Stirred Up (24 page)

His lazy grin changed to a more predatory
look at this, and her pulse began beating fast and furious. God she
loved it when he looked at her like that.

***

Jason spent most of the first week of January
with Cheryl. The nights, anyway, and he made their mornings last
later than mornings generally did. He’d managed exactly that the
Sunday before the new semester started, but eventually he dragged
himself out of his bed and started dressing for his baseball
game.

“Could I come watch?” she asked.

He looked over at where she lay, still in
bed. Or rather, in bed again, since they’d ended up back in the
sack after breakfast.

“Really? You want to watch the game?”

“Sure. I want to see you in action. I’ll
cheer for you and everything. You know, swing batter batter,
swing,” she said, mimicking the sing song chant.

She looked so earnest, he almost didn’t want
to tell her.

“What? What did I say?” she asked, frowning
at him.

He bent over and kissed her. “That’s what you
yell at the other team’s batter when you want to distract him.”

“Oh. Then I guess I won’t say that. I won’t
say anything in fact, I’ll just admire how fine your ass looks in
those tight pants.”

“I’d love for you to come,” he said,
genuinely pleased. “We could even bring a blanket and drinks and
make it into a picnic kind of a deal. We’ll have to move fast
though, since I need to be there in half an hour.”

“I’m on it,” Cheryl said, leaping into
action.

She pulled on her sweatshirt and jeans and
braided her hair, then disappeared into the kitchen, where he could
hear her opening and shutting doors and talking to herself.

When they got to the field they spread out
their blanket near first base and he sat for a few minutes talking
to her. Eventually though he had to head onto the field to warm up,
and then it was just a question of not looking over at her every
other second. At first he hoped she was having fun, but then he
could see she was from the way she cheered whenever his team made a
good play. Both teams were strong, with a lot of former college
players like him, and it was a good game.

He even managed to get a few good hits,
including a triple, and he saw her jumping up and down out of the
corner of his eye as he made the turn toward second. He slid into
third base and stood up, breathing hard, to see her doing a little
shimmy, her wide smile just about turning him inside out.

After that she came every Sunday, taking it
upon herself to make each picnic lunch better than the one before.
Sometimes he ran out between innings to see how she was doing, but
mostly he had to be satisfied with looking at her from the field,
her bright hair throwing off sparks in the sun.

She didn’t seem to realize the bleachers and
blankets were full of his teammates’ wives and girlfriends, women
who’d been coming for months, if not years.

How long would Cheryl be out there, blithely
cheering him on?

***

Cheryl stood in front of the full-length
mirror and sighed. The only downside to getting a teaching job was
that she’d be spending the better part of her life in the worst
wardrobe in history. Or the next ten years, anyway. After that no
high school boy would look twice at her and she could dress like a
normal person. Until then she’d just have to dress like a huge slut
on the weekends to compensate.

But looking like a nun was a small price to
pay to see her dream come true, she decided, stepping into her
heels and grabbing her coffee and briefcase before heading out the
door. Every day had been less terrifying than the last, and it had
only been three weeks. Maybe by the end of the semester she
wouldn’t feel like such a fake.

Hopping in her car she headed out of the
parking lot, her mind drifting the way it usually did before the
caffeine kicked in. So when the car made a horrible noise as she
came to a stoplight, it took her longer than it should have to
realize something was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that she had to
call a tow truck and get dropped off at school. Unlike last time,
there was nothing sexy about it, especially when they told her the
engine had seized up.

Her Miata wasn’t worth much more than the
cost of fixing it would be, which meant she was unexpectedly in the
market for a new car. Jason, trooper that he was, drove her to and
from school until she finally settled on a Toyota Corolla that was
only a few years old.

It was a good car, more reliable than her old
one, but the unexpected expense left a deep hole in her savings,
and suddenly her job didn’t feel all that safe. Things were going
well now, but what if something changed and the school decided they
didn’t want to keep her? What if the teacher who was retiring
changed his mind? Just like that she could be out of a job with
nothing to fall back on. Another emergency could wipe her clean
out.

Trying not to panic, she started calling
around to let the dancers at the Pink Pussycat know she was
available if they needed a night off. She started with Emily.

“What do you mean? I thought you’d quit for
good?” Emily said.

“That’s what I thought, too. But I had to buy
a new car. It won’t be for long, just a few gigs here and
there.”

“If you’re sure.” Emily said, concern still
evident in her tone. “I do need someone to fill in for me two weeks
from now. There’s a performance that Saturday I have to go to.”

“Perfect,” Cheryl said, already feeling
better. “I’ll give Steve a call and let him know.”

A few days later she managed to score the
Friday before Emily’s performance from Nancy, which meant two
weekend nights in a row. It was all working out as if it were meant
to be.

Now all she had to do was tell Jason. After
putting it off for days, she finally brought it up over the phone
one night early the next week. There was a long pause, and she
could almost see the tight, unhappy lines of his mouth.

“Are you that worried about money? I thought
you were in pretty good shape.”

“I’m not desperate, but anything could
happen, and then I really would be in trouble. I just want to put
some money back in to give me a buffer. That’s all.”

“It just seems a shame to go back there when
you only just left.”

“It’s not that big a deal, and I’ll feel a
lot better once I have a bit more put away,” she said, trying to
hide her impatience. She wanted support, not second-guessing.

“Well, if that’s what you want, of course you
should do it,” he finally said, sounding as if he were forcing the
words out.

There wasn’t much to say after that and they
said a stiff goodbye. Then she sat there staring at the phone,
hating that she cared so much what he thought. It was her life, and
she didn’t need his permission, but his understanding would have
been nice.

Jason slammed the phone onto its cradle, glad
he still had a landline to abuse. Then he picked it up and slammed
it down again.

He wasn’t sure whom he was more frustrated
with, himself or Cheryl. If he’d seen it coming, maybe he could
have prepared and sounded less cold and judgmental. Christ. He knew
that was how he sounded, and that was the quickest way to get her
back up.

He paced around the kitchen, too agitated to
finish grading papers, before finally deciding to go for a run. At
first he argued with her in his head, trying to make her see
reason, but after the first mile he started to think he should have
been more supportive. Things had been going great, and the last
thing he wanted was to ruin that.

Why not go check out Friday night’s show? It
could be fun to see her up there doing her thing now that he knew
what to expect. He wouldn’t tell her though. On the off chance he
wasn’t able to handle it, he didn’t want more shit hitting the
fan.

They spent the next two nights together
without either one of them mentioning the weekend, which was a
little weird, but since he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, it
was just as well.

When he got to the club Friday night he
headed to the bar for a drink, hoping it would ease whatever was
happening to his stomach. Nerves or excitement, he couldn’t tell.
He nursed his drink and watched a few sets without really seeing
them.

Then Cherry was announced. He stayed in back
so Cheryl wouldn’t spot him, but he could see her clearly – her
skimpy tank top and short shorts, her sexy little body moving like
a dervish across the stage. He wasn’t big on pop music, but even he
knew the Sexyback song by Justin Timberlake. He’d always thought it
was kind of a lame song. Until now. Cheryl was so sexy he was
finally seeing the appeal.

He was insanely turned on, and yet other,
more insidious reactions were starting to crowd out the lust. Like
rage at the strange men pawing her, touching her smooth skin,
copping a feel when they slipped her money.

She was down to just her thong when he
realized he needed to cool off. Turning around he headed to the
men’s room. The music throbbed and vibrated through the walls, but
everything else was indistinct, and the bathroom felt oddly
peaceful after the hot noise of the main room. He splashed water on
his face and took a few deep breaths and felt better, even foolish
for reacting like a jealous fool.

This job had gotten her through college. Who
was he to decide it was wrong? Why couldn’t he just enjoy the show
for what it was and not go all caveman? He’d never been the jealous
type, and he wasn’t going to start acting like one now. Shaking his
head to clear it of negative thoughts, he headed back out.

Just in time to see her riding some guy’s lap
not twenty feet away.

He literally saw red. In his entire life he’d
never been so furious and revolted. Without knowing what he was
doing he started heading for her.

“Jason. Hang on a minute.”

Jason managed to focus enough to see it was
Cutter standing in front of him.

“I’m kind of in a hurry,” he said, trying to
move around Cutter.

Cutter blocked him. “Yeah, that’s the thing,”
he said, his voice calm but firm. “I see where you’re headed and I
can’t let it happen, man. I have a pretty good idea of what you’re
going through now, but whatever needs to happen between you and
Cheryl, it has to happen somewhere else.”

Blood was pounding in his ears, drilling his
heart. He felt like hitting something, specifically the man Cheryl
was practically fucking in front of him. If he had to go through
Cutter to do it, then so be it.

“Dude, don’t even go there,” Cutter said, his
voice a bit more dangerous this time.

Now Jason really looked at him and realized
what the man was trying to say. There was no way he was getting to
Cheryl right now. Cutter and every other bouncer would see to
that.

“Come with me,” Cutter said, and this time
Jason did as he commanded, following him down the hallway to some
sort of break room.

He’d never felt so lost, so out of control or
apart from who he knew himself to be. He just kept seeing Cheryl
grinding on that guy’s lap. Just like she’d done to him.

“Sit down,” Cutter said.

Jason sat. “Christ, how did I think I could
handle this?” he said, practically tearing his hair out.

Cutter sat in a plastic chair across from
him, leaning forward on his elbows. “Trust me, I get it. Any guy
who’d be cool with seeing his woman do that would have a screw
loose, in my opinion.”

“How do you do it then?”

Cutter sighed and rubbed his face. “It’s
different with Emily. I was already working here and used to this
scene when I met her. Also, she never gives lap dances.”

“Perfect. So Cheryl could chose not to do
them, she just prefers to?”

“I said I feel for you. That doesn’t mean I
think you have the right to judge her,” Cutter said, sounding a tad
less friendly. “Nearly all of the girls do lap dances. They make a
lot of money doing it, and it’s not like they think of it as some
intimate act. They could care less about these guys. Whatever you
have with her, you’d be a fool to compare it to what goes on
here.”

“Fine, I get it. Enough with the lecture,”
Jason said, standing up. He was drained and exhausted, and all he
wanted was to go home and put all this out of his mind.

Cutter stood up as well. “I guess my job here
is done.”

Jason looked at him, about to make some
smartass comment. “Thanks,” he said instead, realizing all at once
that Cutter had done him a huge favor. “I guess I’ll get out of
here.”

“Good man,” Cutter said, patting him on the
back.

“Any chance there’s a back entrance I can
use?” Jason asked.

Cutter led him to an emergency exit and he
made his way down an alley and back to his bike. Not even the open
road and cool wind did much to clear his head after the night he’d
had, though. He pulled up at his house, parked the bike in the
garage, and sat down in front of the television with a six-pack of
beer.

The phone woke him up the next morning. He
was still on the couch, only now he was surrounded by empties, his
head throbbing.

Cheryl. He almost let it go to voicemail, but
chances were he wouldn’t be feeling any better then.

“Hey there,” he answered, sounding like he’d
been smoking a pack a day for decades.

“Did you just wake up?” she asked.

“Kind of,” he said, He could tell his tone
was off and tried to think of something normal to say. “You’re up
early.”

“Not really. It’s almost eleven. Are you all
right? You sound kind of funny.”

“It’s nothing. I had a few beers and
overslept.”

Silence on the other end. Shit. He knew he
was probably unnerving her, but he didn’t know what to do about
it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over
this afternoon,” she finally said, her voice wary.