Rehearsing in the kitchen has become a nightly thing. Sylvie helps me work out the kinks in my routine; then I work out her kinks in bed.
Sylvie walks into the kitchen and sits in the chair I set up for her. “Do we have to do this tonight?”
I hear the exhaustion in her voice. Reese started walking, or should I say running. Between chasing him down and trying to ween him, she’s ready for bed.
“No, but if I fall off the chair and crack my head open in an American Flag G-string on stage, it’s on you.” I lift her out of the chair and hold her in my arms.
“Maybe if you rehearsed in the G-string, I’d change my mind.”
I refuse to let Sylvie see me in the ridiculous costumes I wear at the club. It isn’t fair since I’ve seen all of hers. This isn’t about being fair; it’s about my manhood. Since Sylvie and I became a thing, performing has lost some of its flavor. I don’t get off on it like I did before. I even broke down and bought a pump from Rico, so the ladies I entertain have something to gawk over. It isn’t really cheating; it’s all me, just a pumped-up version of me. No different than a push-up bra.
“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.” I suck her neck softly.
“How about we go to bed cuddle like old people?” She makes a soft moaning sound and my balls tingle.
“How about we go to bed and fuck until we fall asleep?” I counter.
She starts walking to the bedroom, and I follow like a little puppy. I don’t care what Sylvie wants to do once we get to my room. I’m happy either way.
***
I’ll never get used to watching a six-foot-three, two-hundred-and-forty-pound man shave his legs over a bucket.
“I’m telling you, Sway.” Dain holds up the razor. “These are the best, and they smell good.” He dips the pink, lavender-scented razor in the bucket and swirls it a few times. Little white puffs of shaving cream float on top of the water.
“I’m good.” I put on my MMA robe and adjust the hood. “Sylvie has me using a hair remover before I shave. The results are way smoother.” I hold my leg out for Dain to inspect. He runs the back of his hand down my calf and looks impressed. “I’ll find out the brand and text it to you.”
Dain smirks at my cockiness. “Sure.” He finishes shaving and carries the bucket to the sink in the corner.
Percy walks into the dressing room. More like he bounces. The kid is on fire and he knows it. “Fucking epic tonight!” He tosses his towel in the bin and walks to his locker beside Damon’s.
“That table on the left.” Damon notes and high-fives Percy.
“Yep, that bitch is crazy!”
“A little respect.” Thor chastises their vocabulary. “You don’t have to call them bitches.” The boys discard Thor’s comment and keep talking.
“Yeah, and her friend with that pink strappy top thing. That bitch isn’t even wearing a bra.” Percy is jumping up and down like a little girl at a Katy Perry concert.
“Dude, I bit her nipple.” Damon brags. “I swear that bitch came right on stage.”
“That’s it.” Thor stands.
I press my hand against his chest to hold him back. “Whoa, just chill.”
“I can’t take his fucking mouth,” Thor huffs.
Damon and Percy finally realize how serious Thor is about their language.
“What’s your problem, bro?” Damon faces Thor chest to chest. Well, Thor’s chest to Damon’s chin. “We’re just having a conversation over here.”
“Why does everything have to be bitch this and bitch that? They’re women.” Thor looks at me for backup. I give him nothing. This isn’t my fight.
“Look, we’re sorry.” Percy places his hand on Damon’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean any disrespect.”
The two men move away from each other.
“I gotta go,” I tell Thor. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, I just need a blow job.” He sits down and pulls out his phone. He glances back at Damon. “I’m good.”
***
During my MMA solo, I watch the table on the left, the one Percy and Damon were boasting about. There are four women at the table, all about my age. None of them look when my music drops and I take off my hood. While the rest of the room goes crazy; they stay huddled together, like they’re having a meaningful conversation. Halfway through, I make eye contact with the woman in the pink top. She barely acknowledges me.
By the time I walk off stage, I’m feeling totally rejected and ready to go home to Sylvie. This is part of the job I hate. I get that some women won’t find me attractive, or hate my routine. What kills me is the fact that they loved Percy. When I hear him and Damon boast about all the love they received from a table, it’s only natural to feel slighted when the same table shuns me. It’s impossible not to take that personally.
I change and sneak out the back door with a little over four hundred dollars in my pocket. I rarely have a shitty night. I can’t afford any fuck ups. Thank god I have the side job tomorrow. I really need the money.
***
I’m wearing a fitted indigo blue Hugo Boss suit with a white shirt and gray tie. The woman requested I wear sneakers instead of dress shoes, and I’m hella grateful for that. I bought a pair of old-school all white Adidas that I plan to keep. The suit might go back; it depends on how the job goes.
Sylvie walks into the bedroom and whistles as she crawls onto the bed wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of running shorts. She kneels behind me in the mirror.
“This suit was made for you.”
I turn to the side and pose like a douche from a hipster magazine. She laughs a little then goes back to pouting. She wasn’t thrilled when I took this job. It isn’t about trust or jealousy. Sylvie knows plenty of women and men who escort. Even when you think everything is under control, sometimes it isn’t. The rules change when money is involved. As much as I care for her and respect our relationship, she knows Lulu’s tuition is my number one priority.
“Do you want to reconsider my offer?” I asked her to move in with me after the night Aaron came over. She’s safer here, and we’d both save money if we lived together.
“Not until after I finish school.” She stands behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. “I need space to focus. I can’t do that here.” I turn and kiss her. “There are too many distractions.” She squeezes my waist and presses her breasts against me. I swell in my dress pants.
“Now look what you’ve done.” I push against her.
She unhooks my belt and starts to pull my pants down. I glance at the bedroom door.
“Kids?”
“Lulu is watching Crashbox and Reese is taking a nap.” I walk over and lock the door.
Sylvie sits on the end of the bed and takes the t-shirt off. Breastfeeding didn’t affect her breasts in the slightest. I try to kneel and kiss her; she won’t let me.
She lowers the zipper on my pants and takes my dick out. Blowjobs aren’t Sylvie’s favorite thing. I know she’s feeling desperate and scared about me going to this wedding with a woman wealthy enough to drop two grand on a fake date.
I stop Sylvie before she takes me into her mouth. I push her back on the bed then flip her over. I yank her shorts off and put two fingers inside of her. I’m surprised to find her wet. I pull her waist until her feet dangle off the bed and fuck her from behind. Once I’m in the groove, she looks back at me. There’s a message in her eyes. Words she’s too scared to say. I stop and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My pants around my ankles, my jacket wrinkled at my waist. Watching myself fuck is a huge turn on, especially in this suit. Sylvie gets free from my grasp and lies flat on her back. She pulls my tie and lowers me to her. We kiss until I feel her clench around me. We come together.
“You’re all wrinkled,” she grunts.
“It was worth it.” I kiss the side of her head. “You’re worth it.” I stand and pull my pants up.
She dresses near the door and listens for the kids. When all we hear is the clo
sing credits of Lulu’s show, her shoulders relax. Stealing moments like this remind me of the times I snuck into a girl’s bedroom in high school or had sex with Leeyan in the bathroom of a restaurant. The danger of being caught makes coming in two minutes acceptable.
“What time do you think you’ll be home?” Sylvie looks at the hardwood floor in shame. She has every right to worry about me. If the tables were turned, I would not be as calm as she is pretending to be.
I finish tucking my shirt into my pants and buckle my belt. “I don’t know. The wedding is at five.” I look at my watch. Actually, it’s Giovanni’s watch. He let me borrow it for tonight. It’s a lot easier to check the time on your wrist than pulling out your cell phone like a teenage girl.
“I have to go.” I pull Sylvie to me.
She holds me for a long time. I want to pull away, but I don’t. She needs to pull away first. I check my watch one more time before she does.
“I would say have fun, but fuck that.”
“You know I’d rather be here with you.” I kiss her cheek. “You also know you’re the one I’m coming home to.”
She nods and steps back so I can leave.
“Have a good night, baby.” I blow her another kiss and step into the hall.
“Hey Theo,” she calls.
I step back and look in my bedroom. “Yeah, babe?” I look at my watch again.
“I love you.”
This might sound crazy, but those are the last words I expected to hear. I also have no clue how to respond. I have strong feelings for Sylvie, we feel for each other, but love. Love is something dangerous. Something that could ruin us.
The longer I stand here with my mouth hanging open, the more Sylvie’s heart breaks.
“I…” I’m about to say something. Something I’m not sure I mean yet. “I…”
I am saved by the baby.
Reese begins to cry. Scream actually. He does this sometimes when he wakes abruptly. Which means Lulu woke him up. She doesn’t understand why he sleeps so much.
I walk into the living room and find Lulu on her toes, leaning into the playpen trying to shove Reese’s pacifier into his mouth.
“I got this, Theo.” Sylvie pushes past me. “You better go.” Her eyes flit to the clock.
“Lulu, be a good girl,” I warn her. She runs to my legs and hugs me. We watch Sylvie baby-talk to Reese.
She lifts him from his playpen, and he smiles at the sight of her. “Did Lulu wake you up, big boy?” She kisses his chubby cheek, and he lays his head on Sylvie’s shoulder. She cuddles him and sits on the couch.
“Daddy.” Lulu tugs my arm and motions for me to lean down. I go to kiss her, but she cups her hand to whisper in my ear. “Can I call Sylvie ‘Mommy,’ too?”
My heart literally breaks.
I take Lulu in my arms and hold her as I watch Sylvie offer Reese her breast.
Dangling a mother like Sylvie in my daughter’s face is cruel. I hate Leeyan all over again. I hate her for not being here, for fucking up our daughter’s life. Nothing matters more than knowing your parents love you. Sometimes one parent is enough. Sylvie is enough for Reese. I want to be enough for Lulu.
I’m still thinking about Lulu when I step out of the Uber in front of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. My head is fucked right now. Between not telling Sylvie I love her and Lulu asking to call her Mommy, I’m in so deep, the only thing to do now is drink.
I check my watch as the doorman greets me.
“Good evening, sir.”
Nobody has ever called me sir; it must be the suit.
“Good evening,” I mimic. “Can you tell me which room the Sebastian wedding is in?” I was instructed to meet my date in the lobby. I’m not to go near the reception without her.
“Cocktails are being served on the terrace; you’ll be directed from there.”
I thank him and pull out my phone. The lobby of the Mark Hopkins has an old world vibe and looks like the set of a Sex and the City episode. Leeyan loved that show. We binge-watched it throughout her pregnancy. I stand opposite of the front desk, waiting for Big and Carrie to step off the elevator.
A few women dressed in formal attire walk past me and smile. One them looks back then laughs to her companion. I swear she recognizes me. What if she knows me from the club? I don’t know the protocol.
The woman who hired me might be telling people I’m a law student or a stockbroker. I’m supposed to play along with whatever story she’s concocted. I pull out my phone to call Rico. He’ll tell me what to do.
“Sway?”
I look up and find a beautiful young woman in a pink strapless dress, smiling at me. I go through a catalog of faces in my head to place her.
“Or should I call you Theo? I’m not sure how this works exactly.” She blushes.
“Cheyenne?” I confirm.
“Yes. I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to guide me through it.”
I don’t tell her this is my first date too. I’m afraid it will freak her out. Instead, I offer my arm. “Shall we?”
She exhales and smiles. “Let’s do this.”
As we walk to the terrace, I ask her whose wedding we’re attending. Friend, family, co-worker.
“This is just the reception. I didn’t want you at the church.” She scrunches up her face. “Sorry, did that sound rude?”
“No, don’t worry about offending me.”
For fifteen hundred dollars, you can offend the fuck out of me.
“I went to college with the bride. After college, we were roommates, until she met Simon, the groom. Then everything was about Simon.” Cheyenne seems a little jealous. I wonder if she and the bride were a thing. I feel like my night just got a lot more exciting.
“Let’s just say a lot has gone down in the last few months. I wasn’t even sure I was going to show up tonight.” She’s nervous and rambling. I let her. That’s my job. “Then I had this great plan, and that’s when I hired you.” She takes a breath. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” She stops walking abruptly and yanks me back with her. I’m pretty sure I get paid if she backs out, but I’m here, dressed the part, and I’m hungry.
“Let’s just make a few rounds, grab a drink,” I suggest. “If you want to leave in an hour, we’ll go.”
“Okay,” she agrees as if I have any say over this night. Cheyenne looks and seems young. She’s still comfortable with people telling her what to do.
In an effort to calm her nerves, I ask Cheyenne some personal questions. I’ll need the ammo if I’m drilled by a guest.
“So, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a graphic designer at an agency in SOMA.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I like it.” She starts to ask what I do, then stops. “Duh. You dance.” She stops talking as if she wasn’t supposed to disclose that little detail. “Oh look, we’re here.” Her hand grips my arm a little tighter.
We arrive at the terrace, and Cheyenne heads straight to the bar. Her eyes dart around, looking for someone, while we wait for our drinks. The couple’s signature drink is some fruity pink thing. We take two then move to the railing, where the city lights are just coming on.
Cheyenne’s attention is on the crowd, but she manages to down her cocktail in two gulps.
“Want another?” She’s already walking towards the bar.
“Sure.” I down mine and set the glass on a nearby table.
If she were a real date, I’d accompany her to the bar. So I go.
“A shot of tequila.” Cheyenne takes the glass and tosses it back. “One more.”
The bartender smirks at me then pours another shot. Cheyenne takes it and another pink drink before walking away.
“Looks like she’s going to be fun tonight,” the bartender comments.
“Really, dude?” I take my drink and follow Cheyenne. I’m irked by the bartender. Just because a chick is drunk at a wedding doesn’t mean she wants to get laid.
As I make my way through the crowd, I see a group of
women in matching dresses. Bridesmaids.
I find Cheyenne in the corner.
“Hurry, get over here,” she demands. “I don’t want them to see you yet.”
I duck behind a planter. “This might work a little smoother if I knew who I was hiding from. Is there a backstory or a role I’m playing?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so what is it?” I try not to sound annoyed. Rico said I’m supposed to tuck my balls and do whatever she asks. I have lost the right to say no. I’m fine with that. I just hate flying blind.
“I’m waiting for the right time.” She looks at me like I know what time that is. “If the bridesmaids are here, that means she’ll be here soon.”
“She being the bride?”
“Yes.”
There is definitely something going on between Cheyenne and the bride. I’m getting the feeling that I could be caught in the middle of a really sticky situation. I can’t afford to blow this gig, but I don’t want it to be a train wreck either.
Cheyenne keeps me hidden in the corner until we’re ushered into the main dining room for dinner. We’re four drinks and three shots in at this point.
Cheyenne holds my hand as she looks for our table number. I rub her back and lean down like I’m going to kiss her. She turns her head and smiles.
“You’re good.”
“I’m just getting started.” It’s the booze talking. Mostly. I really want to calm this girl down. Maybe we can have a nice meal before something drastic happens.
We find our table, and I hold out her chair. A waiter arrives immediately and offers us a glass of wine. We both take white.
“You look beautiful.” Part of my job is making my date feel good about herself and hiring me.
She looks at her dress and shrugs. “Being beautiful doesn’t always mean getting what you want.” Cheyenne’s eyes drift to the door.
An emcee takes the mic and asks everyone to take their seats. As our table fills, I realize that nobody here has stopped to say hi to Cheyenne. Even the people at our table don’t seem to know who she is. If her name weren’t written on the little card in front of her, I might think she’s a crasher. She clearly has feelings for the bride. If things go south, I need to be prepared. I push my wine glass away.
Got Mine (Men of Trance Book 1) Page 9
