14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
“Okay, but it makes me feel like a clown, so I think we should stop now, before I make myself look any worse.”
“I think you look cute, for what it’s worth,” she says. I’m pretty sure she’s blushing but it’s too dark to be 100% certain.
“If elephants are your thing, then sure. I’m killing it.”
“Fine. Let’s be fair about this. It can’t be much easier dancing the way you do. So, go ahead. You teach me a move now.”
At this, I can’t help but snort. “Really? You want me to teach you ?”
“Well, not the stripping part, obviously. But one of the dance moves, sure. Why not? You don’t think I can hack it?”
“Oh, I’m sure you could,” I say. “You’ve got plenty of upper body strength. Which move do you want to learn?”
“Teach me that thing that looks like you’re doing the worm.”
“The worm? You mean a dolphin dive?”
“Yeah! The one on the ground. I think that one’s my favorite.”
“Ha,” I reply. “You and every woman in America.”
She stretches out her arms like she’s preparing to lift something heavy. “So, how does it go?”
I can’t believe we’re doing this , I think. This is not at all what I expected. “Can you do a push-up?” I ask.
“I think so. Haven’t tried in a long time.”
“Okay, so get down on the floor and try to do, like, five push-ups.”
“The guy ones or the girl ones?”
“The guy ones.”
Gretchen drops down to all fours and then springs out into a plank position. She lowers her body carefully and then pushes up with her arms. Twice, three times, four. By the fifth one, she’s wobbling. “ That’s hard.”
“You get used to it after a while. Takes practice. But, you see how all the strength really comes from your shoulders, your back and your arms?”
“Yeah,” she nods.
“Okay, now we’re going to do a yoga pose. This is called a cobra stretch.” I get down next to her and lay on the ground, flat on my belly, then push my upper half up in an arch, facing my chin up to the ceiling.
“I know that move,” she says. She lies beside me and mirrors my position.
“So, this is our ending pose for a dolphin dive. Essentially, you jump up first, just a little hop, and then sort of swan dive onto the ground. You want to land in push up position, but your front half lands first and your legs and feet follow. By the time your legs hit the ground, you’re pushing up your upper half in a cobra stretch.
It gives the illusion of your whole body having made a big curve,” I explain. “You want to try it?”
“Sure,” she grins. She shuffles back and forth in time with the music and then does a jump but lands hard, almost like the dry-earth equivalent of a belly-flop.
“Shit! Are you okay?” I ask.
She cackles. “That was so bad!”
I crouch beside her. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No, I’m fine,” she laughs. “I just can’t believe how not graceful that was.”
“That’s why it’s a guy’s move. I think we should just stick to what we’re good at. No more dolphin dives for you.”
“Deal. And no more dip turns for you,” she retorts, grinning.
I stand up and hold out a hand to pull her up off the floor, just as the music shifts to another old school song, Pony, by Ginuwine. According to the Skeeve, it’s a strip club anthem.
The music overtakes me – it’s such a sexy song, and in the darkness, all alone, there’s an unmistakable opportunity that I don’t want to laugh off awkwardly.
Instead, I grab a folding chair from against the wall and flip it open.
Then, I look at Gretchen and begin to slow-walk over to her, giving her smoldering bedroom eyes.
Her amused smile vanishes, replaced by something very different – still a smile, but also, an understanding.
There’s a vibe here – dark plus music plus solitude.
No eyes to watch us. No embarrassing spectators throwing money at me.
Just us, and the involuntary way my hips move to the bass line as I strut towards her.
No question about it: I owe her one dance, and I’m here to see that she collects it.
She purses her lips together as I take her by the hand and lead her to the open chair, gently pushing her body down so she sits in it.
With the beat, I trace two fingers across her shoulder blades as I walk around the back of the chair.
As I emerge on the other side, I place her hand on my stomach and push it towards my chest, revealing the bare skin of my abs.
Her eyes light up, and I take one step back and pull my T-shirt up over my head, tossing it to the side.
Next, I dolphin dive right on top of her, holding the sides of the chair for the pushup motion instead of placing my hands on the ground, my nose close enough to her chest and neck that I can smell the faintest bit of sweat from her workout mixed with the soap from her shower.
I push back off the chair and I’m on the floor, down on one knee, sliding my hip through my arms onto the ground then pushing back up and doing another dolphin dive as she watches with what appears to be building anticipation.
I crawl across the floor in front of her and arch backwards so I’m lying with my back to the ground.
My pelvis juts out in a series of smooth hip thrusts from the floor, arms raised over my head, facing her as if I’m lying in a bed while she sits at the foot of it.
Next, I pop up and casually walk towards Gretchen until I am completely straddling her in the folding chair.
I grab the back of the chair with one hand so that I can work my hips on top of her and then – one, two, three times, I wind them in a circle – my inevitable erection throbbing noticeably through my mesh shorts.
I snake my arms around her neck and lean forward into her as if I’m going to kiss her collarbone – but it’s just a dance, and I am relishing in how good it feels to tease her, so I keep my lips to myself and instead I just breathe on her skin, still grinding into her lap for a few counts more.
Next, I retreat, standing back up and pulling her to her feet.
I lift her hands until her arms are over her head, and I slide my palms down both sides of her body until I get to her thighs.
One quick bend at the knees and – boom – she’s up in the air with her legs wrapped around my waist. I bend down with her in my arms, lean down to touch the floor with one hand so the she’s almost parallel to the ground, and then –
“Um, helloooo,” I hear, the annoying screech of a rich woman who can’t be bothered to just wait a second while I finish seducing this woman, please.
I come back to standing and carefully set Gretchen down. The moment is gone – as fragile as a bubble, popped in the wind.
“I’m here for my car,” the woman says, wearing sunglasses even though it’s as dark as night in this space. “That’s my Lexus outside.” She flips her hair and points to the door.
Gretchen is speechless, likely on account of my wild overtures, so I am left to interact with the loaded Lexus lady. “Yup, be right with you,” I say.
I turn towards the wall to adjust myself so as not to be accused by the Lexus-leaser of any lewd (if unintentional) propositioning. “Where are the keys?” I whisper down at Gretchen, still seated in the chair beside me.
She gulps. “Office. Desk.”
“I love that I just made you incapable of forming multi-word sentences,” I say in her ear.
With a grin, I head to the office, grab the Lexus key off the desk, and bring it to the Interrupter. “Here you go.”
“Hey,” she says. “You’re one of the guys from last night.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Brady, right? OMG. My friend, Miranda, told us all about you.”
I have no idea what she could have said, but I also don’t care, seeing as how I was just about to show Gretchen the full ability of my mouth when the SUV queen appeared. “Great,” I say.
“So, I guess we’ll be seeing you soon,” she says.
Huh? Nope. Don’t care. “Sure thing,” I reply.
“Ohmigod, wait! There’s Chloe!” This one waves a hand up in the sky. “Chloe!” she yells. “In here! I’m with Miranda’s dancing fuckboy!”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“No offense,” the Interrupter winks at me.
Chloe walks in, looking tore up in oversized flannel pajama pants, a sports bra, and the world’s largest sunglasses doing nothing to mask her obvious hangover. “How are you so chipper?” she asks the Interrupter.
“I’m sorry, which car is yours?” I ask.
“I’m the Acura,” she says. I leave to get her keys.
“Look, Chloe! It’s Miranda’s boy,” the Interrupter claps.
I shake my head.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon,” the Interrupter says. “I just texted her. She’s in an Uber.”
“Terrific,” I say. “Well, you two are all set, so feel free to head on out. We need to close up here anyway.”
“M’kay,” the Interrupter replies. “ So excited we got to see you, though.” She reaches out and traces a finger down my forearm.
I pull back and shoot a finger gun at her, like, hey now, that’ll be a hard pass. “Yup. Same,” I reply, the sarcasm dripping off my words like sweat in a sauna.
Chloe and the Interrupter leave and I look at Gretchen, who is busily putting away the folding chair. “Hey,” I begin. “I’m not trying to end our time here, but I would really rather not run into Miranda if I can avoid it.”
“Ohmigod,” she jokes, flipping her hair. “I can’t imagine why not.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “But what are you doing after work tonight?”
“Probably sleeping, Brady. I’m not sure if you know this, but I typically get home pretty late.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Well, what about tomorrow? Do you have work tomorrow, also?”
“No. Tomorrow and Tuesday are our two days off.”
“Want to go to the beach with me?”
“Depends.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Is this a date?”
“I would like it to be, yes.”
“Okay. Then, yes. I would like that too.”
“I mean, just for clarification, I don’t dance like that for just anybody.”
“Really?” she laughs. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you do.”
“Touché,” I reply. I shoot her a wink before leaving. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Can’t wait,” she says.
“Same here,” I reply.
I’m pretty sure she means it.
Lord knows I do.