by Olivia Grace
My days had been filled with quality time with Tyler and, by swinging on that pole until I was dizzy, my tuition was out of the red. Yet and still, Justin crept into my mind. I still missed the intimacy and romantic gestures throughout the day. I missed him, but his continued distance was proof that he was obviously a fraud and was gone.
I was yanked out of my thoughts when the sound of heavy thuds invaded them. Class was over. Book bags were being thrown over shoulders, and there was a stampede down the lecture hall steps.
“Karrie, can I talk to you?”
The look in Professor Spencer’s face wasn’t good. By all means, he looked good. It was hard not to stare at a fit physique that was being snugly hugged by dress slacks and a dressy tee. His walk was so slow and strong, each step taking a breath away.
Despite looking good, his expression was stern, so I feared the worst.
“Su…sure.” I stumbled over words as I gathered my books and threw them into my book bag. Many of the students were now gone. I stood, pretending that I wasn’t intimidated by the way his grey eyes, similar to the color of storm clouds, burned a hole into me.
As I descended the lecture hall steps, he ascended them. Once we met, he stood close, so close that it surprised me. He sat on the arm of one of the lecture hall seats at the end of the nearest row. He looked up at me. That small submissive gesture made me feel inappropriate things in inappropriate places.
“Is everything okay?”
I was caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“You’re unfocused,” he said as he folded his arms, causing his chest to flex. “I notice in class that you’re spaced out. You’re not here.”
I quieted, overcome with guilt.
“Your grades are slipping.”
I bit my lip with disappointment and tried desperately to avoid those eyes so that I could think like a normal human being.
“I’m not posting the grades for last Friday’s midterm until this Friday. But you failed, Karrie.”
“Shit,” was the one word that I was finally able to formulate.
“You’re a good student, Karrie. You don’t fail. Whatever is happening outside of this door that is causing you to now fail, fix it. It can’t be more important than your degree.”
I thought about Justin, realizing that Justin’s positive effect on my life had spiraled from the affirmative pedestal that I had him on down to a negative hell. This cyber guy had me in such an emotional funk that I was losing track of my priorities. First, I was willing to lose Tyler because of him, and now I was about to fail. He wasn’t even there for me anymore. He was gone. The only time that I was with him was on stage when I danced and allowed thoughts of him to help me to be the sexual person needed to attain substantial tips for the night. But I’d be damned if I’d lowered myself to a twenty buck lap dancing whore to pay for classes that I only ended up failing because my mind was too wrapped up in Mr. Catfish.
Professor Spencer’s hand on my shoulder brought me out of my self-condemning trance. I brought my eyes to his, only to find him staring back at me. The tension between the two of us was suffocating. I know that this tension was only in my head. I was sure that Professor Spencer didn’t feel tension. He only felt the goose bumps sheltered by the tee shirt that I was wearing.
“Come to my nine o’clock class Wednesday morning. I will let you take it again.”
I was speechless and didn’t understand his kind gesture.
“Okay?” He insisted with a stunning smile that curled at the end of his succulent lips.
“Okay,” I breathed. Nervously clearing my throat, I said, “Thank you, Professor Spencer.”
He stood slowly. I had to step back to avoid my chest brushing against his as he did. “You’re welcome. See you Wednesday.”
I fought the urge to stay trapped and hypnotized by his smell. Mentally, I kicked myself in the ass and hightailed it out of that lecture hall.
Tyler’s shift at the mill wasn’t ending until nine that evening. Then, Lincoln offered to give him a ride home. Therefore, after purchasing a large iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts, with an added shot of espresso, I curled up in the bed of the truck with my Psychology notebook and studied for hours. I needed to remember what was important, what I was butt naked for every night in the lap of a strange guy. I needed to break through this heartbreak and yearning for a guy that probably didn’t even exist and remember my dreams. After my Aunt Mary committed suicide last year, all I wanted to do was become a therapist so that I could help other women battle depression. My mother’s sister fought the battle for years, losing the fight in a bottle of prescription medication at the age of thirty two.
As I sat in the hot interior of the truck that lacked air conditioning, I engulfed myself in what had to be my future to make this all worth it. Sure, thoughts of him, the yearning to hear that chime, regretfully came to mind. But I had to fight those obsessive demons and realize that life had to go on. Though Justin once appeared to be the most important entity in my life, I could no longer allow that fictitious love and lust to stronghold my reality.
* * * *
Three hours later, I was enticing Ginger to come out and show her face as I walked through the dressing room doors of Pink Rhino. The familiar smell hit me. It was a mixture of perfume and crotch.
I tried to avoid the scrutinizing eyeballs that Midnight was giving me. She hadn’t been giving me too hard of time. But her hard exterior was so gawd damn confusing. She was like a drill sergeant that patted my head with a wink when she saw me making money, but whipped me back into fearing her with a harsh look and tone here and there.
“What’s wrong, New Pussy?” I could hear the hard click clack of her heels approaching me as I opened my locker.
By the looks of it, Rainy hadn’t made it in yet.
“I’m not feeling well,” I shot over my shoulder. “I might go home.”
I really wasn’t. But I wasn’t suffering a physical pain. I missed Sabrina’s loud obnoxiousness. Since her license was suspended, she was no longer my cabby. Plus, with a broken nose, her cockiness had faded and thus her spirits were down.
I wasn’t in the mood to have distance between me and somebody else that I loved.
“Girl, we don’t take sick days from gettin’ money. I threw up three times today from bad Chinese food, and I still made a rack tonight.”
Lifting my shirt over my head, I turned and looked at her curiously. Her face was made up perfectly; her big, plump lips almost looking wet as purple rain. “A rack?”
She shook her head at my ignorance. “A rack; a thousand dollars, White girl.”
Lying and avoiding her eyes, I said, “I’m on my period.”
But she sucked her teeth and followed her arms across her triple D chest. Her Chinese bangs and lashes were so heavy that I could barely see the eyes that were covered with hazel contacts. “You better get out there and at least make house.”
I cringed. The thought of forcing myself to get out there was just exhausting that night. “Seriously, I’m on my period.”
“Well, we run red lights around here.”
Eleven
Wednesday, I sat in the abandoned hallway of Professor Spencer’s class assured that I was acing the test that I was taking as I sat on a bench. I still couldn’t believe that cyber guy had my head so screwed up that I had to take that test again. However, as the days had gone by, his effect was wearing off. I was transforming from a heartbroken caterpillar to a determined butterfly, ready to get on with my life.
I had actually managed to only stalk his Facebook page once a day, compared to the fifty times per day that I would visit his page just to watch him going on with his life and ignoring the girl that he once woo’d and romanced to no end on a regular basis.
I hurried through the test. Then I shot through the streets of Hammond so that I was able to visit Sabrina before work. She was still isolated in her bedroom, hiding her swollen, crooked nose from the world.
“Hey, G
inger!”
Though her nose was crooked, her smile was just as bright as always.
I saw right through it, however.
Sabrina was a social butterfly. She needed to be seen and heard; not cooped up in that bedroom with dirty extensions and a night gown.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she told me as I approached the bed. “I’m fine.”
I sat next to her saying, “You’re not.”
“You’re shitting me. I legit have all the pain killers that I need. I am high as a god damn kite.”
She smiled. I did too. Both smiles were the saddest smiles that I’d ever seen.
“I miss you,” I told her.
“Awww,” she purred as she rubbed my back.
“Life just isn’t the same without you.”
“Life isn’t the same without me causing trouble?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to make her feel bad. I didn’t want to judge her, since she never judged me.
“My father refuses to replace my ride. I’m wearing my mom down though. True I can’t drive anyway on a suspended license, but I'm a rebel.”
She laughed, but I wasn’t buying it.
“What did you mean when you said that your father was a monster?”
The question had been burning the inside of my mouth since I heard her say it. I turned to look her in the eyes because, if she didn’t say the truth, I wanted to see it.
Yet, her face went blank. She stared off into nowhere as she replied, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was drunk. You know me.”
The chuckle that was supposed to coddle me was so empty that it was depressing.
I left the subject matter alone. Sabrina was fragile. She was close to the edge, and I didn’t want to be responsible for pushing her over.
We sat and talked for hours. I lay next to her and told her what had been happening at Pink Rhino; the slimy men that I’d danced for, the hot guys that turned me on in the champagne room, and the catfights in the sweet stench of the locker room.
Then, as the drowsy affect of the Vicodin caused her to begin to slur and doze, I left her in her bedroom.
* * * *
By four in the morning, I was dog tired. My feet ached like a son of a bitch; the balls of them had to be raw and red. I was sweating. I could smell various colognes all over me.
But I was fifteen hundred dollars richer.
It was something about this big red hair, these freckles, and bashful appearance that drove the men in Pink Rhino crazy. I was the regular girl, the approachable women. Unlike the super modelesque women that galloped around the place with bodies like stallions that they didn’t have a chance in hell with, they actually thought that they had a chance with my normalcy.
I fought to keep my eyes open as I exited the expressway on Cline Avenue. As I made a right onto 169th Street, I surprisingly met traffic. Lights from the abundance of police cars lit the street up like we were on Michigan Avenue watching the Macy’s Christmas Day Parade go by.
The procession of cars crept slowly down the street; the traffic due to a blocked intersection and gapers delay. Up ahead, I recognized one of my dad’s cop friends directing traffic. As I approached him, I rolled down the window of the truck.
“Hi, Pete.”
His smile was weary and his eyes were heavy. I could have sworn that I saw tears as he continued to wave his hands to direct the traffic coming from the opposite direction.
I looked to my right and noticed another squad car blocking the entrance to a residential street.
“What happened, Pete?”
His mouth balled with despair before saying, “It’s Celeste Miller, Brad’s wife. Brad found her dead in their home after his shift.” The tears once teetering at the front of his eyes threatened to make a down pouring appearance. “She was murdered.”
Twelve
I couldn’t sleep all night. So, I didn’t. I sat in the living room, on our tattered couch, with my knees to my chest watching the news coverage of Celeste’s murder.
It had only been a few hours since her death, so the details were coming in slowly. Yet, by eight o’clock in the morning, what was certain was that Brad arrived home to find his wife in the hallway bleeding out from several stab wounds. There had been an apparent struggle that left the house in shambles, and she had been sexually assaulted. I clutched invisible pearls as they played video footage of her body being carried out of their ranch style home in a body bag. Hammond was a small town. Murders didn’t happen here, or any crime for that matter. Therefore, it was a media frenzy.
No one knew what happened - whether it was a random murder or the beginning of a serial killer’s spree. Everyone was closing their doors and locking them with bolts and chains for the first time in this relatively safe town.
My heart went out to Brad and to everyone on the small police force. Police officers were like brothers. They were family. They knew one another’s families, were related, and had history outside of the force. Therefore, everyone was suffering from this tragedy.
“This is crazy.” Even Tyler was shaken up as he finally woke up that morning and joined me on the sofa.
Like many people in this town, he knew Celeste. He and her younger sister were very good friends, and even dated once.
I simply sighed and leaned into him as the news coverage was interrupted by a commercial break. “And scary.”
“Who would do something like this?”
“I feel so bad for their kids.”
Tyler wrapped his arm around me protectively. I warmed against him. That morning was colder than usual. At fifty-seven degrees, it was apparent that fall was approaching.
“I love you, Karrie Stahl.”
I simply smiled. My heart was so heavy. It went out to my dad, who had been a father-figure to Brad since joined the force.
“Seriously,” Tyler insisted as he kissed my forehead. “I love you.”
“I know.”
“I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend. I haven’t been the best me for quite some time. You just…” As he hesitated, I peered up it his eyes. “You’re a good girl, Karrie. I want to be able to give you more than…this,” he confessed as he looked around our home.
It was shocking to hear him say that I deserved more than I thought I was lucky to have.
“You’re still my jock,” I said with a smile.
He shrugged his shoulders, which were seemingly heavier than his body weight. “I want to be your jock. I really do.”
Chills ran down my spine as he stared into eyes that still wore the glittery smoky eye shadow from the night before. Since Sabrina was in a funk, I was forced to purchase my own makeup, watch some YouTube vids, and attempt to do it myself.
I had managed to do an okay job.
But to Tyler, it must have been a work of art - either that or the tattered emotions that we were marinating in made him overtly emotional. He cupped my face and kissed me so softly. I fell into the nurturing and protective embrace that flowed from him.
He stopped kissing for a moment. He simply looked deep into my eyes. That stare sent chills running all over me. Tyler had always been the most beautiful man to me. Shamefully, I had allowed someone else to make me forget that. But no more. As he pressed the play button to our kiss, he was more beautiful than ever before.
His muscular arms raised my petite frame and guided my body down onto the sofa. Instantly heat raced to my core as he slowly stripped away the old high school gym shorts that I was wearing. His fingertips traced my skin as he traveled down the length of my legs. My nipples hardened, escaping the sports bra that was supposed to cover them. He gently spread my legs open and caressed my sex. Instantly, my back arched. My head bore down into the sofa seat as he planted his face amongst my core and slammed his lips against my clitoris, sucking it to life. A gasp left my lips when he moaned in delight. He pinched my nipple as he continued to suckle my love button. A moan left my lips as his tongue flicked my clitoris aggressively and rapidl
y. His hand left my nipple and assisted the other in grabbing my hips, guiding them in movement as if he was showing my hive how to grind against his face. I fought the urge to burst as his tongue danced passionately and vulgarly with my sex.
I reached down and grabbed his short blond hair. In response, he sucked my clit back into his mouth. I fought the urge to howl at the sun. He assaulted my wet sex with a sweet, sensual attack until an orgasm threatened to arrive. Just as my walls clinched and were ready to burst and quench his thirst, he retreated. I was actually sad. I opened my eyes curiously and was met with the sight of his exposed cock; long, throbbing, with veins ready to burst. The feeling of it pressing against my flowing opening was thrilling. Again, my eyes closed, my back arched, and my head pressed against the couch cushion.
I was completely spent as he delivered incredible, breathtaking blows to my draining passage. Just when I thought that I had reached the peak of ecstasy, he grabbed my ass cheeks and began to rhythmically slam his hardness against my core.
“God,” he growled, causing my eyes to flutter open.
My eyes fell upon a dark peach muscular body that escaped the tank that he didn’t bother to remove. Sweat began to collect on his forehead. His eyes were dark with desire, giving him that mysterious essence that had originally made me fall for him.
He played hide and go seek with my orgasm. It hid deep inside my tight, flowing juices, and his iron dagger chased it intently.
He began to pant. I stared into his eyes as he bit his lips and his face distorted with pleasure.
“Shit,” he cursed.
With a seductive whine, I encouraged him. “Cum on, baby.”
With a hard thrust, he exploded.
“Arrrrgh!”
He gripped my thighs, causing them to redden, as he fought the tension of the intense release.
His breathing began to slow as the last of his juices drained.
We looked at one another. Our smiles were giddy, bashful, and new. For once, I felt the intense intimacy that I used to, that I had yearned for, that I had so stupidly sought from a stranger.
