by Ava Manello
Chapter Twenty
Sally
As soon as I sat down the heckling and cackling started either side of me. The volume and the words were too much and I made a hasty escape, desperate for fresh air.
Eric found me outside the stage door, a concerned look on his face.
“You alright, Sally? He’s an idiot, he shouldn’t have done that and picked on you. When I wanted you to experience the show I didn’t mean from on stage.”
“It’s fine Eric, don’t worry. It was certainly an experience. I’ve just got a stinking headache. I think today was just a bit much for me. I think I’ll head back to the hotel if you don’t mind. See you in the morning.”
Before he can protest I’ve turned and am striding away. The cool night air is doing a fairly good job of cooling down my overheated skin, but not my libido.
I have got a headache; that much is true. It wasn’t the fiasco on the bus with the snake that brought it on though. It was being on stage with Alex, wanting him, and all the while knowing I can’t have him.
Alex
I glance out from the stage and see that Sally’s seat is empty. She hasn’t returned from the interval. Shit. I guess that means I’m in big trouble.
I struggle to concentrate for the rest of the show, but I don’t let it affect my performance.
During a costume change Eric tells me that Sally went back to the hotel as she was complaining of a headache. He may believe that, especially after the stress from earlier, but I don’t. This is my fault. I’ve pissed her off.
As soon as I can, I escape the theater and head back to the hotel. There’s no sign of Sally in the bar so I go knock on her door.
“Who is it?” comes the muffled response.
“It’s Alex. I wanted to make sure you were okay?” I ask.
The door cracks open slightly, but she’s got the chain on so I can’t go any further than the hallway.
“I’m fine. I’ve just got a stinking headache and need an early night.” I can hear the pain in her voice, and her face is deathly pale. Maybe she has got a headache after all.
“You need any tablets or anything?” I offer.
“No thanks, I’ve had some. I’ll be fine once I’ve had some sleep.”
“Look, Sally…” I pause, unsure how to word what I want to say, but she stops me anyway.
“Look Alex, it’s fine. The stage thing was fine. I’m not angry if that’s what’s bothering you. I just don’t feel very well right now, so if you’ll excuse me I’m going back to bed.” She’s about to close the door on me.
“Sally.” She looks up at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. Sleep well.” I turn and walk away to my room. I don’t want to walk away though. I want to bust down that door and pull her into my arms, even if it is just to hold her close all night whilst she sleeps.
I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship.
Sally
Damn Alex for knocking on my door. This isn’t fair. He has no clue how just the sight of him affects me.
As if I haven’t got enough problems right now. Between worrying about whether I’ll have a job at the end of this assignment, and how to tell my friend her husband is probably cheating on her I am beyond stressed.
I look back at the iPad, which is lying innocently on the bed. The dating app is open and the screen is showing Gary’s dating profile. He say’s he’s single and has no kids. The lying shit. Is that what this is about? He feels emasculated because they’ve got a baby now?
Ashley is one of the nicest girls you could meet. She’s attractive, funny and just good to be around. I know she didn’t have the easiest pregnancy, and did gain some weight but when I saw her the other week she looked great.
I’m screwed at the moment, as this really isn’t the sort of news you can give someone over the phone. It needs to be done face to face. That means I have to wait around another seven weeks for the tour to finish before I can meet up with her. Seven weeks is far too long. I dread to think of the damage that could be done to their marriage in that time.
Perhaps there’s some innocent explanation for Gary being on the site. After all I’m not on there to date. Yeah. Right. Keep telling yourself that Sally, they’ll put you in the nuthouse.
There’s nothing else for it, I click on the message icon on Gary’s profile and start to type:
Hi Gary
Fancy seeing you on here! I didn’t realize that you and Ashley had split up. I’m so sorry to hear that. Hope you’re well.
S
xxx
Hopefully that’s innocent enough and shouldn’t startle him. I’m about to shut down the app when I notice I have several incoming messages. I open them up and groan. More losers. The last message shocks me though. It’s so graphic in it’s intent I require mind bleach to erase it. Yeuch. I can’t log out and shut down the iPad quickly enough.
I close my eyes, but the content of that message plays on my mind. This time though, it’s not the creep from the dating site but Alex that is suggesting erotic acts. With that thought on my mind I fall into a blissful sleep.
Chapter Twenty One
Sally
Breakfast was going okay until Tiny suggested he, Alex and I should hit the gym again before we leave.
“I’ve only just recovered from the last session.” I whine. I’m not lying. I feel like an old woman twice my age after going to the gym with these two.
“I’ll take it easy on you I promise.” Tiny smirks. Like I believe that.
“This one’s got a hot tub.” Alex offers. That seals the deal. They can go workout and I’ll soak my aching limbs in the hot tub. Tiny obviously realizes my intent though.
“No workout, no hot tub baby girl.” He smirks. I’d love to wipe that smirk off his face right now. As though the bloody man can read my mind he continues. “I want to teach you some boxing moves today, they’re great for toning your arms and general cardio fitness.”
“So I get to punch you?” I ask.
“Well, you get to punch the pads I’m holding up for you.” He offers. That’s good enough for me. Sounds like a perfect way to release some of this tension.
“Now that I’d like to see.” Alex laughs.
***
The gym is quiet when we get there for which I’m grateful. I’m even more grateful when Tiny pulls us over to a secluded corner out of sight of the other gym members.
He’s made me do the usual warm up on the treadmill and the silly active cardio stretches. I feel like a fool swinging my arms here and there and kicking my legs out in exaggerated steps but he knows what he’s doing.
He passes me a pair of boxing gloves to wear. They feel odd, not heavy, more off balance. He holds a couple of pads in front of his face. When I look at them they resemble faces. Now this I could have fun with.
“I want you to punch into each of the pads, your left hand into the right one and vice versa. I’ll keep count. Hit it with everything you’ve got.”
He corrects the angle of my hand after the first couple of hits, after that I’m in the zone. The pads take on the faces of my boss Fred, and my friend’s husband Gary. I hit them with everything I’ve got.
“Slow down girl, you’ve got a few more repetitions of these to go yet.” Tiny advises. Oops. I may have been a tad overenthusiastic.
This is a lot more interesting than the viper crawl he had me doing last time, and a hell of a lot more fun.
After a short break he asks me to jab upwards this time, my hands and arms at a slightly different angle. I think he calls this an upper cut.
I enjoy the boxing element of the routine but after that he has me doing burpees. I ask you. Does he go out of his way to find embarrassing positions to put me in? I make the mistake of asking him.
“Well, now that you mention it, your arse does look great when it’s up in the air like that.” He smirks. Lucky for him I’m stuck in this hands down, arse in the air position or I’d have slapped him for that. The grin on his face tells me h
e knows.
When I’ve completed the humiliation that is burpees he gets me to lift some light dumbbells. Again he corrects the angle of my arm. Apparently I’m working my shoulders instead of my chicken wings. As soon as he mentions chicken wings I pay attention. I recall a YouTube video a friend recently showed me of a ‘Fat Granny Twerking’. She hadn’t started twerking with her arse; she’d started twerking with the chicken wings on her arms. They flapped around all flabby and loose, it was gross. I’m paranoid that as I get older I’ll end up looking like that so I pay close attention to what Tiny tells me for the rest of the session.
The hot tub is heaven. I’m glad I packed a swimsuit just in case we came across a pool on our travels. I hadn’t expected to have company though so it doesn’t cover as much as I’d have liked.
I exhale a gasp when Alex walks into the tub area. He’s wearing black swimming trunks and they seem to draw the eye to that V of flesh that sits just above his waistband. Tiny follows close behind him, offering up a wolf whistle. “Damn, it should be against the law to look that hot in a bathing suit.” He grins at me. I blush. I’m not used to compliments. I don’t know about you but put downs seem much easier to believe and accept than compliments.
“Why thank you kind sir.” Alex bows to Tiny and I can’t help giggling. “Looking pretty hot yourself man.” Alex winks at Tiny who suddenly looks unsettled and can’t seem to wait to get into the tub with me.
“I was talking about you in case you’re wondering.” He whispers in my ear, before casting a nervous glance over at Alex.
I laugh even louder. I love being with these guys. They’re good medicine.
Chapter Twenty Two
Sally
We’re heading up to Newcastle today for a couple of days; night off tonight and the performance is tomorrow. Dan the driver advises we’ll be on the road around three hours depending on traffic so get comfortable.
I like Newcastle, there’s a lovely little tapas bar I went to with friends on my last visit and I think I’ll see if I can persuade Alex and Tiny to pay it a visit.
I either need to find a launderette or go shopping for some new clothes. I’m tired of washing my gym kit out in the bath.
I open my iPad to start writing up this weeks article and see that I have new messages on the dating site. I’m not sure if I can be bothered to open them if I’m honest. I can’t see how I can get an article out of this that will keep Fred happy, unless he let’s me just write one about the culture we live in where people feel this is the only way they can meet a new partner. That might work if I can spin it right for him.
Sighing I click on the button to log in and open the messages. Why can’t it just show me the bloody thing in the notification email and save me all this hassle.
As I expected there are several suggestive messages, mostly from men without profile pictures. I just delete those. There are also a couple of just happy to chat messages from some guys that I’ll come back to later. The one that gets my heart racing is a message from Gary.
I open the message reluctantly.
If you want to do what’s best for Ashley, you’ll forget you saw me on here. We haven’t split. Ashley’s such a prude, as well you know. I just log on here occasionally for a little dirty talk, nothing else. I’m still happily married.
G
I can’t tell the tone it was written in. That’s the problem with the written word. Is it aggressive or am I just imagining it.
He’s right. Ashley is the biggest prude I know. She never talks about sex, and refuses to read anything that references it. That really narrows her reading choices these days.
I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Can I deny him, if ultimately it helps keep his marriage together? Is a little bit of dirty talk on a dating site any worse than him sitting watching porn or reading it?
I’ll arrange to meet Ashley when I get home and see if I can figure out where the ground lies, I can always tell her then if needs be.
A new message pops up in my inbox. I shiver in disgust when I read it. It’s from a young 17 year old looking after his Aunt’s house whilst she’s on holiday. He wants to just hook up for sex. He’s fiddled the age on the profile so he can view older women.
I block that one. I’m too young to be a Cougar!
The more time I spend on the dating site the more revulsion I feel. I’m sure there are genuine guys on there; they just get lost in amongst the not so genuine sadly.
I decide to reply to a few of the more innocent sounding messages. Perhaps if I can build an online relationship with them I’ll get some material for the article I need to write.
Most of them don’t want to chat; they want to jump straight into meeting up. I get round that by telling them I’m away with work and won’t be back home for several weeks.
I log out with a sense of relief. I don’t quite know why but I don’t feel comfortable on the site. I’m happy being on my own for the most part. Yes, it would be nice to have some company occasionally for a night out, or just someone to pay you a bit of attention.
I turn and look at the guys on the bus behind me, smiling in the knowledge that for the next seven weeks that isn’t going to be an issue.
Chapter Twenty Three
Alex
The journey to Newcastle is long and boring. I hate being stuck on this minibus. I need to be out in the fresh air.
I keep looking over at Sally. For the first part of the journey her face showed a range of emotions. It must have been something she was reading on her iPad. I’d swear it went from disgust to smiling but there was one point I was convinced she looked scared. I must have got it wrong. Whatever it was that caused it I saw her log out and open her Kindle.
I could watch Sally read for hours. When she’s got that thing in her hands you can see the tension leave her shoulders. She relaxes. That thought reminds me of the massage I gave her the other day though. That’s not good. I don’t need to spend the next few hours sporting a hard on. I try and think of something else. It’s impossible. My thoughts never stray far from Sally, and when I think of Sally, I think of the things I’d like to do to her.
I want to slowly undress her. Take my time kissing every part of her body. I’d start at her earlobe; gently biting her collarbone, trail kisses down towards her breasts. Fuck. I need to stop this train of thought before I come in my boxers.
I look out of the window, uninspired by the passing view. It will be a while before we see anything but motorways. All I can see are lines of traffic heading in opposite directions. I try and remember the game I used to play in the car as a child. I’d pick a car and make up a story about the people in it. Who they are. Where they are going. Why they’re going there. It helps a little until I glance back over at Sally.
She’s biting her lip. I’m screwed. There’s a light flush to her face so I can imagine the sort of book she’s reading right now.
I need to do something to distract me. Tiny’s timing is perfect. He calls from the back of the bus for me to go join the rest of them in a game of cards. I get up and move to join them. I can see the surprise on their faces. In all the time I’ve toured with them this is the first time I’ve accepted their invitation to play cards.
I don’t have a choice though. I either play cards or I sit there watching Sally, and suffering the hard on from hell.
After just a few minutes I wish I hadn’t. They’re talking about Sally. Guido seems to think he has a shot with her. I feel sick at the thought of this lothario going anywhere near her. I recognize the emotion as jealousy. How can I be jealous when she doesn’t belong to me? Before I can say anything Tiny interrupts him.
“Don’t even fucking think about it Guido. Sally’s got class and you’re not going anywhere near her, do you understand me?” Tiny’s voice is firm.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d claimed first dibs.” Guido sniggers. From the look on Tiny’s face I don’t think that was a good idea. Tiny stands. His large frame fills the space on
the minibus. He’s easily the biggest one amongst us.
“No one has claimed dibs. No one will be claiming it. You stick to putting your dick in those harlots you love to play around with from the audience. And that goes for the rest of you.” He looks around the table at all of us. He’s furious. I can see the vein pulsing in his neck. Guido is about to say something else, but he takes in Tiny’s stance and wisely thinks twice about it, shutting his mouth quickly.
There’s a bunch of mumbled “okay” from around the table.
That settles it then. Tiny’s my friend. If he says no one is to go after Sally, then that includes me. I know he’s just trying to protect her. He thinks a lot of her. But right now, I really wish he hadn’t said that.