The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  “I’ll tell you later, if you decide that I’m what you want.”

  “What kind of answer is that? It’s not just me that has to decide,” she said, eyeing him for a second, trying to take in his last comment. Was she what he wanted? She wondered, but wasn’t ready to ask. “You are a hard dude to read,” she said, staring at him. “What, you have an evil twin living in your closet or something? Is that what I have to learn about you?” she asked, chuckling.

  He shrugged. “Just get to know me, and then we’ll see,” he said.

  “I guess I can do that,” she said.

  “Good,” he said, using her shirt to pull her towards him until she was sitting atop his lap. He smiled and kissed her.

  #

  “It’s really dark out here,” Memphis said, following Z out onto the back deck. It was near midnight and he had talked her into a swim sans swimsuits. They were making their way to his pool. Really, Z had been nude since she’d been here, and it had been full out I-need-you, can’t-get-enough-of-you sex, and in no way was that a complaint.

  He entered the pool first, while she remained seated on the edge with her feet dangling in the water, watching as he ducked his head under and then up. He turned to face her and reached for her foot, which she moved just out of his reach. He laughed.

  “What?” she said, holding on to the pool’s edge. He just stood staring at her with this look in his eye, waiting for her to join him, she guessed. So, into the water she went, ducking her head under and then up to face him. She placed her hand in his and he smiled, pulling her along until his back hit the side wall of the pool. His wasn’t a very deep pool. Five feet at the deepest end, three at the shallowest, and he settled somewhere in the middle.

  He pulled her in for a kiss and after they pulled their mouths apart, looked down and smiled, admiring her breasts floating on top of the water. These two he could love. He reached out and touched the right one and then the left. Smoothly he moved his hands over them, a tug here, a caress there, making her body tingle.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

  “Thanks. Glad you like them,” she whispered too and his eyes lifted to meet hers. So much desire in them, and a complete match to what she was feeling. How had she missed seeing it? she wondered again. He pulled her closer, didn’t stop until her breasts were touching his chest. He kissed her then, softly, feather-light kisses to accompany the soft feather-like touch of his fingers moving over her skin, downward until they reached her waist. They slid further downward to cup her ass, to lift her and to place her squarely above him, legs open and positioned on each side of his body.

  He slid his hips forward then, wanting enough room for her legs to lock securely behind his back, not sure if he would ever get enough of this, enough of her.

  “Put your legs around me,” he whispered, before he thrust his hips up, sliding into her warmth, as he pushed her slowly downward to take him into her body. She moaned, dropped her head onto his shoulder and let him do all the work of lifting and lowering her down onto his erection and then up again. And dang, after a while, another climax was rushing through them both.

  #

  Friday evening

  Alex stepped out her truck, searching the parking lot of the apartment complex that was her home. All clear; nothing untoward happening here, not that she could see. She sighed, relief coursing through her body. Maybe this fear and foreboding she’d been living with lately was all in her head. She made her way down the sidewalk, looking around the area as she made her way to her unit’s front door. She was ready for a shower under extremely hot water and then relaxing in front of the TV. She put her key into the door and felt the presence of someone at her back, followed by a hand, hard and strong gripping the back of her neck, preventing her from turning her head. Not that she needed to. She already knew who it was. The male voice from her past, the one she’d lived in fear of for far too long was back.

  “Hello, Alex. It’s been a long time,” he said.

  #

  Z stood waiting by his studio door. His alarm had sounded thirty minutes ago and he’d sort of rushed to finish up whatever he was working on. He wanted to be free, with nothing to get in the way of him and Jones and the next hour or so. She was here parking, and of course he watched. A skirt and a blouse; simple enough, but with her in it was something else entirely. He stood smiling, waiting as she made her way over to meet him. Nervous at the new, always, yet pushing through whatever was Jones.

  He could love this one. Hell, he was partly there now, and that was scary ’cause he wasn’t quite sure of her reaction to him, to all of him. Love me. Love my stuff. It could go either way—had gone either way, as recently as last year. You could never be sure until you were. However, given what he’d seen of her so far, he was hopeful that his take-everything-in-stride Jones would take him in stride too.

  “Hey,” he said when she reached him, settling her lips on top of his.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling, after she pulled away. She stared into eyes filled with so much desire, and something else she couldn’t name. She leaned forward again, to kiss him again.

  “Want to skip training today?” he asked, his mouth skimming her neck, his hands at her breasts, doing something sinful to the nipples.

  “Yes,” she said, moving her hands to the zipper of his jeans, running them over the erection that was already hard under her hand.

  He was unbuttoning her blouse then, separating the sides, stopping after he cleared the first few buttons. He wanted her two smooth, round, nourishing breasts free, so he could drop his face into the valley between them and inhale the soft fragrance that she favored. He stayed that way for a minute, before he felt the pull to taste, and moved to take a nipple into his mouth.

  She could hardly catch her breath before his hands were skimming over her hips, sliding down to the hem of her skirt. He looked up and smiled. So out of the blue and unexpected was that smile. Sexy, filled with knowing and a huge chunk of desire, and he could have whatever he wanted.

  “Inside,” he said, pulling her into his shop, and moving away from the door, out of view, in case someone unexpected showed up. He set his lips to hers afterward. Mouths open and feasting hungrily were the two of them. She was the first to pull away, wanting to touch him for a change, hadn’t had a chance to since this thing started, but she would now. She moved her mouth to his chin, and then down to his neck. Her hands found the bottom of his t-shirt, and she pulled it up and over his head. “Let me,” she said into his eyes.

  “Let you what?” he asked, smiling with his eyes doing that intense, half-mast, I’m-so-into-this thing he did, that so effectively and efficiently reduced her body to warm honey.

  “Do this,” she said and touched her lips to his chest then, light touches of mouth to whatever body part she encountered, continuing with her quest to taste the rest of him, a desire unexpected and surprising in its intensity. Slowly, she moved down his chest, had to pull her skirt up a little, until the pencil part wouldn’t go up any further. She looked up and caught him staring, so into it was he. She kissed his stomach, heard him chuckle as she continued moving downward, tasting his skin until she reached the zipper of his jeans. She was on her knees now. She looked up to find him still watching her, same desirous eyes, a little heat-filled now, apparently really wanting whatever she was about to do.

  She smiled, lowered the zipper of his jeans and pulled his erection free and smiled up at him before she kissed him. Teasing him was what she wanted to do, but turned out he was a little too needy for that; the hand on her head, moving her mouth to him, was her clue. She smiled and pulled him into her mouth. He moaned, and the things he could do with a moan. Was there anything sexier than that of a man letting you know when he was pleased?

  “M,” he whispered soon after, watching his very own calendar girl pay homage to him in a way he probably could never get enough of. He captured her hair in each of his hands, wanting to watch her on her knees, clothes in disarray, t
he body he craved in front of him, with lips, soft and plump wrapped around him. The wall behind her provided support to her back as her hands held on tightly to his hips as they pushed softly into and out of her mouth.

  “M,” he said, again, pushing his hips softly into her mouth again.

  “M,” he said on the next thrust, leaning his upper body into the wall, using his forearms for support, and widening his stance before he dropped his head to watch again as her mouth covered him, taking the small thrust of his hips, and he moaned again. He closed his eyes then, and let his hips find a rhythm that they both could handle and they stood there, and he didn’t know for how long. The sounds of her mouth, taking him in, and the moans of a well-pleasured male were the only sounds in the air.

  “M,” his said, his hips increasing in speed now, small thrusts once more, and then he was coming, a catch in his breath at the unexpectedness of all the sensations running through his body, at the pleasure of his release.

  He pulled her up and kissed her then. “That was so much better than training,” he whispered against her lips. His cell phone rang.

  “Good timing, huh, for whoever is calling you,” she said, against his mouth, chuckling. He laughed and, still holding her in his arms, removed it from his back pocket. He checked the caller ID and was surprised to see Alex’s name. She usually waited until after her sister’s training ended before she called him. From the first day of Jones’s training Alex had called him religiously. It was about checking up on her sister.

  “It’s Alex,” he said, his gaze on his phone, hitting the button to answer it. “What’s up?” he said into the phone.

  “Is this Coach Z?” someone other than Alex asked.

  “It is. Who’s this?”

  “I’m Memphis’s sister, Charlotte, the one in between her and Alex, which is why I’m calling. Is she with you? Memphis, I mean. I’ve tried her cell, but she wasn’t picking up and then I remembered that she trains with you today. There’s been an emergency and I need to speak to her,” Charlotte said on a sob.

  “Sure, hold on,” he said, placing the phone into Memphis’s hand. “It’s your sister, Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte?” she said, meeting his eyes. Alarm in them, just that quick. “Charlotte?” she said into the phone. “Slow down. Wait. What? Take a breath, and tell me what happened,” she said, pushing to be free of his arms. “When? Where are you? Okay, I’m on my way.” She disconnected.

  “What’s up?” Z said, watching her. There was an expression of fear on her face.

  “I’ve got to go. It’s Alex and she’s in the hospital,” she said, her hand shaking as she handed the phone back to him.

  “I’ll take you,” he said, sliding the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, while looking around for his shirt. He found it, near the garage door. He picked it up from the floor, zipped up his jeans, and quickly ran his eyes around his shop, making sure it was safe to leave. “Where is she?” he asked.

  “County General.”

  “We’ll take your car. Keys,” he said in the voice of her coach, the one that brooked no argument.

  “You have work. And how will you get back home?” she said.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out, plus I know the sheriff in case we’re stopped for speeding,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. She was fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. “Let me,” he said, and she did, stood quietly in front of him as he helped her dress. Done, he pulled her into his body for a quick hug. “Whatever this is, will work out. Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand in his, and they were moving to her Xterra.

  #

  “Tell me what happened?” he said, adjusting the driver’s side seat and the mirrors of her Xterra to his satisfaction. They’d cleared his drive and were pulling out onto the main road. Memphis sat closer to the steering wheel than he did.

  “Alex’s old boyfriend found her,” she said, wiping her eyes. “She’s been gone so long, I forgot about him. I mean, I thought he had moved on, found some other woman to harass, stalk, mistreat,” she said, meeting his eyes, before he turned back to face the road.

  “Charlotte said that he’d been in Austin for a while and that Alex hadn’t told us. He caught her at her apartment and managed to drag her back inside. He beat her, had a gun, and was planning to kill her and then himself, I guess. Anyway, she somehow managed to escape to a neighbor’s apartment where they called the police.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Dead. He shot himself and it so easily could have been Alex, too,” Memphis said, fighting to catch her breath.

  “Calm down, Jones,” he said, one hand on her back, massaging, and his other on the steering wheel. “Relax. It’s okay. She’s going to be okay,” he said.

  “You don’t know that,” she said, trying to breathe, which was made difficult by her tears.

  “And you don’t know that she won’t… Calm down and breathe, Jones,” he said, continuing with his hand on her back, softly rubbing. “Breathe,” he said again, moving his eyes between her and the road. “She told me about him,” he said, explaining the part about the truck and that he’d checked out the license plate with his friend in the sheriff’s department. “The license plate hadn’t matched up to Alex’s old boyfriend, so I let it go.”

  “That’s why you asked me to talk to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “I did. I called her immediately after I hung up with you. She said she was fine but she has been unusually quiet lately. I didn’t push and I should have. I should have known something was up with her. I was pre-occupied with you, and I dropped the ball. It could have been her that is dead too.”

  “She’s not, so stop with the blaming yourself. He was at fault, whoever he is, for not leaving her alone. So blame him if you want to blame someone,” he said, more emphatic than was necessary, but wanting to make that point.

  “You’re right,” she said, looking out the window. “You’re right,” she said again. “I just feel so responsible for them, you know?”

  “I do,” he said, and it was his younger brother that he was thinking of.

  “She lived with me at first, after she left him, six months for this very reason, and not a peep, and we just let our guards down, I guess, and…” she said, her voice trailing off. He reached for her hand and squeezed it, not sure what else to do or say.

  “They are taking her into surgery, a ruptured spleen,” was the only other comment Memphis made in between her texting.

  “That’s fixable. She’s young, healthy, and strong. She’ll survive this,” he said. She nodded, and went back to staring out the window and texting. Twenty minutes later, traveling at Z’s speed, they were pulling up to the hospital. He dropped her off at the emergency door and went to park.

  #

  Z entered the emergency room door, scanning the room for Jones. An African American man stood against the wall, a little past the entrance waving to him. “Are you Z?” he asked, walking toward him.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Joshua, Charlotte’s husband, the brother-in-law,” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you for bringing Memphis. It was a relief to us.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Surgery. I sent her up to the waiting area, told her I would wait to see what you wanted to do. I can take you home if you need.”

  “I’m good here for a while. I’m sure you want to be here, too.”

  “I would prefer that option, yes, but I can take you back if you need me too.”

  “No, I’ll call a cab or a friend before I ask that of you. I’d like to come up with you. Alex is a friend of mine, too.”

  “Sure,” he said, and they made their way to the elevator, and then around the maze of hallways that led to the waiting area for the family and friends of the surgical patients. He stood beside Joshua, looking around the room for Jones, feeling oddly protective of her and Alex.

  The waiting room was one large square-shaped room, filled with a sma
ttering of people and one woman seated behind a desk in the middle of it. There was a board behind her on the wall, with a list of patient names along with their status. A. Jones, he read on the board; in surgery beside it. He found Memphis standing in front of the desk, another woman beside her. Charlotte, the middle sister he guessed. She was a mix of both Jones and Alex in physical description, not as thin or as tall as Alex, but less voluptuous than Jones. They made their way over to the two women.

  “This is Z,” Joshua said to the woman standing behind Memphis.

  “Hi, I’m Charlotte,” she said, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Wish we could have met under different circumstances, but thank you for bringing my sister.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m going to find us seats. Will you tell Memphis?” Joshua asked.

  “Sure,” Z said.

  “You’re still here,” Memphis said, turning away from the desk a few minutes later, surprised to find him standing behind her. “I’m sorry. You can take my car if you need to go. Joshua can bring me out there later to pick it up.”

  “No, I’m good. Joshua’s going to take me home after Alex’s done with surgery,” he said.

  “You’re going to stay? You don’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  “You sure?”

  “I am, let’s go sit,” he said, his hand at her back as they walked over to join her sister and Joshua.

  #

  Good news came three hours later. The surgery had gone well, no complications. Alex was stable and currently being transferred to the recovery room, where they could take turns visiting her. Z stood in front of Memphis’s chair, looking down at her. He was leaving.

  “Joshua is going to give me a ride home,” he said.

  “Good,” she said, gazing up at him, tears of relief in her eyes then. He reached for her hand, and they made their way into the hall; for a little more privacy, Memphis guessed. “Good news,” he said.