by Jacob Chance
The lighting is dim and we’re up against a wall. I hope no one can see what he’s doing, how he’s touching me. Even if they could, I don’t think I want him to stop. There’s something so liberating, knowing he just can’t keep his hands off me.
Raising the bottle to my lips I take a deep pull, hoping it will help soothe my nerves. “By the way, I didn’t need you running interference with Keith. I’m an adult and can take care of whatever needs to be handled by myself.”
“I know you are and I’m sorry if that ruffles your feathers, so to speak. He brought it up first or I never would have mentioned it. He asked me for my opinion. What was I supposed to say?”
Pressing my lips together in a hint of a smile, I reply, “Poor misunderstood Jesse. You didn’t have any ulterior motive for the answer you gave?”
“Of course I did.” He smirks before his large hand closes around the glass of whiskey and I watch him raise it to his masculine mouth. The rim slips between his lips and it conjures up memories of what his tongue felt like sliding between my own lips. He drinks down the remainder of the amber liquid and my eyes roam freely over the corded muscles in his neck and the chiseled strength of his jawline under the thick, dark stubble he favors. He sets the empty glass on the bar with a clap and the ice clinks against the sides pulling me from my fantasy. Jesse turns his head, meeting my stare. “I’m not going to hand you over to the dude on a platter.”
“Well at least you admit your shady ways.”
“Guess who's back - back again. Shady’s back - tell a friend.” His impersonation of Eminem leaves a lot to be desired but his commitment to the joke still makes me laugh.
“Seriously, there’s nothing shady about it. I even told him I had plans for you.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“He said you guys were better friends than lovers anyway.”
“Sounds like an accurate assessment.”
“I never got a chance to thank you for what a great job you’re doing on social media with my storyline. It's helping with the crowds. I mean, did you hear them tonight? All I did was an in-ring interview and they went wild again. It seems like they're getting louder and crazier at each event.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s in my job description. Does this mean you’re paying attention to them now?”
“I’ve always checked them from time to time, but since we started our road trip, I’ve been keeping a closer eye on them.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me?”
“Absolutely. I just like reliving our moments from the trip. It makes me happy to think about the time we spend together.”
Dammit.
What am I supposed to say to that?
Nervous, I spin my upright bottle on the wooden surface at a loss for what to reply.
He leans down. “Invite me back to your room.” His voice is a deep rumble in my ear. Turning my head, our eyes lock, desire filled gray meets hesitant green. “Nothing has to happen that you don’t want. I’d like to spend the night with you.”
Is this the reason for his sweet remarks?
Is he just trying to get laid?
Indecision clouds my head and furrows my brow. Raking my teeth over my bottom lip I study his earnest expression. No matter how sincere he may be it’s not going to hurt for me to put whatever is happening between us on hold for a little longer.
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in ages.”
“And on that note, I’m going to get out of here.” Pushing back my chair, I rise to my feet.
He stands. “Let me at least walk you to your room.”
“You can, but it won’t get you any closer to changing my mind.”
“Maybe it’s peace of mind for me to know you’re safe in your room.”
I exchange goodnights with everyone and give Keith a final hug. He’s having too much fun for me to drag him out of there and I know we’ll catch up sometime soon.
Jesse clasps my hand and once again I try to pull free, but his grip is firm. I’m hoping that with the dim bar lighting none of our coworkers have noticed his hold on me. We don’t need any speculation about if there’s more than business going on between us. If we do step over that line and have sex, no one can know.
Jesse refuses to let go of my hand no matter how much I tug or yank. He ignores my whispers of “let go,” as we walk to the bank of elevators.
The ride up to my floor is fraught with sexual tension. Our palms are pressed together, fingers slotted like they were meant to fit that way. It feels natural, yet overwhelmingly exciting at the same time. My heart thumps with a racing beat in my ears and my breathing becomes shallow. The ride up four floors seems to drag endlessly as I’m lost in a blur of thoughts and feelings I don’t want. A shaky sigh leaves me when the double doors open.
Jesse leads me out and we walk down the long hallway with our arms pressed together. Stopping in front of my door, he presses my back against the solid surface. “I’m not going to come inside.” He traces his index finger around the outer edge of my mouth.
“I don’t remember inviting you,” I sass.
“I think you were about to, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about us.”
“What would the wrong one be?”
“That this is just a sex thing.”
“It’s not?”
“Not for me. Is it for you?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “It’s more.”
“Much more.” He lowers his head, inching closer at a teeth grinding slow pace. My tongue slips out to moisten my lips.
Hovering with a hair’s breadth between us, he husks out, “tell me I can kiss you goodnight.”
“You can kiss me goodnight,” I moan, rising on my toes and pressing our lips together. His warm mouth answers by moving softly against mine. He grips my hips and tugs me closer while his tongue sensually teases mine. Sinking my fingers into his thick hair, the stubble dotting his face rasps along my delicate skin. He tastes like sex and smells like sin - an irresistible combination. His kiss is laced with passion and tenderness; whatever this is between us, it’s more than physical.
It’s more than I ever imagined.
Chapter Sixteen
Jesse
“Here we go again,” I merge the rental car onto ninety-five north. We’re officially returning home for two weeks and then we’ll be heading out to the west coast for Pacific Coast Clash. I’ve got roughly five hours to spend with Lilah and then I’m not sure when I’ll see her again. We made some progress last night, but nothing concrete. Getting her to admit there was more than sex between us was a great start, but it’s hardly a declaration of how she feels about me.
“You’re quiet this morning,” I state, flicking my eyes her way. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she mutters then yawns. “I’m just tired; I didn’t sleep well.”
Did she replay our explosive kiss over and over like I did? It took me an hour to stop thinking about it long enough to get my hard on to go away.
“Maybe you need to eat. I have plans to stop in a couple of hours if you can wait that long.”
“Let me guess, one of your favorite greasy spoons is on the way home?” she quips.
I laugh. “It just so happens that you’re right. This one is the big dog of all greasy spoons.”
“Mm, I’m intrigued and admittedly hungry. How long did you say it would be?”
“Close your eyes and grab some sleep. We’ll be there before you know it.”
She folds up her sweatshirt and places it against the window then rests her head on it like a pillow. I smile as my eyes sweep quick glances her way. I’m overcome with so many mixed emotions, but at the forefront is happiness. I haven’t felt this happy with my life in a long time, maybe never and she’s the difference. Spending time with Lilah is my favorite thing, even if it means stealing glances while she sleeps, and I navigate us sa
fely toward home.
Almost two hours later to the minute, I pull off the highway and into my favorite breakfast place of all time. I’ve been all over the country and this one is top on my list.
“Lilah,” I call her name, but she doesn’t respond. “Lilah,” I repeat, louder and run my hand down her arm in a long caress. Her skin is warm and smooth against my palm and has me itching to continue touching her.
She stirs, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. When she looks my way, her lips quirk up at the corners for a small close-mouthed smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep for so long. Talk about a sucky co-pilot.”
“Nah, I’m glad you got some rest because you need all your faculties to really enjoy this meal.” Sliding out of the car, I close my door and move around to open hers. She takes my hand, rising to her sneakered feet and I draw her into my arms. The cool spring breeze gusts as I hold her snug against my chest and my lips lower to place a kiss on top of her tousled blonde hair. Her thin arms wrap around my waist as she burrows into me. “Hmm, I’m chilly and you’re so warm. You’re like a giant teddy bear for me.”
“Teddy Bear? Don’t insult me, woman. I’m not squishy like a bear. I’m rock solid, baby.” I pull her hips into mine, so she can feel how solid every inch of me is.
“Okay, big fella, down boy,” she giggles, patting my chest. “It’s time for food now.”
“When will it be time for other things?” I inquire, with a raised brow and a rakish slant to my mouth.
“Hmph. Not sure. I guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”
My hands move up to cup her cheeks, so I can stare down into her captivating irises that are as green as the trees surrounding the back of the lot. “I don’t have any plans to go anywhere else, Lilah. Sooner or later you’re going to have to admit that fact to yourself. I think you’re stuck with me.”
She rubs her lips together and grabs my hand. “Come on, I’m starved,” she says, changing the subject.
“So here we are at Big Dawg’s Diner,” I inform as we approach the stairs to the main entrance. She glances up at the image of the giant bulldog taking a bite out of the red B in Big that resides on the roof of the building. “I’ve never seen this place before or heard of it. How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know. It’s definitely a favorite spot for travelers and locals.”
“How did you find this place?” she asks once we’re seated in a corner booth and have already ordered.
“I was driving back from Florida on spring break when I was in college. This place is open twenty-four-seven and I was looking for something to eat in the middle of the night.”
“What were you like in college?”
“That’s a loaded question.”
“How do you figure?”
“I’m not sure what I should say. College was a long time ago. I like to think I’ve grown up quite a bit since then.”
“So, you were a manwhore?”
“I didn’t say that. I wasn’t a saint by any means, but I wasn’t a complete asshole.”
“Maybe a medium sized one?” she jests.
“Possibly,” I agree. “I was a three-time NCAA champion and a member of a frat. We used to party, but nothing that prepared me for my first few years on the independent circuit. Back then the drinks and drugs flowed freely.”
“Really? I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve never asked my father how things were with our wrestlers. He gets touchy about admitting that things could have been done better back then, even here at WCW.”
“Russ is the reason for the crack down on both of those things. I’m sure he saved the life of more than one wrestler who struggled with addiction. I’ve heard stories of how he packed more than a few away to rehab and got them sober. I was one of the lucky ones. Drinking and drugs have never really held any appeal for me. I like a few drinks here and there, but neither of those is my vice. And by the time I got to WCW, it wasn’t an issue.”
“What is your vice then?”
“I never really thought I had one until just recently. Any idea what it might be?”
She raises her shoulders in a careless shrug and shakes her head.
“You. You’re my vice now.”
“Me?” Her eyes go wide as she points at her chest. “How am I your vice?”
“Because I can’t get enough of you no matter how much time we spend together. Each taste of your lips is like a drug that only makes me crave more.”
“Jesse,” she whispers my name.
“I’m crazy about you, Lilah. I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Will you let me?”
Her eyes restlessly dart around the diner afraid to make contact while she thinks over her reply. Her hands twist and turn, clench and unclench on the table where they rest in front of her. She’s obviously nervous about taking things to the next level.
“Lilah,” I rest my hand on top of hers, stilling their movement as our gazes lock. “It’s just dinner. That’s all. Whatever happens after is up to you.”
She nods. “Dinner,” she whispers.
“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something casual.”
“Run the ropes?” Wyatt asks with a smile. We're at the WCW training facility in Stamford for a much-needed workout.
“I'm good to go. You up for it?”
“It has been awhile,” Wyatt laughs as he finishes lacing up his ring boots.
Wyatt and I met back at the wrestling school where I first started this ride. When he introduced himself on that first day I told him in no uncertain terms I was going to be the WCW World Heavyweight Champion within a year. All these years later we still laugh about how bold and naive we were.
The training center is a state of the art facility with a full spectrum of the latest equipment and a full complement of trainers, as well as medical support staff.
We walk into the “Ring Room”, a massive open space with three full size rings, one in the center for match prep and the others set up on either side for training. Today the place is packed. Both training rings are occupied, with a handful of wrestlers already lined up and waiting for a turn. Wyatt and I slip under the bottom ropes on the main ring without a word to anyone. It’s kind of a shitty move and it doesn't go unnoticed.
“I guess superstars don't have to wait.” Alex Kid Colt barks from the line outside one of the side rings, where he's been waiting his turn like everyone else. His voice is loud enough for everyone to hear and take notice.
“And that's why you'll keep waiting, Kid.” I stand against the ropes looking down at him. “Unless you'd like to step in and talk…” I push the bottom rope down with my foot and pull the middle rope up, inviting him in.
“Fuck you, Gunn.” Colt stalks off toward the weight room.
“C'mon stop playing with him.” Wyatt pushes me to get started.
Running the ropes is an exercise every wrestler learns right from the beginning of their training. A standard size professional wrestling ring is approximately four hundred and forty-one square feet. A one-foot perimeter, known as the ring apron, surrounds the ring outside the ropes. There are three ring ropes that surround the mat, at one, three and five feet. These ring ropes are anchored at each corner by a metal turnbuckle, which is covered by a foam and leather pad.
The ropes play a huge part of each and every match. They are your lifeline. Whether you're leaning against them, wrapped up in them, climbing on them, or diving through them, the ropes are second only to the wrestler’s ability to sell their story.
“Why are we doing this?” Wyatt complains, and I can't disagree. “This was your brilliant idea.”
Running between two opposing sides of the ring ropes is an act that leaves plenty of bruising and too much muscle pain in its wake, especially when you're pushing the lean back to speed up your return.
When Wyatt and I get up to full speed and we're barely missing each other as we cross in the center, it's a thing of beauty.
“What's up with you
and the boss’ baby girl?”
Wyatt sounds out of breath as we cross paths.
“Nothing.” I pick up the pace.
“Nothing? That's it?” He matches my speed.
“That's it.” I push faster.
“C'mon tell me about it and I'll tell you what I think about Ronnie.”
On the next run I dive into a shoulder spear, hitting him square in the gut and driving him back into the corner. He tries to sit up but instead curls in clutching his stomach as I stand over him. His face reflects pain and shock at my actions.
“You want to be really careful what you say about my sister. You know what I'm saying?” I give him a long, hard stare to let him know I'm dead serious.
“Got it,” he speaks quietly, but looks me in the eye. “Won't happen again.”
“Good. Now let's get to work.” I reach out my arm and help him up.
“Next time,” Wyatt shakes his head as we begin to circle each other around the ring,
“use your words.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lilah
My phone beeps alerting me of a text. Of course, it goes off when I’m in the middle of a shitstorm. My father wants me to order new merchandise for Jesse, “it has to be today, Lilah,” he mentioned in our meeting. You’d think I’d be used to his quickfire decisions and orders after working for him all this time, but I’m still taken by surprise.
I finish placing an order for women’s shirts with the hashtag #JessesGirlz on it and mens’ with the hashtag #StunGunn before I finally pick up my phone. Expecting to see a message from my father adding to my ever-increasing list of things to do, I smile when I realize it’s from Jesse.
Jesse: Looking forward to tonight. See you at seven.
Where could he be taking me? Wherever it is, it’s casual.
Me: No hints about what we’re doing?
Jesse: Where’s the fun in that? All I’ll say is you’ll be well fed.
At least I don’t have to cook myself dinner. Glancing at the clock, I notice the day is disappearing faster than I want it to.
