22. Dirty Dancing
DIRTY DANCING
Savannah is over, helping me choose what to wear tonight.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” I ask.
“No, I have a date tonight. Plus, you’ll be too busy being the center of a twin sandwich, anyway.”
I glare at her as I put on the next dress. It's olive green, and semi backless, so there’s no way to wear a bra.
“Yes, if you’re trying to get fucked on the dance floor. They must be hot if you forgave them so easily,” she says, plopping a grape into her mouth, giving me a smile.
“We weren’t exclusive, and they were both very apologetic.”
“Are you talking about a real apology or an apology in the form of orgasms?”
“Uh, both?” I say, grabbing the next dress.
“Wait…were they separate apologies or one big, giant apology?” she asks, clearly riveted in my sex life.
“Also both.”
She gasps, clutching her metaphorical pearls. “Both? At the same time?”
My face feels like it’s on fire as I nod, confirming her suspicions.
“It was a very good apology,” I say as she tosses a grape at me.
“So, it’s just sex?”
“Just sex,” I agree, trying on the next dress. “Well, I guess friends too. They invited me to their opening night. So friends with benefits, no feelings, just sex.”
“Are you totally capable of having no feelings?”
“I think I’ve proven over the last few months I’m capable of having sex with no feelings.”
Savannah clicks her tongue. “What’s the most times you’ve slept with the same person since your divorce?”
“There was the Scottish guy, Arran. That was three times,” I say, feeling really proud of myself, because I had absolutely no feelings toward him, honestly I couldn’t understand half of what he said. I was, however, really interested in being with a man who was uncircumcised, and quite enjoyed it.
“How many times have you been with each of them?” she asks, instead of high-fiving and agreeing with me that I can have sex with no strings attached.
“Well, does the other night count as once?” I ask.
Savannah’s mouth drops. “How many times in one night was it?”
I bite my lip, trying to count in my head, and then there’s the distinction between oral and penetration.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll count it as one night. That would make three times with Gavin and twice with Ben.”
“So, tonight will be night four with the hot bartender?” she asks, like number four is some magical fucking number and suddenly my heart will start pulsating between my legs.
“They don’t want anything serious either.”
She hums and points at my dress. “You should wear that one tonight,” she says, changing the subject, and I’m grateful.
“Really? It’s not too slutty?”
“Kate, you’re going to the club to meet your booty calls. We’re not going for subtle here. Plus, you’re smoking fucking hot. Flaunt it.”
This dress will also require that I go braless.
It’s a glittery, purplish-brown. It hugs my breasts and waist and flares out slightly at my thigh, showing off a hell of a lot of leg.
I’m pretty sure I bought this one drunken sad night when I realized I was closer to thirty-five instead of twenty-five.
“You’re triple sure you don’t want to come tonight?”
“Don’t tempt me, but I actually like the guy I’m going out with tonight.”
I pause as I grab the earrings and necklace I want to wear tonight. “You like him?” Savannah may be the biggest man-eater I know. She sees them as fun little distractions, and maybe I’ve been basing how I’ve handled my divorce around her lifestyle. Suddenly, now, she likes someone?
“He’s smart, generous, and oh so fucking talented,” she says dreamily.
“Talented?”
“Oh yes, talented,” she says, holding her fingers in a v and sticking out her tongue. “And maybe he’s also an amazing photographer and maybe I have some sort of crush on his brain, too. I’m sure it won’t last,” she says.
I look at her curiously, but don’t harp on it.
If my role model of sex with no strings attached is falling for someone, what the fuck does this mean for me?
I’m holding my clutch under my armpit as I wait for my driver to arrive, he’s only a few minutes away, as my neighbor, Pat, waves me down.
“Katherine, dear,” she says as I mumble a whispered fuck under my breath. “Well, my goodness, where are you headed off to this evening?”
“It’s a club opening for my friend,” I say sweetly.
“Oh, was it one of the gentlemen who stayed the night the other night? You know, I’ve got to get my prescription checked. They sure looked a lot alike from over here. I noticed they drove together as well, and didn’t leave until morning.”
You have to love old people who have nothing better to do than stalk the neighborhood.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” I ask, redirecting the conversation.
“Well.” She clears her throat, possibly scandalized over the fact I had two men stay the night the other day.
“Yes. I’ve noticed this SUV in the neighborhood almost every day, and I was wondering if you knew who it was.
It’s black, and oh, I don’t know the car labels well, but I think it has a K in the logo. ”
“What time are you seeing them in the neighborhood?” I ask, my pulse racing.
“Usually later in the evenings. That’s why I thought it was odd. They never pull into anyone’s driveway. Sometimes they drive down the street a few times and others they park right down there out of the streetlight and just lulls there. I wondered if maybe it was another guest of yours?”
Is Pat politely calling me a slut? I want to roll my eyes at this nosey woman, but I’m also thankful for her watchful gaze at this moment.
“Pat, do you think you could keep a close eye out and see if you can get the license information the next time you see the vehicle?”
She lights up, like snooping is her purpose in life. “Oh, absolutely. Is there anything I should be worried about?”
“No, I just want to be cautious,” I say and she nods.
“Now, about those tall gentlemen,” she says, as my ride share pulls up.
“We’ll discuss another time. Thanks again, Pat.”
“Have a lovely evening,” she says, looking me up and down, making me feel like the town whore as I sit in the back of the car and he takes me over to the club.
Shit, could Will really be scoping out my house? Maybe Gavin was right and I truly need to consider a restraining order, or I could just get over myself and give him what he wants.
Would it be the worst thing to concede and take the high ground?
Every ounce of me hates the idea, but the thought of him taking it this far has me feeling unsettled.
My home is my safe space and suddenly I don’t feel so safe.
The locks have been changed, as well as the codes, he wouldn’t take it that far would he?
I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I don’t even notice as we reach the club. I thank my driver, rate him five stars for his considerate silence, and send his tip.
There’s a bouncer at the front of the club, and I give him my name, giving me access right away.
I considered texting Ben and Gavin, but it’s their opening night and I didn’t want to be a distraction.
There’s no pretense that I’ll be going home with them.
Tonight I’m here as a friend, and maybe if I’m lucky, there will be some benefits at the end of the night.
The club isn’t like what I remember from my very limited experience as a college student.
The floors weren’t covered in sticky beer; the clientele wasn’t questionable in age, and while the lights were dim, it wasn’t in a seedy way where you had to wonder what was happening in every dark corner of the room.
The place fits the vibe of their bar, but in a different way. While their bar is more relaxing, great for somewhere to grab a drink after work or after you get off your boat, the club is for partying, just with a more mature crowd in mind.
Though there are younger women here who make my dress look matronly, there are also women my senior here, too. In fact, most of the women here seem to be in the thirties to forties bracket, along with the male partygoers.
The space embraces the outdoors indoors with flora and fauna backlit by purple lightning.
There’s a long, backlit bar on the right side with barstools, along with other leisurely places to sit inside and outside of the club.
Looking down at the ridiculous heels I chose, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be grateful for the ample seating at some point tonight.
It feels high end without being too in your face, while also being nostalgic in a way. I almost feel like I’m a mafia wife in Miami or something. To be honest, I’m impressed with everything they’ve accomplished here.
Songs I haven’t heard in years are funneling through the speakers, loud enough to feel like a club, but not so loud that you have to scream to speak to the person next to you.
I make my way to the bar and order a martini as a hand grips my shoulder.
“Add it to our tab,” the voice says, and when I turn around, I surmise that it’s Gavin.
I haven’t been around the twins much, but they have small tells.
Just hearing their voice isn’t enough since they sound exactly the same, but the way they say things is different.
Gavin is more brazen, while Ben is more polite.
Gavin smirks more than he smiles, while Ben smiles with his whole face.
They both carry themselves confidentially and share the same face.
Though looking at Gavin now, he clearly got a haircut.
“You got a haircut?”
“I did,” he says, with one of his smirks I can now identify. “What do you think of the place?”
“It’s really amazing, Gavin. You guys really have something special here.”
He takes the seat next to me and orders his own drink. “We’re only open on Fridays, Saturdays, and select holidays. The bar does well enough as it is, but we wanted something new, something different in Tampa.”
“I think you managed it. The place is beautiful. It doesn’t remind me of the clubs I got into with my fake ID,” I say with a crinkle of my nose.