Strike

by Jennifer Ryder

  ME: MAYBE BETWEEN NOW AND THEN YOU CAN WORK ON YOUR SELF-CONTROL. NOTHING WORSE THAN A MAN WHO THROWS HIMSELF AT A WOMAN.

  SPENCER: I’LL TRY, BUT I MAKE NO PROMISES.

  ME: WHEN I WANT YOU TO KISS ME, I PROMISE YOU, YOU’LL KNOW.

  SPENCER: HOW ABOUT NOW? I BET YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT HOW GOOD IT FELT WHEN I SLID MY TONGUE INTO THAT PRETTY MOUTH OF YOURS, BECAUSE I’VE THOUGHT OF NOTHING ELSE SINCE.

  I throw myself back onto my bed and squeeze my legs together. He’s got me worked up with a few texts. No, Spencer. There’s been more on my mind than that. I close my eyes, thinking back to that night and how close I came to giving in to what my body wanted and dragging him back here. I wouldn’t have cared about the mess, and I’m sure neither would he.

  My phone beeps again.

  SPENCER: SORRY, I TELL A LIE. THAT’S THE PG VERSION OF WHAT I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT.

  Funny man, huh? I type my reply, and hope I’m not going too far.

  ME: I THINK YOU’D PREFER MY VERSION. SEE YOU TOMORROW.

  SPENCER: WHEN I SEE YOU, I WANT A PLAY-BY-PLAY ACCOUNT.

  If I do, in no time I’d be tearing his clothes off. We’d be kicked out of the café. And I’m not giving up that pork belly for anyone … least of all for someone I barely know.

  I need to be smart about this. I’m sick of being treated second best. It’s about time I put myself first in every aspect of my life. Spencer needs to know this before we take it any further, because even though I’ve done the one-nighters, it doesn’t matter how much I pretend—each one took a piece of me, whether I let them or not.

  ****

  * SPENCER *

  She texted me, thank Christ, because I was starting to go mad. All I can think about since then has been her: her laugh, her lust for life, and the way she rode off into the night straddling a bike. Was I starting to lose it?

  When I set my sights on a girl, they never say no. They never say no to Jones. But maybe that’s just it. I’d tried a different tack. Spencer. I’d actually had a conversation with a girl that didn’t involve me propositioning them in the first few minutes for some kind of sexual favour. Can’t say I didn’t want to, but April was just … different. She’d surprised me, and I want more.

  I’d driven past the café last night, more times than I should have, to see if her bike was there. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. I was worried that if I did, it’d be that one step closer to turning stalker, something I never thought I had in me. But besides that, I didn’t wanna seem desperate. I’m not. I know where to go when I need a release, but April is different, and the texts we’d shared and the funny-weird feeling in my gut confirmed it.

  I’d ignored calls from two girls since I’d met April on Wednesday. Two girls that left messages with very graphic and detailed accounts of what they wanted to do to me. All I had to do was return the calls. When I’d listened to their messages, I’d pictured April doing those things. Then I deleted the messages and their names from my phone. I wonder whether I’ll regret that decision.

  I took out my frustration at the gym after work, giving my all with the strength and conditioning program that Mac had recently tailored for us. Thank fuck I had at least that to focus on.

  I could have texted April all afternoon, but I had to stop at some point. Now I only had twenty-seven hours until I’d see her again. Maybe I should take a couple of Xanax and sleep through it, because there’s no other way I can avoid thinking about her until then.

  ****

  * APRIL *

  Saturday night

  Tonight I’m catching a taxi to dinner so I can enjoy a few drinks and Spencer’s company. It’s not because I think Spencer and I might go home together. I’ve promised myself that my erotic thoughts will remain just that. Thoughts. Thoughts that won’t cross the line into reality. Yeah, that’s what I’m telling myself. And if I say it, over and over, it will come true.

  Not just butterflies, but the entire insect kingdom decides my stomach is the place to be tonight. They’d arrived early—the moment I’d started tearing my wardrobe apart for something to wear. It wasn’t an issue of having nothing. I have plenty of clothes, but I don’t want to look too eager, too slutty or too … I don’t know. Spencer had no problem with the ripped jeans and bike boots, and that’s my wardrobe and me in a nutshell.

  So jeans it is. Skinny black jeans, with a black lace singlet. At least I’ll feel comfortable. On the outside anyway. At the last second I make a rash decision to ditch the boots for a pair of strappy black heels, and my favourite leather jacket gets to come along for the ride. How wild tonight’s going to be, only time will tell.

  ****

  * SPENCER *

  I paced around my apartment in just a pair of jeans for ages before I could decide on a shirt. I know sometimes I take a while to get ready, but after she’d called me pretty boy, I’d felt overdressed. I finally threw on a white T-shirt. Plain as piss, but I was running out of time, and there was no way I was gonna be late. Whilst to me there’s nothing casual about tonight, at least my clothes might give that impression. I don’t wanna get ahead of myself.

  The same tall, blond-haired waitress greets me with a smarmy smile, and looks me up and down. “Joining us again, huh?” she says. I scan around the place, but no sign yet of April.

  “Yeah. Table for two.”

  She picks up a couple of menus. “This way.”

  She leads me to the back of the café to a booth. Much cosier than last time. This could definitely work to my advantage. Our conversation can be that much more private. I’d been obsessing over what we’d talk about, but as much as I could talk dirty until sunrise with April, I’ve decided I have to tone down the dirty-talk. I know I rely on it when I need to do that extra convincing, but really I should save it for maximum effect.

  I sit in the side of the booth facing the front door, so I can watch her walk in. I’m right on time; April is late. For ten minutes I scan over the menu, smiling to myself when I read it. MoFo chilli wings. They were fucking spicy, alright. I wonder if April will order them again. With April around, hot is definitely on the menu.

  The front door opens and in she walks, glides, even. She’s not dressed as casual as last time, this time all in black. Her clothes hug her body tight, her jeans like a second skin. I follow the path of those sky-high legs right down to her heels. I loved her in boots, but heels? Damn. I might just cry. Her caramel hair flows in waves around her shoulders, and those soft pink lips glisten under the light. I can’t let her leave again without another taste. There’s nothing on this damn menu that’s as appetising as those lips.

  She smiles brightly as the waitress greets her with a hug. The waitress whispers something in her ear before April’s eyes meet mine. Her smile turns into a cheeky smirk.

  This is gonna be fun.

  Unable to stop myself, when she gets close to the booth, I get up and kiss her softly on the cheek. I get a good lungful of her sweet perfume, something like flowers and honey. Sweet enough to eat.

  “Hey,” I mutter, watching as her cheeks gather a healthy glow. Good sign.

  “Hey, yourself,” she says, putting her small purse on the table.

  I sit down, and she slips her leather jacket off her shoulders, giving me a glimpse of more skin than I was prepared for. It’s just a top. But it’s not. It’s a lace top. I have a thing about lace. Which leads me to the conclusion that she’s likes to wear it. Here’s hoping I get the chance tonight to find out if she’s wearing more.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. The taxi was late.”

  Well, well, well. Things are certainly looking up.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s given me plenty of time to read the menu. You didn’t tell me the wings were called MoFo Chilli Wings. Might’ve prepared me better.”

  She laughs, and reaches her hand across the table. I scoop it up, relishing whatever touch of hers I can in the openness of the café. The tension in her shoulders seems ease. If I make her
laugh, she’ll feel more comfortable. And damn it if her laugh isn’t magic.

  “Was there something else on the menu that took your fancy?” she asks sweetly, cocking her head to the side. She blinks a couple of times, and those lashes suddenly make me forget everything I read.

  “Beer. I don’t know if I can do the wings again. The pork belly, on the other hand, you weren’t wrong about it.”

  “Good. It’s settled then. Beer and pork fat. The cornerstone of a healthy meal.”

  We both chuckle to ourselves, and the waitress appears out of nowhere, all stealth-like.

  “Sophie, this is Spencer,” April says, nodding in my direction.

  Sophie extends her hand and I shake it. “Good to meet you, Sophie.”

  Her narrowed green eyes flit over my face and down over my chest. She doesn’t hide any attempt to check me out. I wonder if April noticed. “You too.” She shifts her gaze to April, and raises her eyebrows. “So, what are we having tonight, people?” she asks, plastic pen poised on her electronic notepad.

  April looks to me, seemingly giving me the lead on ordering.

  “A couple of Coronas and the pork belly,” I say.

  “Is that all?” She frowns at me, and then returns her attention to April.

  “How about we get some wings, with the blue cheese sauce and carrots and celery. Better bring us a bottle of water first though,” April adds, and winks at me. She hands our menus to the waitress. “We might order some more dishes later, Soph. We’ll see how we go with these.”

  Sophie moves on to the next table.

  “Is this a test? See if I can handle the heat? Because I’ll eat as many of those wings as you want me to, April.”

  “No, it’s not a test, but for someone who isn’t big on chilli, it’s nice to know you’re willing to put yourself through it.”

  “Whatever it takes,” I say, hoping she realises I’m not just talking about the chilli.

  She breathes out through her mouth and takes a deep breath in. I think she knows what I mean.

  “How do you know Sophie?” I ask.

  “She looked after my place while I was overseas.”

  “She was kinda looking at me funny.”

  April tilts her head to the side. “Like how?”

  “I dunno, like she wanted to eat me alive.”

  “Ha! I don’t think so. You’re not her type.”

  “Why not? I’m everyone’s type.”

  “You have a dick, so that rules you out. Sorry to disappoint. I think she sees you more as competition.”

  “Whoa. Hold up. Does that mean she’s keen on you? Have you girls—”

  “Settle down, buddy,” April cuts me off. “She knows I just wanna be friends, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.”

  I shake my head and smile. I knew it. Sophie’s a carpet-muncher. Now I really wanna know what her and April got up to on their night out.

  “So, Spencer, do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asks, changing the subject.

  I don’t wanna talk about my sister, more talk of the lesbian fantasy … please.

  “A younger sister, Victoria.”

  “Do you get along?”

  “Nup. She hates my guts.”

  “Why, what did you do?”

  I look to the ceiling for a moment. Should I be honest?

  “Come on, spit it out,” April says in a sing-song voice.

  “Well, I guess it’s more who I did.”

  She makes a tutting noise, and then bites down on her lip. “Oh man, who’d you bang? Her best friend or something?”

  Ah. Yes, but I didn’t stop at one. I left no friend untouched. I’m not entirely proud of it, but when an opportunity presents itself, well, I’m not one to say no.

  I nod.

  She laughs hard, and grips my forearm across the table. My muscles tense beneath her touch. “Was it worth it?” she whispers.

  Was it? I guess at the time it was.

  “It’s not like I was the only willing participant, but my sister doesn’t see it that way.”

  She chuckles. “Ah, she’ll get over it.”

  Unlikely.

  “Have you got any siblings?” I ask, wondering if there’s another April out there, or more importantly, a big brother I need to know about.

  “No, I’m an only child. Let’s just say I was a bit of a surprise. It would’ve been cool though, but my dad always gave me plenty of attention. No matter how tomboy I got, he always let me be me.”

  “Your dad sounds pretty cool. Very different to mine.” I wish my dad would fucking let me be me. Life would be a helluva lot easier.

  “Yeah, but breaking him in wasn’t easy. He can be stubborn as a mule when he wants to be.”

  Our beers arrive, and I take a welcome swig. April takes a few gulps, and groans under her breath when she places the bottle down. She’s gotta stop making all those little noises. I want to hear more of them, but only when she’s under me, or on top of me … Focus, Spencer.

  “Tell me about your work. Did you study photography straight after school?”

  “Not right away. My dad always said to do whatever makes me happy, so I did. I’ve had a few different careers, and travelled the world, but I always had a special place in my heart for photography.”

  “I’d love to see some of your work.”

  “Sure,” she says and pauses. “I know this sounds like a weird thing to ask, and I don’t want you getting a big head or anything, but have you ever been photographed?”

  “No.” Well in fact, yes, in my bike gear. But you’d hardly know it was me. There are also some shots with the team somewhere, probably online, but I’m not ready to talk about that yet. I wanna know more about her. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “Just wondering.”

  I let her comment go. I’m not sure if she’s hinting that she wants to photograph me or not.

  The pork belly arrives, and Sophie makes room on our table.

  All of a sudden, April seems shy. She’s focused more on the food between us than me. Last time we met, she pretty much stared at my face the whole time. This time, I place the meat on her plate first and then mine. She picks up her fork, and plays around with her food. Should I say something?

  April puts her fork down, and when her eyes meet mine, she pins me in place.

  “I have to say something,” she blurts out.

  “Sure. I’m listening,” I say, giving her my undivided attention.

  “Before this goes any further, I’ll be honest, Spencer. I’m looking for more. I’ve had the flings, the one-nighters, even tried something serious and got burned. So if you’re not ‘more’ material, or interested in that with me, tell me now. Save us both the trouble. I’m sure we’d have fun, and I’m sure you look as good under those clothes as I think you do, but I want you to know what I want, and right now, I’m looking for more.”

  Whoa. Information overload. All I got out of that was ‘burned’, and that she wants to see me naked.

  “What do you mean you got burned?”

  “Apparently I wasn’t enough.”

  “For who?”

  “My ex.”

  “He’s a fucking idiot,” I bark.

  “Yeah, that’s one of the many ways I’d describe him.”

  I lean in close, my gaze sinking deep into her grey eyes. “I wasn’t looking for you, April, or for anything serious, but the first time your eyes found me I knew there was something about you I needed to know. And then you sat across from me, smiling and laughing and slowly torturing me as you licked that sweet rib sauce off your fingers. When you roared into the night on the back of a bike, I nearly lost my shit.”

  She laughs softly as I reach across and take her hand in mine.

  “You are without a doubt the sexiest, most daring and entertaining woman I have ever met, and I don’t think I’d get tired of being around you. Believe me, April, when I say I want more. All the more you’re willing to give.”

  “That was quite
an answer.”

  “You’re quite a girl.”

  “I don’t do fast,” she says, picking up her fork and pointing it in my direction.

  “I’ll go as fast or as slow as you want me to.” I raise an eyebrow, unable to get the picture out of my head of driving into her slow, fast, whatever pace she wants.

  She scowls. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about the pace in which I wanna be fucked.”

  “Got it. I know what you mean, but I’m up for that conversation whenever you’re ready.”

  April laughs, and slumps back into her seat. She runs her leg up against my calf. When it sends tingles up my leg and the feeling centres in my groin, I wonder just what kind of pace she’s talking, because my dick is becoming more and more impatient.

  “Now that we’ve got that sorted, let’s have another beer,” she says, motioning to the waitress.

  “You read my mind,” I lie, because I guarantee she wasn’t imagining me driving into her from behind.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * APRIL *

  We are the last customers to leave. I don’t wanna go home. Tonight we’ve shared more about our childhoods and funny experiences, and talked about nothing of any significance as well. It didn’t matter what we spoke of, I didn’t wanna stop. I was much more relaxed once I’d said my piece about wanting something serious. It took a great deal of strength not to ravish him after what he said in response.

  I’d learnt more about Spencer, but there was still so much to discover. He’d let me do most of the talking and it was so nice, for a change, for someone to be interested in me. Me. He’d literally hung on my every word. I’d wished too many times for there to be no table between us because I just wanted to be closer, and straddling his lap was something I was dying to do.

  Walking towards the taxi rank, Spencer takes my hand, linking his fingers between mine, his palms rougher than I remembered. I try to keep my cool, pretending his touch does nothing, but the tingle from my hand runs a rapid course throughout my whole body.