by Sivec, Tara
Right when my eyes start to drift closed, there’s a loud knock against the fogged up window of the passenger seat that causes Eric to jerk forward, which of course causes me to go with him, smacking my head against the roof.
“Son of a bitch!” I shout, rubbing my hand against the back of my head.
“Shit! I’m sorry!” Eric quickly apologizes, pressing his hand against mine to help me try and soothe the pain as he uses his other hand to lower the passenger side window just a tiny crack until we see PJ’s amused eyes looking through it.
“Hey, kids! You busy doing anything important?” he asks.
“Fuck off, dick,” Eric tells him, the aggravation in his voice making me snort.
“Love you too, bro. Anyway, I’m sure you’re finished with whatever it was you were doing out here, since Eric is a two-pump-chump. Ariel, you’re on in ten minutes,” PJ informs us, smacking his hand down twice on the top of the car before he turns and walks away, whistling as he goes.
“I AM NOT A TWO-PUMP-CHUMP, YOU SHIT STICK!” Eric shouts after him.
“YEAH, IT WAS AT LEAST TEN PUMPS, ASSHOLE!” I yell back with another snort as I climb off of Eric’s lap, and he glares at me while he pulls up his jeans and fastens them.
“I didn’t hear you complaining about those pumps when you were screaming my name,” Eric mutters as I flop down in the passenger seat and flip down the visor, then lift the plastic cover, staring at my reflection in horror when the tiny lights on either side of the mirror highlight my face.
“I look like I was just fucked in the front seat of a car,” I complain, trying not to panic as I swipe my fingers under my eyes to try and remove some of the mascara and eyeshadow that decided to betray me.
“Because you were just fucked in the front seat of a car. Quite satisfactorily, I might add. And you should add. When you brag to PJ about my sexual prowess as soon as we get inside so I can recapture some of my dignity,” he informs me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll tell everyone who listens what a stallion you are. Can we focus on me right now? I look like I just participated in a gang bang!” I snap, trying to smooth down my mess of long hair, which was curled to perfection and now looks like I stuck my finger into a light socket.
“A gang bang, party of me. Excellent,” Eric says with a smile as I smack the visor back up and shake my head at him. I open the door and slide out, turning to look at him.
You know that moment when you’re curled up on the couch watching a horror movie and you know something awful is about to happen, but no matter how fast your heart is racing or how loudly you’re screaming at the television, the dumbass chick in the movie always walks down the stairs into the basement where she’ll be trapped with a lunatic killer, shouting “Is anyone down here?” instead of doing the smart thing like shutting the fuck up and running in the opposite direction?
Yeah. Say hello to the dumbass chick who currently has millions of viewers screaming at her to shut the fuck up and RUN.
“You’re insane,” I tell Eric, holding the door open, unable to stop myself from laughing at his ridiculousness. “It’s a good thing I love you.”
Chapter 21: Show Them Your Wide Open Spaces
I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror of the dressing room at the back of the club with a dazed look on my face. I managed to get inside from the parking lot, holding together my ripped shirt and sticking to the shadows of the outer walls of the club as I made the run of shame back here without anyone seeing me. And in less than five minutes, I yanked my costume out of my purse, which I actually remembered to take with me when I raced away from Eric’s SUV, shimmied into it, and fixed my smeared makeup.
There’s nothing I can do about the deer-in-the headlights look staring back at me in the reflection. I don’t think I can fix that with makeup remover.
“Never fear, your fairy godmothers are here, and we have your costume!” Belle announces as she flings open the dressing room door, walking quickly into the room with my old princess costume draped from the hanger in her hand. Cindy is on her heels, closing the door behind her.
“Holy shit, you look hot. And you have sex hair,” Cindy states, pointing at my hair, which I managed to calm down somewhat into full, messy waves that hang down my back and over my bare shoulders.
My face heats in mortification when I think about what I just did. Not the sex, definitely not the sex. That was hot. And amazing. And perfect. I’m clearly freaking out about what happened after.
Cindy moves closer, studying my hair and shaking her head in awe.
“How in the hell did you get perfect sex hair? I couldn’t do that if I tried,” she says as Belle tosses the costume over the back of the chair in front of the dressing table.
“I got perfect sex hair because I had perfect sex in Eric’s SUV out in the parking lot five minutes ago. And then I told him I loved him.”
Cindy’s eyes widen and Belle turns around and starts jumping up and down, clapping her hands together.
“Oh my God! You had sex with Eric! In a car! We’ve never done it in a car. I need to add that to my to-do list,” she announces happily.
“Are you even listening to the words coming out of my mouth?!” I shout at her. “I told him I love him!”
Oh, God. I think I’m gonna be sick.
“I think it’s sweet. I’m happy for you,” Belle informs me.
“Was he sick? Like, on his deathbed and he told you he has two months left to live?” Cindy asks, worrying her hands together in front of her.
At least SHE gets me.
“No!” I tell her, which makes her start pacing back and forth.
“Did Derrick Alfredo die and you felt the need to comfort him?” she asks, still pacing.
“No! It just slipped out and it felt right when I said it, but he didn’t say anything, he just sat there looking at me in shock.”
Cindy stops pacing and pulls her cell phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, pressing a few buttons.
“What did you do? Did you laugh it off and say you were just kidding?” she asks, still staring at her phone.
“NO! I slammed the door of the car closed and fled the scene of the crime!”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it covered. Everything will be fine,” Cindy reassures me, still tapping at the screen of her phone.
“Of course everything will be fine. You’re in love!” Belle chirps happily, not even caring that I’m losing my shit. “I’m confident he loves you too, you probably just caught him off guard and ran away too fast before he could say anything. Cindy, what the hell are you doing?”
Cindy looks up at Belle like she’s two seconds away from punching her in the face, and it actually feels kind of nice that someone else is taking over my rage so I can just worry about freaking the fuck out.
“I’m buying her a plane ticket out of the country, Belle. That’s what she needs right now. She just said I love you first and got nothing in response. Ariel is not the type of woman who says it first, and especially not the type of woman who gets nothing in response. I got you, Boo,” she tells me, blowing me a kiss.
I nod, hoping I know where my passport is.
“Oh, for the love of God. She’s not leaving the country. This isn’t the end of the world. Didn’t we just finish celebrating her getting her groove back?” Belle asks, snatching Cindy’s phone out of her hands.
“That wasn’t celebrating, that was torture!” I remind her.
“Women are predisposed to postpone the emotion of confessing their love,” Belle informs me, raising her arm up in the air and out of Cindy’s reach when she tries to grab it. “It’s an inherent protective mechanism, giving us time to accurately assess a partner’s mate value. You’ve spent enough time with him, and you have accurately assessed him and come to the conclusion that you love him. There is nothing wrong with that, and you aren’t leaving the fucking country because of it.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as she moves closer to me and rests her hands
on my shoulders.
“Did you mean it? Do you really love him?” she asks quietly.
I don’t even have to think about it, I just quickly nod my head.
“Then man the fuck up and own it! Your groove is officially back, you just had sex in a car out in a parking lot with the man you love. And if he doesn’t feel the same way, which I’m absolutely positive he does, Cindy and I will both douse him in gasoline, light him on fire, and dance around his ashes. She might even pee on them.”
Cindy smiles, and she comes over to wrap her arm around my waist.
“I would definitely pee on them, but Belle’s right. I got a little ahead of myself and went right into protective-girlfriend mode without thinking. This is a good thing. You opened up your heart and let someone in again. He makes you happy. He gave you great sex hair, and I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume he gave you great sex along with it,” she muses.
“So great. Holy shit it was amazing,” I sigh, my loins quivering like a fucking heroine in a historical romance.
“Well, there you go then,” Belle smiles. “Who cares if you said it first? You’re a strong, independent woman who speaks her mind. And now her heart. Let’s get you into that costume, get your sexy ass out on that stage, and remind him how loveable you are.”
She moves away to grab the costume she tossed onto the chair, and I shake my head at her when she holds it out to me.
“I’m not wearing that thing.”
“Yes you are! That’s what we do. For our first strip, we each wear these stupid costumes we wore to the Halloween block party when we all became friends and lived happily ever after in friendship land,” Belle reminds me.
It’s true. Both Cindy and Belle wore their respective princess costumes over the sexy outfits, strutting on stage in those poufy, satiny ridiculous things, and then ripping them off and tossing them into the crowd. Granted, my mermaid costume wasn’t full of lace and atrocious—it’s more on the slinky side—but still. They needed to wear those costumes out on stage to build up the courage to take their clothes off in front of a room full of people. They needed those few minutes to get their bearings and ease themselves into being hot and seductive and full of feminine power.
“I don’t need it. I’m fucking hot and sexy and I’m going to walk out on that stage with confidence. I don’t need to cover myself up and ease myself into this shit. I’m going to charge out there and show them right from the start that I’m worth their dollar bills and catcalls. All the fucking dollar bills and catcalls,” I tell my friends with a smile.
“Hell yeah you are!” Cindy shouts.
“Fine, I will allow it, but only because what you’re wearing right now is totally turning me on,” Belle adds as I turn towards the dressing table and stare at myself in the mirror.
As far as stripper outfits go, it’s not pasties over my tits and a G-string, but I feel great in it. I feel hot as hell and I know my attitude will make everyone out in that audience forget that I’m not wearing something as risqué as most strippers.
I’m basically wearing an iridescent green, strapless, one-piece spandex bathing suit that hugs every curve I have like it was painted on me. A black fish-scale design covers the entire thing. The cups of the outfit, where my boobs are pushed up and almost spilling out, are purple, and I’m wearing sparkly purple, six-inch stilettos to match. Along with that, I have on a pair of sheer purple thigh-highs with lace trim around the tops and lace garters that attach to the high-cut leg holes of the sexy suit. My only accessories are a chunky necklace made of various sizes and shapes of white seashells, and a pair of green iridescent elbow-length arm coverings with the same fish-scale design and a ring that attaches around my middle fingers.
I smile at my reflection as I run my hands down my sides and over my hips, feeling like a fucking goddess and unable to hide my excitement about going out on that stage.
“I’ve got ‘Wide Open Spaces’ by the Dixie Chicks cued up and ready to go as soon as you get out there,” Belle tells me, grabbing a container of body glitter from the dressing table and using a huge makeup brush to start dabbing glitter all over my cleavage.
“Tell me she’s kidding,” I complain, looking at Cindy.
“What? What’s wrong with that song? It’s fun, and it’s got a great beat you can dance all slow and sexy to,” Belle informs me.
“Say the name of that song again. Slowly. And think about what Ariel will be doing out there on the stripper pole with her legs,” Cindy orders her.
“‘Wide Open Spa . . .’ Oh. Okay. I hear it now. Yeah, I see why you guys never want me to pick the music,” Belle says sheepishly as she continues dabbing glitter all over my chest.
“Cindy, grab my purse and get my cell phone. Pull up ‘My Superman’ by Santigold on my iTunes account,” I order, running my tongue over my lips as I think about the last time I heard that song.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” she mutters, reaching for my purse.
Yep, it definitely is. Eric and I dry humped to that song. It was a good night. And regardless of the fact that I told him I loved him and then ran away like a pussy, tonight is going to be a good night as well. So what if he didn’t immediately tell me he loves me back? I know he cares about me, even if he isn’t in love with me just yet, and that’s fine. I’m not weak anymore, and I’m not going to let it break me or make me second-guess everything that’s been happening between us. The bitch is back, and she’s ready to go out on that stage, remind the man she loves how fucking amazing she is, and hopefully go back to one of our boats afterwards and have a repeat performance of what happened in the parking lot.
“All right, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an audience to turn on,” I tell my friends, turning away from them and heading for the dressing room door as I hear the announcer start to give my introduction.
“She’s coming up to the surface from under the sea, to drive you wild and make you wet! Put your hands together for Ariel!”
“Go get ’em, tiger!” Cindy shouts after me. “Swing on that pole and show them your wide open spaces!”
Both of my friends laugh hysterically, and I give them the middle finger over my shoulder as I walk through the door and up onto the stage, grabbing onto the velvet curtain with both hands as I take a deep breath.
* * *
Holy shit, I did it. And I didn’t die.
Those are the only thoughts going through my head as the song ends and I hold my final pose, my feet spread apart on the stage with my back against the pole, which I hold with one arm flung above my head. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, so fucking high on adrenaline right now that I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin.
Everyone in the club is on their feet and the sounds of their screaming and cheering and clapping is deafening. I can’t stop the ridiculous smile that takes over my face, or the giddy laughter that bubbles up and out of me. They’re all chanting my name and holy shit, all I can think about right now is that I can’t wait to do this again. It was so freeing and amazing and fun. I want to kick my own ass for taking so long to gather up the courage to get out on this stage, and I appreciate Cindy and Belle a hundred times more than I already did because they were able to suck it up and do it before me.
I push my body away from the pole, my eyes searching the crowd until I find the ones I’m looking for. I wouldn’t let myself look at him the entire time I danced because I was afraid it would make me nervous. But now that I’m finished, all I want to do is jump down off this stage and throw myself into his arms.
When I see Eric pushing his way through the crowd of people still whistling and cheering for me, with nothing but pride on his face as he looks at me, I do just that. Instead of disappearing back behind the curtain, I strut across the stage and meet him at the edge of it, jumping right off and into his awaiting arms.
He grabs onto me tightly, and I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my face into the side of his neck as he spins me around, making me l
augh and smile as I cling to him.
When he finally stops spinning us, I pull my head back and look at him.
“I just want you to know, I don’t regret what I said to you out in that parking lot. I fucking love the shit out of you, and I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way because—”
Eric cuts off my declaration by pressing his lips to mine. He kisses me hard, and he kisses me with purpose, and I know in that moment I don’t regret anything about the way I feel, because he deserves to hear it.
Ending the kiss and pulling his head back, I unwrap my legs from around his waist and he slowly lowers me until my feet are on the floor, then brings a hand up to cup my cheek.
“I just want you to know, I fucking love the shit out of you too, Ariel Waters,” he tells me with a smile as he stares down into my eyes.
I gasp in surprise as I look at him, wondering if it’s possible to die from happiness.
“Yeah, well, just remember who said it first, buddy,” I tell him with a smirk.
His chest against mine rumbles with laughter, and I grab the back of his head, yanking him to me for another kiss.
Chapter 22: Dickless, Spineless Pieces of Shit
“So, how did it go when you guys got home last night?” Cindy asks as I hold the phone against my ear and stretch, smiling up at the ceiling when I feel aches in places I didn’t even know could ache.
“Eric and I celebrated our heartfelt declarations when we got home from Charming’s last night by gently and sweetly making love on a bed of rose petals, by the glow of candlelight, with Marvin Gaye playing softly through my boat’s sound system.”
Oh, Jesus. I can’t even say that with a straight face. I immediately bust out laughing, switching my phone to speaker as I climb out of bed and take a minute to stare down at the rumpled sheets.
“Just kidding. He made me keep on the garters and thigh highs, and the purple stilettos. We broke a kitchen chair and a barstool, and then he punched a hole in the wall in the hallway when I put his dick in my mouth, followed up by him bending me over the end of the bed where he fucked me until I passed out. While Nine Inch Nails blasted through the speakers,” I tell her, smiling down at the bed, wishing he hadn’t had to rush off to work early this morning.
