A tear dropped from Brenda’s eye, and she patted Nicole’s hand before leaving the office.
Nicole walked out with them and gave Brenda a hug before she left. She looked at the digital clock behind the cash register. It was time to close up and go home to her back massager and a glass of wine. She locked the door and then turned the lights off in the front of the store.
“Hey,” a masculine voice called out.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned the lights back on. “Who’s there?” she called out.
A head popped up over a shelf in the DVD section. His thick, black hair was neatly cropped, and a grin spread from one dimpled cheek to the other. “I guess I let the time get away from me,” he said, and his hazel eyes twinkled.
What a cutie, she thought. With her luck, though, he was probably unavailable.
“Can I help you find something?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I was looking for a DVD of the last season of Star Trek: The Next Generation.”
She strolled over to the DVD section to get a better look at him. He was built like an athlete. His faded jeans hugged a nicely shaped butt. She glanced down at his hands. No ring. That was promising. Her mood shifted into high gear.
“Are you a Star Trek fan?” she asked.
He nodded, and his eyes traveled from her shoes to her head and back again. He stepped closer and her heartbeat took off at a jackrabbit’s pace. “By the way,” he said. “My name is Jeff.”
She slipped her hand into his and held her breath while a warm tingle of pleasure worked it’s way up her arm. “I’m Nicole, and I hate to tell you this, but I don’t have that DVD in stock.”
She felt flirtatious, which took her by surprise. It’d been a long time since she’d allowed herself the luxury of being playful with a handsome stranger. “However, I happen to own the set you’re looking for.”
He grinned, and his eyes softened. “So what are my chances of borrowing them?” he asked.
“Would you like to discuss it over dinner?” she asked. “That is if you don’t have any plans.”
He straightened up, looked down and shoved his hands into his pockets. Not a good sign. Her heart sank.
“It would have to be a quick bite,” he said. “I have to be at work at eight.”
The wheels in Nicole’s suspicious mind started spinning. Was he telling the truth or just trying to back out gracefully?
“I’d like to see you when we could spend more time together,” he said. “I don’t work on Sundays or Mondays. Could we go out one of those two nights?”
She smiled and said, “Give me a call here at the store.” She might be crazy enough to flirt with a stranger, but she wasn’t trusting enough to give him her home number, yet.
While Nicole counted up the cash drawer and filled out her deposit slip, she thought about the plans she’d made with Brenda. She hadn’t wanted to go solo her first time at a male strip club but maybe it was better that way. If things got a little too hot for her taste, she could slip out.
She dropped the day’s take into the night deposit box at the bank and then swung by her apartment to eat a sandwich and change clothes. She searched her closet for something special to wear. Most of her “night on the town” clothes were a size too small, but she found a pair of black, velvet pants that still fit. She added to it a v-neck, white sweater with pearl buttons down the front.
Since the booze was half price for Ladies’ Night at The Adonis Factory, the crowd was loud and loaded. The air was heady with the odors of a hundred different brands of perfume. She nudged her way up to the bar and was greeted by a young man wearing a red, satin bowtie, matching thong and a smile.
“What’s your pleasure,” he asked.
She glanced down as his large thighs and other parts. “Holy cow,” she said.
“Pardon me?” he asked.
Her hand shot up to cover her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “I’m sorry. I meant to say strawberry daiquiri.”
She retrieved her drink and found a small table off to one side of the stage near a convenient exit door. More young men, dressed in the same fashion as the bartender, danced on platforms at either end of the stage. Women ran up to them and stuffed dollar bills into the strings that held their thongs in place. A woman who looked middle-aged stood next to one platform in a red lace tank top and leather mini-skirt. She mimicked the dancer’s moves. “Oh, baby,” the woman said. “I’d like to untie those strings with my teeth.”
Nicole took a huge gulp of her drink and fanned herself with her hand. It’s so hot in here, she thought while she shimmied out of her coat.
“Bring on the show!” a heavyset lady in the front row shouted.
She surveyed the crowd and didn’t see anyone that she knew. Thank goodness, she thought. The house lights dimmed and the stage was flooded with beams from multicolored lights overhead. Familiar music started to play, and men dressed in uniforms from the original Star Trek series strutted across the stage. One by one, they ripped off their red shirts as their names were called out by the Master of Ceremonies.
The gold lamé curtains parted, and the M.C. shouted, “And here he is ladies. The one you’ve been waiting for.” The crowd went wild. Bras and panties flew onto the stage. “Captain…on…the…bridge.”
This had to be good, she thought. She leaned over to her left in order to see around the woman who was jumping up and down in front of her. “Take it off,” the woman was yelling.
A tall guy with thick, black hair emerged from the slit in the curtains. He was gyrating his hips to a jazzed up version of The Next Generation theme song. Her pulse quickened when the spotlight hit him, and she could see his face. Her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and throat. She dropped back and slunk down into the seat. It was Jeff, the guy she’d met at the store. So this was where he had to be at eight tonight.
He yanked off the green shirt that he wore and revealed the well-toned muscles of his chest and abdomen. Part of her wanted to stay and see the rest of him, but her conscience won out. She had to get out of there before he spotted her.
She crouched down and headed for the exit while covering the side of her face with her coat. She heard a woman yell out, “Beam me up, Scotty!” Whistles and screams went up from others in the audience.
Nicole breathed a sigh of relief when she made her way back out into the lobby. She stopped to compose herself and came face-to-face with a life-size poster of the man she’d almost taken to dinner that night. In the picture, he was clad in a tiny, black Speedo and nothing else. She strained to keep her eyes from settling on the ample bulge at the apex of his muscular thighs.
I need a breath of fresh air, she thought and stepped out into the crisp, February breeze. When she felt cool enough to put on her coat, Nicole looked down at the purple, day-glo stamp on the back of her hand. Oh, what the heck, she thought. It’s about time I sought out some new life and explored new worlds. With that, she did an about face and marched back into the club. She squeezed through the crowded lobby and waved the back of her hand to the ticket taker. Once back in the main room, her shoulders dropped when she saw that another act had taken the stage.
She headed for the bar and found an empty stool. She was about to place her order when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Allow me to buy you a drink.”
Nicole spun around on the stool. Jeff stood in front of her. He was now clad in a t-shirt and jeans, but the images of his near-naked body remained in her mind.
“But not here,” he said. “There’s a more intimate place a couple blocks from here.”
She swallowed and inhaled a deep breath.
“I hope I haven’t shocked you out of wanting to go out with me,” he said.
She shook her head. “Shocked? No. Just surprised. What are the odds that I would meet you in my store tonight and now…here?”
“You never know,” Jeff said. “When things are meant to be.”
This is c
razy, she thought, even as she hopped off the stool and took the hand he offered.
“So is McNally’s Bistro good for you?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’ll get my jacket and meet you out front,” he said.
Somehow she managed to put one foot in front of the other and walk back outside only to come face-to-face with his huge…poster again. What am I doing? I’m going out with a male stripper, she thought. A chuckle worked its way up into her throat. She laughed at her luck where men were concerned and at what Brenda would say when she told her the story. She laughed until tears streaked down her face. A woman entering the club stopped and gave her a strange look.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said, and the woman nodded in return.
“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too,” Jeff said from behind her while he draped his arm across her shoulders. “Ready for some fun?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”
* the end *
Copyright Disclaimers: The song But Not For Me is from the 1930 musical Girl Crazy by George and Ira Gershwin. Star Trek is a registered trademark of Paramount Studios. All characters from Star Trek are the property of Paramount Studios.
Don’t Miss L.K. Campbell’s Historical Western Novella
The Law & Annabelle
Young widow Annabelle Miles hopes to make a fresh start in the Dakota Territory where her aunt owns a gold mine. When her stagecoach stops for the night, she accidentally witnesses a clandestine meeting to sell a diamond mine. The next morning, Annabelle learns that one of the men she saw has been murdered. U.S. Marshal Luke Johnson arrives to investigate the crime and finds himself taken with the widow Miles. It doesn’t bode well for romance when Luke arrests Annabelle’s Aunt Julia as the suspected mastermind behind the phony diamond mine scheme and the murder.
Part murder mystery, part romance, The Law & Annabelle will take you on a wild ride through the old west.
Chapter 1
1882
Three days on a train bound for Chicago had taxed Annabelle’s nerves and her senses. She had thought the odors from the train were bad enough, but the small room she rented for the night was situated downwind of the stockyards. She sat down on a tiny cot and removed the creased envelope from her purse. She unfolded the paper and reread her aunt’s letter.
Dearest Annabelle,
Ruth wrote to me of your engagement, and I’m sure that by the time you receive this wedding gift, you will already be a blushing bride. Mail doesn’t move too swiftly out here.
To make a long story short, I sunk my life’s savings into a gold mine, and I’m now the richest woman in this part of the Dakota Territory.
If you and your new husband ever decide to venture out west, it would please me very much if you would visit me in Red Gorge.
All my love and best wishes,
Aunt Julia
The vibration of a passing train rattled the room. Her new husband? A tear dropped from her eye and stained the pink paper. Annabelle closed her eyes. The death of her husband seemed as if it had happened yesterday instead of a few months earlier.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Miles,” the doctor said. “Your husband has expired.”
Expired? Her husband was dead. A newspaper subscription expired. People died.
“I tried to tell Jacob that his heart wasn’t strong enough to perform…well…the duties of marriage at his age,” he said.
In truth, Jacob had only performed his marital duty one time. And surely, those two minutes on their wedding night wasn’t enough to kill him. If anything, it had been harder on her. The consummation of her marriage had shown her what a terrible mistake she’d made. Perhaps Jacob had realized the same thing. Since that night, he’d slept in another room and hadn’t come to her bed again.
“So what do I do now?” she asked more to herself than to the doctor.
“Send for the undertaker,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
It took more than a week to lay Jacob to rest. His son Byron insisted that his body should be autopsied by the physicians at the medical college. He wanted to be certain that his father hadn’t been poisoned. Annabelle hadn’t thought that her life could get any worse until several days after the funeral when Jacob’s lawyer came to the house to read Jacob’s Will. She’d known that something was amiss when Mr. Peterson had taken her aside and had told her that he’d held off as long as he could. To her horror, Jacob had left her nothing—not one penny to sustain herself. Everything went to Byron.
Receiving Aunt Julia’s letter had been like a beacon of hope to her in more ways than one. Her aunt’s generous gift had paid for her travel expenses. With no more than the clothes on her back, she had left Baltimore to begin what she hoped would be a new life in the west.
She refolded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. She removed her hat and loosed her dark brown tendrils from the tight bun at the back of her head. She eyed her bedding. I wonder when the linens were last changed, she thought. Without taking off her clothes, she reclined on top of the bed covers. Before long, she somehow managed to fall asleep.
Early the next day, Annabelle boarded a different train en route to a town called Yankton in the southern Dakota Territory. It wasn’t long into the journey when she began to feel as if she’d left civilization behind her. The small towns that passed by her view from the train window seemed to sit isolated in the middle of open plains—land as far as her eyes could see. No wonder it takes days to traverse it, she thought.
The wail of the whistle and the slow jerking of the train as it came to a stop roused Annabelle from her cat nap. “All off for Yankton,” the porter called out.
She stood on legs made wobbly by sitting for hours and followed several other passengers out of the car. She glanced around at the good-sized town with modern buildings that served as the Dakota territorial capital. The hotel and restaurant across the street from the depot appeared to be quite nice, but she hoped that she wouldn’t have to stay long before she continued on her journey.
She walked toward the ticket office. A tall man, wearing a badge, emerged from the depot and held the door for her. He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. His steel blue eyes met hers.
“Ma’am,” he said with a tilt of his head.
She nodded, and her gaze followed him down the sidewalk. The brown canvas pants he wore caressed his muscular thighs as he walked. His long brown coat and dark vest accentuated his strong build. She hadn’t meant to stare, but she’d never seen such rugged and raw masculinity—not in her privileged, sheltered world back east. He mounted a horse and rode off at a gallop.
“May I help you, ma’am?”
She turned to the ticket agent. “I need to inquire about transportation to Red Gorge,” she said.
“From here,” the man told her, “It’s a six-day journey by stagecoach to Red Gorge. Luckily, the stage should be here in less than an hour if it’s running on time, so you won’t have to wait long.”
Annabelle smiled. For once, things appeared to be going her way.
“I’d like to purchase a ticket for the stage,” she said while opening her drawstring purse. “Do you think I’ll have time to get something to eat before it arrives?”
“The hotel restaurant might not have the quickest service for you, but you can get finger sandwiches and cookies at the tea room. It’s a short walk from here, and you’ll see the stage come in from that direction, so you won’t miss it.”
She thanked him and laid a hand against her growling stomach to quiet it. Perhaps a small meal was best considering that butterflies were dancing around in her chest. She’d read the dime novels that told of stagecoaches being attacked by bandits and Indians. She said a quick prayer that her trip would be uneventful.
Her traveling companions on the stage were a young brother and sister and an odd fellow who held onto his brown leather valise as if his life depended upon it. He had boarded the stage that morning at the
ir first stop in the town of Tyndall. She’d attempted to make conversation with the man who looked to be the same age as her late husband. All she received in return was a nod or glare, so she gave up and gazed out the window.
By twilight, they pulled into what looked like some kind of settlement. Annabelle could see several buildings and a two-story inn. The stage driver, along with the man who rode shotgun, jumped down from their perch. The driver, a young man who couldn’t have been much older than she was, opened the door.
“We’ll spend the night here,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll cross the Missouri River.” He paused and turned to Annabelle. “A room in the inn is a dollar and fifty cents.” Looking towards the gentleman, he said. “A bed in the bunkhouse is free.”
“I’ll be staying in the inn, as well,” the man said.
Annabelle suppressed a chuckle. The starched-collared businessman with his slicked back hair had probably never been anywhere near a bunkhouse.
She was glad to see someone waiting to pick up the two children. At least the young ones wouldn’t have to endure four more days of rough, bumpy trails. A pretty, red-haired woman who appeared, from the size of her belly, to be close to giving birth, met Annabelle and the gentleman on the porch of the inn. She introduced herself as Daisy Hansen, took them upstairs, and showed them their rooms for the night.
“The outhouses are behind the stables,” she told them. “And the bathhouse is just outside the kitchen door. A hot bath is fifty cents. A cold bath is a quarter.”
Annabelle was more than willing to pay the price. She hadn’t had a decent bath in days.
“Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes,” the woman said. “We’re not fancy here. Everyone eats around the kitchen table like family.”
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