by Anne Conley
“I just bet.” She winked at him before he turned to prepare the shot.
He set the drink down in front of her, and before he had turned away, she had the glass in her mouth, looking at him over the rim right before she pounded the shot back.
“You want another one?”
“Do you?” She hadn’t broken eye contact with him. He knew he was being a whore, or a slut, or whatever the male equivalent was. Now was the time that he should just say no.
“Um, give me just a minute.” Okay, who was he kidding? This woman just offered him a blow job, or a quickie, or something else equally scintillating. Of course he would take her up on it. He went to find somebody to cover for him for a few minutes before it got too busy in the bar, and took the woman to the liquor closet.
When he returned, Charlie was behind his bar instead of the girl he had left to take his place. “Dalton.” She raised her eyebrow at him.
“Sorry, Charlie.” He smiled a devilish grin at her, knowing she hated that Charlie tuna reference.
“Don’t try to charm me on this, Dalton. You are on the clock, here. No kinky fuckery in my liquor closet.”
“Yes, ma’am. Nice ‘Fifty Shades’ reference, ma’am.” He tried to look properly chagrined, but she saw through his attempt.
“Don’t yes ma’am me. That redneck charm won’t work. Get to work, or I’ll have to take disciplinary measures against you.” She turned to leave, then paused. “You’ve read Fifty Shades of Grey?”
He quirked the mischievous grin at her again, “Started it; couldn’t finish it.”
She winked at him, and before walking away, said, “Watch yourself.”
Dalton sighed heavily. He knew better. The blow job wasn’t even that good, and after it was over with, he had felt like the butt-end of a dare. She had left without a backward glance, or even paying for her drink. Bitch.
Dalton went on to the next waiting customer, and after that to the next, ad nauseam, until his shift was over. He couldn’t seem to shake the restless feeling that was still with him. He really wasn’t enjoying his life like he used to. Tending bar, partying, women, it had all been fun when he was twenty-three, but thirteen years later? He wasn’t so sure. He still wasn’t sure he was ready to go back home to his parents, though, either. He had done what they wanted all the way through college, but once he had that degree, he needed to do something else for a while.
He was still doing ‘something else,’ but it wasn’t enough, anymore.
After school the next day, Alyssa took the kids to her mom’s house.
“Grammy!” They both ran to her power chair in the living room, where Pat was watching the cooking network on TV.
“Hey! How are my favorite babies?”
“Awesome!” They replied in unison. “Can we watch TV?” asked Sierra, at the same time Cayden asked if he could play computer games.
“Sure.” Alyssa’s mom wasn’t capable of saying no.
“After you guys do your homework!” Alyssa yelled after them, as they scrambled from the room. “Thanks for watching them tonight. I’ll be back around 7:30 to pick them up.”
“My pleasure.” Pat motored her power chair into the kitchen, where she started fixing a snack for the kids to eat. Alyssa followed her.
“Please make them do their homework and eat most of their dinner, and don’t let them eat too much ice cream before dinner.”
“This is not my first rodeo, Alyssa. Go do your thing. I got this.” She waved Alyssa away.
Alyssa left, a little reticent. She didn’t want to leave the kids with her mom for the purpose she had in mind. It felt dirty. When she met up with her friend Jessie, she told her.
“I don’t like leaving my kids with my mom so I can go to a sex party.”
“Number one, Alyssa, it’s not a sex party; it’s a sex toy party. And number two, kids aren’t allowed, so you have to leave them somewhere. Wanna leave them with Steven?”
“Um. No.” Alyssa sighed, heavily. “Tell me again, why am I going to this?”
“Because Sharon likes to get free goodies by hosting parties, and we are supporting her endeavor. And you need to get out and do something fun with other women.” Jessie cajoled.
“Whatever. But I’m not buying anything.” Alyssa huffed.
“Whatever.” Jessie mimicked. “We’ll see about that.”
As they made their way to the party, Alyssa’s mind flicked to her imaginary dream guy. The other night there had been toys involved in his sexual escapades. She remembered them vividly, although had absolutely no idea what they were called. There was a small vibrating thing that he held on the woman, down there, until she had screamed in pleasure. And then there were these bead things he put...Oh, she couldn’t even think about that. Alyssa blushed furiously at the memory.
When they got to the party, there were about eight women standing around, chattering nervously, which made Alyssa feel better. When Joni showed up, she adeptly broke the ice by making all the women play a game called ‘pass the penis’ which mortified Alyssa to no end. Holding a three-foot penis between her legs and passing it to other women musical chairs style definitely broke the ice. To her horror, Alyssa won the game, being the last to have the penis between her legs, which made her think of her dream man again. Instead of winning a cake, like she would have expected to happen during a game of musical chairs, she won a jar of pleasure powder that came with a little brush. She stashed it in the couch cushion behind her and sat quietly, feeling the heat on her face. Would this night never end?
When Jodi had completed her spiel of all the products, and passed out order forms, she began taking the women back into the bedroom, one at a time, to get their orders, privately. Alyssa awaited her turn, knowing she would have to buy something to be polite. She decided to buy some massage lotion, which smelled heavenly, thinking it would be something safe. She could use it on herself. She had run out of lotion a month ago, and kept forgetting to buy more at the grocery store.
When she got into the bedroom, though, Jodi surprised her by handing her a bag full of items. “Your friends pitched in and bought you a bag full of goodies. They said you needed this stuff. Have fun.” She winked lasciviously.
Alyssa immediately turned and left the room, furious at her friends, but unable to speak. As the heat flamed her cheeks, she strode through the front door and out to her car. She could hear Jessie call her name, but her utter mortification kept her from turning to let her friend explain.
Back at home with the kids for the night, she lay down on her bed and thought about sex. It had been on her mind a lot lately, with the dreams she’d been having. And then that party tonight had opened her eyes a little more. Was everybody sex obsessed? Including her? Up until a few days ago, she didn’t even know sex like that existed, much less own a handbook to it. Yes, she realized, she now owned a handbook to fabulous sex, thanks to her bag of goodies from her well-intentioned friends. She shoved the entire bag into the drawer of her bedside table and threw herself back onto the bed.
She felt an ache deep inside herself. She found herself running her hands along her body. She even tried putting one inside herself, but then she remembered Steven’s face and withdrew them. She didn’t like the dirty mood that overtook her when she touched herself like that. There was no way she could ever enjoy doing that to herself. She remembered her dream man stroking himself in the shower. Alyssa imagined it was different for men, somehow. Oh, she hoped she didn’t ever have to have that conversation with Cayden. She really hoped he would be comfortable enough to go to his father with questions about that kind of thing.
Chapter 3
Dalton sat in his car outside The Church wondering if he really wanted to go inside or not. He couldn’t wrap his head around these dreams he’d been having. This woman his subconscious had decided to create to torment him with was unreal. Nobody lived like that, did they? She couldn’t even pleasure herself for Christ’s sake. And the innocence at the sex toy party was laughable. Wa
s there a woman alive who didn’t own a vibrator? Really? To listen to his women friends talk, a vibrator was better than a man any day and every woman’s best friend.
The difference in their lifestyles was remarkable. He was the cliché of a man whore, clinging to the edge of the dark side of life. She was Little Miss Sunshine, with a career, kids, chastity.
His subconscious really must be telling him something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what.
His dream woman was living in his hometown. He was pretty sure. He recognized the school she worked in, although it was a little different. The school office was the same, just slightly different, in the way dreams seem to always be. The room itself was the same, windows in the same place, the desk in the same place, the same school secretary. But the carpeting and the chairs were different. Maybe it was because he hadn’t actually been there in so long. He didn’t remember exactly what the chairs looked like, so his subconscious made them more familiar.
Well, then why did his subconscious suddenly make him start teaching grammar in his dreams? He had never understood exactly what a preposition was until last night. Maybe it was because he had taught it six times in a row to different classes full of blasé teenagers in his dream. Why all of a sudden, had he become an expert on the parts of speech? It made no sense.
And why was he dreaming of a woman in his hometown? Sure, he missed home. He missed his parents and his sister and her daughter. He had thought about moving back home, since that had been the plan all along. He was just waiting to get tired of his life here in Dallas. He had thought he might meet a woman from the city who would want to move to Palestine. Maybe there was already one there, waiting for him.
“She’s not real.” He told himself and started to get out of the car.
His cell phone ringing interrupted him. He looked at the caller ID, and groaned when he saw his sister’s name pop up on the screen. He answered warily as he re-settled himself back in the car seat.
“Hey, Renae.” He tried to make his voice sound even. He hoped this was a social call and not a lecture. By the lack of social niceties in her opening words, it was definitely the latter.
“Dalton, Dad needs you to come home this weekend.”
“Okay, why?”
“He needs help working the herd. He’s been a little under the weather and doesn’t realize he needs more than Buddy to help him. I don’t think he should be doing this all alone anymore.”
“Does he want me to help?” Dalton didn’t mind helping his dad, if it was just helping. Usually however, the helping turned into following orders barked at him as if he were still a child. His dad never had really respected his education or his opinions about the herd.
“Of course not, but he needs your help. Dalton, Dad is almost seventy. He isn’t a spring chicken anymore. Those feed bags are heavy for him, but he won’t admit it. And the hours involved in working the herd are more than he can handle. It would have to be a two or three day project for him without more help. Buddy’s no spring chicken either. Those two old geezers need help, and you’re the one to do it. Suck it up and get your ass down here to help.” Her voice was rising, and Dalton could tell she was getting pissed, but he wasn’t giving in to her demands. She may be the older sister, but she wasn’t going to boss him on this one.
“I’ve got to work this weekend.”
“You always have to work, Dalton. You know, this is turning into a little ‘Cat’s in the Cradle.’”
That made him mad. “Well, I don’t particularly feel like listening to Dad lecture me on the herd and why my ideas are stupid. He’s the one who insisted I get an Ag Science degree, and he never listens to my suggestions. If he wants to do it by himself, let him. If he calls me and asks me himself, I’ll come down. But I’m not going to come help him if he doesn’t want my help. I need to make money more than I need a lecture.”
“Whatever, Dalton. The fact of the matter is, our parents are getting older, and I can’t take care of them all the time anymore. I really wish you would step up and help out a little. Are you ever going to move back home? I thought that was the plan all along.”
“Plans change.” Dalton was short with her, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let her feel guilty for not doing what everyone else expected him to do. “I’ve got to go.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve got to work. See you at Thanksgiving.” Her voice was dripping with antagonism, but she ended up hanging up on him without allowing him a retort.
He sighed heavily, and turned off the ringer on his phone. What was it about family dynamics that always made him feel guilty?
“She’ll get over it.” He told himself, as he unfolded his long legs from the car, and ambled toward the entrance to the club.
Inside the smoky interior, he immediately scanned the area, noticing a few people he knew. Dan came up to him right away.
“Dude! Glad you could make it. I thought you were going to flake out tonight.” Dan bumped knuckles with Dalton while he grinned like a mad wolf.
“Got hung up with something. No big deal. I thought mesh was out with straight guys in the 90s, man.” Dalton was pointedly looking at Dan’s nipples poking through the mesh of the shirt he had on.
“Feels free, you know?” Dan rubbed his own nipples through the shirt, “I’m tactile. I learn better while I do this...” He turned and walked away, still rubbing his nipples.
“Freak...” Dalton muttered to himself as he went to the bar for a drink. “Speaking of which,” Dalton was eyeballing a couple a few feet away from him. The man had surgically implanted horns on his temples, and the woman was wearing a chainmail tank top, with no bra underneath. Dalton couldn’t stop himself from staring at the nipples poking through the chain mail, and wondering what kind of sensation that evoked in a woman. It looked damn painful to him, but sometimes pain could be a turn on.
His thoughts were interrupted by two women, dressed and made up to be identical twins, wearing Catholic school girl outfits, their hair in pigtails. They weren’t twins of course, but they wanted to pretend they were. That’s what this place was all about, playing pretend. He ambled over to the corner of the bar where they were sitting.
“Double your pleasure?” He gestured the bartender to bring them another round of drinks on him. He briefly wondered again, when his life had turned into such a stereotype.
They looked at him, then at each other, and one giggled while the other smiled seductively.
“Double your fun.” The girl who smiled at him licked her lips suggestively, while the giggling girl bit her bottom lip.
“Then drink up, girls. Let’s dance.”
“Steven, she’s their grandmother. She wants to spend time with them, too.” Alyssa was on the phone with her ex-husband. Her mother had taken the kids to the grocery store last night and ran into him.
“I’m just saying you can hang out with your friends on your non-custodial weeks. Don’t pawn the kids off on a babysitter as soon as you get them.”
“I repeat. She’s their grandmother. Not a babysitter. What I do on my own time is not your business.” Thank God he didn’t know what she was doing with her friends, or he would really be having a cow.
“It is when it concerns my kids.”
“Spending a few hours with my mother is detrimental to them?You have got to be kidding me. I don’t freak when you take them to your parents’ house.”
“My parents aren’t disabled.”
“She only uses the powerchair at home. She uses a cane when she’s out. And being disabled doesn’t mean she loves them any less. She’s not harming them.”
“She’s run over them in that thing.”
“She’s run over everybody in that thing, and only once. Everybody knows to stay out of her way after that. It’s a learning experience. Like....fire burns. Most people only burn themselves once.”
“All I’m saying is, you’d better be careful.” His voice was quiet, and full of menace.
“Are you threatening me
, Steven?”
“I’m just telling you how it is. A Christian mother spends all the time with her children. She doesn’t pawn them off on a babysitter.”
“And I’m telling you. She is my mother, and if she wants to spend time with my kids, she will. With or without me. Period.”
“Fine.” Click.
She looked at the receiver in her hand and shook her head.
The kids were in bed, thankfully. They hadn’t heard the tears of frustration in her voice. Those tears seemed to always be right beneath the surface when she talked to Steven. Marrying him had almost been the worst mistake of her life. If it wasn’t for Sierra and Cayden, it would have been. Hands down.
She wished she didn’t ever have to listen to Steven’s controlling, belittling tone ever again. When they had been married, he had tried to control her every waking moment. He had told her how to dress, who to be friends with, and where to spend what little free time she had, all in the name of Christianity. Now they weren’t married anymore, but he still felt the need to try to control her actions. If she didn’t act the way he though she should, he belittled her. She tried not to let it bother her, but she just couldn’t help it.
The thing driving her crazy about it was he was always trying to throw "Christianity" into the things she did. Steven had been "saved" sometime during their courtship, and he used it to insinuate her actions were going to send her straight to Hell. He was superior to her because he had been baptized and "saved" by a preacher in front of a church and Alyssa wasn’t. She felt her faith, and the baptism she had received as an infant was sufficient.
And then the whole thing with Stephanie had happened. Alyssa shuddered in revulsion at the hypocrisy of it all. He loved Stephanie, and it was his duty to try to show her the light. That made the affair okay in Steven’s eyes.
