Feeling Some Type of Way

by Vera Roberts

  “Yep. He did something to get even with Sydney and ended up screwing himself in the process.” Ian put his sunglasses back on and we walked out of the unit. “I’ll have a moving company come get your items tomorrow and deliver them to where they need to go. We’ll handle the artwork.”

  We walked together to the Audi, our fingers interlocked. It felt natural and real, as if we’ve always done this. “So, where do I come in with this?” I threw the car keys to Ian and he opened the passenger door for me before he got in.

  “Well, we need to figure out how to delay the scandal and then we need to save both of their careers as we promote the Gallery.” Ian adjusted his seat and started up the car. Just seeing him behind the wheel made my panties dampen with want. “So we have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.” Ian’s right hand slid to my thigh and he did a soft squeeze in the warmth. “Mmm…” He moaned.

  Wow. That was super hot and I immediately felt a tingle. If only he would walk his fingers up higher… “Remember how you said you didn’t like my tests?”

  I should’ve known this was one. “Go on.”

  “You’re about to embark on the biggest one.”

  Five

  “Wow,” Helen entered my apartment and looked around, “so this is what a billionaire’s money buys? Nice!”

  I don’t live in a typical apartment. All of my furniture is courtesy of Cantoni. I’ve never heard of them before and it’s because they cater to rich people who can actually afford their shit. I had no idea they even existed until I downgraded to a one-bedroom.

  Ian took me furniture shopping and gladly opened his wallet to pay for everything. He also paid for my super-expensive but ultra-comfortable bed. While Ian didn’t outright say it, I have a sneaky suspicion he paid for the bed because it was tailored to his comfort level.

  “How much did all of this cost?” Helen’s boyfriend, Noah, asked. He’s a tall, biracial man with a nice fade and muscular build who plays for the 49ers. He’s incredibly handsome and looks great with my bestie. He’s also a super sweet guy. “I’m looking at thousands of dollars here.”

  “I don’t even want to know about the cost,” I shrugged it off, “if I think about the cost, I’ll get depressed and yeah, I just rather not.”

  Noah and Helen sat down on the sofa and become all warm and cozy with each other, as if the romance was still brand-new and fiery. I’m lowkey jealous of them. They have something I want and desire but the guy I want to give it to, doesn’t really care. Or does he?

  “So what’s going on, Sister?” Helen asked. “How’s Sugar Daddy?”

  I sighed thinking of Ian. I haven’t spoken to him since he helped me at the storage unit and maybe that was a good thing. I finally stopped lying to myself by saying I didn’t miss him, I didn’t need him in my life, and I was just foolish to wait around on a hope.

  I knew I was in love with Ian and that’s what really sucked about this whole ordeal. What’s even worse was he knew I was in love with him, too. Yet, he was reluctant to move forward. And if I really want to be honest, so was I.

  I needed to have a mental break from Ian, though I missed him like crazy. I wondered what I had to do to convince him I was ready to become his girlfriend, despite the paparazzi stalking my every move? I don’t understand how I let myself to fall for someone who is slow in showing how much he cared? “Sugar Daddy is fine. I’m helping him combat a potential scandal involving one of his artists and her fiancée, but other than that, everything is good.” I nodded.

  I said the magic word and Helen’s eyebrows perked up. “Scandal? Bitch, you better spill that tea!”

  I shrugged. “Dean Winchester has pictures of him having sexing his ex while he was on a break from his girlfriend.”

  “The hockey player?” Noah asked. “Damn, homie is slippin’.”

  “So, I’m helping Ian to combat a plan to make sure the pictures don’t come out and we have to see if the chick is too stupid to realize we can play against her.” I replied. “So yeah, there’s that.”

  “And sex life?” Helen asked before her eyes glittered with juicy delight. “Are you still pure?”

  “You’re shocked I am?” I countered. Honestly, I was too.

  “No. I think being a virgin is sweet. More girls should hold out and wait for the right guy instead of some dude who would pump and dump them after a few minutes.” She had a point. Sex terrified me and I was content on being a virgin…for the time being. Each time Ian embraced me, he was the only one I could see in my future. He was the only one I wanted. “You should wait for the right one who will give you the world and not some asshole behind the school bleachers and you have to hurry up because football practice is starting.”

  I didn’t want to ask but I was so curious. “You and the high school quarterback?”

  “What? No!” Helen shook her head. “I dated the coach.”

  “Okay,” I held up my hands in defeat. I need to stop being shocked by Helen’s proclivities. “What are we doing tonight?”

  “You need to get out and see the world from my point of view,” Helen wiggled her eyebrows, “we’re taking you to a strip club.”

  I felt like a Jimmy Fallon skit. Ewwwwww. “I don’t want some foreign wang in my face, Hell.”

  “No, not men! I know how you are not about that.” She caressed Noah’s knee. “We’re going to see women.”

  “Somehow I think that’s worse,” I replied. I don’t knock a woman with whatever she wants to do with her body; I just don’t see the appeal of shaking it for strangers. Oh, what in the hell am I saying? I almost became a porn star.

  I do need to live a little and with Helen and Noah by my side, I won’t get into too much trouble tonight. “I’m down.”

  ~~~~~

  It was an experience going from the high fashion and glitz of Ian and his family and hanging out with one of my best friends and her boyfriend.

  Gone were the high society pages and expensive designer gowns. Replaced were Snapchat and Hell’s private IG page where it was safe to get a little wild.

  Gone were the truffle mac n’ cheese bites, shishito peppers, and oysters, as appetizers before we did a half-waltz to a rather mundane band. We ate at In-N-Out, hit up a hooka joint nearby, and now here we are at Cheetahs, one of the best strip clubs in all of Los Angeles.

  The compare and contrast wasn’t lost on me. It turned out I liked a little bit of both with a strong preference of being home and alone with my remote control.

  Cheetahs is a surprisingly high-end for a strip joint. I was expecting the lowest of the low, but I looked around and saw a couple of famous rappers, some executives with obvious tan lines around their ring fingers, and everyday Joe Schmoes. None of them looked sleazy and everyone just wanted a good time.

  “Are you ready?” Helen asked.

  I looked around the nightclub. Dark hues of purple, burgundy and deep red filled the walls, while a wispy air of odorless smoke wafted throughout the air. The bartenders were surprisingly busy, while servers exited out of the kitchen carrying mouthwatering appetizers.

  It honestly felt like a regular nightclub, except I saw women walk around with pasties on their boobs and wearing heels I couldn’t even fathom walking in. It felt…normal.

  “I’m ready,” I shrugged and we were lead to seats in front of the main stage. A stripper on stage danced to Prince’s “17 Days,” and for the life of me, I tried not to laugh as she couldn’t find the rhythm. Um, it’s Prince? How hard is it?

  Noah gave us each fifty dollars to start and told us not to spend it frivolously. “Give ten bucks to a girl that you like and she’ll go back and tell her friends,” Noah instructed us, “we all win tonight.”

  “You’re an expert,” I said to him and he shrugged.

  “I know my skrippers,” he winked.

  After a few more women came out to dance and we were selectively generous with our coins, we sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere. Noah and Helen were kind enough to pay attentio
n to me between their various makeout sessions.

  While I was a bit annoyed, I was also jealous. Granted, I don’t see Ian here with me watching women pop that thang, but he would cuddle with me at home as we watched a flick.

  Something had to give. It’s been two years and we’ve only kissed once. I guess it was all my fault. I was the one that fell in love with him. I was the one that wanted him. I was the one that wanted us.

  And I’m currently the only one in a strip bar, watching my happy go-pukey best friend and her boyfriend make out like newlyweds.

  “And for all the ladies in the audience, tonight is Amateur Night for those who want to go up and show what they’re working with. Grand prize is a thousand dollars, ladies! One. Thousand. Dollars. If you’re interested, meet me at the DJ booth!” The announcer called out.

  Fuck it. I have nothing to lose at this point. I could use some extra spending money. I got up and walked over to the booth and sign up. I also requested a song that always gets me going and the DJ willingly complied. I walked back to my seat and see Noah and Helen smile at me with mischievous smiles.

  “You’re going to show what you got?” Helen asked, as if she was happy I was finally embracing my inner thot.

  “I don’t care anymore.” I shrugged. Ian’s not my man and I don’t see the point of waiting for someone who….oh woopty-woop. It was time for me to live a little and finally release the hold of him on my heart.

  I watched in silence as my fellow amateur competitors got on the stage and fumbly danced to whatever song. Some ladies had excellent rhythm and some couldn’t find the rhythm if it stared back at them with a sign.

  I was super nervous about performing. Doing a pole dance once a week was one thing but taking clothes off in addition was an entirely different experience. The line between pole dancing and stripping was a thin, sexual one and many pole dancers will tell you they are not strippers. I know I did.

  “And for our next contestant, we have Rhett Rochelle coming to the stage! Give her a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen!”

  I finished off my daiquiri and headed up to the stage. The bright light prevented me from seeing how many were actually in the audience. Somehow, that gave me the extra confidence boost I needed.

  “Scandalous” blared through the speakers and I closed my eyes. I kicked off the sneakers I wore and set them aside. I remembered a few routines from pole dancing classes and naturally rode the beat and rhythm. I slithered my body around the sleek pole, tightly gripping it with one leg and a hand as I slowly spun around.

  I thought about the lyrics and imagined Ian in front of me. It was just the two of us in the nightclub and I only danced for him. He had a sensual smile on his face and his eyes locked with mine. He anxiously watched to see how far I would take it; if I was going to completely strip or go to a certain point.

  I had every intention of going all the way with it.

  My rolled my body in a slow wind as my fingers worked the buttons on my sweater. I removed the sweater and threw out in the smoky air. I turned around and undid my jeans, bending over as I pulled down over my ass. I stepped out of the jeans and kicked them to the side.

  Now it was time for the show.

  I climbed the pole and spun around, sliding down to a full split. Dollar bills appeared out of nowhere on the stage but I was focused on my routine. Ian’s imaginary face kept me going. I worked the bra hook before I finally got it loose and then free. I know how men like the tease so I kept the girls covered for a little bit as I continued to gyrate to the guitar hook.

  When I finally revealed them, my breasts glistened with sweat. I was on my knees, gyrating backwards until my head almost touched the stage floor. I pulled myself back up and saw his face as clear as day.

  Ian.

  It wasn’t my imagination. He was right in front of me. He was exactly as I pictured him – sitting front row and center with a sexy smirk on his face. He wasn’t irritated or annoyed like I’d seen him before. He looked as if he thoroughly enjoyed the show I gave him.

  His look emboldened me, as if he silently dared me to keep going. I crawled towards him and gave him all of my attention. I gyrated in front of him and mouthed the lyrics to him, begging him to feel just his skin upon mine.

  Before I knew it, the song was over and the lights came back on. The stage was surrounded with money and everyone applauded my performance. I didn’t care about them or the money. All I cared about was the man in front of me and I hoped he got the message loud and clear.

  After they announced I was the winner, I gave my winnings to the strippers and hurriedly dressed. I made my way back to Helen and Noah, who greeted me with hi-fives and cheers. “I knew you were a natural in those pole dancing classes!” Helen hugged me. “You killed it out there!”

  “It was surprisingly natural,” I looked around to see if Ian was still in the club, but he disappeared. Maybe it was my imagination after all. I felt a sweeping gutted feeling. I guess I wanted him so bad, I believed he was in front of me the entire time.

  “Where did you do with the money?” Noah asked.

  “I gave it to the strippers.” I won a thousand dollars and combined with the money on the stage, it was around 1200 total. I was offered a gig by the owner. I turned it down, though I told him I’ll keep him in mind, just to humor him. “I’m sure they could use it more than I could. I just wanted to do it for fun.”

  “Good for you!” Helen cheered. “I’m glad you got it out of your system, though I think your special audience really appreciated it.”

  So, I wasn’t imagining him, after all? “Oh?”

  “Ian was right there,” Helen pointed to the chair he sat in. “He thoroughly enjoyed the show.”

  If he really was there, why isn’t he here? “Did you see where he went?”

  “No clue,” Noah shook his head, “I’m sure he didn’t go too far.”

  My eyes searched for him and couldn’t see him, though oddly enough, I felt his presence. “I guess not.”

  We stayed for a short while longer before we all decided to leave. As we made our way to the truck, a familiar Bentley pulled up alongside us. The window rolled down and I saw Ian stared back at me. “Get in,” he ordered.

  We held gazes for a long moment before I finally relaxed and turned to Helen. I gave her the key to my apartment. “Not on my bed,” I warned.

  “You can afford new sheets,” she air-kissed me back, and waved me off.

  I got into Ian’s Bentley and he sped off somewhere. I barely had enough time to put on my seat belt. There was complete silence between us, with only Otis Redding playing in the background, singing about a lover’s prayer.

  I glanced over to Ian and he had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the shift stick. I knew he was upset with me because his hand would’ve been rested between my thighs.

  How are we fighting but we’re not a couple?

  “Let me guess,” I broke the ice, “you own that place, too?”

  “Actually, I was visiting a friend, who’s the owner. We were talking about business. ” He concentrated on the road ahead. “I just happened to be there.”

  “How did you know it was me?” I finally asked him.

  “I only know one Rhett Rochelle.” He drove fast somewhere, weaving in and out of traffic. It was scarily sexy, if that makes sense. He was on a mission to get somewhere private so we could…I don’t know. I guess talk.

  He drove to his complex and parked in a secluded area underground. He had his own designated parking garage and I guess with the amount he paid for the penthouse, he should have one. He got out of the Bentley, walked around, and opened the door for me. He held out his hand for me to grab and I took it as I exited out of the car. We briskly walked to his penthouse and I stood by the front door as I watched Ian.

  Ian took out his items and meticulously placed them on the counter. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of Cristal. He quietly opened the bottle, poured two glasses, and walke
d into the living room.

  “You could stand by the front door if you want to but my sofa is more comfortable,” he articulated.

  My shoulders relaxed and I walked over to the sofa. He handed me a glass of champagne and clinked glasses with me. “What was that for?” I asked. He normally did a toast but was conspicuously absent.

  His eyebrows furrowed before they softened. “To new beginnings.”

  Ian was purposely vague and I honestly wondered what he meant by that. “To new beginnings,” I repeated.

  We sipped our champagne and I set my glass down on the clear coffee table. I hate this awkward part now. There’s a comfortable silence between us but there’s also an underlying tension. How can we go back to being friendly and professional after everything that happened tonight? There’s no way I can look at him in the same light after he’s seen my pussy print. “How come you never took me seriously? Is it because of my age?”