Stirred Up

by Isabel Morin

  Perfect.

  “Not at all. You must have changed your schedule.”

  “Yeah, I went back to school.”

  She’d complained about her dead-end job without seeming like she’d do anything about it, so this came as a surprise. Mostly though he just wanted her to get their drinks and leave them alone.

  “That’s great. Good for you.” He waited a beat and then turned to Cheryl. “What’ll you have?”

  “A glass of the house merlot would be great,” she said, her gaze moving back and forth between him and Kim.

  “I’ll have a Steel Rail,” he said, smiling his thanks.

  Kim gave him a narrow-eyed look and walked away. Sighing, he turned on his stool so he was facing Cheryl.

  A small smile was playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “You going to tell me what that was all about?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  Cheryl laughed, the amused, husky sound going straight to his gut.

  “I guess that pretty much says it all.”

  “We should probably get to work, don’t you think?” he asked, all innocence.

  “I guess we’d better.”

  Leaning over, she reached for her bag, the movement exposing the smooth white skin above her pants. She sat back up, holding her notebook, and smiled absently as Kim set their drinks in front of them.

  “I’m kind of bummed about today’s class. Not enough kids participated, and I thought it was a great reading. So now I’m worried because I’d planned on doing “Bernice Bobs Her Hair” the next time around, but maybe I need to do something more modern. Mix it up a little, you know? One thing I feel really strongly about is teaching contemporary material they can relate to, but then we still have to hit the required stuff, too.”

  “I agree with the last part, but I thought today’s class went great,” he said, surprised at her take on it.

  “Neil fell asleep and half of them didn’t even read the story.”

  “But half of them did read it, and for that class, that’s pretty good.”

  “So it wasn’t a disaster?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But you’d tell me if it was?”

  “Hell, yes. I’m not here to make you feel good. I’m trying to help you be a better teacher. But as I’m sure you know, it’s not like in the movies. Sometimes you reach them and often you don’t. I also think we sometimes reach them without knowing it.”

  She looked thoughtful.

  “That helps, thank you. But I still want to do better.”

  “The threat of a pop quiz at any given time motivates them to do the assigned reading. You might want to try that. But the way you led them through the discussion was spot on.”

  She smiled then, one of her killer, full-on smiles that just about stopped his heart and short-circuited his brain.

  Picking up her glass of wine she held it aloft.

  “To keeping them awake,” she said grinning at him.

  He raised his glass, tapping hers gently as a foolish grin spread across his face.

  “To keeping them awake,” he repeated, laughing along with her.

  They pulled out their planners and went through the next week’s classes, but eventually they moved on to books and movies and embarrassing high school moments. Jason was so lost in listening to her, watching her animated expressions, that he completely lost track of time. It wasn’t until Brad appeared that he realized how long they’d been sitting there.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  Jason looked up at his friend, his stomach sinking. Not only would he gladly have cancelled the plans he’d made with Brad to hang with Cheryl, he really didn’t want to deal with the inevitable ragging from Brad about her.

  “Cheryl, this is Brad. Brad, Cheryl.”

  “Hi there,” Cheryl said, sticking her hand out for Brad to shake.

  Brad, utter cheeseball that he was, kissed the back of her hand. For a brief, blazing second, Jason felt like decking him.

  Cheryl raised an amused eyebrow.

  “I’d better get going,” she said, turning to Jason. “Thanks for the help. I appreciate the pep talk.”

  “Why the rush?” Brad asked. “I don’t bite. Stay and have a drink with us.”

  Cheryl looked at Brad with a gleam in her eye, as if she had his number already.

  “Thanks, but I actually have somewhere to be at six,” she said, getting up. “You guys have a good night.”

  Picking up her bag she turned and walked away, her exit drawing the attention of every man in the place.

  “Okay, spill it,” Brad said, turning to him.

  “There’s nothing to spill. She’s in the education program at Nevada State and she’s doing her field hours in my classroom this semester. End of story.”

  “That’s sounds like the beginning of a story to me.”

  “Well, it’s not,” Jason said, maybe too vehemently. But there was no way he was going into any detail with Brad. He wasn’t that kind of friend. “We had more work to do and decided to head to the coffee shop, but it was packed.”

  “They didn’t make them that way when I was in school, I’ll tell you that.”

  Jason said nothing, hoping his silence would communicate his lack of interest in the subject.

  “Since nothing’s going on between you, how about you give me her number?”

  Jason looked at him.

  “Whoa, never mind,” Brad said, throwing his hands in the air as if surrendering. “Forget I said anything.”

  Pissed now but trying not to show it, Jason turned his attention to the list of beers on draft. He had no right to be this angry, and he shouldn’t let Brad get to him. But no way was he ever letting him near Cheryl.

  Hopefully this would be the end of it. Brad could be a decent enough guy, but he was also the type to latch onto an idea and harass you about it until you wanted to knock his head in. Years ago Jason had made the mistake of confiding his crush on a friend’s sister, and Brad had razzed him about it for years. The guy didn’t do subtle. But Jason had known him for ages and their friendship was a habit. Besides, they ran with the same crowd.

  They watched a basketball game on the TV above the bar, not saying much beyond the odd comment on the game. At halftime Brad took a long pull of his beer and turned to him.

  “I meant to tell you we’re meeting at Hugo’s at nine tomorrow night. That way we can get toasted on cheap drinks before heading to the strip joints.”

  Jason sighed and rubbed his face. He’d been over strip clubs for a long time now, but no one else seemed to be. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t think up something a little more original for Kevin’s bachelor party. We’ve been going to strip clubs since we turned twenty-one. Before that, even. Isn’t anyone tired of it yet?”

  “Tired of strippers?” Brad said, looking confused. “That’s not a thing.”

  “I just wish we could show a little imagination, that’s all. But whatever, I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Five

  “Did you guys know about the sweet redhead Jason’s got interning for him, or has he kept it a secret from you, too?”

  Jason groaned and silently cursed his friend. They were a few rounds into a long night of drinking, and all six guys were now looking at him expectantly.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “She’s a teacher in training and I’m mentoring her.”

  “But she’s cute?” Kevin asked.

  “Yeah, she’s cute,” he admitted. Pretending otherwise would only have been more suspicious.

  “So are you gonna hit that, or what?” yelled Steve, way louder than necessary, and everyone cracked up.

  “Dude, that’s a firing offense, so no, I’m not.”

  This was greeted with a few seconds of disappointed silence.

  “Bummer man,” Steve said, shaking his head at his glass, like he couldn’t believe how unfair the world was.

  Ja
son stood there, torn between annoyance and amusement, but mostly hoping the conversation was at an end.

  “You guys ready to head to the Pussycat?” Tom called out, diverting them all.

  In short order the seven of them piled into two cabs and headed to the Strip, where they poured out again in front of the club’s neon pink sign, its signature feline curling sinuously over the doorway.

  Ah, the Pink Pussycat. It was here, among other clubs, that he and his friends had come to see naked women and get sexually frustrated in their early twenties. He was no longer into getting all worked up with nowhere for it to go, but it was hard not to feel a thrill when he walked in and the loud music, sweetened by a few rounds of drinks, pumped through him.

  After a few minutes of milling, they were shown to a table to the right of the stage, just a few rows back, and Jason settled in for the show. Eventually he was clapping and cheering along with everyone else as the girls on stage did their thing, the energy of the hopped up Saturday night crowd egging him on.

  Then the strains of a song he dimly recognized as one of Britney Spears’ finest came on and a sexy redhead took the stage.

  Jason sat bolt upright, his mouth hanging open in shock.

  It couldn’t be. His head spun as he stared at the girl on stage, her red hair spilling over her shoulders like he’d imagined so many times, her hot little body dressed in a prim blouse and skirt. Her movements were shy at first, coy, eventually turning brazen as the lyrics explained that she wasn’t so innocent. She strode up the stage to the very edge and smiled wickedly, tearing the white blouse off and tossing it aside to reveal a red bra and perfect ivory skin that shimmered under the lights.

  His heart pounded in his ears and he couldn’t catch his breath, but he couldn’t look away either. Everything he thought he knew crumbled to dust as his innocent young intern seduced the entire room. Transfixed, he watched as she slid her bra off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, baring her lush, perfect breasts to the hundreds of people crammed into the club.

  He’d been lying awake at night, picturing what it would be like to take her clothes off piece by piece, slowly revealing her curves and glorious skin. He’d tortured himself imagining the sighs and moans she’d make while he did it, all the time holding out for when the semester was over and nothing stood in their way.

  Now here he was, seeing all of it for the price of admission. He felt stupid, and a little sick, and as turned on as he’d ever been in his life.

  He held his breath as she lowered the zipper of her skirt, teasing the crowd, killing him. When it finally fell to the stage she stood before him in heels, a thong, and the garters circling her thighs.

  He shouldn’t be seeing her like this. Even in the midst of all the dark, irrational thoughts that spun through his drink-addled brain, he knew it was wrong, knew it would kill her if she knew. There was a reason she hadn’t told him.

  Billy Idol was yelling more more more as she glided along the edge of the stage, making it easy for the men crowded around to push money into her thong and garters. She winked and laughed, flashing a smile that belonged to another woman.

  He was watching a pro.

  “Give it up for Cherry,” the announcer called over the sound system as she walked off the stage, and the whole place went crazy again with drunken catcalls.

  Jason slumped back in his seat, too drunk to think clearly, not drunk enough to be numb. The guys were laughing and ordering more drinks, oblivious to Jason’s inner turmoil. He ordered a scotch and took a deep slug as soon as it came, desperate to stop his brain. Surely with enough whisky he’d stop seeing her up there, her bare skin glowing, her hair like flames licking at his soul.

  And then he did stop seeing her up there, because when he looked up again, she was standing next to Kevin, looking like the greatest temptation since Eve with her apple.

  Christ, he’d forgotten that they always came around, working the floor, teasing the customers.

  Performing lap dances.

  Her hair was parted on the side, a gleaming wing waving over one eye like a forties starlet. She must have taken all the money out when she came off the stage, since there was less there than when she’d finished, but a light fringe of bills was once again lining her garters.

  She hadn’t seen him yet. He was sitting at the far end of the second table they’d taken, and her attention was on Kevin. The guys were requesting a lap dance for him, waving fifty-dollar bills at her and telling her to make it the ride of his life.

  “You up for it, hot stuff?” she asked Kevin, her smoky voice teasing.

  “Hell, yeah, he’s up for it,” Brad said, slapping Kevin on the back.

  Thank God Brad didn’t seem to recognize her. If he had, there was no way he’d be keeping his mouth shut about it.

  Kevin was looking uncomfortable. “Ah, actually, I kind of promised Anne…”

  “That’s so sweet,” Cheryl said. “We wouldn’t want you to break a promise. Maybe I can entertain one of you boys instead.”

  She was smiling, her gaze moving over his friends, assessing them, sizing them up.

  No. Hell no. He wasn’t going to make it through this if he had to sit and watch her grind on one of his friends, her breasts in his face, her ass on his crotch. He wasn’t a violent man, or one known for extremes of temper, but tables were gonna start flying if he had to watch that.

  He must have made a move, or started to stand up. Her gaze locked on his and went blank with surprise right before all the blood drained from her face. Falling back a step, she looked at him with wide, horrified eyes.

  “Why don’t I leave you boys to think it over,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted as she addressed Brad and the guys again.

  Then she turned and practically ran away, not pausing to talk to anyone else, though men all around her were calling her over, trying to get her attention. His friends looked at one another, their dismayed confusion comical. Or it would have been if his world hadn’t been turned upside down.

  “Is she coming back?” Tom asked no one in particular.

  Another dancer appeared at the far end of the floor and they called her over and began it all over again. Cheryl was forgotten, just one of many girls who could be bought that night.

  ***

  Cheryl ran for the dressing room without looking anywhere but straight in front of her, ignoring everyone who called for her. When she finally made it inside she collapsed, shaking and hyperventilating, onto a chair.

  “What’s the matter? What happened?” Emily asked, turning around on her stool, a mascara wand poised in mid-air.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. Oh my God. Oh God, what am I going to do?”

  “Cheryl, you’re scaring me,” Emily said, kneeling in front of her. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

  She looked at Emily, her expression concerned and intent, even with all the stripper makeup and big hair. Breathing deeply once, then twice, she began to get enough control that she could speak.

  “Remember Jason, the teacher I’m working with?”

  “Of course. What about him?”

  “He’s out there with a bachelor party. I was getting ready to do a lap dance for one of his friends before I saw him.”

  “Oh.”

  Cheryl laughed bleakly at Emily’s dumbfounded expression. It really was as bad as she thought.

  “How will I ever look at him again? What if he tells someone? God, he must think I’m such a skank.”

  It was hitting her in waves now. All the implications, the worst-case scenarios. Having to face Jason when he’d seen her like this. A sob was working its way up into her throat and she clamped down on it even as the pressure in her chest built.

  “Okay, we need to stay calm here,” Emily said. “It’s not like you’ve done something illegal. It’s a job, for God’s sake. You’re putting yourself through school. Besides, he’s a grown man, not some kid.”

  Cheryl was rocking now, her arms wrapped aroun
d her middle.

  “This is the one thing I was most afraid of, and I kept telling myself no one would ever find out. What were the chances of someone I know from that part of my life coming to this club, out of all the clubs in town?”

  “It’s going to be okay. I know it seems bad now…”

  Cheryl let out a harsh laugh and Emily flinched.

  “I’m sorry, Em. I know you’re trying to help. And maybe you’re right. But even if he doesn’t tell anyone, whenever I’m with him I’ll know he’s seen me up on that stage, taking my clothes off for money.”

  “You said before he’s a good guy. There’s no reason you can’t still work together. And it’s only for a couple more months.”

  “I’m going to ask to switch classrooms.”

  “Will they let you do that?” Emily asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  Emily stayed where she was and stroked her back, and eventually Cheryl calmed enough that her breath no longer heaved in and out. There was a knock on the door and Cutter’s voice called from the other side.

  “Cheryl? You all right?”

  Emily looked up at the sound of her fiancée’s voice, and Cheryl sighed. Cutter would do anything to protect the dancers, but this was one mess he couldn’t get her out of.

  “I’ll let him know you’re okay,” Emily said, heading to the door, where the two of them spoke in low tones for a minute.

  Emily came back over and looked down at her.

  “So what now? Do you think you can go back out there for your next set?”

  A wave of nausea ran through her at the mere thought of it and she bent over, the way you were supposed to do when a plane was crashing.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Emily said, sighing worriedly. “That’s fine. I can go on for you. I’ll wear a wig and maybe Steve won’t notice.”

  “Really? Do you think you could manage it? I’m so sorry to make you do that. But I just can’t -”

  “Not to worry. I have more than enough dances worked out, and I’m not the slightest bit tired.”

  Cheryl couldn’t help smiling at that. As a ballet dancer Emily had put up with a far more rigorous schedule. Now that she only worked one night a week at the club, she seemed to never get tired.