Married a Stripper

by M. S. Parker

  “You know I have been on dates before, right?”

  She laughed and pulled me up to see the selection she’d laid out next to me on the bed. Somehow she’d found a black pencil skirt I’d forgotten I owned and she’d paired it with a bright green silk blouse and black sequined cardigan. My other choices included a blue sheath dress that made me look like someone’s secretary or a cream-colored strapless dress with a lace overlay that she’d layered with a cropped denim jacket.

  “Oooh, wait!” She practically squealed. “I have the perfect boots!”

  I was already in the cream-colored dress when she brought in a pair of calf-high leather boots. The satin and lace of the dress dressed up the denim coat and the snug boots gave me just the right amount of country style to feel exactly like myself.

  “Oh, Gabs, you look fantastic.” She smiled at me in delight. Then she pointed a finger toward the bathroom. “Okay. Into the bathroom. Shower, hair, shave. You know the drill.”

  I rolled my eyes even as I eyed the clock. It was almost four. Picking out an outfit had taken nearly an hour. “Again…I’ve been on dates before.”

  But I followed the drill sergeant’s orders and marched on.

  Three hours later, I was giving myself a manicure. My toes were done. I’d even taken a forty minute nap on Kendra’s advice. You need more water, some juice and get some more ibuprofen in your system—it will help with the hangover.

  She’d done the same and it seemed to have helped both of us.

  She was painting her toenails lime green.

  Mine were a more sedate shade of coral, the same color as the glossy sheen I was applying to my nails.

  “So how did you run into this guy?” she asked.

  “He found me.” I grinned up at her as I went to get more polish. “I thought he was looking to get the goods on you, but he asked me to dance and when he was done, he went over and talked to you. Apparently, he was pumping you for information about me instead of the other way around.”

  Kendra frowned. “You act like you never have guys showing interest, Gabs. I’ve had plenty of guys approach me about you before, and you know it. You’re just…picky?”

  Remembering Flynn, I decided I really needed to focus on my nails. “Not picky enough,” I muttered.

  “Hey.”

  I just shook my head.

  She came over to me and sat down, absently fanning a hand back and forth. Sighing, I looked up at her. “Everybody runs into a bastard now and then,” she said quietly.

  “I know.” I forced a smile. “I’m done thinking about him. Not like I’m going to see him anymore, right?”

  I was going to focus on Edward now.

  It was seven-fifty and I was in the bathroom, looping a couple strands of freshwater pearls around my neck. They’d been Kendra’s grandmother’s. A critical study in the mirror didn’t set my nerves at ease any.

  “You ready?”

  “I’m dressed,” I told Kendra. “Am I ready? Not sure.”

  The buzzer sounded and I jumped.

  “Too bad.” She grinned at me and went off to hit the intercom. “She’ll be right down.”

  Then she grinned at me. “Go get ‘em, girl. If he’s hot and you plan on spending the night, just call me.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I did the whole get laid without strings thing, and I didn’t like it.” I didn’t add that it was just the afterwards part I didn’t like. The sex itself had been amazing. “From here on out, it’s about the romance.”

  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything as I left the apartment.

  I’d already decided if Edward wasn’t up to the task of wooing me, then I would be home and in bed with a steamy romance novel by ten o’clock.

  Better a fictional man I could count on than a real one I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the mood to play around.

  A grin spread across my face when I found him waiting at the door, holding it open for me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Outside, his driver opened the town car door for us and I couldn’t resist the impulse to ask, “So your last name is Charming, right? Like the prince?”

  “Exactly.” He said, grinning. “If my Cinderella likes Indian food. If not, then you’re in the wrong carriage.”

  I smiled. “I love it.” A weird sense of giddiness welled up inside me and I had to fight not to let any of it show on my face. I made do with a smile that hopefully didn’t look too insanely happy.

  The Lotus Chaat House was a narrow slot of a restaurant jammed in between an all-night bakery and a bodega that advertised the best churros in New York City. The town car slid up to the curve right in front of the jutting awning and the driver hopped out to open the door. I stepped out and looked up at the paint-peeling Taj Mahal sign with some trepidation. Not exactly what I’d expected, though it certainly wasn’t fancy.

  “Don’t worry, just wait until you see inside,” he promised.

  The windows were steamed up, so I had to take Edward at his word and let him escort me inside. As soon as I stepped through the door, I knew he was right. The restaurant was magic. Beyond the heavenly scent of warm naan, the small alley-like restaurant was criss-crossed with so many strings of twinkle lights it glowed. The tiny starry bulbs were so thick across the ceiling that no other lights were used except small red glass jars with flickering candles on each of the tables. The golden-yellow walls were covered in shelves chock full of shining statuettes and lotus flowers.

  “And the food’s good too,” Edward said, leaning close so he could speak in a low voice.

  A smiling woman in a pink sari greeted Edward like an old friend before shooing us over to a table and clapping her hands at two waiters. If she hadn’t been old enough to be his mother, I might’ve been jealous.

  “It is so nice to see you, Mr. Edward, and you brought someone!” She beamed at me. “He used to eat alone. I told him I have three nieces that would be happy to join him, but he always declined. Now I know why—you are so beautiful!”

  I was pleased to see Edward blush slightly at the sweet teasing. It made me feel better about my own red cheeks. Even though the space between the tables was minuscule, he still managed to pull my chair out for me. I sat down and wondered how exactly he had made a perfect cozy and romantic restaurant appear out of thin air. I could practically hear the romantic comedy love theme starting to play in the background.

  A plate of naan and three small dishes of different chutneys were on the table when I managed to break out of my inner movie. Another smiling waiter uncorked a bottle of chardonnay and poured us each a glass.

  “I took the liberty of pre-ordering some of my favorites,” Edward said. He didn’t seem to have noticed my little space-out. “But please pick anything off the menu you want.”

  I smiled. “Did you happen to order coconut curry? Maybe some lamb vindaloo?”

  “I did.”

  “Then I’m a happy girl.”

  We clinked our wine glasses together and each took a drink. The alcohol warmed me, helping me to relax.

  “Try the mango chutney,” he said. “It’s the perfect mix of sweet and spice.”

  He tore off a piece of the still warm bread and dipped it in the first small dish before leaning over and holding it out to me. I savored the sting of spices mellowed by the bright sugary taste of mango, the flavors bursting across my taste buds as I took a bite of the bread he’d offered.

  His eyes warmed as I licked the crumbs from my lips and my heart kicked up.

  “Tell me what you do during the day, Prince Charming,” I asked.

  “I wear a suit and a tie and stand in an office wishing I was here with you.”

  I felt my cheeks turn pink and made a mental note to write that line down when I got home. It should’ve made me roll my eyes, but there was no doubting his sincerity.

  “So, do you love your work?” As much as I liked what he’d said, I wanted to know more about him.

  “I do,” he admitted. “It
’s the family business so it sort of runs itself. I’m actually more of a referee between the shareholders, but I’m happy. How about you?”

  “Well, I’m leagues away from anything to do with shareholders,” I said. “I’m an assistant to a screenwriter. Or, as I like to call it, a personal slave to a psycho.” I laughed, but I was only half-joking. My boss was a nightmare.

  “Exciting then?”

  “Oh, yes,” I agreed. “I never know if it’s going to be a quiet day fetching coffee or I’ll be spending an hour on the phone searching for double-chocolate strawberry expresso beans.”

  He laughed. “That does sound exciting. Are those even a real thing?”

  I shrugged and took a drink. “I don’t know. I’m still searching for them.”

  We both laughed and I realized I was seriously considering transitioning into a heavily censored version of my foray into hand modeling when a plate of samosas arrived and we both eyed them hungrily. I watched him crunch into the flaky crust and close his eyes as he chewed the mouth-watering mix of spiced ground beef and peas. With his eyes closed, I was able to get a good look at him without him knowing.

  He was wearing a navy blue suit, but this time without a tie and, in the twinkling glow of the restaurant, he looked relaxed and happy. I noticed his light brown hair was sun-streaked and the open collar of his shirt showed a muscular and tan chest. His eyes opened and I turned my attention to my own plate.

  “You seem like the sporty type. What do you do for fun?” I asked, trying to get my mind off of those broad shoulders.

  “Promise not to judge?”

  I grinned. “Only if you give me the last samosa.”

  “Deal.” He pushed the small plate across the table. “Polo.”

  “You mean with the game thingy with the horses?”

  “That’s the one.”

  He sipped his wine and watched me, as if my reaction to his revelation was important. I liked that he cared what I thought, although I wasn’t sure why he was concerned about what I’d think of a game.

  “Sounds like fun,” I said and he relaxed.

  The main dishes arrived, steaming up the small window above our table, and Edward ordered another bottle of wine. We skipped separate plates and shared bites from each savory dish, rolling our eyes and moaning at each tantalizing taste. Our conversation veered off into favorite books we read in childhood and we laughed over our shared secret love of science fiction.

  “I thought I was the only one that carried a towel around my backyard and waited to hitchhike on passing spaceships,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? I got a telescope just to look for rides out into the galaxy.”

  When we finished, we both tipped back in our chairs. I looked down at the table, startled by the sheer volume of food we’d consumed. It was probably a good thing I’d skipped the narrow pencil skirt.

  “Do you want to take a walk?” Edward asked.

  “I’d better or you’ll have to roll me home.” I smiled.

  He paid the bill without letting me argue about splitting it and we strolled down the block where he signaled to his driver to move on. The car slowly drifted away and we turned the corner. I saw Washington Square a few blocks away and Edward slipped an arm around my waist as we walked towards it. His hand rested on my hip, a warm brand. We’re together, that touch said. I liked it.

  We passed several wide gallery windows where New York’s socialites were fawning over new artists. I stopped in front of one white-walled gallery displaying black and white photographs. They reminded me of Flynn. I tried to swallow the ache that rose in my chest as I remembered the look in his eyes as he’d aimed the camera held such passion, so focused, so intent.

  Stop it.

  I wanted to be there, leaning against Edward with his arm around my waist, but my mind suddenly fixed on Flynn, wondering where in the world he was at that moment.

  Probably French-kissing some silly waitress in Paris or seducing a young senorita in Spain, I thought and tried to shake him from my head.

  “Everything alright?” Edward asked, his tone concerned.

  “I’m fine,” I said, dragging my thoughts away from the images. I put my head on his shoulder.

  The farther we got from the gallery, the easier it was to put Flynn out of my head, the easier it was to focus on the man next to me. It was so easy being with him. Just walking in the warmth of the night—everything felt easy. “Maybe you should pinch me. Is it just me or is this date going really well?”

  Edward stopped me at the edge of the park and turned me so we were facing each other. When I didn’t look up, too focused on trying to remember how to breathe, he reached out and tipped my chin up. His pale eyes studied me for a moment before he leaned close and softly grazed his lips across mine. The caress left me sighing and I raised myself up on tiptoe to return the light kiss. He slid his hands down to the small of my back and pulled me close. This time, when his mouth came down on mine, the pressure made my lips part so he could deepen the kiss. He cradled my head with one hand and used the other to arch my back, lifting me up deeper into the kiss.

  It was intense, sweet and poignantly romantic. My heart began to race as his mouth took mine. I felt like someone from a movie and a shiver of pleasure ran down my spine.

  When he slowly broke away, my head was spinning and his hands gripped my waist almost convulsively, as if he was fighting the urge to kiss me—and more.

  His eyes locked on mine, brighter blue from the heat of the moment. Still holding me around the waist, he signaled for the nearby town car with one hand. I held my breath, not sure how to respond to the invitation I assumed was coming next. I’d wanted romance and not just sex, but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted him right now.

  “I’d say it went very well, Gabriella.” He lifted a hand and caressed my cheek. “Paul will take you home. I’m a little warm so I think I’ll walk.”

  “Goodnight?” I whispered and stared at him. Was he serious?

  He pulled me tightly to him again and we both melted into another kiss. Then I felt his arms tense and press me back, as if he didn’t trust himself to kiss me any longer.

  “Can I see you tomorrow night?” he asked, his voice a bit breathless. “I have tickets to the theater. Please?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Charming,” I said as I climbed into the car. This date was going to keep me for a while.

  When Kendra came home late Sunday morning, she stumbled over a wide box in our narrow hallway. “Oh, hey now…just what do we have here, Gabs? You picked up a secret admirer or what?”

  “You’re one to talk.” I scowled at her. “Where have you been, Ms. Thing?”

  “Obviously out with a lower class of guy. Where’s my giant post first date present?” she asked with a grin.

  Before I could reach for it, she tore open the card and read it out loud.

  “Darling Gabriella. Last night was a dream. My fairy godmother saw this and thought of you. I can’t wait to see you in it tonight. In anticipation, Prince Charming.”

  She handed over the card as she gushed, “Damn, Gabs, seems you’ve cast a spell with all your talk of love and romance.”

  I pushed Kendra out of the way and shimmied open the box lid. Inside was a long dress in the deepest lapis lazuli blue. The plunging neckline touched a satin empire waist before the dress undulated in soft waves to the floor.

  “Wow,” Kendra breathed. “Wait! I have the perfect shoes to match!”

  With my own fairy godmother providing me with pale gold, sparkling shoes, I felt like Cinderella that night as I carefully swept down our front steps in my elegant gown. Edward was waiting, a broad smile stretching across his face as he escorted me to the town car where Paul was waiting with the door open. I smiled at the driver and he tipped his hat in return.

  “So where are we off to?” I asked as we settled into the back seat.

  “I have two tickets to see the most popular show on Broadway,” he said.

  I studied him
for a moment. “You have no idea what the show is called, do you?”

  “No.” He laughed. “Do you know what show everyone’s been talking about?”

  “Sorry. Unless it’s reality TV, my friends have nothing to say, and I tend to stick with what’s on the small screen for work.”

  “Well, luckily the marquee should be big enough for us to figure it out before we walk in,” he said. “And if we don’t, it’ll be a pleasant surprise.”

  When Paul, our driver, pulled up in front of the theater, I looked up at the marquee and couldn’t help myself. “Oooh, I always wanted to see that!”

  His gaze followed mine and he smiled. We were in for a spectacular rendition of Cleopatra’s love story.

  It was everything I could’ve dreamed it would be. Completely enchanted by the spellbinding production, we held hands through the entire show. Despite the electricity flowing between us, neither of us looked away from the stage.

  During intermission, Edward kept seeing people he knew. I half expected him to deposit me in the corner with a drink while he greeted his friends. After all, I wasn’t one of them.

  Instead, he kept my arm tucked in the crook of his elbow and introduced me to everyone we saw. I felt like I was walking in a dream.

  “Edward, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” A white-haired woman in an oversized ruby necklace looked down her nose at me. “I thought perhaps you were seeing Talia’s daughter.”

  “Allison, this is Gabriella.”

  Kendra often added phrases like “she’s a really talented writer” in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. She’d never really read anything I’d written so the white lie made me feel like I was not enough on my own.

  Edward, on the other hand, simply introduced me as me and left it at that, like I was enough to be a singular name. He then steered me away with a confidence that said any other information was none of the obvious gossip’s business.

  “People seem very interested in your dating life,” I said once we were out of earshot of his admirers.

  “My mother is a patron here. These are actually tickets she gave me.”