by Ava Manello
"Why?" I forget Sally hasn't seen our show yet. She'll understand soon enough. It's not the show as much as the audience that will be a problem. "I'm not sure they'll like me keeping my trousers on." I answer her honestly. Sally blushes. For all her bravado she's actually quite shy.
"I guess that's why it wasn't what I was expecting. I didn't think you'd be a dancer." She starts to look embarrassed at her words. "I mean, well, I mean. Oh crap, I don't know how to say it."
I laugh to ease the situation. "It's okay, I know what you mean. You didn't expect us to be graceful perhaps?" I suggest. Sally nods her head.
"Yeah. I think that's it. I thought it would be heavy rock beats, tacky songs and you lot ripping your clothes off." She's still blushing slightly. It looks good on her.
"It is with some groups, but Eric is happy for me to try some different stuff. We can't all be Magic Mike." I smile. I confess to having watched the movie to see what all the fuss was about but hadn't been that enamored of it. The story line was too dark and depressing to go alongside the stripping action.
"Besides, this routine is to fill in after one of the strip ones and give the guys chance to change for the big finale. I want to quieten it down a bit for the audience so they can really get all heated up again later."
"It's very sensual. I assume it's a play on Fifty Shades?" she questions, looking down at the ripped jeans and the flogger that's hanging carelessly in my hand. When her eyes catch sight of the flogger there's a spark in her eye that's quickly extinguished. I wonder. I can't let my thoughts go there though. Eric would kill me. He's told us all how important it is that Sally writes a positive series of articles about the tour. We need the bookings.
I walk over to the rear of the stage to pick up my discarded shirt and the cuffs. Sally's eyes are instantly drawn to the cuffs and that sparkle is back. Shit. A flash of her with them fastened around those perfect wrists, securing her to my bed flashes through my head. I feel a stir in my pants as I think about what I could do to her, what I want to do to her. I'd love to go there but I daren't. Eric would have my balls for it.
Sally
What's that phrase that I read in that MC book the other day? Foo Foo Clenching. That's it. Shit, I know exactly what it means now. Watching Alex on that stage sure as hell made my foo foo clench. It was sensual and erotic. I hope Eric let's him add the routine to the show, but perhaps he's right. Maybe it's too sensual and not lewd enough for the type of audience the Naked Night's will attract.
The guys aren't what I expected. Well, mostly. Alex and Tiny are the total opposite of who and what I thought they'd be. The other four are slightly more stereotypical with their fake tans and larger than life egos, yet most of the time they're pleasant and polite.
I'm still not comfortable around any of them. I'm not used to the company of men, who am I kidding, I'm not used to the company of anyone. I'm so much a loner it's silly. For all my twenty-four years I'd be a crazy cat lady already if my landlord allowed pets. Animals are so much simpler. With people come expectations, disappointments and letdowns. I don't need a man. What use are they anyway. They certainly aren't like the guys you read about in books. I'd love to experience book sex one day but I'm convinced it doesn't exist. Instead my experiences consist of a quick fumble under the covers, a couple of grunts and groans from him then he turns over, farts and goes to sleep regardless of whether I'm satisfied or not. Did I mention that's with the lights off? I'm too ashamed of my body to risk the lights on, and let's be honest; the naked male body sure as hell isn't very attractive. I much prefer men to keep their clothes on. The Naked Night's do have some pretty impressive abs though; as long as they keep their boxers on we'll be fine.
I can hear Eric calling the rest of the guys to the stage for a full rehearsal. They need to mark out positions and stuff like that. I know, they had all these technical words for it but it went straight over my head. Grabbing my notebook and a stool I position myself in the wings, out of the way and start recording my thoughts as they run through their routine. That's easier said than done when Alex comes on stage as my foo foo clenching starts all over again. Down girl, down!
Chapter Seven
Sally
The show wasn't quite what I was expecting; then again do I know what that was really? I've watched The Full Monty and Magic Mike and even old videos of The Chippendales on YouTube. This was classier than those. The guys can all dance, well most of them can. Guido does a good impression of it, but to my critical eye his timing was slightly off. It didn't seem to be noticeable to the hyenas in the audience though. That wasn't what I expected, it was worse, much, much worse.
Last night, hiding in the wings, I was ashamed to be female. The audience was feral in its behavior. Their language and suggestions were beyond crude. Is there really a need to act that way? I've seen raucous hen parties but last night made them look like a church potluck in comparison.
It seemed to be the larger the girl the more outrageously she behaved. Guido lapped it up. He seemed to be the most popular member of the Night's at the meet and greet after the show. I don't know where he sloped off to but he left the room several times, each time with a different fan in tow. Either he doesn't know how to use his god given equipment or they weren't doing it for him as he always came back fairly quickly on his own. I cringe at the memory.
I'm not a prude. I read erotic books for a start. Okay, maybe I am, as I could never picture myself going off for a quickie with a male stripper I'd just met. I may not be a fan of sex but I do believe there needs to be some sort of connection between me and the man I jump into bed with. I'm exaggerating again. No one has ever jumped in my bed. I've only had a couple of partners and neither of them was interested in more than a quick vanilla session before rolling over and taking the quilt with them. In books the men all grunt and groan and use dirty language. Does that happen in real life? I wouldn't know what a multiple orgasm was if it came and slapped me in the face to introduce itself, then again I wouldn't know what an orgasm from sex was either.
Growing up sex wasn't something that was talked about in our house. It was considered not just taboo but dirty as well. You've never seen a remote pointed so quickly at a TV screen as it was when a bedroom scene came on. To make it worse I went to an all girls’ school. No, not the plaid mini skirt and short white blouse all girls school. An all girls school full of bitchiness, laziness and a total lack of interest in education. A couple of the teachers battled through the apathy for those of us who showed any aptitude, but it was obvious their soul wasn't in it any more. I did okay at school, I was always top of the class, but I was woefully prepared for what came after. That first day walking into the college was a nightmare. I was the only one there from my school, the others deciding not to continue into further education. I didn't recognize the kids I'd gone to junior school with anymore. It was as though those last five years apart from them had been spent in solitary. I came to college full of eager anticipation and left that first day full of disappointment. The lack of interest from my fellow pupils had kept me back in terms of education, and I discovered that I had zero social skills to go with my lack of knowledge. It's possibly why I prefer working alone now. I quickly discovered what life feels like on the outside, realizing that it's safer to stay there than to try and become part of an established clique.
The five years I'd spent away from boys may as well have been fifty. Even the ones I'd shared junior school with were strangers to me. Suddenly it mattered not who you were but who your partner was. You were judged no longer on personality, but purely on pulling power. This strange new world was too much for me and I retreated further into my shell.
Looking back I'd say both the men I'd slept with were immature. The first took my virginity in a drunken one-night episode on a foreign holiday, mere hours after our first meeting. It was such an unforgettable experience I'm not sure it counted. What should have been the sharing of something special turned into a quickie mistake. Alcohol is not my friend. It imb
ibes a false confidence that leads people into embarrassing situations. You only have to look at the behavior at the staff Xmas party to see examples of it.
The second man flattered his way into my bed and my heart. Looking back I wasn't in love with him. I was in love with the idea of being in love. We settled into a boring and normal routine. Yes I tried to spice things up from time to time buying beautiful french knickers and bra sets and even using the erotic novels I’ve read as reference material, but it was always in vain. I could have gone on forever, lost on that aimless track. He proposed on my birthday. Well, what he thought was my birthday. Three years of being together and he couldn't even get the date of my birthday right. He took me to a cheap Italian restaurant, part of a chain, fed me lukewarm spaghetti then leaned over the table soaking his tie in the left over tomato sauce from his pasta, as he dramatically opened the jeweler's box to reveal a gaudy and cheap ring. He really didn't know me at all. I'm not into show. His proposal never once included mention of love. It seemed to be more a description of me changing my life to become the proper little solicitors wife, I sat there, looking at this man who shared my bed for the last year and a bit and for the first time I really saw him. My future looked gloomy at his side. I politely declined his offer, and suggested that I didn't think we were right for each other after all. I stood from the table, grabbed my bag and left. His chin was practically hitting the table as he spluttered on about me never finding anyone as good as him in my future.
That ended over a year ago, and whilst I may have foo foo clenching moment’s, I never act on them. Look where it leads. Sweaty socks, dirty linen and saying goodbye to the remote control don't loom large on my horizon anymore and I'm grateful. I miss companionship, but I don't miss sex. My friend Sasha tells me that's because I was doing it wrong. I guess we'll never know.
I glance at my iPhone on the nightstand. It's three am. I've been lost reading a book again. I loved this one, there's nothing better than a book where you keep telling yourself you'll stop reading after this one last chapter and before you know it those taunting words 'The End' bring your reading session to a halt. I decide to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before calling it a night. That's when it hits me.
I try to move from the bed to find my whole body has almost seized up. Holy crap. Everything hurts. I think back to the gym session with Alex this morning, or was it yesterday morning? At the time it had felt fairly easy, there were points where I felt I could have done more but if I suggested it Alex just smirked at me in that knowing way of his. Now I know why.
My back feels like it's seized into one solid bone. There's no flexibility there at all. I don't get it. I've never hurt like this when I've pushed myself running, and that's when I realize. My general fitness routine consists of running, and only running. My legs may be used to the abuse but the rest of my body isn't. These aches and pains let me know about muscles I didn't know I had. I rise slowly, shuffling along the floor to the bathroom like a geriatric old lady.
Turns out getting to the bathroom was the easy part, trying to lift myself from the toilet presents a whole new challenge. What should have taken moment's turns into an almost epic trial just to lift myself from the toilet seat. I remove some ibuprofen from my toilet bag and swallow them down with a mouthful of disgusting lukewarm tap water.
We'll be on the road again after breakfast, as comfortable as that mini bus seat is, I'm not looking forward to it. I groan as I look back at the phone and see it's now three thirty in the morning. I need to try and sleep as Tiny promised to call for me on his way down to breakfast at eight. I lower myself to the bed, grimacing as my tender back hits the mattress.
Right at this moment in time I'm plotting how to write an article on the Naked Night's that will not only make them look bad, I'm wishing I was an erotic author so I could kill Alex off slowly and painfully in my next book. Thinking of Alex wasn't such a good idea. I picture that cheeky grin of his and those blue eyes and go to sleep feeling horny as hell.
Chapter Eight
Sally
Tiny laughed when he saw the state of me as I opened the door to him. I was shuffling along like an old lady, a grimace permanently attached to my face. Every single part of me ached. I'd discovered muscles I hadn't known existed.
He took pity on me and let me use the lift to get down to the dining room for breakfast. The thought of even attempting stairs this morning brought me out in a cold sweat.
Breakfast was spent as the butt of the guy’s jokes. They thought it was hilarious, going on about me being a pussy. I'd never thought before just how much work these guys put into staying fit. Now I could see that a great part of each day for them is spent either in the gym or practicing routines, they're always on the go.
We'll be on the road again after lunch, and I think this journey is at least a couple of hours long, we're heading to Leeds next. A couple of hours in a minibus right now are more like my idea of hell than heaven. I'm not sure I can concentrate on a book even, never mind making a start on the article I have to submit for the paper this week. I still haven't come up with an angle I want to cover, though perhaps the fitness levels wouldn't be a bad place to start. I can take a couple of shots of the guys in their gym gear and that should appease my editor.
The guys are going to use the morning to head back to the gym but Alex offers to stay behind and give me a sports massage. Cue more eye rolling and kinky comments from across the table.
"Ignore these losers Sally, it's just a sports massage. It'll loosen you up a little, ready for your next workout tomorrow." Alex whispers at my side. That was definitely bad timing as I spit my mouthful of coffee across the table towards a rather disgruntled Jackal.
"Next workout? You're kidding me right? No way Jose, I'm not setting foot in a gym with you again." I sound like a petulant five year old right now. My aching muscles send up a silent cheer.
"You're not with Alex tomorrow, you're with me." Tiny gives me a triumphant grin. Shit. If I can't handle a routine that Alex set me then there's no hope of me surviving a session with Tiny. I've seen him working out. He lifts some serious weights.
"Tiny, I'm not with anyone tomorrow. If I can walk by then I might go for a run." I pause. "On my own." I quickly add before either of them can offer to accompany me.
"You can't run on your own, it's not safe." Rick tells me. I look over at him and see he's serious.
"You're joking me right? I always run on my own." My inner feminist is bristling at the turn the conversation is taking.
"You shouldn't." Rick advises. "Trust me there are some absolute nutters out there. And don't forget you're not on home ground either. We can't let you run a new route on your own. If you won't go to the gym then one of us will go with you."
I put my coffee cup down on the table, taking a moment and pause, carefully considering the wording of my reply.
"I am not going to the gym, and I am not running with you guys. I'm a big girl in case you haven't noticed. I know how to take care of myself and I'm not stupid." My voice is rising slightly and the old couple at the table beside us looks over to see what's happening. I try and calm myself down before carrying on. "I'm not the plastic Barbie dolls you guys are used to, I don't need protecting, I don't need mollycoddling and I sure as heck don't need to be told what I can and can't do thank you very much." This is the point where what I wanted to do is stand and push my chair back and stalk from the room. Of course, in my head this was a grand exit. In reality I can only just about lift myself from the chair and shuffle from the room in a very ungraceful and extremely un-dramatic fashion. The table behind me erupts in laughter, and I hear Jonny. "That told you Rick!" before he too lets out a loud guffaw.
The lift door is about to close when it's rudely pulled open again and Alex slips in beside me. I give him my best dirty look.
"Don't be giving me that prissy face Sally. I'm here to help you. Come back to my room and I'll give you that sports massage I was offering earlier. Trust me, you'll fee
l much better after it." He looks genuine in his offer; I'll give him that.
"Do I look like the kind of girl that goes back to a strippers room?" I sneer. Alex's face falls. That was cruel and uncalled for on my part.
"Do I behave like a typical male stripper?" Alex sounds sad. "I'm not trying to jump your bones you know Sally, just offering to help ease a bit of that pain you're walking around with."
Now I feel like a total bitch. "I'm sorry Alex, I am in pain and that pain is making me more bitchy than normal." I shrug my shoulders then groan as even that hurts this morning. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. Thank you."
Alex's room is a few doors down from mine and I'm surprised at how tidy it is. I try and keep my room tidy but living out of a suitcase isn't ideal and these places never seem to have room to unpack properly.
Alex gestures to the bed. "I'll go grab a towel, can you strip down to your underwear, it will make it a bit easier for me." I can't help it. Alex asking me to strip off brings a blush to my face, even if it was a perfectly reasonable request. He returns from the bathroom and places a towel on top of the bed. I'm struggling to get my t-shirt off; my arms don't seem to be able to lift high enough to get it over my head this morning. Before I know what's happening Alex is in front of me. "Can I help?" he gestures to the hem of my t-shirt. I shrug in acceptance.