!” She starts to climax under me, so I let myself go with a roar.

  Once our breathing returns to normal, Rose giggles. “When I promised to take care of that for you, I didn’t quite think it would happen this way.”

  Could I love this woman anymore? Wait, what? Thankfully, I didn’t say that out loud. I need to slow way down. It’s the alcohol talking. Yeah, that’s it.

  “That was perfect,” I say. Slowly, I pull my cock out of her delicious body, tie off the condom and help her get dressed before fixin
g my own jeans.

  With a start, I realize we’re driving down the freeway. My eyes shoot to the front of the vehicle. “Thanks for raising the privacy screen, Ro. I doubt I could have stopped even if there’d been an earthquake, but I don’t want any other man to see your hot little body. For my eyes only, baby.”

  She smiles broadly. “Sounds good to me.”

  MY CELL CHIRPS. Who the hell would call me at whatever ungodly hour it is on a Sunday morning? I ignore it and turn to wrap my arms around Rose, pulling her back into my front.

  Our Sunday morning snugglefest is interrupted once again by my cell phone. Can’t people just leave us alone? Rose murmurs in her sleep, and wiggles her bottom against me. My cell finally stops.

  I reach around and caress Rose’s luscious boob, bringing my lips to her neck. We’re both exhausted from last night, but I need to maintain my connection with her. She’s quickly becoming as necessary as air.

  My phone chirps for a third time. Seriously? “They’re not going to stop until you answer, Cole. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Ever practical, Ro.” I grumble.

  When I finally pick up my phone, Jayson’s picture takes up the full screen. “This better be good, bro,” I say, answering the call.

  “What the hell were you up to last night, Cole? You’re all over the media. Dad’s worried.”

  As Jayson is prattling on, Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” bursts from Rose’s phone. Gruesome is checking in with her, too. At least she won’t be surprised by the drama that unfolded at the club. Rose answers her phone and gets out of bed, putting on my discarded shirt from last night.

  Sighing, I focus my attention on Jayson. “There’s nothing to worry about. I texted you and dad yesterday to let you know what was going to happen. You know how this goes.”