Stirred Up

by Isabel Morin

  Eventually they ate the pasta and salad he’d made. Afterwards he brought out a stack of lesson planners and together they looked through them, talking out what she ought to do for the first month of her teaching.

  “So this is from every year you taught?” Cheryl asked, lifting a planner off the top of the stack.

  “Just the last five years. The first few years I wasn’t super creative, so I think these will be more useful for you.”

  “Hm. Do you suppose I can skip over the awkward years and find my rhythm right out of the gate?”

  “I think it’s safe to say you’re all right in the rhythm department,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at her.

  She laughed and swatted him on the arm. “I’m serious.”

  “You think I’m not?” he asked. “Anyway, the bigger question is, are you staying the night?”

  “I believe I will.”

  “Good,” he said, standing up. “Because I think it’s time you were introduced to my bed.”

  ***

  “I don’t feel quite so bad about my plans falling apart now,” Jason said, grinning down at her.

  It was after ten the next morning, and they were still lolling in bed. The only concession to the new day had been when Jason got up and opened the curtains. But then he’d promptly gotten back under the covers.

  “Are you still thinking about going somewhere for a few days?” she asked.

  “I think I will camp a couple of nights somewhere, but closer to home. If I don’t get out every so often I get a little stir crazy.” He propped himself on an elbow and gazed down at her. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into coming with me?”

  “I’d love to, but I’m working Friday and Saturday night. This’ll be my last weekend, though.”

  “Perfect. We’ll go another time.” He heaved a sigh. “I guess I’d better get up and figure out what the heck I’m doing,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Will you be back in time for Monday?”

  “Monday?” he asked, looking confused.

  “Monday’s New Year’s Eve,” she reminded him.

  “Oh yeah. I’ll definitely be back by Sunday. Why, you want to hang on New Year’s Eve?”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him. It was starting to sound significant, asking him days in advance to spend the biggest night of the year with her.

  “Only if you don’t have anything else planned,” she said. “I was just wondering.”

  He rolled back over and planted a kiss on her lips.

  “None of my plans would be better than you.”

  “Then it’s a date,” she said, throwing the covers off. Then she stopped, wondering if that was going too far again. “I mean plan. It’s a plan.”

  She could feel her face flushing and wished desperately she knew what he was thinking. But when she dared look at him he was just watching her thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

  She spent the next three days pouring over Jason’s planners and her own notes. As terrified as she was, the knowledge that she’d have her own classroom and would be able to shape her classes the way she wanted was thrilling.

  Friday night she told Steve, the club’s manager, that it would be her last weekend. There was no need to give more notice than that, since there were always girls looking to work the coveted weekend nights. She let a few of the other dancers know, too, but she didn’t feel like making a big thing of it.

  Quitting was huge, a line drawn between her old life and her new one, and it was scary crossing over it. But it was time. She gave it her all those last two nights, an odd affection for the patrons, even the obnoxious ones, coming over her. When her last set was over she counted her money, showered, and then cleaned out her locker and walked away, the future spread out before her.

  When Jason called Sunday evening she paused her movie to answer.

  “Hey, cowboy. How was your trip?”

  “Fantastic, except for you not being there. What are you up to?”

  “Oh, just watching a movie,” she said, not sure if she wanted to reveal too much.

  “What movie?”

  She cleared her throat. “‘Stand and Deliver.’”

  He laughed. “Getting yourself pumped for the new job?”

  “Yes, if you must know. I’ve been watching every heroic teaching movie I can find. And there are a lot.”

  “Have you watched ‘To Sir with Love’?” he asked. “That’s a classic.”

  “No. Want to watch it with me?”

  “Sure. I, ah, I think I might actually own a copy of it.”

  “Is that right?” she teased.

  “Hey, we were all new teachers once. So are we still on for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Of course. Cutter and Emily are having some people over, if you feel like doing that. It should be nice and pretty low key, and I’m told there will be very high-end hors d’oeuvres.”

  He arrived at her door the next night dressed in a crisp blue dress shirt and dark gray pants. He looked her up and down, taking in her four-inch heels and the asymmetrical black dress that left one shoulder bare.

  “Do we have to go to this thing?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, grabbing her little clutch and pushing him out the door. “I want fancy hors d’oeuvres.”

  She’d been a little worried about whether he’d have fun, seeing as how he wouldn’t know many people there, but he was his usual charming self. Emily and Lisa both wanted updates and looked unconvinced when she told them things were as casual as ever, but she didn’t let that bother her. She and Jason knew where they stood, and that was all that mattered.

  Just before midnight Jason shepherded her outside for some fresh air, and they rang in the New Year swaying in the shadows of Cutter’s garden.

  “Happy New Year, Cheryl,” Jason whispered, pulling her close for a long, lingering kiss.

  Maybe it was the moonlight, the champagne, or the fragrance of the softly blowing plant life around them, but for a few moments she felt like she was in a dream. The world slowed down and everything went hazy. Everything but Jason. She gripped his arms, afraid she’d tip over, and stared at him, wondering what had come over her.

  Then the back door opened and people stumbled out onto the back deck and the world snapped back into focus. They didn’t leave one another’s side the rest of the night, and they were back at her place by two o’clock, no longer interested in anyone but each other.

  They slept late, then woke up and ate cereal while watching Jason’s DVD of “To Sir with Love.”

  She didn’t cry easily, but she couldn’t help the tears that came during the dancing scene at the end. Jason didn’t even tease her.

  “You remind me of him,” she said, turning to Jason as the credits scrolled down the screen.

  “I remind you of Sydney Poitier?”

  “Totally. You see the potential in everyone, and all the students trust and respect you. Plus you’re hot.”

  His lazy grin changed to a more predatory look at this, and her pulse began beating fast and furious. God she loved it when he looked at her like that.

  ***

  Jason spent most of the first week of January with Cheryl. The nights, anyway, and he made their mornings last later than mornings generally did. He’d managed exactly that the Sunday before the new semester started, but eventually he dragged himself out of his bed and started dressing for his baseball game.

  “Could I come watch?” she asked.

  He looked over at where she lay, still in bed. Or rather, in bed again, since they’d ended up back in the sack after breakfast.

  “Really? You want to watch the game?”

  “Sure. I want to see you in action. I’ll cheer for you and everything. You know, swing batter batter, swing,” she said, mimicking the sing song chant.

  She looked so earnest, he almost didn’t want to tell her.

  “What? What did I say?” she asked, frowning at him.

&nb
sp; He bent over and kissed her. “That’s what you yell at the other team’s batter when you want to distract him.”

  “Oh. Then I guess I won’t say that. I won’t say anything in fact, I’ll just admire how fine your ass looks in those tight pants.”

  “I’d love for you to come,” he said, genuinely pleased. “We could even bring a blanket and drinks and make it into a picnic kind of a deal. We’ll have to move fast though, since I need to be there in half an hour.”

  “I’m on it,” Cheryl said, leaping into action.

  She pulled on her sweatshirt and jeans and braided her hair, then disappeared into the kitchen, where he could hear her opening and shutting doors and talking to herself.

  When they got to the field they spread out their blanket near first base and he sat for a few minutes talking to her. Eventually though he had to head onto the field to warm up, and then it was just a question of not looking over at her every other second. At first he hoped she was having fun, but then he could see she was from the way she cheered whenever his team made a good play. Both teams were strong, with a lot of former college players like him, and it was a good game.

  He even managed to get a few good hits, including a triple, and he saw her jumping up and down out of the corner of his eye as he made the turn toward second. He slid into third base and stood up, breathing hard, to see her doing a little shimmy, her wide smile just about turning him inside out.

  After that she came every Sunday, taking it upon herself to make each picnic lunch better than the one before. Sometimes he ran out between innings to see how she was doing, but mostly he had to be satisfied with looking at her from the field, her bright hair throwing off sparks in the sun.

  She didn’t seem to realize the bleachers and blankets were full of his teammates’ wives and girlfriends, women who’d been coming for months, if not years.

  How long would Cheryl be out there, blithely cheering him on?

  ***

  Cheryl stood in front of the full-length mirror and sighed. The only downside to getting a teaching job was that she’d be spending the better part of her life in the worst wardrobe in history. Or the next ten years, anyway. After that no high school boy would look twice at her and she could dress like a normal person. Until then she’d just have to dress like a huge slut on the weekends to compensate.

  But looking like a nun was a small price to pay to see her dream come true, she decided, stepping into her heels and grabbing her coffee and briefcase before heading out the door. Every day had been less terrifying than the last, and it had only been three weeks. Maybe by the end of the semester she wouldn’t feel like such a fake.

  Hopping in her car she headed out of the parking lot, her mind drifting the way it usually did before the caffeine kicked in. So when the car made a horrible noise as she came to a stoplight, it took her longer than it should have to realize something was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that she had to call a tow truck and get dropped off at school. Unlike last time, there was nothing sexy about it, especially when they told her the engine had seized up.

  Her Miata wasn’t worth much more than the cost of fixing it would be, which meant she was unexpectedly in the market for a new car. Jason, trooper that he was, drove her to and from school until she finally settled on a Toyota Corolla that was only a few years old.

  It was a good car, more reliable than her old one, but the unexpected expense left a deep hole in her savings, and suddenly her job didn’t feel all that safe. Things were going well now, but what if something changed and the school decided they didn’t want to keep her? What if the teacher who was retiring changed his mind? Just like that she could be out of a job with nothing to fall back on. Another emergency could wipe her clean out.

  Trying not to panic, she started calling around to let the dancers at the Pink Pussycat know she was available if they needed a night off. She started with Emily.

  “What do you mean? I thought you’d quit for good?” Emily said.

  “That’s what I thought, too. But I had to buy a new car. It won’t be for long, just a few gigs here and there.”

  “If you’re sure.” Emily said, concern still evident in her tone. “I do need someone to fill in for me two weeks from now. There’s a performance that Saturday I have to go to.”

  “Perfect,” Cheryl said, already feeling better. “I’ll give Steve a call and let him know.”

  A few days later she managed to score the Friday before Emily’s performance from Nancy, which meant two weekend nights in a row. It was all working out as if it were meant to be.

  Now all she had to do was tell Jason. After putting it off for days, she finally brought it up over the phone one night early the next week. There was a long pause, and she could almost see the tight, unhappy lines of his mouth.

  “Are you that worried about money? I thought you were in pretty good shape.”

  “I’m not desperate, but anything could happen, and then I really would be in trouble. I just want to put some money back in to give me a buffer. That’s all.”

  “It just seems a shame to go back there when you only just left.”

  “It’s not that big a deal, and I’ll feel a lot better once I have a bit more put away,” she said, trying to hide her impatience. She wanted support, not second-guessing.

  “Well, if that’s what you want, of course you should do it,” he finally said, sounding as if he were forcing the words out.

  There wasn’t much to say after that and they said a stiff goodbye. Then she sat there staring at the phone, hating that she cared so much what he thought. It was her life, and she didn’t need his permission, but his understanding would have been nice.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jason slammed the phone onto its cradle, glad he still had a landline to abuse. Then he picked it up and slammed it down again.

  He wasn’t sure whom he was more frustrated with, himself or Cheryl. If he’d seen it coming, maybe he could have prepared and sounded less cold and judgmental. Christ. He knew that was how he sounded, and that was the quickest way to get her back up.

  He paced around the kitchen, too agitated to finish grading papers, before finally deciding to go for a run. At first he argued with her in his head, trying to make her see reason, but after the first mile he started to think he should have been more supportive. Things had been going great, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin that.

  Why not go check out Friday night’s show? It could be fun to see her up there doing her thing now that he knew what to expect. He wouldn’t tell her though. On the off chance he wasn’t able to handle it, he didn’t want more shit hitting the fan.

  They spent the next two nights together without either one of them mentioning the weekend, which was a little weird, but since he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, it was just as well.

  When he got to the club Friday night he headed to the bar for a drink, hoping it would ease whatever was happening to his stomach. Nerves or excitement, he couldn’t tell. He nursed his drink and watched a few sets without really seeing them.

  Then Cherry was announced. He stayed in back so Cheryl wouldn’t spot him, but he could see her clearly – her skimpy tank top and short shorts, her sexy little body moving like a dervish across the stage. He wasn’t big on pop music, but even he knew the Sexyback song by Justin Timberlake. He’d always thought it was kind of a lame song. Until now. Cheryl was so sexy he was finally seeing the appeal.

  He was insanely turned on, and yet other, more insidious reactions were starting to crowd out the lust. Like rage at the strange men pawing her, touching her smooth skin, copping a feel when they slipped her money.

  She was down to just her thong when he realized he needed to cool off. Turning around he headed to the men’s room. The music throbbed and vibrated through the walls, but everything else was indistinct, and the bathroom felt oddly peaceful after the hot noise of the main room. He splashed water on his face and took a few deep breaths and felt better, even foolish for reacting l
ike a jealous fool.

  This job had gotten her through college. Who was he to decide it was wrong? Why couldn’t he just enjoy the show for what it was and not go all caveman? He’d never been the jealous type, and he wasn’t going to start acting like one now. Shaking his head to clear it of negative thoughts, he headed back out.

  Just in time to see her riding some guy’s lap not twenty feet away.

  He literally saw red. In his entire life he’d never been so furious and revolted. Without knowing what he was doing he started heading for her.

  “Jason. Hang on a minute.”

  Jason managed to focus enough to see it was Cutter standing in front of him.

  “I’m kind of in a hurry,” he said, trying to move around Cutter.

  Cutter blocked him. “Yeah, that’s the thing,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I see where you’re headed and I can’t let it happen, man. I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going through now, but whatever needs to happen between you and Cheryl, it has to happen somewhere else.”

  Blood was pounding in his ears, drilling his heart. He felt like hitting something, specifically the man Cheryl was practically fucking in front of him. If he had to go through Cutter to do it, then so be it.

  “Dude, don’t even go there,” Cutter said, his voice a bit more dangerous this time.

  Now Jason really looked at him and realized what the man was trying to say. There was no way he was getting to Cheryl right now. Cutter and every other bouncer would see to that.

  “Come with me,” Cutter said, and this time Jason did as he commanded, following him down the hallway to some sort of break room.

  He’d never felt so lost, so out of control or apart from who he knew himself to be. He just kept seeing Cheryl grinding on that guy’s lap. Just like she’d done to him.

  “Sit down,” Cutter said.

  Jason sat. “Christ, how did I think I could handle this?” he said, practically tearing his hair out.