by Roxy Harte
I lift my glass. “We are strong women who won’t apologize for who we are!” It is our rallying cry because we are a diverse group, my girls and I, and there are so many reasons for us to all despise each other, but we don’t focus on our differences, we focus on our similarities. It’s how we’ve remained friends for six years. Two glasses join mine. “No apologies!”
We all look expectantly at Geri and reluctantly she lifts her glass. “Strong women.”
I make a face at Geri and mouth, “I love you.” I couldn’t be so open if I ever thought for a second that she really meant what she’d said, about wanting to change my stripes. She was just playing, teasing... And if it’s a little crush, that’s okay—she’ll get over a little crush.
But then, out of the clear blue, she asks me a question she’s never asked me, actually none of the girls have ever asked me. “Are you seeing someone?” “S-sorry?” My heart skips a beat or maybe two... Suddenly, all three of them are looking at me.
“You know, dating?” she says. “Are you dating anyone? You never bring anyone with you on Friday night.”
It’s true, I never have, although often Meg or Tina will bring along someone new. Geri, I remember, used to have a friend who came with her the first few years I sat with them. It had seemed serious, but no one ever mentioned it when she’d stopped showing up. I bite my lip before answering, “I don’t date.”
“Ever?” Meg demands, looking at me over her glasses. She sounds appalled, perhaps even more shocked than when I first told her what I did for a living.
I smile, asking, “Is that so surprising? That I don’t date?”
Geri narrows her gaze, accusing, “There’s that man...you still see him.”
“Simon?” I say, chuckling. “Actually, no, I haven’t seen him in years...intimately that is... and besides, I don’t think you could actually ever call what has happened between us dating.” All three of them stare at me, their doubt obvious on their faces.
“What about that rock star?” Meg demands. “The one with all of the tattoos.”
Now that makes me laugh because I love Tommy like a brother and we tend to get a little crazy together when we’re in the same town. Like the Fourth of July bash in Aspen—it was crazy and, as such, the paparazzi had a field day. And we both pandered a little, him licking the top of my breasts and me none too discreetly trying to find out if the rumors about his girth and length were true. But it was just fun and games. Really. “You honestly read the tabloids? And believe them?” She shrugs unabashedly.
“No,” I say, still laughing. I shake my head, letting my hair fall forward, hiding my blush, although I’m not sure why I’m so embarrassed by the fact that I’m not dating Tommy Lee or any of the other celebrities I often socialize with.
Geri narrows her eyes. “Is it because your profession gets in the way of real relationships? It’s just hard to find someone willing to overlook that you do porn?”
Wow. That was harsh. I feel a need to assure her that I get asked out, I get asked out plenty, and I’m just seriously not interested. “Guys ask, but dating is such a bother, isn’t it? I mean, there are only two real reasons to date—you’re either looking for a fuck or you’re looking for a friend. And, not to be rude, but I clearly get enough sex on the job and I have the three of you for companionship. So, I’m good.” “What about love?” Tina asks.
“Love?” I consider it for a second before asking, “Seriously?”
They all look at me intently, waiting for my answer. I shrug and take a long swallow of beer. “Yeah. That. Highly overrated I think, especially in the context of my life.”
I roll my eyes. “This ain’t no fairytale, ’cause you three would make horrible fairy godmothers.”
My cell phone vibrates again. I hit ignore.
Meg announces, “I’d be a good fairy godmother.”
“You wanted to fix her up with Sheila!” Tina accuses, making Geri choke on her beer.
Geri demands, “Sheila? You wanted to fix her up with Sheila?”
Sheila! That was the name of the woman Geri used to date. I find I am suddenly interested, which is strange because I never pay attention to any of the women who have come and gone over the years. But Sheila was different. A mental picture immediately forms in my head of the perky brunette who wore her hair in a short, messy, spiky style. I remember she always rode separate from Geri, always arrived on her Harley, and always seemed like she had a chip on her shoulder the entire evening...and if memory serves...that chip was because of me. “Sheila hated me!”
“Oh, no, Sheila had it bad for you!” Meg whispers and Geri narrows her eyes at Meg, saying loudly, “Sheila did not have a hard-on for Simone! She was trying to make a point.”
“Yeah,” I say. “That she hated me!”
“That wasn’t it,” Geri whispers, shaking her head. “That wasn’t it at all.”
I am suddenly very curious, because I do remember the last Friday night that Sheila was actually here, because I remember that it got ugly, really ugly between Geri and Sheila—Sheila accused Geri of being in love with someone else—then Sheila never came back.
My cell phone vibrates again and I scream into the mouthpiece without putting the phone to my ear, “Would you leave me the fuck alone?”
I hang up on him without even having heard his voice.
“Simon?” Geri asks, catching my gaze. I nod in answer, hoping I’m hiding all emotion. I am shocked by the expression that crosses her face, even though I’ve always known that she holds him with fairly high distaste. She doesn’t even try to hide her feelings. “Anything I can do?”
“Buy another round?”
“Sure thing, beautiful.” She yells the order to Sandy, who announces, “Already on it!” and starts to pull drafts. Geri squeezes my thigh under the table and asks softly, “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
I shake my head, gratefully grabbing one of the shots off the tray when they arrive at our table with the beer. Then I methodically down each of the three shots intended for the rest of them.
Meg asks, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I say, my face crumbling and it’s only then that I realize how fine I’m really not. I shake my head, refusing to say the words out loud. Simon’s request was too unreasonable...
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Tina says. “If you don’t want to...but it might help to tell us.”
I tilt my head, giving Tina a hard, challenging stare. “You really want to hear this? Because it involves work...you know...the place I have sex with men on camera—”
I feel the shuffle of feet under the table as either Meg or Geri kicks her under the table.
I wink at Tina, saying harshly, “I didn’t think so.”
I don’t want to think about what retirement would mean. Or that I have been asked to retire because I am suddenly too old to be considered sexy. I stand, shaking my shoulders and jiggling my breasts, demanding, “Somebody dance with me!”
Chapter Four
♥
The girls glance around the table at each other, making it painfully obvious that I have made them uncomfortable. Damn it, do I really care what they think?
“Fine. Don’t dance with me. I’ll dance by myself.” I stalk away from the table, realizing too late that the pub is too crowded for dancing, except at the very edge of the stage and that’s where I head. I throw myself into the rhythm, my body moving the way it wants to. I am still hidden beneath my hood, but that doesn’t keep the members of the band from noticing me. I blow them kisses.
The lead singer calls out my name and holds out his hand to me mid-song. What can I say? I never know where I’ll bump into a fan...but then, maybe it just means that I’m at O’Leary’s a lot.
Three men step away from their partners long enough to lift me onto the stage. I do a quick bump and grind with the lead singer before stepping off to the side to give him room to do his thing. The stage lights are hot and blinding, but I don’t care. I want
to move, I want to dance...I want to feel young and sexy. I slide off my hoodie, letting it hit the stage, I kick it aside and dance. I toss my head and lift my arms high. Looking up at my hands, I watch my fingers dance against the bright rays of light, liking the way my silver bracelets glint with sparkly flashes when the spotlights hit the metal. I undulate belly and hips...dancing...dance. Dance!
I am so drunk.
A man I’ve never met before jumps onto the stage and starts dancing in front of me, shadowing my moves. I don’t care. I don’t encourage him. I just dance, feeling the pound of bass in my chest and the swirl of my brain as the shots take hold. The man grabs me, pulling me close as his body pumps against my thigh. His erection is obvious and I’m annoyed by him.
“Stop!” I pull away, jumping off the low stage. I don’t consider that he’ll follow me, but then he’s right behind me, pulling me against him.
I rub my forehead, suddenly too warm and too dizzy. He doesn’t release me, instead he laughs and gyrates against my thigh. “Please—”
“I think the lady asked you to stop.” Geri is suddenly there, separating the man’s hold on me with a mean grip on his ear. I think for a moment that it will come to blows, but then he realizes that Geri is a girl and he backs away. “Fucking bitch.”
Geri puts her hand on my elbow, asking softly, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She turns to walk away, but I grab her shoulder, as much to stop her leaving as to steady myself. It takes her a long second to face me. I don’t have to wonder what she sees. Me. A mess. Man-magnet. Porn star. I know I disgust her, but she cared enough to rescue me...
“Did you come over to dance with me?” I ask, swaying on my feet but squaring my chin in challenge. I’m vaguely aware that my words slur. “I want to dance!” I shake my booty and jiggle my breasts in demonstration, almost falling over in the process. She pulls me closer, holding me tight so that I won’t fall down.
I hear her whisper my name into my hair and it has a pained sound to it.
I pull back to gaze into her eyes, but her face swims in front of me. It seems so important that she not walk away.
“Dance with me? Please?”
“One dance.” She looks over her shoulder at the playing band and it is only then that I remember I am standing right in front of the stage, all eyes on me. “But not here. I’m not really the center-of-attention kind of girl.” The music is still loud and fast, but as she holds me, I realize I don’t want to jump and bounce, I just want to stay where I am, safe in her arms. With her arm slung around my shoulders, she pulls me to the center of the dance floor. Then we are dancing...together. I sway against her easily. I would have never dreamed that Geri knew how to dance.
“Thank you,” I whisper against her neck and then the tears start falling. I have enough mind left to realize I am soaking the shoulder of the white cotton T-shirt she is wearing and smearing black streaks of mascara on her shoulder to add even more insult. I apologize too many times until she finally tells me, “Shut up and dance.”
I’m not offended, I know I’m drunk and slightly hysterical. She pulls my hips into hers, leaving her hands at my waist. I loop my hands around her neck.
We dance and I try not to stare at the way the fabric molds around her small breasts, barely an A-cup, though she wears an athletic-type jogging bra to try to hide them. I love the way she looks and, even more, I love the way it feels to be held in her arms, which surprises me. I guess my inhibitions are lower because of the alcohol. At least that’s what I tell myself when I start to wonder what it would be like to kiss her. We sway together for another selection, but then it becomes painfully obvious that I can barely stand.
“Can I drive you home?”
I nod.
“I’ll have one of the girls follow us and drive your car home for you.”
I nod again, barely standing. Out on the street, the cooler night air revives me a little. She helps me climb in and I apologize as she slides behind the wheel to drive me home. “No worries, beautiful.”
I’m glad she’s driving once I realize that her Jeep is moving and I don’t even remember sliding into the seat.
“Will you tell me now what is going on?” I shake my head stubbornly.
“Look, something’s obviously wrong and if it’s something I can help you with...” I remain silent, heartbroken and too obstinate to share my grief.
She strokes my hair as she drives and tells me, “Whatever has happened, I’ll listen. I won’t judge. I know I’ve been hard on you, but I promise, if you’ll share this with me, I’ll keep my damn mouth shut.”
I can’t say the words I’m too old to be a porn star or even Simon wants me to retire, so I sit in silence, hot tears running down my cheeks.
We arrive in front of my house faster than I think we should have and Geri waits for Tina to pull my car into my garage before pulling into the driveway. I see Tina run by the vehicle, blowing kisses as she climbs into Meg’s Beamer. I didn’t realize we were all coming up the mountain.
I ask, “Are they coming in?”
“No, babe, Tina’s beat and Meg’s trying her damnedest to get ready for that Sacramento art show she’s doing next month, so early night for everyone.”
“You too? Or will you come in?” I ask. “I really just don’t want to be alone right now.” And as much as that is truth, the greater reality is that I just don’t want her to leave.
She looks at me gently before nodding. “I’ll come in for a minute.”
A moment ago, I was asleep in the car, the whiskey making me sluggish because I wanted to forget the last forty-eight hours. Her quick assent wakes me up and I find myself growing nervous as we approach the front door. I fumble for my keys and drop them twice before she grabs them and unlocks the door for me.
“I should go, Simone. It’s late.”
“Stay with me,” I beg, clutching her arm, feeling the strength of her muscles. “Just until I pass out or fall asleep, whichever comes first?”
She sighs, but follows me in, closing the door quietly as I stumble through the house, not bothering to turn on lights because, even in the dark, I know my way to bed. I hear the locks slide into place and then a solid thump and her curse before the hallway light flashes on.
I call out, “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she answers from right beside me. I jump, not understanding how she moved so quickly, so quietly. “Are you okay?
The room is dark, the only light coming from the hallway. Enough light to tell when I look down at myself that I’m having an issue with my hoodie. One arm is half-in and half-out of my sleeve, the fabric caught at the wrist where I tried to pull the tank top over my head. “I can’t get my shirt off.”
She chuckles and tugs my hands free. “I never knew you were such a lightweight.”
“It’s the water. I usually drink a glass of water between every round. I pace myself.”
“Huh,” she says like she’s never realized that before. “No water tonight?”
“Uh-uh,” I answer. “I wanted to be numb.”
She smiles and pushes my hair out of my face. “How’s that working for you?”
“Good. I can’t feel my face. I have to pee.”
Her arm loops around my back and she lifts me as I try to stand, helping me the twenty-odd steps into the master bathroom. I fumble with the button fly of my jeans, finally giving up. I start pushing the almost loose-enough jeans over my hips. “I could piss myself in these ridiculous things.”
Geri helps. It’s embarrassing and humiliating as she adjusts my clothes so that my bare ass actually connects with the toilet seat with no stray clothing in the way. After I pee, she kneels at my feet and pulls off my shoes and socks. “I’m sorry.” I tell her.
“I’ve been drunk, it’s not a crime.” She helps me stand and step from the jeans, leaving me standing in my bra and panties. “Do you want to shower before bed?”
“Not a good idea.” I immediately
regret my words when a dark shadow crosses her face. “I’d slip and kill myself.” I amend, walking toward my bed, weaving as I go. “Better to wait until morning.”
She nods and helps me to crawl under the sheet and blankets, tucking me in tight, kissing me on the forehead. “I’ll go.”
I grab her wrist. “Don’t go, I’m not asleep or passed out.” I scoot to make room. “Lie down beside me?”
She sighs and I wonder what she’s thinking. I watch her in the light cast from the hall as she kicks off her shoes and lies down on top of the comforter, still wearing her jeans and T-shirt. She crosses her arms over her chest, looking hideously uncomfortable.
I reach out and wrap my arm around her midriff, spooning against her side. I close my eyes, feeling her stiffen. My buzz is just faded enough to realize that she is miserable. “I’m sorry. I know I’m repulsive.”
She rolls onto her side, facing me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m making you uncomfortable. You can go.”
“No, Simone. Really, I want to stay.”
I look into her face and her eyes glow with sincerity.
Her hand reaches up to stroke my cheek. “I just wish there was something I could do or say. I’m not very good at comforting people. I’m not sure what to do...especially since I don’t know what is wrong.”
“Just hold me while I sleep. I don’t want to be alone.”
She wraps her arm around me, pulling me closer. “I can do that.”
I’m glad it’s dark, because it makes me brave enough to ask, “Do you think I’m sexy?”