by W. S. Greer
I know where this is leading, and I think if this was any other person on any other day, I’d probably be pulling away right now. I don’t allow myself to get to this point with anybody, because I know we can’t be together. I know this only leads to heartbreak, and I know I should stop, but I don’t. Not this time. Now, I finally let myself go and I fall into him. My body hugs his and I let my hands find their way under his shirt, my fingers giding across his warm flesh. His skin feels so good on mine, and with every touch, I lose more control—I want him more and more.
I let him press himself up against me and the weight of him pushes me backwards. I lay back on the couch and he hovers over me, breathing heavily into my neck as he gently kisses me and uses his hands to squeeze down the length of my inner thigh. It all feels so good. It’s nothing like when I have to do this for “work.” When I’m being paid to be with someone, I have to go in a place in my head where I’m not actually with the person. I go to my nirvana and I stay there until it’s all over—until I can quickly get out of the hell I’m in. With Austin, there’s no need to go to my nirvana, because being with him in this moment is better. This moment is an entirely new sensation of ecstasy, and now that it’s happening, I wonder what took me so long to get here.
Suddenly, Austin stops. He takes a second to try to get his composure and he lifts himself up enough to be able to look me in the eye, his face totally controlled and serious.
“Layla, if you’re not ready for this, I want you to know I understand,” he says, never breaking eye contact. “I care about you, and I’m willing to wait as long as you need to—until you’re ready. All you have to do is say so. Okay?”
My brain tries to take a second to think about it, but I don’t even need that much time. Instead of answering him with my words, I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. I let my tongue caress his, and then I slide my hands down his stomach and over his pants. I can feel his thickness through the material, and I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. His response is immediate, and he pulls off his shirt, revealing thick, hard muscles. His abs are solid and his shoulders are broad, and I can’t help it when my hands reach up to rub his physique.
He drops his shirt on the floor and leans forward, kissing me on my neck first, and then moving down to my chest before reaching my stomach. My breathing becomes labored and hard to control as he lifts up my dress and exposes my panties. He seems to take a moment to admire me, then he pulls them off and doesn’t even take a second to think before he plunges his tongue into me. My back arches and I gasp at how amazing it feels. It’s more than a sexual feeling. It’s more than erotic. It’s emotional. It’s impassioned. As he uses his tongue to bring me to a blissful orgasm, I grab his head and squeeze him as the tidal wave rushes over me.
When he’s done, I watch him as he stands up and takes off his pants. His body is perfect, just like the rest of him. He helps me slip out of my dress, he slides on a condom, and we spend the next hour on the couch, filling the entire room with our heat. Feeling him inside of me surpasses anything I ever expected from anybody, and I’ve never felt more connected to anyone during sex.
After the couch, Austin lifts me into his arms and carries me into the bedroom, where we spend another hour and a half. I’ve never felt anything like it. Once we’re done, I have to admit to myself that it was the most romantic, sensual night of my life, and as I lay there on his chest, I know something’s different. It’s not different in the way I thought it would be, it’s something else. Something unexpected that I can’t really explain or define.
I listen to him breathe in his sleep and I finally allow myself to think about tomorrow. I let myself remember Red Pony Gentlemen’s Club and my life before Austin. Then, I let my mind come back to the moment as I rub his stomach with my index finger and stare down at the bracelet he gave me.
Faith. Hope. Strength.
For the first time ever, I honestly feel like I have all three, and the timing couldn’t be better. I’m going to need them.
Austin
I close the door behind me and walk over to my couch, where I drop like a sack of potatoes and sink into the cushions. The emotion I feel is a combination of a bunch of things. I’m excited and thrilled, satisfied and terrified, all at the same time. It’s the best, most confusing thing I’ve ever felt—and I love it.
Last night, it finally happened. Layla and I spent the night together, and she finally felt comfortable enough to let herself go. Something was different about her the second she opened the door. She seemed more relaxed—more carefree—like she was letting her hair down for the very first time and she was infatuated with how good it felt. I didn’t say anything about it, but I noticed it right away.
For me, I was excited about making love to her, but I was much more excited by the fact that she was ready to be with me with no holds barred. She let her guard all the way down and I was able to feel her, all of her, both inside and out, literally and metaphorically. It was my own personal vacation to heaven, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried.
I woke up before Layla did, and I took advantage of it. As weird as it may sound, I just watched her sleep for a minute. She was lying there on my chest with her hand rested on my stomach, her wrist decorated with the charm bracelet I gave her for her birthday. She was like a sleeping angel who I could feel myself falling for the more I looked at her. Her beauty was stunning to me, even with no makeup and no movement, she was gorgeous. When she woke up, I hid the fact that I was staring at her—didn’t want to freak her out.
As we both got dressed, I kept looking behind me and stealing glances at her, smiling to myself as she put on her pants and her tank top. I was annoyed by the fact that we couldn’t hang out tonight, but I let her have some time to herself so she could get ready to go. She seemed frustrated by having to go back to work too, but I figured that’s understandable after such a long break. So, I kissed her goodbye and told her to call me when she got off so I could come back over.
Now, as I lay here on my couch, all I can think about is the moment I’m gonna get that phone call. I’ll probably be out with Jason and Jordan, but all I’ll be thinking about is getting back to her. I want to spend as much time with Layla as I can, and I’m not even sure why I feel that way. For some reason, I have an urgency to be with her that grows every day. It’s like I’ve had some sort of premonition that it’s all going to come to a screeching halt any moment now, and I need to soak up as much of her as I can before she’s gone.
In the meantime, I have my own life to think about. I have to go back to work myself in a couple of days, and at this point, I’m still not sure if I’m going to be ready to climb behind the controls of a helicopter. Major Nelson is hoping for the best and so am I, but with work only a couple of days away, I’m not sure how I’m going to react.
I’ve never really accepted that I have PTSD. I always figured I’d be above that shit if I was ever in a situation that could be considered traumatic. I brushed that diagnosis off like it was dirt on my shoulder and I went on with my life, but when I’m alone, that’s when I know it’s true. When I’m all by myself, I can’t help the memories flashing in my mind and the thoughts of the bullets, and Weston’s dead body. No matter how hard I try not to think about it, it hits me, and when I sleep, I dream about it. Over and over again. I dream about it more than I told Major Nelson.
The only thing that helps me is Layla. She occupies my mind in its entirety. She has my full attention, and I have no fear of anything. It’s funny how that works, but it’s true, and it’s just one of the many reasons why I love spending time with her. She makes me feel better in every way. She makes me feel like everything is okay, and I can’t thank her enough for that, because she doesn’t even know the affect she has on me. How the hell did I get so lucky to meet a woman like her, especially in a bar full of men who I know would’ve loved to end up with her? She chose me. Out of everybody who could’ve talke
d to her, it ended up being me.
I accidentally fall asleep on the couch and take a cat nap, and I wake up an hour later to the sound of my phone ringing. These days, I prefer texting, so I’m curious to see who’s actually calling. The number on the screen has a two-zero-six area code. Seattle. It’s Jason.
“Jason, what’s up, man?” I answer, still lying on my back.
“Hey, what’s good, Austin? Where are you, bro?” he asks.
“I’m at the house.”
“Yeah? So, how did it go last night?”
I hesitate for a moment. Men have a thing about telling all of their business to their friends, which is usually how so many cheating men get caught—they can’t keep their mouths shut. Me, on the other hand, I’m not into kissing and telling, even when I’m tempted to. Maybe I’m weird, but there’s some things I’d prefer stay private.
“It went fine. We had a good time as usual.”
“What? That’s it? Come on man, give me the details,” Jason asks eagerly. “Was last night finally the night?”
I let out a loud sigh.
“Last night was great—the best night we’ve had yet.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Jason prods, sounding way too excited about this.
“It means just what I said, man. It was the best night we’ve ever had. What else do you want me to say?”
“Oh, you finally did it, didn’t you? That’s what I’m talking about, Austin. Way to go, bro!”
“What are you talking about?” I say as I start to laugh to myself. “I didn’t even say anything to confirm your childish suspicions.”
“Oh you said it, alright. Congratulations. I’ll be sure to get a few drinks in you tonight and I’m sure you’ll tell us all about it. So, we’re still on for tonight, right? You’re not backing out now that you’ve gotten some from Layla are you?”
“Ugh. Fuck you,” I jab as I sit up on the couch. “Of course we’re still on for tonight. You guys are getting ready to leave, and we’re gonna hang before you go. So, stop talking shit and tell me what the plan is.”
“Alright then, smartass. So, I talked to Jordan earlier, and he said he heard from one of the paralegals here that there’s this awesome place to go get some drinks and be entertained.”
“Be entertained? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means! We’re talking about strippers, and don’t tell me you can’t come just because you’re all head over heels for Layla.”
“Damn, I didn’t even say anything!”
“I could tell you were about to,” Jason jokes, then he continues. “Anyway, so there’s this little place over in Summerlin. It’s away from The Strip, so it doesn’t really get a lot of tourist attention, which means it won’t be packed with people. The guy told Jordan it was the place to be. You down?”
“How many times do I have to say I’m down? Just let me know the time and place,” I reply as I sit up.
“Cool. Alright, it’s this little place called Red Pony Gentlemen’s Club. You heard of it?”
“Nah.”
“Well, it’s supposed to be awesome. Lots of entertainment walking around, if you know what I mean. Meet us there at ten.”
I look up at my clock and see I have a few hours to get ready.
“Red Pony Gentlemen’s Club. Got it. Alright, bro, I’ll see you guys there in a little bit.”
Austin
“Damn, man. Didn’t I say ten o’clock? It’s ten fifteen. I thought you military boys were always early.”
“Yeah, and I thought you lawyer boys were always liars,” I retort. “So when I heard you say ten, I thought the truth was actually ten-fifteen. Now shut up, and let’s do this.”
I close the door to the cab as I greet Jason and Jordan, who are both dressed like they’re about to head back to the courtroom instead of into a gentlemen’s club. Once we’re allowed past the gigantic bouncer who’s covered with hair and tattoos, we step into a decent sized room with a couple of stages in the center. Both stages have poles in the middle, and both poles have naked women grinding all over them. There’s booths on the perimeter of the room that have curtains drawn in front of them, so those are obviously the private booths made just for lap dances. When Jason sees those, his eyes light up.
“Oh yeah, this is the spot. I’ve been in here for about five seconds, and I already love it, and I never want to leave,” Jason chirps, his face beaming with excitement.
“Calm down, killer,” Jordan chimes in. “Give it a minute to sink in. Let’s at least go get a drink before you get all hyped up and try to marry one of these beautiful ladies in here.”
I follow Jordan over to the bar in the back. On our way there, we’re constantly being checked out by gorgeous women who are obviously strippers. They’re wearing next to nothing at all, and some of them have stunning bodies and gorgeous faces, but I’m ignoring all of it.
When we get to the bar, there’s a short-haired brunette behind the counter. Both of her arms are covered in tattoos and she has a face full of piercings, but she’s gorgeous. Something Jason quickly picks up on.
“Holy shit, you’re unbelievably hot,” he says, barely able to control himself as we lean up against the bar. “What’s your name?”
The woman behind the counter just smiles at first, but then her smile fades and she tightens up.
“Maybe you should tell me what you want to drink, honey,” she says, her voice low and sweet, but sassy. She slowly brings her smile back, but it’s forced, and she wants us to know it.
“Umm, just a Crown and Coke for me,” Jason answers, taking the hint.
“And how about you two?” the bartender says to Jordan and me.
“Crown and Coke,” Jordan replies.
“Vodka, Red Bull,” I say.
The bartender whips the drinks up in a hurry and hands them to us. We pay, and I make sure to tip her generously because it looks like Jason has already successfully pissed her off, and I don’t want to end up with spit in one of our drinks later.
The three of us grab our glasses and head to one of the empty tables. It’s fairly empty in the place considering it’s Saturday night, so Jason was right about it being pretty unknown. But, if it’s as awesome as we heard it was, then why don’t more people know about it?
I ignore my curiosity and decide to loosen up. I direct my attention to the middle of the room where there’s a woman on each stage working those poles like their lives depend on it. Both of them look like they’ve been doing this professionally for years, and I’m pretty impressed. Jason and Jordan have their eyes glued to the stage too, although Jason is the one who looks like he’s about to start drooling any second now.
“Okay, maybe it’s just me,” he begins, but Jordan cuts him off.
“It is. It definitely is just you.”
“Shut the fuck up and let me finish, man,” Jason snips back with a smile. “Maybe it’s just me, but both of the women up there are insanely hot. I mean, come on, is that just me?”
“I have to agree with you there,” Jordan admits, leaning back in his chair. “Honestly, every chick in here is beautiful. This place must be picky when it comes to who they hire, because I’ve been to some clubs where the women are fucking busted. Chicks be on the stage looking like Dog the Bounty Hunter and shit.”
Jason and I bust out laughing. In the middle of it all, a woman approaches the table and sits down on my lap. She’s wearing white, lace panties with a sexy matching bra. She sits down on me like I’m Santa Claus, and Jason and Jordan immediately smile from ear to ear.
“Hey, sexy,” the woman says, who I must admit is fucking hot. “You’re cute as hell. Too cute to be sitting here with two boys. You want some company?”
As hot as this girl is, the first thing I think about is what happened last night with me and Layla. My brain is overcome with the memory of how good it felt to be with her, to touch her, to taste her, to be inside of her. Once I have that thought, I’m good to go
.
“Umm, I appreciate the attention,” I start, trying to be polite. “But, I’m good. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a beautiful woman, but I’m good. My man Jason over there, though, would love to have some one on one time with you.”
Jason frowns at me at first, but when the woman looks over at him, he breaks out a bright shiny smile. Not even a minute later, Jason and the stripper are up and headed over to one of the empty booths for a private dance. As he walks, he glances back and gives us the finger, but he’s still smiling like a kid on Christmas.
“That guy is a fucking mess,” Jordan says as he sips his drink.
“Yes he is. How the hell do you keep him focused enough to win in court?”
“I don’t. When it’s time to be in court, he pulls it together unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I mean, you know it wasn’t always like that for him. He used to suck because he was out there trying to be like his dad, but once he dropped that act, he became the best damn defense attorney I’ve ever worked with. He’s crazy outside, but once we’re in the courtroom he becomes fucking Rain Man. You should see him.”
“I wish I could, because I can barely imagine him in front of a judge, not cussing, and defending someone.”
“Oh, he still cusses. He gets fined almost every time we’re in court, but it doesn’t matter when he’s telling the truth and kicking ass.”
“Wow. That’s crazy.”
“Anyway though, so how are things with you and Layla? Jason told me you guys had a good night last night.”
I shake my head and smile at the same time.
“Jason doesn’t know shit, first off. But we did have a great night last night, and things are good with us. Layla’s great.”
“I see the way your face lights up when you two are together, man. I know that feeling, and I can recognize it, because my face does the same thing when I’m with Michelle. I can see that you’re falling for her.”
