7. Aspen #2
“Benefits of a charmed existence,” I moaned as Phoenix latched on and started lazily sucking while I continued petting the long, silky strands.
“Lucky bastard.”
Phoenix chuckled, lips still pressed to my flesh, sending the vibration rumbling through me. As if I weren’t relaxed before, it felt like my body melted against the sheets when he did it a second time before finally answering Parker.
“I met them about six months before they started working at the strip club,” he murmured, breath warm against my skin.
“They were working at a real shithole, kind of like our place has gotten these last two months, only worse, and no one tried to do anything to fix it. I helped them out of a jam and suggested they come work for us. They weren’t sure whether to trust me or not, but once we started hanging out, they got comfortable enough that they showed up and danced for my grandmother. She hired them on the spot.”
“Is she the only one to hire the dancers?” I asked.
“No, Mz. Ginger, one of her business partners, sits in on all the tryouts too,” he replied before dragging his tongue over my other nipple.
“She and my grandmother used to be dancers there. Now they, along with a handful of other dancers and bouncers, own the club. They all pulled together to buy the original property and the one next door to it, so they could tear down the old buildings and build a much larger one. They bought the business behind it a few years later and tore it down to make the parking lot and expand the dressing room area. The business is operated by a board, with quarterly meetings, votes on policy chances, and the rest of the formalities. We’ve sponsored a few community events in the past, which my grandmother would like to see happen more often, and hosted a few strip-offs, which we will be getting back to again next year. ”
“You’ll have to let us know when that is,” Parker said, fingers colliding with mine as he glided them through Phoenix’s hair. “I’d like to watch.”
“You’re not the only one,” I said. “I love a good competition, especially when dancing is involved.”
“There are always at least three rounds,” Phoenix muttered, sounding sleepy as he paused to suckle me again.
“You’re distracting him,” Parker protested, narrowing his eyes at me.
I could barely make out his pout with the way the television cast shadows across his face.
“I’m not doing anything but enjoying myself,” I sighed as Phoenix’s sucking began to lull me to sleep too. “The rest is all him.”
Then he stopped, and my eyes popped open as he squirmed.
“A few years back, we went through five rounds of guys and four of ladies,” Phoenix said, voice muffled as he pressed his head against my chest. “It wound up being a two-night event. It’s always cool to see how many retired dancers come back just to take part.
That was one of my grandmother’s favorite charity events.
One hundred percent of the proceeds from the door and the bar go to the LGBTQ youth center. ”
Parker let out a low whistle. “Nice.”
“Have you ever gotten back up on stage?” I asked. “And I don’t mean to throw someone off it.”
“Every time we hold the event,” Phoenix explained, scooching back a little and twisting his head so he could crack his neck in a move that sounded downright painful.
“Most of the former dancers in the family participate in one way or another, even if it’s just to work the bar or help keep track of the judges’ scores.
All the board members help judge; they rotate them every round too.
Gram really thought it through when she organized the event, and it’s always run smoothly. ”
“Sounds that way,” I said. “I know a few so-called organizers who could use a few pointers from her.”
“With as many of us as there were in and out of the house growing up, she got to be a pro at keeping everything orderly,” Phoenix admitted. “Man, my cousins and I used to get into some shit.”
“It wasn’t a fun childhood if you don’t have a few scars to show for it,” Parker said.
“There was an old tree in the backyard of the house I grew up in. My sister and I were always daring one another to climb higher. We’d tie strips of cloth around the highest rung we reached.
One color for her, one for me. When we reached our old height, we untied it and carried it up the tree with us until we chickened out again.
I fell out of it twice and managed not to break anything.
She fell out of it once and broke her arm.
We’d have probably kept on climbing it until one of us broke our necks if it hadn’t been struck by lightning.
My mom called it divine intervention. Sometimes I’d see her in the kitchen window, pinching her nose, a pained expression on her face as she watched us climb down.
As soon as we came clamoring through the door, she’d wave her wooden spoon at us and tell us not to come crying to her when we fell out of that tree again. ”
“For me it was heels,” I said. “I was obsessed with them, and my mother, being a costume designer, always had fabulous pairs in her closet. The only time she got after me about wearing them was when I snapped the heel off one. My bruises had bruises by the time I learned to walk in them, but when I strutted down the hall like I was walking a runway, sky-blue glitter heels shimmering beneath the lights, she clapped for me with a proud smile on her face. The next day she took me to pick out my first pair. I wore those boots out, let me tell you.”
“I can picture that,” Parker said. “You wobbling, falling, and glaring at the heels before dusting yourself off and trying again. I don’t think my mom would have been that cool about me borrowing her shoes, but then the only kind she ever wore were sneakers.”
“You started this, so what did you used to get into?” I asked Phoenix as I caressed his cheek.
He retaliated by dragging his tongue over my nipple again, this time pausing to tease the nub with several slow flicks before he was rewarded with more milk.
“Everything,” he said, sounding sleepier now and grumpy, like he was annoyed with us for prompting him to talk when he was more interested in my milk.
“If it could be poked at, disassembled, set on fire, or launched somewhere, we tried it at least once, and probably a few other things too. Seriously, we were the poster children for Don’t Do This at Home.
You can imagine how often one of us wound up banged up or in the emergency room.
My grandmother used to say that they should name a wing after our family for all the business we sent their way.
It was crazy some of the shit we pulled, just being curious. ”
“Trying to picture you as a little kid, the only thing that comes to mind is the Tasmanian Devil,” Parker said, which just made me laugh because now I could picture it too.
“That’s fair and pretty damned accurate,” Phoenix said.
“We never played pranks or did mean shit to people. But we liked to figure out how things worked and if something was possible. One day, my grandmother caught us outside with a rope, trying to hang upside down the way Spider-Man did in the movie, same pose and everything. She’d no sooner told us to knock it off before one of us fell on our heads when my brother, Ray, slipped and landed on his.
He wound up with a big lump and had to go to the hospital.
My grandmother was not amused. The words last nerve were used, among others. Man, she was pissed.”
“I’d imagine so, if she kept having to chase after you guys,” I said.
“We were a handful, but it was fun to live in a house full of people like that.”
“I bet no one was ever bored,” Parker remarked.