Carolyn: Love the way that both Michael and Dylan both miss each other. They are meant to be a family.
That's probably the one bond in this story (other than Maria/Dylan) that can never be broken, damaged, or altered in any way.
Can't say that I blame Leanna for being jealous of Liz, she really wants to be number one with Alex.
And as his wife, she really should be. But she doesn't seem to understand that constantly nagging him about it won't make him want to spend any more time with her than he already does.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!
Part 11
Chocolate lava cakes for two had been listed as the number one sexy dessert last Valentine’s Day. So even though it wasn’t Valentine’s Day, Liz made the cakes for her second date with Doug Shellow. It wasn’t like she was looking to hop into the sack with him or anything, but she
did want to amp things up a bit, steer the conversation from casual to flirtatious. And since she could cook any dessert she set her mind to, lava cakes seemed like a great idea. The plan was to stay in for a romantic date for two at her bakery and eat to their heart’s content.
Unfortunately, Doug had a mild chocolate allergy, though. So she was the only one eating.
“So do you know any funny jokes?” she asked him when the conversation started to lull.
“Jokes?” he echoed as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Maybe he didn’t. She sighed, trying to stay positive. “Yeah, like . . . how do you know a chef is a clown?”
“How do you know a chef is a clown?” he mused. “I don’t know. How?”
“The food tastes funny.” She cringed, knowing that wasn’t her best. “Okay, I got another one. Don’t take offense, but . . . how are men like lava lamps?”
He chuckled lightly before he’d even heard the answer. “How?”
“They’re fun to look at,” she answered, smirking, “but they’re not that bright.”
“Oh, that’s . . . pretty good, actually,” he admitted. “That’s a good one.”
“Thanks.” Back when she’d been pregnant, she’d looked up jokes on her phone every morning to try to get herself to stop thinking about how nauseous she’d felt. “Do you have any?” she prompted. She really needed him to be able to make her laugh. He was so nice and so smart, but she wasn’t really . . . enjoying herself yet. Doug was nice, but kind of boring.
“I think I might have a few,” he contemplated slowly.
“Let’s hear ‘em.” She shoveled in the last spoonful of lava cake she intended to eat and pushed the plate aside, leaning forward eagerly.
He cleared his throat, then asked, “In math, what does the variable
i say to pi?”
“To pi?” she echoed, thinking she should be smart enough to figure this out. “I don’t know, probably something perverted about eating . . . something.”
“Actually,
i says, ‘Be rational,’” Doug revealed. “And then pi says, ‘Get real.’” He laughed.
Liz’s eyebrows rose, and she tried to smile. Oh, a good old math joke. Those were never that funny.
Doug’s laughter slowly faded. “Well, because pi isn’t rational,” he explained, “and
i’s an imaginary number.”
“Oh, right, I kinda . . . forgot about that.” In general, if jokes needed to be explained, they weren’t really that funny. She decided to stroke Doug’s ego a bit, though, and fibbed, “That’s a really funny one, Doug. Really funny.” Inside, she’d just died a little, though. Was that really the best he had? Because . . . it just wasn’t enough. Here he was, this gorgeous guy sitting across from her, suit and tie, luscious caramel hair, kind eyes . . . and she was losing interest at the speed of light.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was only one Saturday night game of the year. It was the second of three night games that season, and it was coming off an unexpected victory in the last night game. So naturally, there were plenty of people in attendance. Even though Alex wasn’t a football expert by any means, he enjoyed a game as much as the next person. It was always fun to show that Aggie pride.
He hoped his wife would have some of the same excitement, but she had a downer attitude about it from the second they got there. She complained that the food from the concession stand tasted awful, she complained about how hard the wind was blowing, and she even complained about the opposing team’s uniforms.
“Just lighten up,” he encouraged her. “This is gonna be a good night.” The first quarter had barely even started, and already their team was up by a touchdown. They were predicted to blow this other team out of the water. It would be a fun game, lots to cheer about.
“I just pictured something a little more romantic for date night,” she informed him. “Like maybe a nice dinner instead of . . . super nachos.”
Inwardly, he rolled his eyes. Back when he’d met Leanna, she’d loved super nachos. She probably still loved them; she was just determined to be in a bad mood, so she was pretending otherwise. “I just thought you’d wanna go to the game,” he said. “You love sports.”
“Yeah, I love track and volleyball and softball. Things I played.”
“Well, I played the tuba,” he joked, cracking a smile. “And chess.” It was probably so stereotypical for him to have been on the chess team back in high school, but hell, he had a talent, so he’d gone with it.
“Whatever,” she dismissed. “Hey, I see someone from Zumba. I’m gonna go say hi. Can you find us a seat?”
“Sure.” He surveyed the bleachers below him, dreading it. It was packed, but the nice thing about heading up to the concession stand first was that you got a bird’s eye view of everything below. There was an empty area near the top. Not a whole lot of space, but enough for the two of them.
“Alex,” he heard a familiar voice say right when he was about to head down the steps. He turned around, and there was Isabel, clad in nothing but a red bikini top that was two sizes too small and jean cutoff shorts that hung low on her hips.
“Isabel.” He averted his eyes, just because it didn’t feel right to look at her when she was wearing . . . so little. Not only because she had once been his friend, but because she was his student now.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’s a small town, Isabel. It’s not like there’s a whole lot to do on Saturday night.” Not that he would have been doing anything else even if there had been other options. He was a pretty low-key guy.
“Oh, there’s plenty to do,” she assured him. “Are you here with . . . what’s her name again? Linda?”
“Leanna,” he corrected.
“Right.”
He glanced over his shoulder, hoping his wife wasn’t catching sight of any of this. If she got jealous of Liz, she’d surely get jealous of Isabel. “Yeah, I’m here with her,” he mumbled, happy to see that her back was to him. “Date night.”
“Sounds fun,” Isabel remarked.
Yeah, he thought dejectedly.
If only she thought so.
“So . . .” Isabel drawled, as though he were supposed to understand what she was saying just by her saying that.
He gave her an expectant look.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she admitted.
“Why? Because I’m so un-athletic?” Just because he’d never played football didn’t mean he didn’t understand football. That was a common misconception. He and his dad used to watch Cardinals games every Sunday. He knew the game well.
“It’s just that you’re always so busy,” she explained, “with teaching and classes and stuff. So I thought you’d be . . . working.”
“Well . . .” He surveyed what she was wearing, disappointed that she couldn’t have just put a top on to cover up. “I thought you’d be, too.”
Quickly, she tried to cover herself up with her arms, but what was the point of that? Everyone had already seen . . . everything. Or at least everything the little triangles of red fabric didn’t cover.
Suddenly, another blonde girl popped up at her side. Bleach blonde, this one, wearing a white bikini top and shorts similar to Isabel’s. “Actually,” she chirped, “she
is working tonight.”
“Courtney . . .” Isabel gave her a warning look.
“Hi,” she greeted, extending her hand. “I’m Courtney, as in Slutty Courtney. You look like the type of guy who’s bookmarked my website.”
He reluctantly shook her hand, only because it was the polite thing to do. “Not so much.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” she dismissed skeptically. “I know a fan when I see one. Listen, you should check the site next Tuesday. There’s gonna be a new video up, and in it, we’re gonna be getting screwed right underneath these bleachers.”
Isabel lowered her head, as if she were ashamed.
Good.
“It’s called Gametime Gangbang,” Courtney proclaimed. “Or something like that. Anyway, it’s gonna be good, so check it out.”
“I sure . . . won’t,” he told her.
“What?” Courtney seemed unaccustomed to getting that type of response. “Whatever. You’re, like, gay or something. Come on, Isabel.” Courtney stomped off angrily, and Isabel gave him a semi-apologetic look before following.
He sighed, watching them go. It sucked, because he remembered the Isabel Evans who used to be a leader. That was where he’d met her for the first time, after all, back at a national leadership conference when she’d been a ninth grader and he’d been a junior.
That girl didn’t even exist anymore.
“Ahem.”
He spun around again, and there was Leanna, looking at him inquisitively. “So which of them was the ex-girlfriend?” she asked.
“Neither,” Alex answered calmly. “Isabel, the one in the red . . . you remember how I told you about her. The one who I went on the disaster date with back when she was in high school.”
“And the current porn star.” She glared at him. “Really, Alex? You’re gonna talk to her?”
“She’s in my class.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to talk to her
here. God, she’s just yet another woman from your past.”
“Yet another woman?” he echoed. Who the hell did she think he was, Michael Guerin? His sexual history wasn’t housed in the Library of Congress. “Leanna, you know my past. I dated Liz for a few months, went out on
one failed date with Isabel, and then I was single until I met you. That’s it.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled, tossing the remainder of her super nachos into the nearest trash can. “I wanna go home.” She brushed past him and headed down the bleacher steps.
He sighed, relenting to another failed date, just with a different girl this time. But actually, as much as he would have liked to stay there and watch the game . . . he was okay with going home. Partly because Leanna was in a bad mood. Partly because he didn’t want to sit there knowing what was going on beneath those bleachers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Good job, Aggies!” Michael yelled, clapping his hands loudly when his team progressed the ball for another first down. “Alright!” He glanced down at the sideline and noticed Fly attempting to do a cartwheel to entertain the crowd. Didn’t work out. He fell flat on his face.
“Ooh . . .” Michael cringed. That looked pretty bad. But Fly, like the idiot he was, got right back up and attempted a second cartwheel. It was a little better. He only landed that one on his ass.
“What’re you gonna get?” he asked his girlfriend, rubbing her shoulders as they waited near the back of a very long line at the concession stand.
“I don’t know,” she pondered, “maybe . . . a cheeseburger? I forget, are the cheeseburgers any good here?”
“They’re alright,” he said. They weren’t as good as Crashdown burgers, but then again, few things were.
“I think that’s what I’ll get,” she decided. “What’re you gonna have?”
“Uh . . .” Before he could answer, the line shuffled forward a bit, and in cut Steve and his wife, Cheryl.
“Oh my god, you’re here!” Sarah exclaimed, quickly giving Cheryl a hug. “You look so great!”
Chery brushed the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail back behind her ear. “I look round,” she corrected. “Good to see you, though. Hey, Michael.”
“Hey,” he returned. “Felt well enough to come to the game, huh?”
“Well, I waddled in,” Cheryl admitted, “so Steve might have to carry me out.”
“Are you kidding? You’re way too heavy for me to lift,” Steve said, grimacing as the words left his mouth. “Oh, crap.”
Sarah laughed. “Oh, Steve . . .”
“You know you shouldn’t say that,” Cheryl scolded. “I’m crazy and hormonal right now. We’ve been through this.”
“Are the hormones really as bad as they say?” Sarah asked as the line scooted forward a bit more.
“Oh, just as bad and worse,” Cheryl assured her. “It’s not exaggerated one bit.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Michael started to space out a bit while the two girls kept having their conversation. He so badly just wanted to be there with them without his mind wandering, but he couldn’t help it when he looked over into the next long line at the concession stand and saw a blonde girl talking to a group of other girls. For a second, he started to think that maybe it was happening again, that he was seeing Maria DeLuca by chance. But when the girl flipped her hair over her shoulder, he saw that she was just . . . someone else. No one he even knew.
Good. It would’ve been bad to run into her here.
“Isn’t that right, Michael?”
His attention snapped back to his girlfriend when she spoke to him. “What?” he asked distractedly.
“I said we can make room for them to sit by us,” she repeated.
“Oh.” Looking at Cheryl’s gigantic belly, he actually had his doubts about that, but everyone else would slide down for the pregnant chick. They’d make it work. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, of course.”
“I don’t know if anyone could make room for me right now,” Cheryl said skeptically, and she and Sarah continued chatting as they neared the front of the line. Neither one of them even noticed when the crowd let out a huge groan of disappointment. Steve and Michael both looked out on the field, though, and Michael felt his heart sink when he saw what had happened. Aggies lost the ball, had it ripped out on the run by one of the defenders.
“Aggies fumble,” the announcer bellowed. “Eagles recover the ball.”
The visiting fans cheered and applauded, of course, and Michael sighed disappointedly. Of course they’d fumbled the ball. That Eagles defensive line was stacked. They probably should have run a pass play, but . . . maybe they just weren’t confident enough in their receivers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael knew he was a lucky guy. But when Sarah felt frisky in the morning, he felt even luckier than usual. She started out their Sunday by wriggling around all over his body, nipping at his skin, brushing the tips of her fingers up his sides. Such a cute little tease. When she sat up and straddled his hips, though, stretching her arms above her head, cute turned into straight-up sexy.
“Wow,” he said, basking in the sight of her beautiful body. “This is a good way to wake up.”
“Hmm.” She dropped her right arm down at her side and moved her left hand through her hair. “Are you up?”
“Am I?” He grinned, grabbed hold of her waist, and pressed his hips up into her. “You tell me.”
She purred happily, sliding her hand down her neck to cup her own breast. He reached up and palmed the other one, appreciating the way she had started to circle her hips now, rubbing against the exact right place.
“I think I gotta go inspect what’s going on down there,” she declared adorably.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I want a
full report.”
“A full one?” She giggled a bit, then slithered down his body and slipped beneath the covers. She had just taken him into her mouth and he was just starting to watch her head bob up and down when her cell phone rang out shrilly from the bedside table. He was content to reach over and shut it off, but she immediately stopped what she was doing and came back out from underneath the covers, telling him, “Answer it.”
He groaned disappointedly. “Why?” What they were already doing was so much better.
“Because that’s the ringtone for my parents,” she explained.
“Oh, then you answer it.” He had nothing against Tim and Vivian Nguyen. They were nice people and had always accepted him with open arms. But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk to them seconds after having his cock in their daughter’s mouth.
She crawled back up on the bed and reached for her phone, answering it just as it was probably about to kick onto voicemail. “Hello?” She smiled, and Michael could tell right away that it was her dad calling. She had a very specific smile that was reserved just for him, because she was totally a daddy’s girl. “Hi, Daddy,” she said.
Michael stifled his laughter. She managed to sound so sweet and innocent, but what she’d just been doing to him had
not been innocent. At all.
“Yeah, we could probably make that work,” she said after a slight pause. “Yeah, sounds good. Okay, we’ll see you later then.”
We will? Michael thought. Had he just gotten roped into some family plans for the day without even being part of the conversation? Probably. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Okay. Bye, Daddy.” She ended the call and tossed her phone down to the foot of the bed. “So . . .” she said, snuggling up beside him. “My family’s in town today. How would you feel about spending the day with them?”
Honestly . . . he would have preferred to spend it in bed with her. But Sarah’s family was just as awesome as she was; so if they couldn’t waste a Sunday fooling around, then going out with them was a decent alternative.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For some reason, Sarah’s parents loved seafood, and they especially loved this seafood buffet a few miles south of campus. Whenever they came into town, they always suggested going out to eat there, and Michael always went along with it, even though seafood made his stomach do backflips. He usually ate a couple bites of whatever fish they were serving, then spent the rest of the lunch moving food around his plate, making it look like he’d eaten more than he had.
He shuffled down the buffet line with Sarah’s little brother, Victor, and tried to distract himself from the various odors of all the food that made him nauseous by asking the kid about his life. “How’s high school goin’?” he inquired. Victor was in ninth grade, so chances were, it sucked.
“I hate it,” the poor kid droned. “My classes are boring. The jocks make fun of me. I hate the jocks.”
Michael laughed lightly, putting some shrimp on his plate. He’d probably be able to eat one.
“Oh, sorry,” Victor apologized. “I forgot you used to be a jock.”
“Used to be?” Michael feigned offense. “You don’t think I’m a jock anymore?”
“Well, you don’t play football anymore,” Victor pointed out.
Michael grunted. “Only ‘cause Kyle doesn’t play. I’m still athletic, though.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just . . . I don’t know, I guess I think of you as more of a . . . nerd.”
Michael’s eyes bulged. “A
nerd?” That couldn’t possibly be true . . . could it? “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a nerd before.”
“Well, my sister’s a nerd,” Victor said.
A sexy nerd, Michael thought.
“But you’ve got a better GPA than her. So that must mean you’re a nerd, too.”
It wasn’t bad logic. In fact, in a weird way, it made a lot of sense. “Huh.” Oh, well. He had a new label now. But he felt the need to pimp it out a little bit. “I’m a cool nerd, though, right?”
Victor cracked a smile. “That’s an oxymoron,” he noted. “See, why do I say stuff like that? That’s why people don’t like me.”
“Ah, I like you, Victor,” Michael assured him as they miraculously reached the end of the buffet line. “Don’t worry what anyone else thinks about you, alright?”
Victor lowered his head and reluctantly agreed, “Alright.”
Poor kid, Michael thought as he followed him back to their table. High school was hell for everyone, no matter what social group you were a part of, whether you were popular or not. It sucked, and it would always suck. But at least Victor would make it through. He’d end up going to college and finding himself there. Which was more than Tina would probably get to do.
Sarah’s father, Tim, was already halfway through the food on his plate when Michael sat down, even though his wife, Vivian, was telling him to slow down. “It’s just so good,” he raved. “I’m a big fan of this restaurant.”
“So am I,” Vivian agreed readily.
“Yeah, you guys must be,” Michael said. “Every time you come to Carlsbad, we eat out here.”
Sarah subtly smiled at him and whispered, “We’ll get a burger on the way home.”
Thank God, he thought. He was a man, so he needed real meat, not this crap.
“So, Michael, how’s your semester going so far?” Tim asked him.
“Better than
my semester,” Victor grumbled.
Tim patted his son’s shoulder supportively and said to Michael, “Sarah tells us you’re pretty busy.”
“Uh, yeah, I am,” Michael admitted, “but I like everything I’m doing, so it’s good.”
“How’s the practicum?” Vivian asked.
“Good,” he replied. “I’ve only gone a couple of days, but it’s been . . .” He thought of Dylan, of seeing him at that school, and he struggled to come up with a word to summarize that moment. “Interesting,” he finally settled on.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Vivian said. “With elementary school kids, you never know what the day might bring.”
“And he’s still working for housing, too,” Sarah bragged. “I don’t know how he does it all. And now he’s adding in another class on top of it.”
Michael shifted in seat, trying not to look uncomfortable. But he didn’t want to talk about this with them. Or at all, really.
“What class is that?” Tim questioned.
“Music Appreciation,” Sarah answered for him. “Can you believe they’re making him take
another fine arts class?”
“That does seem ridiculous,” her father agreed. “You might wanna look into that, Michael.”
“Oh, I did,” Michael assured him. Hell, he’d looking into it a little
too much. “It’s fine. It’ll be alright. I’ll just take the class.”
“I think it sounds fun,” Sarah’s mom chirped in between bites. “I love music. You know, I used to play the piano--”
“Brilliantly,” Tim cut in.
She smiled and blushed. “Pretty well. My parents wanted me to major in music, but something about the medical field just called to me. And now my own daughter’s following in my footsteps.”
“Well, sort of,” Sarah said. “Pharmacy’s not the same as nursing.”
“No, it’s not,” her mom agreed. “You’ll work fewer hours and get paid more. Lucky you.”
“Lucky me.” Sarah smiled and reached under the table to squeeze Michael’s hand.
And lucky me, Michael thought. As much as he hated seafood, he was happy to be out with the Nguyen family right now. They were genuinely non-judgmental, just all around good people. They were the kind of family he would have loved to have growing up. Maybe if his dad hadn’t been in the picture, they would have been more like this.
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” Tim said, folding his napkin next to his plate, “but I’m already in need of seconds. Who’s with me?”
“I am, Daddy,” Sarah piped up, even though she hadn’t finished everything on her plate yet. She just wanted to spend time with her dad.
“I suppose I could get a little more of the lobster,” Vivian decided, getting up. She put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, and the three of them headed back up to the buffet stand. That left Michael with Victor again, which he was more than happy about, because Victor wouldn’t ask any questions about the Music Appreciation thing.
Unfortunately, though, he asked something else. Something a lot . . . bigger. “So, Michael,” he said after clearing this throat, “when are you gonna marry my sister?”
Michael nearly choked on the bite of shrimp he was struggling to get down in the first place.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“You said
‘I don’t know?’” Kyle shook his head in dismay as Michael helped him up the outside steps into Vidorra. “Oh, man.”
“What’s wrong with ‘I don’t know?’” Michael spat. “That’s a good, honest answer.”
“That’s a vague answer.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Alright, well, sorry I don’t have my proposal on a timeline like you did, or a diagram of how I’m gonna pop the question.”
Kyle grunted as Michael held the door open for him. “Yeah, hell of a lot of good that did me. I’m miserable, Tess is miserable, and we still aren’t married.”
“Yeah, so maybe you should ask yourself the same thing,” Michael suggested, happy to take the questioning off of himself for the time being. “When are you gonna marry
your girlfriend?”
Kyle looked down at his feet, like he was purposefully trying to avoid making eye contact with the girl sitting at the front desk. Like he was trying to be invisible, because he didn’t want anyone on that campus to see him. “When things get better,” he mumbled.
Michael walked ahead a bit and punched the up button on the elevator. “Any idea when that might be?” he pressed.
Kyle shot him a hard look, one of those don’t-go-there ones.
It was a long process walking down the hall with Kyle, but eventually, they got to the apartment, where Fly, Monk, and Steve were already waiting. Kyle acted surprised to see them, even though Michael had told him in advance that they’d be there. It just wouldn’t have been much of a birthday celebration if it had only been the two of them.
Michael turned on the Sunday night football game, disappointed to see that two teams he couldn’t care less about, the Lions and the Ravens, were playing. But it was football, and that was all that mattered. Kyle didn’t object to it being on, but he didn’t look completely entranced in it, either, so that was a good thing. He actually looked like he’d be willing to hang out with the guys and play some poker, drink a little beer, and just . . . have a good time. Or as good of a time as Kyle ever had anymore.
“Happy birthday, man,” Steve said, handing Kyle a Budweiser bottle. “Welcome to the legal drinking age.”
Michael popped open the tab to his beer can and took a generous swig. “I’m not there yet,” he admitted, “but in my heart I’m there.”
Kyle chuckled. “In your heart, you’ve been there for a long time.”
“
Long time,” Michael agreed emphatically. “How about you, Steve?”
Steve shrugged, flopping down next to Kyle on the couch. “I didn’t party much in high school. I mean, I had a few drinks here and there, but nothing major. Now Fly, on the other hand . . .”
The second Fly heard his name come up in conversation, he completely forgot about the poker chips he was supposed to be sorting and the cards he was supposed to be shuffling and left that all to Monk. “Man, I got wasted back in junior high,
chico. I was a badass. I had detention all the time.”
“I went to jail all the time,” Michael informed him, “so I’m pretty sure I was badder than you.”
“I couldn’t screw up like that,” Kyle said almost nostalgically, “ ‘cause of football.”
“Well, I screwed up all the time,” Michael admitted, not about to let his friend start to feel sorry for himself and what he’d lost, “but that’s why I had Kyle there to help me.” The roles had definitely been reversed in recent years, but they were still best friends, and he didn’t envision that changing anytime soon.
“To Kyle,” Steve proclaimed, raising his bottle.
“To Kyle,” the other guys echoed, toasting him.
Kyle wasn’t nearly as enthused as he sat there with his permanent frown on his face. “Yeah, to me,” he muttered, staring down at his bottle. It took him several seconds before he tilted his head back and took a giant swig.
This is gonna be a weird party, Michael thought. Kyle hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate his birthday last year, or the year before that, so just getting him to come along was a success. But getting him to enjoy himself would be tough, even with all these other guys. Luckily Shango hopped up on his lap. That brought a smile to his face.
“Alright, so are we startin’ this poker game sometime this century or what?” Michael asked his friends impatiently.
“In a minute,” Monk promised. “My OCD’s kicking in. I gotta count all the chips twice, and then we’ll be good.”
Fly swaggered into the living room, a goofy grin on his face. “You know,” he said, “we might wait a little longer even, ‘cause . . . you know, I got Kyle a present and all. Sort of a . . . hot, nimble present that’s on her way as we speak.”
“Aw, shit, man,” Michael swore. “A stripper? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I don’t kid about that shit.”
“Hey, I got no problem with it,” Steve announced. “There’s nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman, but Cheryl’s given me her full permission to enjoy a good stripper here and there.”
“Your wife’s awesome, man,” Kyle commented.
“Yeah, it’s this whole look-but-don’t-touch policy. I had to sign a contract, but I’m good to go.”
“I’m not,” Michael said, well aware how whipped he sounded. “Why would you get a stripper, Fly? Why would you bring her to
my apartment?”
Fly shrugged exaggeratedly. “I don’t know, maybe ‘cause I’m horny, and I don’t have a girlfriend like you do. And it’s Kyle’s twenty-first birthday, and stripper’s the first gift I thought of.” He gave Michael a pleading look. “Come on, man, Sarah’s cool. She won’t care. And it’s not like she’s comin’ home tonight, right?”
“Not ‘til later.”
“So you’re good then, see? ‘cause this’ll be a strip-free zone come 9:00. The chick’s on her way here right now. She’ll be here any minute.”
Michael sighed, giving in. Hell, strippers were pretty harmless. She was probably more of a present for Fly than for Kyle anyway. “Fine,” he relented. “Have your fun, but she’s gotta be outta here by 9:00.”
“She will be,” Fly promised. “But while she
is here, man . . .” He smirked and patted Kyle on the back. “It’s gonna be a
happy birthday, if you know what I mean.”
Kyle just took another drink.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel loosened the belt on her jacket as she and Jesse headed down the hallway, nearing the apartment number of tonight’s . . . performance. “I’m just saying,” she said, “double anal? That’s slutty even for Courtney. And did you and Eric feel the least bit weird after it?”
Jesse shrugged. “Not really. I’ve fucked her before.”
“Yeah, but that’s like . . . a new extreme.” Try as she might, it was hard to hide the fact that she was jealous. Only a little bit, but still . . . Courtney was willing to do things that Isabel would never be willing to do, things that were just too degrading, too downright painful, even. Sometimes she worried that Jesse would lose interest in her because she just wasn’t willing to push the envelope the same way her friend was.
“You don’t have to compare yourself to her, Isabel,” Jesse assured her as if he were reading her mind.
“I’m not,” she lied. “I just . . . I don’t know, I like it better when the videos are just her and Eric or just you and me. Not so much . . . interbreeding.”
He chuckled, stopping a few doors down from the end of the hall. “You’re just classier than she is,” he told her.
“Oh, yeah, I’m a classy porn star.” She wasn’t delusional enough to think that, so she untied her jacket to reveal the burlesque corset she was wearing underneath. It was midnight black and bedazzled with sequins. She had on a black thong, black thigh-high tights, and black stilettos to go along with it. Monotone, but sexy. This look was almost as popular as her pink bikini was.
“Go in and give ‘em a good show,” Jesse urged. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”
“Promise?” She gave him a pouty look, needing to believe that he would have her back if it got too out of control in there. All she knew about those guys inside was that they were customers. She had no idea who they were or how much they were going to expect her to do.
“I promise.” He kissed her cheek, a surprisingly sweet gesture from him, and that made her feel courageous enough to do what had to be done. So she twisted the doorknob and walked right in, surveying the scene. There was a weird guy at the kitchen table counting poker chips, two guys talking on the couch and watching a stupid football game, and a scruffy Mexican who nearly fell to his knees the moment he saw her.
“
Ay, mami,” he gasped. “It’s you. Naughty Izzy. You’re real.”
She smoothed her hands down her stomach to caress the insides of her thighs. “In the flesh.” This weirdo was
clearly a subscriber. He looked like the type who had watched all of her videos at least ten times.
“So, who’s the birthday boy?” she asked him.
“Oh, uh . . .” He pointed to one of the guys on the couch. “Him. But my birthday’s in five months, so you’re kind of a present for me, too.”
Isabel peered closer at the man with his eyes on the TV screen. She couldn’t see much of him, just the back of his head and a bit of his profile. But she’d spent enough time with him back in high school to know exactly who he was. In fact, she was surprised she hadn’t recognized him when she’d first walked in. In all fairness, though, he didn’t look the same. He was fatter now. Hairier. Not at all the superstar athlete she’d always known.
Grinning, she moved up behind him, bent down, and snaked her arms over his shoulders. “You know,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side to purr the words into his ear, “I used to have the biggest crush on you.”
When it dawned on Kyle who she was, he cursed, “Jesus Christ, Isabel,” and tried to scoot away. But that looked like an enormous effort for him.
For a second, she felt sorry for him. She’d heard about what had happened to him at Alabama—hell, everyone with a television set had heard about that. But she hadn’t seen him. Not in two years. Not like this. He was . . . different.
But she couldn’t shift into friend mode. It wasn’t like they were friends anymore anyways. She was there as the entertainment. She had a job to do. “So it’s your birthday, huh?” she said, stepping around the couch and in front of the TV, spreading her legs wide. Kyle immediately looked away, but the other guys stared at her with their tongues hanging out.
Oh my god, she thought suddenly, her insides tingling with anticipation. If Kyle was the birthday boy and this was his birthday party, that had to mean . . . he couldn’t be the
only blast from her past here.
As if on cue, the bathroom door opened, and out came Michael. He froze when he saw her, looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost.
She smirked.
Fucking perfect.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he grumbled. “Fly! Why the hell would you book
her?”
“Dude, would you look at her?” Fly yelped.
“Oh, he has looked at me,” Isabel assured him. “Plenty of times.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Michael growled, stomping towards his Mexican friend, backing him into a corner in the kitchen. “Are you really so stupid that you’d hire my ex-girlfriend to come take her clothes off in the apartment I share with my current girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” Isabel echoed, joining them in the kitchen. “That cute Asian chick I’ve seen you with at parties? She’s hot. I’d do her.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you would. Look . . .” Michael looked at Fly like he was resisting the urge to slap him, then just shook his head. “You’re an idiot, man.”
“Sorry,” Fly apologized. “Honestly, man, I kinda thought you were lyin’ about doin’ it with her.”
“Oh, he’s not,” Isabel confirmed. “We used to do it all the time.”
Michael turned to her, full of agitation. “Alright, you need to leave,” he ordered.
“Why?” She smirked. “Afraid you’ll enjoy the show?”
“I’ve already seen the show,” he growled. “It never really could hold my interest.”
Her taunting grin turned into a glare of animosity, and she felt the need to fire it right back at him. “Just like you couldn’t hold Maria’s.”
He didn’t have a snappy comeback for that one. In fact, judging by that flash of hurt in his eyes, it looked like it sort of stung.
“Oh, happy birthday to me,” Kyle deadpanned from the couch. “This is just what I wished for.”
“Just leave, Isabel,” Michael said, keeping his eyes locked on hers as if he were purposefully trying not to look anywhere else on her body, “with whatever dignity you have left.”
“Oh, you don’t understand. I’m bought and paid for. Well . . .” She shot Fly or Flea or whatever his name was a pointed look. “Bought, anyway.”
“Alright, pay up then, Fly,” Michael urged.
“Ah, dammit, man.” Fly reached into his pocket, then his back pocket, then shot Michael an alarmed look. “Uh . . . problem,
chico.”
Michael groaned, rolling his eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
“I left my wallet at home, man!”
“Fuck my life,” Michael swore, pulling out his own wallet. He handed Isabel five twenties, but she scoffed at that.
“I’m a famous porn star, Michael,” she pointed out. “I’m not cheap.”
Reluctantly, he took out two more twenties, and even though it was sixty bucks short of what she would have normally requested, she figured it was good enough since she hadn’t
actually done any stripping. Besides, Michael looked pretty pissed, so if she didn’t walk out on her own, he was probably about to throw her out.
“Fine,” she said, folding up the money and stuffing it down between her breasts. “Enjoy the party.”
Fly whimpered as she walked out the door. This had to be a big letdown for him. But truth be told, it was a bit of a letdown for her, too. If there was anyone she would have loved to strip for, it would be Michael Guerin. Despite what he’d implied, he used to love watching her take her clothes off. And Kyle would have been an added bonus. She really
had developed a crush on him back in the day, back when he and Tess had first started dating. Of course, she’d never told Tess that.
“That was fast,” Jesse said, holding open her coat for her. “You get paid?”
“Yep.” She pulled the money out of her corset and handed it to him.
“That’s my girl.” He grinned and kissed her again, on the lips this time. “Why so quick, though?”
She closed her jacket, tying it around her waist to cover herself up, and gave him a vague explanation that would hopefully be enough to satisfy him. “They were a tough crowd to please.”
TBC . . .
-April