by Xavier Neal
Never have I believed the higher forces allow things to just randomly happen. I’ve always believed, good or bad, there’s a reason. A purpose. An overall arc to it all even if my mind can’t comprehend it. But what could this mean if this is where it all ends? Was The Universe just giving back to me for the good Karma I stacked up in the form of an orgasm provided by a man who is basically the walking embodiment of sex itself? Or was this just a gentle reminder to live a little more while worrying a little less? Maybe neither? Maybe both?
“Have a goodnight, Syd!” Warren unexpectedly shouts from three cars over.
I peer around Chance’s solid frame and wave. “You too, Warren!”
The moment I look back up at him, I notice the increase in hunger in his expression. His tightened jaw. His teeth tucked out of sight. His eyes racing with passion. I barely have time to take an additional breath before his lips fall onto mine. A unified moan is instantly released into the late evening air. The faint tink sound my keys make when they hit the ground spurs Chance’s aggressive behavior. He latches his hands firmly onto my hips and bites at my bottom lip. His tongue springs into my mouth the moment my lips spread apart on a soft gasp. It furiously rolls around mine, lashing it for speaking another man’s name. Lashing it for leaving it last night. Lashing it for not having returned sooner. With every rough push, Chance carves out what I silently beg are the answers to my previous questions.
The Great Creation has plans for us being together….I’m willing to give it a shot. I just hope he is, too.
5
Chance
With one hand cupping her ass, I slowly sway us back and forth until her back is facing the chair. I lower her gently into the seat and drop my hands on each side of the chair to trap her in place. Her hands grip the edge of my t-shirt at the same time my torso delivers an unhurried roll towards her body. She steals a sneak peak of my abs before I dip lower, straddling her as I continue the rotation of my hips. I casually turn her head to the right, place my forehead in the crook of her neck, and pop my crotch twice. There’s a sigh of approval proceeded by me repeating the movements on the opposite side.
The background music finally starts to fade and she states, “Much better this time. I think the deeper squat will go over really well. Especially when you’re wearing just a string.”
I try to offer Bev, one of our new rehearsal dancers, a smile of gratitude.
Of course we have to rehearse. The Castle didn’t get the country wide reputation it has based on our looks alone. No dancers are allowed to have the same routines. Shit…we don't even all have the same style. But Queen, which is what we address her as most of the time, especially in The Castle, allows us the freedom of expression. She expects our very unique personalities to be showcased and sold. She expects us to embrace our individuality and turn it into every woman’s fantasy. We also have a set designer, Little Sami, to assist in music and prop coordination. Also a wardrobe girl. Queen keeps us on a rotating schedule so we each close with a blow your socks off performance every couple of months or so. Helps keep the clients happy and us from burning out. However, the weeks in between we still perform or are sent out to dance at private parties. Those routines aren’t expected to be as creative but by no means are they allowed to ever get stale. It’s also the reason we have rehearsal time, space, and practice dancers to work on our pieces with. Yeah, this isn’t your average strip club. It goes above and beyond in so many ways. We’ve got a waxing specialist, massage therapist, on call doctors in the building, and a private kitchen with the option of having our favorite meals delivered for lunch. Oh! Wait until you see the gym we have!
“What’s wrong with you?” Brock grunts from the doorway I didn’t realize he was lingering in. His large build braces itself against the frame. “Your face is fucked up.”
Panic sets in. “What’s wrong with my face?!”
“You’re not doin’ that smiling shit you always are.”
His comment causes me to roll my eyes.
Usually, I am always smiling, but everything’s been a little off since last night.
“Your Chia pet all fucked up or whatever?”
“Chi.”
He flashes me his middle finger.
“And it’s…a little unaligned, bro.”
“Don’t make me repeat my question.”
I hesitate to confess what’s bothering me, but his dark blue stare doesn’t allow me to opt out.
He’s just so fucking intense.
“I honestly don’t understand what’s happening to me.” My arms folds across my bare chest. “Ever since I met Syd, I’ve been having all these…unusual emotions.”
“Shit, we’re really gonna chick flick this? You couldn’t just have a fucking stomach ache or the fucking flu?”
Bev giggles until I hit her with a scowl. “Sorry.”
Brock huffs, “Fuck. Fine. Continue.”
“She’s…incredible, dude. Like when we get together, we just vibe, you know? Her spirit and mine just have this cosmic synergy I can barely put into words. Every time we’re fucking near each other it feels like I’m complete. Like my entire life is in perfect balance.”
“This is a problem?” His face scrunches. “If balance is a problem then you’re a shitty fucking hippie.”
I extend a hand to imply I’m not finished. “It would be one thing if it was just that feeling, but then when we fucked, something inside of me awoke my inner wolf-”
“Your what?” Bev quickly questions.
“My inner wolf. It’s my spirit guide animal.”
She nods, but Brock groans, “Please, tell me that’s a fucking joke.”
I shake my head.
“You’re way too much of a pussy for that to be true.”
“Bro, don’t add more uneasiness to my alignment right now.”
He grits his teeth, shakes his head, and motions with his hand for me to continue.
“I’m not usually that dude. My style in the sheets is like that on the stage. Sexy. Smooth. Slow….”
Bev’s thighs noticeably press together.
She’s very new. Still adjusting to having us grind against her day after day without the option of us taking her home. That’s also a Castle rule. Can’t date clients or fuck the dancer girls. Or each other, but that one hasn’t ever been an issue since I’ve been here. And just to be clear, you can’t do those things while you work here. As soon as you quit or they quit or stop being a member, it’s fair game. Let’s just say fucking me was the only graduation gift my last dance partner, Heather, wanted from me.
“But when we went at it, I almost left a fucking hickey on her neck. I just wanted to tear that ass up hard and fast. I wanted to bite her and fucking claim her and scar her so the whole world knew not to touch her. I didn’t even recognize what the hell was happening to me. My inner wolf was barely sated from the marks we did leave. Then last night I saw her dancing with this other guy and completely lost my shit.”
Excitement thrums through Brock’s icy glare. “Did you punch him?”
“No, but I fucking wanted to.”
“See. Too much of a pussy to have a wolf guide.”
I glare yet continue talking, “The bigger problem is he wasn’t even fucking doing anything crazy! Just waltzing with her. They weren’t grinding or flirting. They were just leading an elderly ballroom dancing class together but him that close to her sent this unknown discomfort through my veins. Then, when she told him goodbye in the parking lot with me standing right there, I completely snapped.”
“That’s when you beat his fucking face in?”
“Lover not a fighter, bro.”
Brock sneers.
“There was this weird tingling and the unhappiness or irritation or whatever it was raced through my blood again until I fucking kissed her. Hard. It was the only thing that seemed to chill out my insides….” Shaking my head, I add, “Fuck, just talking about this shit makes me tense.”
A short hum comes out of my be
st friend. “You were jealous.”
“I don’t get jealous, dude. There’s no reason to. There’s plenty of pussy in the world to go around.”
His head tilts at me in curiosity. “Don’t you believe in soul spirits or some shit?”
“Mates,” Bev meekly corrects.
He points his finger at her. “That shit. Don’t you believe in it?”
My head gradually shakes again. “No, not really.”
Why do you look surprised, too?
“Hold. The. Fuck. Up.” Brock practically roars. “All the hippie dippie bullshit you believe in-”
“It’s not bullshit.”
“-and it’s the idea of two people fucking destined to be together for their lives that doesn’t make the cut?”
I push through my reluctance to explain. “Monogamy is not necessarily a concept I was raised to agree with.”
A blank expression crosses his face. “I don’t even fucking know what that means.”
“My parents-”
“Who are still happily fucking married, right?”
“Right. They have somewhat of an open marriage.”
His eyes widen.
“They’re swingers. They have been since before me and my brother were born. We were raised in a household where sometimes ‘flesh partners’ would join us for breakfast or dinner. We were taught it was alright to allow your sexual craving to be fulfilled by your partner as well as other partners as long as everyone understood and was willing to accept it. We were also taught there was nothing wrong with choosing to be polyamorous as opposed to being forced into the society norms of monogamy. Love and sex is meant to be explored and shared.”
Bev is first to speak though her voice is filled with disbelief, “Whoa….”
Brock’s eyebrows pinch together at the same time he shakes his head. “You make so much more fucking sense now.”
“Thanks?”
He expels a loud breath. “And through all that did they teach you that just because monogamy wasn’t right for them didn’t mean it couldn’t be right for you?”
I choose not to answer.
They didn’t say monogamy was wrong. They just implied it didn’t have to be right for everyone. I guess I always took it to mean it wouldn’t be a good fit for me since I loved discovering the different phases and faces multiple women made.
“Look, man, fucking one woman instead of multiple women for a lifetime might be your shit. Just because it wasn’t theirs doesn’t mean it’s not yours. It’s just like the weird religious-”
“Spiritual.”
“-shit you believe in. It’s not a one size fits all. You gotta find what works for you. And maybe…maybe dating Syd, being in a nobody fucks anybody else relationship with Syd, is what your big pie eating pal in the sky wants for you.”
The poke at the belief in a higher power successfully receives a smirk.
“All I’m sayin’ is, if you’re feeling shit you’ve never felt before maybe it’s time to try some shit you’ve never tried before.” There’s not an opportunity to challenge him. He growls into his earpiece, “Why the fuck are you yelling at me?” Pause. “Late for fucking what?!” The short pause is proceeded with a familiar look and a dismal nod.
Booty duty calls….
Bev gives my gym shorts a small tug to grab my attention. “Call her. Go on a date with her. Listen to your inner wolf or whatever. If he howls again for her I would take that as a pretty clear sign you’re meant to be.”
I do believe in signs. I also believe The Universe pushes pieces and people around to deliver them the best experience they can have on this spiritual plane, as long as the person is willing to work with the almighty force instead of against it. Why am I putting up such a fight when it comes to the calling of being with Syd? Why am I so hesitant to follow this path? Am I that afraid of having my life changed? Does change always have to equate to being negative? What if this time it’s something spectacular?
6
Sydney
I lock my door with Chance behind me. “You’re sure you don’t mind? This isn’t exactly the kind of date you were probably hoping for.”
His gorgeous grin expands. “It’s weird…but it should be fun.”
“Like our first date?”
“Exactly.”
Which much like this one almost didn’t happen.
“Is there anything in particular I need to know about Birdie?”
My body turns to face his. “She’s a little forgetful. Rambles often, though that doesn’t bother me because I love the random bird facts she recalls and stories she tells. She’s had such a colorful life.”
“Love listening to other people’s tales. It’s one of my favorite things to do when I go on spiritual retreats. Just hearing how people live and what they’ve seen is like being given a gift from The Goddess of Life.”
I bite my bottom lip and eagerly nod my agreement.
The two of us walk to the door on the exact opposite side of my apartment floor.
Unlike his place which is up there with my sisters’ level of expensive, I live in a studio apartment where the rent is barely affordable and something breaks down at least once a week. Needless to say, I’ve gotten pretty handy over the past couple of years. YouTube videos have become a necessity in my life.
Knowing I don’t have to knock because she only locks her door when I lock it for her, I crack it open and call out, “Birdie! You ready to go?”
The dinging of the microwave has me darting my body hastily inside. Thankfully, there’s no smoke coming from it, nor is the smell of burnt popcorn lingering in the air. I let out a deep sigh of relief, tuck my keys into my waist purse, retrieve the treat, and immediately begin to relocate it into the zip-lock bag waiting on the counter.
Birdie shuffles around the corner dressed in her favorite red cardigan and floor length gray skirt. Her eyes dash directly to Chance where they waste no time drinking him in. “Oh…my….” She places a hand on her chest. “And who are you young man?”
“Chance,” he politely answers as he crosses over to shake her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Birdie.”
“Oh…my….” She dramatically coos again this time fanning herself. “How do you know my name?”
I hide my snickers and shake the popcorn into the bag. “Remember, I told you I was bringing a friend with us?”
“You didn’t tell me it was a he or the fact he was this handsome.”
Chance lightly chuckles. “I’m flattered, ma’am.”
“None of that ma’am nonsense,” Birdie grouses.
“Makes her feel old,” I state to him at the same time I close the bag.
“Old?” Chance’s expression remains sweet. “How is that possible? What are you forty- five? Forty-six?”
She makes another cooing sound before lifting her hand up to pat his cheek. “I’m old, young man. Not crazy.”
“Nothin’ wrong with being a bit of both.”
Birdie hums her agreement and turns her attention to me. All of a sudden, she places her hand on her lower back, drops her shoulders, and grows a weary look. “I’ve been real tired all day, Syd. Not sure my bones can take sitting on the park bench for too long. Why don’t you two go without me?”
I give her an incredulous stare.
“Go, go,” she says, tossing her other hand at me. “Take the popcorn and the blanket and enjoy yourselves.”
“You sure? We can just hang out with you here? Watch one of your favorites on DVD.”
“No. No. Just go.”
“Birdie-”
“Go.”
The firmness of her tone shuts my mouth.
Sweet as a plum, but takes no shit from anyone. Almost like a Red-tailed Hawk when protecting its nest in a highly populated area. Once her foot is down, it’s down for good. The true problem with this of course occurs when she decides to do things like bake an apple pie at three in the morning and call to ask me can she borrow the apples.
I swing my gaze t
o Chance. “Do you still wanna go, or is there something else you wanna do instead?”
He innocently shrugs. “A movie in the park sounds good to me.”
“Don’t forget to take my blankets,” Birdie chirps at the same time she points to the pair draped on the recliner behind him.
After Chance swoops up the objects, we tell Birdie goodnight and head out.
“Want me to drive?”
My offer is met with a chuckled snort. “Do I want you to put extra poison in the environment? Nope. I don’t need that Karma.”
“Mable is not bad Karma!”
“Driving her sure seems like it.”
The teasing receives a sneer. “Not everyone can afford a high dollar chariot like you, Prince Charming. Some of us just have to make the best of what we’ve got.”
Chance grabs my hand to stop me from continuing down the stairs. “Whoa. Whoa. Hostility, babe. What gives?”
I try to soothe the touched nerve. “Nothing. It’s fine. I’m sorry.”
His grip tightens. “It’s not fine. Your vibe totally shifted at the joke. And it was a joke, babe. We can ride in Mable if that’s what you want, or we can take my car. Whatever will calm your energy levels back down. I just want us to have a good time together.”
Okay, maybe I am a little sensitive about my car and my apartment and my thrift store clothes. But what do you expect? You’ve seen his place. You’ve seen his car. You saw how much people were willing to pay to sleep with him. Even if our spirits seem to match, it doesn’t change the fact our circumstances don’t.
Honesty gets the better of me. “I know you were joking, but is it a problem that I drive an old Volvo, live in a hole, and barely make enough to pay my rent?”
Chance’s eyebrows furrow. “Material crap is at the bottom of my cares.”
Sarcasm drops onto my expression.
“No bullshit. My place is close to work. My car is better for the environment. And as long as you love what you do and it sets your soul on fire, money shouldn’t matter.”