Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  I decide on a diagonal French braid for my wild mane of wavy dirty blonde hair, and a French boat hat with a black band. I’m wearing pale pink high waist shorts and a fitted button up white top, buttoned low… I slide my feet into beige sandals and appraise myself in the mirror. I think this is a perfect going on a casual walk outfit. The sun has absorbed any remaining puddles and has pushed away the gray clouds.

  I slide on my round, tortoise shell sunglasses. This should protect me from his gaze.

  My heart is pounding as I near the barn style doors of my shop. I quickly scrawl a note to stick on my door.

  Closed for Lunch, Back at 1:30

  I grab some tape from my desk and place my hand on the inside of the door. I’m really afraid to open it. I can’t believe how nervous I am. I swallow past a lump in my throat. I pause, and whistle for Bucky. He trots downstairs, taking his sweet time. I grab his leash and finally open up the door to my shop.

  I’ve had a steady flow of customers today. A group of women came in with vintage dresses that needed tailoring for an upcoming wedding. It was fun watching them try on their dresses and poke fun at one another. I almost stuck one of them with a pin when she started talking about all the men she’d gone down on that would be at the wedding. It was shocking, but they enjoyed the look on my face so much that even I had to laugh.

  I told myself if I had customers in the shop around lunchtime, then I wouldn’t go on my walk. Unfortunately, things cleared up right on time. No backing out now. I step out of my shop and quickly turn around to lock up. I slide the doors closed, lock the bolt, and tape my note to the door. He didn’t say where to meet him, so I planned on walking back towards the trail but…that delicious feeling trickles down my spine once again and my heart begins that overly enthusiastic thumping it does when he’s near. I turn around as slowly as I can. And…

  There.

  He.

  Is.

  He’s wearing classic black Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, a crisp white collared shirt, with a skinny emerald green tie. On top of that, he dons a fitted black and grey tweed jacket, tailored to accentuate his toned, trim and masculine body. I try not to stare too hard. His pants are thin-fit, crisp, dark denim, cuffed at the heel, and as if he is a nocturnal emission come to life, he wears black oxford zip-up ankle boots that look like they’re 1960’s re-pop.

  Oh. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  I don’t think I have ever seen anyone look so casually sexy and dapper. His hair is set in a retro style. Just like James Dean, it is the perfect balance between groomed and disheveled. I can’t even imagine a more perfect looking man, in a more perfect ensemble. And boy do I love a classic ensemble. So GQ. He manages to look effortless, modern, and classic at the same time.

  I’m fairly certain that my face is glowing bright red, and I know for certain that I have stopped breathing. I swallow past the lump that has taken up residence in my throat. It feels as though we have been standing here staring at one another for at least a century, or rather, me staring at him. Appraising and absorbing…

  Every.

  Single.

  Inch.

  Of.

  Him.

  “Hello,” he says finally. My body quivers at the sound of his voice, the bass of it rattles my core. He looks down at Bucky and offers his hand; Bucky loves the attention and so gives him his paw in return. “And hello again to you too, Bucky.”

  He smells delicious, like worn leather and vanilla and mmm...

  He looks up at me and gives me a half smile.

  Perfect teeth and lips to die for…

  He’s clearly amused by my reaction to him. I watch his sculpted lips part ever so slightly as he inhales, and then exhales, slowly. His jaw clenches tightly. And time seems to be moving in slow motion. What the hell is going on with me?

  “Hi,” I mumble and turn to start walking. I tug on Bucky’s leash when he doesn’t move. The stranger gracefully gets up and follows alongside me. His legs are long, and he has an effortless and easy stride. He remembered my dog’s name. Did I tell him Bucky’s name? He must have heard me while I was screaming after him like a lunatic, covered in mud, to top it off. I flush at the thought.

  “Have you been working at the vintage shop long?” he asks, and slowly the heavy curtain of nervousness starts to ascend.

  “Um...I suppose. I’ve had the shop for close to 6 years.”

  “Oh, so it is yours then?” He sounds surprised.

  “Yes. I live there, too.” My voice is small and tremulous.

  “You seem very young to own a business. How did you manage that?”

  Good question. Keep them coming please, or this will get awkward.

  “The area I live in, well, you can live and operate a business. All we had to do was get the proper permits. Maggie, my um... grandmother,” I lie, “helped set me up. She’s my partner so, it kind of fell together for me,” I say breathlessly. “She worked with me until I was 18, and then…I took over. It’s a small business so I manage pretty well on my own.”

  I’m so nervous I can hardly control myself. I can’t help but feel as though I’m rambling. I don’t think I’ve ever said this much to one person at one time. Is he even interested, or is he being polite? I don’t want to look up, but I steel a quick glance in his direction. He has a soft smile on his lips but his eyes are fixed ahead of us.

  He looks so at ease, and so confident. Something about him just says he’s important. I absorb his profile and his soft plump lips. He has slight stubble, like he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. It’s very sexy, and distracting. I look down again, afraid to be caught staring.

  “That’s…impressive. What exactly do you do there?”

  “Um…tailoring mostly, specializing in vintage articles of clothing. I fix up and redesign vintage clothes and re-sell. I’ll make dresses sometimes or make costumes...sell vintage home goods and furniture from time to time too, but only occasionally.” I will my heart and mouth to slow the fuck down.

  Bucky is tugging me gently along, I think I’ve forgotten how to use my legs. I’m so nervous there’s an actual tremor in my voice. We continue in the direction of the dog park. I guess it is my turn to ask a question.

  “Are you from Uptown?”

  I think maybe he hasn’t heard me, but he’s quietly taking in the neighborhood. “No. I’m not. I was just visiting the university. Exploring the town a bit too I suppose.” He’s quiet again. I don’t know if I should ask another question. Thankfully, I don’t have to think too long.

  “I live in Downtown L.A. I work there too,” he adds.

  I steal another quick glance at him and he looks deep in thought. I’m tempted to stroke the stubble along his jaw with the tips of my fingers. All of a sudden I’m too warm in this shirt. Ask another question girl. I need to distract myself.

  “Do you like living in L.A.?”

  He turns and looks down at me, and I look up at him. He’s so tall. I bet it would feel good to have myface pressed against his chestI trip on the uneven sidewalk; thankfully he catches my arm and steadies me. His large hands wrap completely around my arm. My skin tingles from the unexpected contact. We both pause and look at one another for a moment. I manage to take a deep breath and quickly look down again and mutter a quick thank you under my breath.

  He resumes walking as if nothing happened, like a true gentleman. God, I feel like such a clumsy ass.

  “Do I like living in L.A.? I guess.” He looks as though he is really considering it for the first time. “It’s convenient. I work a lot so I’ve never really had the chance to enjoy it. It’s noisy and crowded,” he shakes his head. “It’s okay to work there, but I guess I don’t really like living there. Hopefully, things will change soon,” he adds to himself.

  We make it to the park and he leads me over to the gazebo. He sits on the bench inside and motions for me to take a seat next to him. I let Bucky off the leash. He doesn’t go far, just down the path a bit before he starts sniffing at all of the tree
s.

  “So, do you like books, Lenore?” His question throws me, and I glance back at him in surprise. “I saw a couple bookcases in your shop.”

  Wait. How does he know my name? I stare at him, a look of bewilderment on my face. He appears completely unflustered.

  “How…? Yes. I do.” I look away and pretend to watch Bucky. I still feel nervous, though my heart is beginning to beat more steadily.

  “Anything in particular?” he asks as though he is genuinely interested.

  “Um…I read pretty much everything. Kerouac, Hemmingway—any type of fiction. Poetry is great, too. Poe, Tennyson.... You know.” I trail off. I probably sound like the most boring girl in the world. My heart is still trembling in my chest at the sound of my name coming from his lips.

  How does he know my name?

  “‘Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?’” he says with a sultry smile. I know I live in dreams. I feel like I’m in a dream right now. I return his smile and finally relax, a fraction that is. Maybe I’m not the only boring person here.

  “You like Tennyson?” I’m genuinely excited about the possibility that perhaps he, too, is interested in poetry.

  “What little I’ve read I like,” he says and laughs lightly. I smile a broad, genuine smile back at him. The fact that he reads excites me. Nothing is sexier than a man who reads, and reads poetry nonetheless. I’ve conveniently decided that just now.

  Bucky comes trotting back to me and rubs against my leg and sits down on my foot. I rub his head. “What are some of your interests?” My voice is a husky whisper.

  I’m suddenly overwhelmed by curiosity and I’m also eager not talk about myself any more.

  He looks at me for a long moment. I stare at his mouth, hoping he’ll say, “You, Lenore.” His arms are outstretched alongside the bench. I am perched awkwardly at the very edge of my seat, my body turned rigidly to face him. He appears perfectly calm, confident, and totally at ease with himself. I envy him. He takes his sunglasses off and continues to study me.

  I’m studying him as well. His strong jaw, and supple lips, that mouth... He has the most gorgeous kissable mouth, and thick dark lashes. His eyes, they’re such a clear, yet deep blue. I wish I could stare into them for longer than two seconds. I break first and look away toward the trees, and finally, he speaks.

  “Music mainly, classic cars, horseback riding, fencing, and um...long walks in the rain,” he says and laughs lightly. He sounds confident, but I gather he too feels uncomfortable speaking about himself. I turn in his direction again, a smile playing on my lips.

  “Oh? Long walks in the rain, chasing dogs through mud?” I add, sarcastically.

  “Of course. Long walks in the rain, chasing dogs through mud and finding beautiful ladies in distress is my favorite pastime of all,” he smiles back. Another long exchanging look passes. Beautiful? Holy shit, I think I’ve just melted. I feel the panic inside of me rising again. I look away and stand.

  “Well, I better get back.”

  He stands and glances at his watch. His relaxed demeanor changes, he looks nervous for a fleeting moment. Sliding on his sunglasses, he resumes his confident, cool posture. I really do have to go, I have a woman coming in for a fitting in half an hour. He takes Bucky’s leash and kneels down to clip it on and then hands it over to me, softly brushing my fingertips with his. This small contact sends an electric charge throughout my body. It’s like white-hot lightening just struck my core.

  My breath hitches in my throat and I look up at him through my lashes, a tendril of hair falls lightly over my right eye. His expression is serious, guarded. He watches me intently, his jaw tight. But his eyeshis eyes are pools of liquefied sex.

  I fight back the urge to run. I bite the corner of my mouth. I don’t know how to respond to this feeling, or to the look he is giving me. He reaches up tentatively and pushes my hair back behind my ear. I watch his throat move as he swallows. My heart rate spikes and flutters yet again. My skin is left tingling from this tender contact.

  Bucky makes a start for the stairs and breaks our exchange. We walk back slowly, neither one of us in a rush to get back. We’re quiet, with only the sound of our feet crushing dry leaves, and the occasional car passing by. I don’t know what to say. The silence isn’t awkward however, it’s a familiar quiet. Both of us lost in thought. I, for one, am trying desperately to recover my balance.

  When we round the corner of my street, we both slow down even further. Even Bucky is walking at a snails pace. As we near my door, I turn around just as he gently takes my right hand in his. His hand is warm, and rough.

  And just like that, I feel static coursing through my veins. My body is literally humming. He looks down at me, his expression saying he has something he wants to tell me, but I decide to break the silence first.

  “Thank you...for the walk. I’m sorry I’m not better company,” I mumble. I look back down at our hands, I feel so self-conscious. I’ve been nervous from start to finish. I’m palpitating awkwardness. My hand is still in his. I’m not accustomed to this type of contact. I want to pull it away, but at the same time, I like the feel of my small, soft delicate hand in his. It’s such a new and exhilarating feeling. He makes me feel...secure.

  He raises my fingers to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the flat of my knuckles. His lips linger, I feel his eyes fixed on mine. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, as though his breath is caught. His lips…they’re as soft as I imagined. I have to close my eyes for a moment, forget about butterflies in my stomach; I have birds flying around inside of me. Swoon! I wish I knew what to say or do, but instead I stand motionless, thankful at least for the barrier of our sunglasses.

  “Your company is everything I wanted, and the pleasure is all mine,” he adds, his voice has a noteworthy timbre; my body luxuriates at the sound of it. I reluctantly turn around and he releases my hand. I clumsily unlock my shop doors. I turn back around, suddenly remembering his umbrella, and an excuse to prolong our good-bye.

  “Oh! Your umbrella let me give it back.”

  He smiles at me again, that soft perfect smile of his, I’m going to turn into a puddle on the floor any fucking minute now.

  “That’s ok, I don’t need it,” he responds softly, gesturing the sunny sky with his hands.

  “Oh,” I manage. His smile renders me speechless. I feel the world tilt on its axis. He stands on the pavement in front of my shop for a moment and turns to walk away, only to turn back around a beat later.

  “Oh, and Lenore,” I am still surprised that he knows my name, it sounds so magnificent coming out of his mouth.

  “My name is Vincent.”

  My mouth pops open. I am such an idiot, I didn’t even ask him his name! He smiles a gorgeous toothy smile at me and continues back to his car. My face is aflame.

  I rush back inside, lock the bolt from the inside, and run straight up the stairs to my bed and throw myself on it. I crush a pillow to my chest. I hear Bucky climb the stairs after me. Why am I such an awkward idiot? I just want to stay up here under my sheets and hide away.

  I replay the entire walk through my head ten times. Each time thinking of more and more things I could have said, things I could have done differently. I rack my brain, trying to think of what I could have said to at least make myself seem interesting. Or interested in him…I am fairly certain that I fucked it all up.

  I suck at life.

  I drift off to sleep, a million thoughts going through my mind. I don’t open up shop again for the remainder of the day. Appointment be damned. I stay holed up in my bed under the sheets, dreaming inappropriate dreams; a pillow pressed between my thighs to subdue the dull and unfamiliar ache that is forming with each passing moment.

  Chapter 4

  I wake with a jolt. I turn over, and there is Bucky, nudging my bed. He must have to go out. I feel better already. I feel lighter, having released all of my pent up anxiety with a good nap, and I vow to just let it go and move forwa
rd with my day. It is nearly 6 p.m., which is my normal closing time. I’ve never closed up shop early, but today has been a day of firsts, so I’ll take the loss and move on.

  I grab Bucky’s collar and drag myself down the stairs. I hear the lock to my shop doors unlatching; Jordan slides the door open, concern and worry etched on his face. I really don’t want an interrogation right now. I smile politely and open the back door to let Bucky out. Jordan follows after me, silently. I can feel him hovering, and I can almost hear all of the questions he’s about to ask.

  “Lenore, are you okay?” I put on a brave face and turn around.

  “I’m fine, Jordan. Why?” I say, smiling at him. He can probably see right through me. I’m not a great pretender.

  “Uh...you had the shop closed? That’s why? You’ve never closed early.” I can see he is trying to gauge my mood. I roll my eyes and start back up the stairs.

  “Lenore. Why did you close early? Is there something going on?”

  “Jordan, I’m fine. I’m not used to staying up late and waking up early. My day was slow and I got tired. That’s all. Don’t worry,” I barely manage not to sound bitchy.

  “Oh, okay. I brought Chinese food and wine!” He says holding up a bag containing various boxes of steaming hot food, and bottle of wine. I smile I motion for him to follow me.

  He does, and to my relief, he changes the subject.

  “Caleb was fired today. Turns out, it has nothing to do with me. My mom caught him taking a picture of his cock in the office, with her computer camera!” He laughs, clearly relieved. “He was sending it someone he met on Grindr.”

  I poke my head out of my closet, “Seriously?”

  “Yes! I’m off the hook. I have no idea why he couldn’t use his cell phone to do that,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Maybe he was going to leave the photo there for my mom to see. I don’t know. He’s so weird.”

  I say nothing to Jordan about Vincent, though he is never far from my thoughts. We curl up in my bed after eating and drinking far too much and I listen to him ramble about everything, and nothing in particular. I knock out at some point, and when I wake again, Jordan is gone.