Chapter 4
Taylor
Having a reason to really ham up my performance is exhilarating. Knowing the stranger from the bathroom is watching me makes my heart race.
I don’t think too long or hard about the fact that it’s another older man who’s caught my attention…or one who’s obviously hesitant about going after what he wants.
Guess I have a type.
As I climb back on stage, Livvy places a tiara on my head that says Birthday Bitch, and I can’t help but laugh, wondering if they made Damon wear the same one last night.
God, he would have hated it. I can picture how red his cheeks would’ve been.
Almost as if in response to my style, Damon’s fashion choices swing wildly in the opposite direction of mine.
He wanted to make sure everyone knew we were not identical in all aspects of our lives…
namely, our sexual orientation. So, he dresses in tailored suits, keeps his hair cut short, and of course, his face has never seen a product beyond a bar of soap.
With my tiara in place, I really wish I had at least put my rhinestone freckles and eyeliner on. And I would kill to have my thigh-highs, fishnets, and spandex shorts.
But I guess I’ll make do with nothing but my jeans and secret lace panties. Thank God they have a hole in the front like traditional boxers or else my bathroom interaction would have required further explanation.
Or a fuck in one of the stalls.
I’m pretty sure my stranger would have been down after a little convincing. The outline of his hardening cock was all the proof I needed.
Speaking of, I watch him take a seat at the bar. He leans over to say something to a woman who appears to be guarding his drink.
The woman laughs at whatever he says and touches his back.
If he is here with her, I’m about to make him regret those lust-filled eyes he gave me in the bathroom. And if he isn’t with her, I’ll teach her to keep her hands to her damn self.
As our next song starts, I take the wireless mic and head for the bar.
I’ve been here plenty of times, and I know the bartenders fairly well, so no one tries to stop me when I climb on top of the marble surface.
It doesn’t take long for me to find the stranger’s eyes at the other end.
The current song is sensual and slow and perfect for when I drop into a squat with my knees wide, stripper style.
My stranger follows the movement with an odd mix of lust and anger on his features.
Standing, I make my way toward him, but I don’t account for the condensation left behind from a couple of glasses Shelly recently cleared and lose my footing.
If I topple to the right, I’m going to seriously hurt myself on the beer taps, but if I overcorrect to the left, I’m going to land on the customers at the bar.
It feels like slow motion when my stranger plants his left hand on the bar top and stretches his right arm up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, yanking me toward him.
I land with a thud against his chest, and the bar erupts in cheers.
As a thank you, and a happy birthday to myself, I hook my arm around his neck and swallow his lips in a kiss.
I feel his slight hesitation before he gives in and kisses me back.
Several people clap and yell, a few others tell us to get a room, and then there’s always one…
the one who’s got to be an asshole just because I’m a guy who loves to kiss other guys.
When the slur reaches our ears, my stranger pulls back and sets my feet on the ground, giving me a look that threatens to melt these panties right off.
We stand there, both breathing hard, until he throws a couple of twenty-dollar bills on the bar and brushes past me toward the front doors without a word.
I’m left standing here, wondering what the hell just happened, when suddenly, Livvy’s handing me my shirt.
It’s probably my desperation talking, but for those few seconds our eyes were locked, I swear something passed between him and me. An unspoken understanding of some sort, but it was long gone before I could catch it and dissect it properly.
I no longer feel like singing after the encounter. My mood sours significantly when he leaves before I can even catch his name.
When Livvy and I make our way back to the table with Francesca and Ash, I feel Livvy’s eyes on me.
“Liv, stop looking at me like that,” I grumble, reading the look on her face.
“Tay, you realize you basically just assaulted that guy, right?” she asks, concern filling her voice.
No. That’s not what that was. I know what I saw in that bathroom, and I know he kissed me back. I would never force myself on someone, and the fact that my sister is still taking Patrick’s side pisses me right the fuck off.
“Liv, drop it. It was a kiss…that he returned, I might add. But I’m ready to call it a night. I fly out at nine tomorrow morning,” I tell my siblings.
“Oh, where are you headed this time?” Ashton asks.
“Doing a multi-stop. Raleigh to Chicago to Dallas and then back home. I only have one more trip after that before I’m stuck here for a while.”
“That’s right,” Francesca says as we make our way to the parking lot after Ash pays. “I forgot you’re house sitting for Mom and Dad in a couple weeks. Do you need anything?”
Yeah, I think to myself, to not have to house sit because I’m going to go fucking crazy with nothing to do for ten days.
I love my job as a flight attendant. New cities and new people every day.
It never gets old. Sure, not all the cities and people are nice, but at least the shitty ones make good stories.
Another bonus of my job is that it allows me to physically escape and run from my problems, which is probably the only reason I’ve survived the last several months. Maybe not the healthiest, but sometimes it’s nice to look around and have no reminders of the painful shit.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I say out loud, knowing I haven’t been fine in months.