by BJ Harvey
“Nothing. Just seems like there's something between you two, that's all.”
“I've told you, no! Never gonna happen. He's had his lightsaber up your who-see-what's-it.”
“All good then.” She grins. “Eat up. I didn't make you breakfast for it to go cold, and I have Daniel's credit card burning a hole in my pocket and baby clothes to be buying.”
“Yes, Mom!” I say through a mouthful of food.
“And don't talk with your mouthful,” she adds with a smirk.
She's acting more and more like a mom every day.
And I couldn't be happier.
ZANDER
After another week of training at the academy, working out at the gym and even managing to help Zach out with a shift at the bar, I'm home on a Friday night, having just finished my one gig for the evening. I managed to escape with just a few nail scratches on my back and butt. It may be a job, one that keeps me fed, clothed and the rent paid, but the excitement is kind of gone from it now.
I admit, when I started stripping over a year ago, there was a thrill to it. I've always loved music and I've never shied away from hitting the dancefloor and ripping it up. So mixing dancing with music, hot horny women, and a pair of tight shorts, didn't seem like such a hard task. Now, I'm counting down the months until I graduate from the academy and can kiss the stripping goodbye.
I grab a beer from the fridge, sit down on my bed with my laptop, and log into Chicago Singles, resuming my search through single and available ladies under twenty-five. Let me tell you, there are a LOT of women looking for men in Chicago. You'd think that it would be the guys having trouble finding potential mates but no, I'm confronted with pages upon pages of single women trying to capture my attention.
After half an hour of searching and not finding anyone who remotely piques my interest, I decide to change tactics and look for a friendly face, someone who I can take out for a coffee, chat for a little bit, and fulfill my dare with Zach. I expand my age range, searching up to under forty, and pretty much leave it up to chance. For two months' free rent, I'll have coffee with just about anyone.
I spoke too soon.
It's now Saturday lunch time and I'm sitting across from Brandi. Two months free rent is a lot of money to me, and means I can quit stripping earlier than graduation if I want to. That's a big deal to me, so having to endure one date to win Zach's stupid bet...well, why the hell not?
The problem is that Brandi is a thirty-seven year old divorcee who recently underwent a full body transformation, something she has spent the last half hour explaining to me in great detail. After her divorce, when her husband left her for his twenty year old secretary, she decided to try and show him what he was missing. Tits, face lift, and a tummy tuck. She's even offered to show me her scars...ALL of them. She's nice enough, and when we chatted last night she seemed sweet and harmless, an easy way to beat Zach. But God, was I wrong. I've had to pretty much pull her off my lap twice, and this is in a friendly neighborhood café. You'd expect this kind of behavior in a bar late on a Saturday night. Hell, there are kids watching in here.
When I move her hand off my junk for the third time, I know I have to call it quits.
“Sorry, Brandi, but I don't think this is going to work,” I say firmly as I made to stand up.
“But Zander,” she purred, “why don't we take this to the hotel across the street. I have a hotel room waiting for us. I've checked in and everything.”
Holy shit. This woman isn't just a cougar, she's bordering on being a hyena, willing to take prey at any costs.
“Thanks, but I've, uh, I've gotta go. Bye.”
I left that café so fucking fast, people probably wondered where the fire was.
Walking home after escaping Brandi's clutches, my mind drifts back to Kate. All week I've had a nagging feeling about her date last weekend. Something just didn't seem right about the two of them together. He isn't the type of guy I would ever picture Kate with and now, after my disaster date today, I have a hunch.
She looked so uncomfortable...I'd bet money on it being a blind date, and her date lying to her about
a) his age
and
b) his personality.
I could tell she wasn't feeling it, or him. She was so stiff, nothing like the Kate I've seen before. I also noticed her looking my way a few times...everything points to Miss Kate trying out internet dating.
I send Mac a text knowing that whatever Kate was up to, Mac would likely know.
Zander: Mac, is Kate dating old guys now?
Mac: Um, what?!? Of course not. She never goes for older than 30. Why's that?
Zander: Saw her at 42nd St Bar with a guy well into his 40s
Mac: OMG. It was a blind date, off the internet. He must've lied on his profile.
Zander: What site?
Mac: Why???
Zander: Just curious.
Mac: Curious or interested?
Zander: Does it matter which one?
Mac: Chicago Singles Online. Tread lightly with her, okay? But if you're interested in her, let her know.
Zander: Stop matchmaking, Mac. Talk to you soon.
Ten minutes into my search, I'm about ready to whack myself around the head when I come across a gorgeous photo showing the back silhouette of a small, beautifully shaped woman with wavy fire engine red hair that curled around her bra line. Even without seeing her face, this woman's body was that of a wartime pinup girl. The hair, the curves, the small, demure posture of this woman blew my mind. She was stunning, a picture of beauty and grace. Everything I like in a woman wrapped up in one perfect pocket-rocket sized package. It was Kate. Clicking open her profile page confirmed it, from the sea blue eyes, her five foot nothing height, right down to the smart ass comment about not needing to see any more cock pictures.
I can't stop myself from messaging her. I decide to send a short, friendly ice breaker. I won't tell her it's me straight away though. I want her to give me a chance just to chat for a while. I want to get to know her, and this may be my only way to do that given the way she acted toward me in the bar. It's not deception, and it's not lying. It's simply omitting the truth about who I am until I can be sure that she'll give me a chance. That's what I'm telling myself anyway.
For friendship? For more? I'm not sure.
There's been more than one night that I've found myself lying in bed thinking of her. And tonight, seeing that photo of her on the net blew my mind and redirected most of my blood flow south; I just can't get her out of my head. It's those curves that frame her gorgeous body, and the silhouette of her breasts that I'm dying to touch.
Taking matters into my own hands, I grip my cock firmly and stroke it up and down, over and over. My hand gliding over my soft skin, wishing I was gliding inside of Kate's hot body. I come hard, imagining her vulnerable ice blue eyes staring up from underneath me as I'm burying my cock deep inside her. Damn, I hope she gives me a second chance, another opportunity to get to know her. I need a woman like Kate in my life.
Kate probably thinks I'm out of bounds for her, and let's not forget that I've already stupidly turned her down once. Men are different from women. We don't have a problem sleeping with a woman who one of the guys has already been with before, as long as it's not an ex-girlfriend. No problem whatsoever. Pussy is pussy, and as long as protection is used, then no harm done. But Kate could never just be pussy; seeing her tonight reminded me of that. Ever since the first night I saw her I knew she was a forever kind of girl, one that deserved a lifetime of love, protection and hot sex. Back then I wasn't in a position to offer love and protection. Now, I might be.
I don't regret turning her down when she propositioned me that night. I don't want to be a regret, a drunken mistake. If I take Kate to bed, it won't be a drunken one night stand. I'll make it so damn memorable, she won't be able to get me out of her head for days, weeks even. That, and you can bet your bottom dollar we won't be walking straight in the morning.
The few times I've seen Kate, sh
e has always seemed shy, especially when Mac left us at the bar. Yet, from what I've heard from Mac, she's a real spit fire. Feisty, funny, and very protective of her friends. So why has she always been so different around me?
I grew up in a house full of women. I know that girls are different to guys when it comes to dating and sex. There are unspoken rules. My sisters have explained this to me many a time. You never go with a guy that has:
a) been with your sister
b) been with one of your friends
or
c) that has a reputation as a love 'em and leave 'em type.
The sister and the friend rules are concrete. They tell me it's the girl code. Having a conversation like that with my twenty-one and eighteen year old sisters was awkward, especially when it makes me sick to think of a guy even touching them, but it has given me some perspective on the female brain.
So with that in mind, I'm going to keep talking to Kate on the internet. I want to get to know her, and for her to get to know me without any awkwardness. Kate is different, and maybe different is what I need, what I want now.
Fuck, I've spent so much time around women, I'm starting to fucking sound like one.
I get to sleep in since it's Sunday, and my only day off work and training. I saunter out into the living room around ten a.m. to find Zach lying on the sofa watching a football replay from last week. “Hey, early start or late finish?” I ask as I head for the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee.
“Early finish, early rise. Your little spit fire was at the bar again last night.”
“With a date?”
“Nah, with Mac and her man, and another guy who seemed to be the life of the party but definitely wasn't her date. He kept giving me the glad eye all night,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders.
“Hmm. I texted Mac last night too.”
“Dude, she's pregnant with that guy's kid. Let it go.”
“Fuck off, I know that. I texted to find out if Kate's on Chicago Singles.”
“That would explain that dad date last week.”
“That's my thought as well.”
“So you like her then?” he asks, raising a brow.
“I've only seen her a couple of times, but she's intriguing to say the least.”
“I wouldn't say no to her,” he says absentmindedly, not looking away from the television.
I can't hold back the growl in my throat. “She's into commitment and relationships, Zach. You know, the two words that repel you like garlic to a vampire.”
“Really? Well, dammit. There goes that fantasy then.”
“I should hope so. Kate's different. That's why I haven't gone there…yet,” I try to explain.
“Why not? She's hot and has a killer body. Man, those heels she was wearing last night would feel so fucking good digging into your ass as you pound-“
“Dude. Don't be thinking about her like that. Period. End of story.”
“Chill Zan, message received loud and clear. Since you're so defensive about this, maybe you should ask her out. God knows that date of hers last week was a disaster. The guy ordered cider for crying out loud, in the middle of winter, and he looked like he was old enough to be her father.” Zach continues to watch the football, yelling at the TV when his team loses possession. “Fuck, did you see this game? They just can't catch a break!”
I nod my head, but my mind is elsewhere. Taking a seat at the dining table, I can't help but wonder what the deal is with Kate. She should have no trouble finding a man and settling down. Maybe she's too picky...or too clingy. Guys never want clingy chicks.
I lean over the couch right next to Zach's head. “By the way dude, I got my junk groped in front of children in a café yesterday just to win your dare. Mission completed. Free rent here I come,” I say before knocking his cap off his head.
“Fuck,” I hear him say under his breath as I walk out of the living room with a smile.
Realizing that the day is getting away from me, I gather my laundry for the week and head around the block to Suds R Us, my local laundromat. Once I have the washing machine on, I sit back in the plastic chairs lining the wall and pull out my phone. Time for my weekly phone call to Mom and the girls.
It rings twice before my sister Danika picks up. “City morgue. You kill 'em, we chill 'em.”
She never fails to amaze me. “Danika, that is terrible!” I say, still chuckling to myself.
“Zan! Tell me you're coming home soon.”
“I wish I was, squirt. I'm too busy with work and the academy. Who would've thought you'd have to study to become a cop?”
“Well, duh! Of course you do. How else will you know how to get fat and eat donuts all day?”
“Oh is that what I'll be doing all day? Well, shit. I'm glad you told me now,” I reply sarcastically.
Danika is fourteen going on twenty-five. I swear to God, that girl is way too clever. She's already a year ahead in school and doesn't seem to be slowing down at all. Hell, she was walking at nine months old and hasn't stopped running since. After me, there is Zoe who is twenty-one, and Mia who is eighteen. They all still live at home with mom in Syracuse, Indiana. They moved from Chicago a few years ago when Mom got laid off and found a job working in an RV Factory. It meant they had to move out of state, but they're still close enough that I can visit them every few months.
I'm very protective of my family. My father was a deadbeat dad who was always out of work or drunk, usually both. When I was thirteen, he died from liver failure. It was quick, it was traumatic, and my mother has never even dated another man since then.
I've tried to take care of them ever since; being the eldest, and only male in a group of girls, it was something I felt I had to do, so I grew up fast. I still send money to Mom when I have a particularly busy week dancing. Of course, she doesn't know how I make my money; she thinks I work at the bar with Zach. I think she'd be shocked, and maybe a little disappointed with how I make a living, but I do know that she was over the moon when I was accepted into the police academy. She still tells anyone who will listen that I'm training to be a cop. Just being able to make her proud is worth everything to me.
Zoe knows that I dance. Unfortunate as it was, she happened to arrive late to a gig I'd just finished. Talk about awkward. She screamed when she recognized me, and I got stage fright, literally. I could. not. move. I grabbed her and we left straight afterwards, going to a twenty-four hour diner a few blocks from here to talk it out. She now understands why I strip, and we always make sure I'm not working any gig that she might be invited to.
“Dani, put Mom on, will ya?”
“Moooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmm!”she yells down the phone.
“Hello?” my mom says when she reaches the phone.
“Hey, Mom. Just calling to check in with my favorite girls”
“Oh, Zander. You're always thinking of me and your sisters, but you don't need to worry, we're fine. Work is going well, the new house is perfect, and Mia and Danika are fitting in well at school.”
“And Zoe?”
“Well, you know Zoe, one bad boy after another. She's currently dating a tattoo artist from Brownsburg. I wish she'd find a nice boy for once, someone more like you, but she'll learn one day. And what about you, my boy? How's training going?” she asks.
“I'm good. Training is good. The physical side of it is okay, I'm fine with that, but it's all the stuff I have to learn and remember that is hard. Couldn't ask for a better job though.”
“Glad to hear that, Zan. And what about dating? Have you met a nice girl yet? Maybe a country girl who'll cook good meals and look after you. You deserve to be looked after, Zander.”
“You know I don't have time to date, Mom, but there is one girl that I want to get to know better. She intrigues me and I can't seem to get her out of my head.”
“Well, that just means that there might be something there. You need to talk to her.”
“She's kind of avoiding me. She's embarrassed about something
that happened between us even though she shouldn't be.”
“You need to talk to her. Tell her not to be embarrassed, then you need to woo her, Zander. If you like her, you need to woo. Women like to be listened to, you know that from living with me and your three sisters, so you listen, you ask questions, and you woo. Understand, son?”
How do mothers always know the right answer to any of life's questions? I remember asking her once, 'how do you know that, Mommy?' and without missing a beat, she turned to me and said, “It's because I passed the mommy test.”
I smile. “Yes, Mom. I might try that out.” I hear the dryer beep. “Okay, Mom, I have to get going. I'll ring you next week, alright?”
“Of course, son. Love you. And remember to ask, listen, then woo.”
“Yes, Mom. Love you too. Bye.”
Ask, listen, woo.
My new plan:
1) Get Kate to open up.
2) Let her get to know me.
3) Reveal my identity when I'm sure she's comfortable around me. Then she might want to meet with me in person.
Sounds logical to me.
KATE
After going to the bar for a quick bite to eat with Mac and Daniel and my workmate Nathan-my gay boyfriend for all intents and purposes-we return to our place and watch a DVD of some action movie that Daniel chose.
I'm sitting on the opposite couch with a half-filled glass of wine and the laptop on my lap, scrolling through potential new dates on the Chicago Singles site. Mac gets a text, and suddenly has a big grin on her face. She giggles a few times as a few new messages come in, and even shows Daniel over her shoulder as she snuggles into his lap, his arm around her hips with his hand cradling her bump protectively.
“What are you laughing at, Mac Attack?” It must be something good for her to be giggling like a school girl.
“Oh nothing. Just uh, a friend from work sending me joke texts,” she says suspiciously.
“Mmm hmm,” I reply, taking another big gulp of wine and scrolling through the never-ending list of new 'singles ready to mingle' on the website.
