Fighting for Arielle (2 page)

After we step inside and the door closes,
Macy asks, "What the flying fudge balls was that?!?"

"What?” I look to her
, playfully aghast.  “My awesome pun?"

"No!
 And that pun was only mildly funny, at best.”  She eyes me, knowingly.

I try to return her same look and reply, "You mean
punny
?"

"Oh my cow!" She throws her hands up in melodramatic frustration.
 "No! And you know that's not what I meant."

Trying to play dumb, I respond sheepishly, "Huh?"
 
 

"I am referring to you and that super hot guy sitting there looking at you a
s if you were some sort of delicate dessert that he wanted to savor."  She waves her arm around as she speaks.

"You mean Mr. Yummy?"

Macy blinks back at me with her mouth partially open.

Pre-empting what I know she's going to say next, I state confidently, "Yeah...
  I totally named him Mr. Yummy."

Breaking into uncontrolled laughter, Macy asks, "Mr. Yummy?
 What, is he some sort of creepy puppet on a kids show?"  

I join her in laughing at the preposterous nature of this entire conversation
, but I can’t speak.  
 

Macy does answer my query. 
"Yes!  I mean no.  I mean, yes,
him
!" Macy exclaims in exasperation.

"Uh...I don't know.
 I was just checking him out and was kind of captivated by his..." 

What Macy just said sinks in.  "You say he was checking me out?"

"Ummm...duh.
 Everyone saw it.  It was like your eyes were homed in on each other and there was this like crazy magnetic pull between the two of you."

I
look down at my fingers and begin to fidget.  "There was?  I hadn't noticed."  
 

I really had noticed.
 She described it perfectly.  It was as though we were drawn to one another and everyone else in the room was being pushed away and out of our conscience.  It was only a tiny snippet of time, but in that moment, I felt a connection with someone like I didn’t even know existed.  And the thoughts of being able to see and touch the parts of him hidden by those shorts were also completely foreign to me.

I seem to have a momentary lapse in memory that I have a husband
, but soon recover.
 
Falling out of my daydream, I tell Macy I need to get going.
Brody insists that not only I have a job and go to it every day, but also that I come straight home afterward, unless I need to go grocery shopping or something.

"What are you up to this weekend?" she inquires as she grabs her gym bag.

"I have a show this weekend,” I explain as I grab my gym bag and walk to the office door.

"That burlesque thing?" she asks with genuine curiosity.  

             
"Yeah.  You should come sometime.”  

We walk out of the gym office toward the parking lot.

"That sounds awesome, and I will definitely come check it out sometime, but I can't this weekend.
 Ross is going to be in port for a whopping thirty-six hours, and if I'm lucky, I might get to spend about eight of them with him.  But, that's eight more hours for sexing than zero, which is what I've had for the past three months," she says emphatically.

Those are better odds than I've been having lately, and my husband is in port.
 Although, even when he wants to, I can barely stomach it.  He really is not the same person he used to be.

"I will see you on Monday," I say in a tone
that’s a little more chipper than I intended.  "Same Navy time, same Navy place."

"I can't with you..." Macy says playfully.

 We give each other a quick hug and get into our cars to head home for the day.

McCrary

“
W
here is this that we’re going again, Elkins?” I ask, turning to see Elkins and Wyllie, the bachelor himself, grinning excitedly and pumping their fists as we sit in the back of our rented limo.

“A burlesque show.
 Best one on the island,” he says, but doesn’t turn to look at me.

“This is like a Vaudeville show, isn't it?” I ask as I open my beer.

“No, man.  It’s a show where smoking hot girls dance and sing and, most importantly, take off their clothes," he explains as if it makes perfect sense.

Although, n
ow he has my attention.  I take in a swallow of beer.  

"All of their clothes?"

“Damn near, but they leave enough on to tease, which is half the fun,” Elkins says coolly.

I don’t know
Wyllie all that well because he's new to the island, but Elkins knows him and wanted to show him a good time before he marries.  I'm actually a bit jealous of Wyllie; he seems to have found his perfect girl.  To me, there are two types of relationships in the Navy: the first one is the kind that doesn't last and every time you come back from travel, deployment, or you change duty stations, she is not there.  The second is the one where, despite the disruptions in home life, career demands, and separation, you always come home to the same smiling face and loving arms.  After talking to Wyllie, I know he has this with his fiancée.  I just wonder how anyone has time to find that perfect girl.  

It’s not as though I never dated anyone.
 I’ve had plenty of women here and there throughout the years, but I just couldn’t commit to any of them. I always had upcoming cases and trials as well as the navigation of the politics of the military to deal with, and they came first.  Even if I had a desire to settle down and start the perfect military family, I have yet to find a woman who makes me want to take that next step.  I’m happy being a bachelor with no ties and nothing to distract me from my job, which has worked out well for my career.  I’ve been able to move up the ranks pretty quickly, making Lieutenant Commander with under ten years of service.  I am currently up for Commander, waiting to hear if I will be promoted.  Hopefully, I will meet my goal of making Commander by the age of 35.

Snapping me out of the abyss of my o
wn head, Elkins yells, “Cheers!”  

I hold up my beer with the rest of the men.
 

“To the bachelor!"

E
ntering the building, I hear Elkins announce to the group, "You don't need dollar bills or anything.”  

He places his hand on my shoulder saying excitedly, “We go to strip clubs a
ll of the time, so we're going high class for this bachelor party.  Plus, I got us a VIP table right at the edge of the stage."

The place is more like a theatre
, with rows of seats, a stage curtain, and a few intimate tables sitting right at the foot of the stage.  Stopping first at the bar for a bourbon and Coke, I navigate my way to our seats, find one with a prime view, and settle in.

The show opens and after a few performances, I realize that this really is like a variety show that harkens back to Vaudeville roots.
 There are actors delivering dialog and jokes, girls twirling in the air on random apparatuses hanging from the ceiling above the stage, and girls dancing in various shiny and intricate costumes, but Elkins was right: no full-on nudity. I find the dancers to be talented in their own right, but not very overly exciting.  

I look at my watch, then
back up to the stage and see a beautiful silhouette standing in the darkness.  The stage lights come up and a song comes on.  I recognize it to be “All That Jazz” from the musical
Chicago
, and this is the Bebe Neuwirth Broadway revival version, which is a good choice.  

The silhouette now has a face, but has large
, white feather fans covering her body.  Her long, chestnut hair beautifully cascades in loose curls down below her shoulders.  Her full lips, wearing a perfect shade of crimson, highlight her almond-shaped eyes perfectly.  Her olive toned skin looks perfect under the stage lights, causing me to want to see more of it.  She gracefully moves about the stage dancing, moving her hips, and twirling her fans around at a speed slow enough to allow a split second view of, from what I could see, her gorgeous figure, but fast enough to make it a cruel tease.  I watch, mesmerized by her confidence and poise on the stage, thinking she must be a model or something to be so comfortable with herself.  

She
faces the back of the stage and moves her fans behind her back, holding them both in one hand, covering her ass but exposing her back.  She looks over her shoulder with one of the sexiest leers I’ve ever seen, and gently moves her hair to one shoulder, giving me a view of her entire bare back.  As she slowly and playfully unhooks her bra with one hand, my eyes cannot help but worship every inch of skin I can see.  Her back is beyond sexy.  I run my eyes down her spine to her waist and wonder how she might respond if I were to run up on the stage and take away her fans just to see the rest of her.  As I move my eyes up to her neck, I notice a small tattoo, or maybe a few, in a line just at the base of her neck looking as though they are giving direction for me to run my mouth on a path from there, down to the base of her spine: kissing, licking, and nibbling.  I notice a slight throbbing in my pants.  I take a swig of my drink and shift the way I’m sitting, but never move my eyes away from her.

She turns back around, quickly moving her fans to cover her
torso and, in rapid succession, throws her bra toward the audience.  My eyes are so transfixed on her, I’m startled when I feel something land on my head.  It only takes me a split second to realize it’s her bra.  Her eyes lock onto mine, and she looks directly at me with the most seductive look.  I didn’t even know women could look at you in such a sexy way.  Not in magazines, nor in person when women are trying to get me to take them home, have I ever witnessed anything so intoxicating.  

Trying to play it cool, I reach my hand up to remove the bra from my head as fast as possible, but one of the hooks gets ca
ught in the ball cap.  I try a few slight tugs that were hopefully unnoticeable, but with no luck.  I see my dream woman smile and snicker.  At least I think she snickered at me, and she still managed to look sexy while doing it.  I look away for a brief moment so that I can remove my hat and get the bra off.  Immediately, I miss her gaze.  Meanwhile, I become acutely aware that the members of the bachelor party are all laughing at me under their breath, but trying hard not to be rude to the dancer.  

Placing my hat on the table, bra still hooked to it,
I witness a wonderfully sweet smell that wafts over me.  It smells like flowers and sweetness and joy and warmth.  Inhaling deeply, to take in as much of the scent as I can, I turn my eyes back to her.  She has moved further away from me on the stage, and already I feel her absence.  I want her back in front of me.  Looking at me.  Dancing for me.  Teasing me.  

She glances over to me and winks just before she spins around with the fans in front and behind her.
 She faces the side with her fans in front of her body, and I can see the contours of her back, ass, and legs.  Her ass is perfect as it curves away from the small of her back and then tucks at the top of her thighs.  Her eyes bore into me as she rolls through her body, almost calling me to her with her body movements alone.  I think I must be dreaming.  No woman can have this kind of effect on me.  

As the song comes to an end, she moves the fans behind her, making them look like a large peacock tail.
 As she stands in this position, her chest is pushed forward, and I gaze upon that silhouette that captivated me in the dark, only this time it’s completely on display.  When I thought seeing her figure from the side was perfection, I clearly had yet to behold her from the front.  The glitter on her skin sparkles and calls attention to her perfectly shaped tits, which are now only covered by silver pasties. I begin to imagine what her nipples must look like under there.  What they feel like.  What they taste like.  I take in the rest of her body, which has a beautiful, taut stomach, perfectly shaped hips- I love curvy hips -and long, lean, and muscular legs.  As she catches my gaze one last time, I see the left corner of her mouth raise slightly, along with her eyebrow.  I think about what those lips must taste like and how my name must sound coming from them.  In an instant, the lights turn out, and she is gone.

             
I blink a few times to try to wrap my head around what just happened when I hear the thunderous roar of claps, whistles, and cat calls.  I don’t remember them being this loud the whole time.
 
I look around the table and see the bachelor party cheering, hi-fiving each other, and telling me what a “lucky bastard” I am.  

The show ends with a big finale of lots of buxom and beautiful girls on stage
, bowing to rounds of applause, but I can’t seem to focus on anything.  I wonder if I am going to see this amazing woman again.  Then, I try and figure out why I even care if I see her again.  

Shaking my head out of that place, I feel a nudge in my side.
 I glance over to see Elkins displaying the cheesiest, toothy smile.  I look back up to the stage, and there she is in a sleek corset, fringed panties, and some really hot stiletto heels.  The crowd stands as she garners the loudest applause of all.  She curtsies delicately, but still manages to look scintillating as she does it.  She looks over to me, blows me a kiss, and moves upstage to meet the rest of the performers so that they can all take a full cast bow, which is customary after all performances.

The curtains come
down, and we begin to regroup, talking about our next destination.  Elkins wants to go out to a bar, Wyllie wants to go back and party in the hotel suite, and some other guys want find a place to pick up women.  

As I am listening to everyone talking over one another, I hear a voice behind me say, “I think you have something that belongs to me.”
 

Hearing that smooth, sexy
, yet calming, voice, I immediately know who it is.  Before I can turn around to view the lips speaking to me, Elkins steps in front of me.

“Hey!
 You were smoking up there!  You were the best one.  So fu- I mean, freaking hot!” he gushes, sidling up to her.  

“Thank you so much.
 That’s really sweet of you to say,” she says as she scans her eyes across the now encircled group of men around her, and then stops on my gaze.  Her smile grows wider and I see her eyes light up a little more too.  “So, I take it you fellas enjoyed the show?” she asks, more pointedly to me.  

I smile in return and fully take in her sweet voice.
 I note that it has a hint of a southern twang, and I’ll be damned if it is not the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.  I feel like I could listen to her speak all day.  Every day.

“Oh yeah!”
 “Yes!”  “It was awesome!”  “You were awesome!” I hear coming from various voices surrounding her.  

She moves closer to me and sa
ys, “And how about you over here?  Do you share the same sentiments?”

The mixture of that same aroma I
beheld earlier from her bra, coupled with her direct statement to me, causes waves of joy and elation to ripple down my spine.  Having never stuttered in my life, the paralyzation– and not I’m making up words -my mouth feels foreign to me as I reply, “I-I-I...I mean...yes, I did.”  

How I managed to earn a Juris Doctor from an esteemed university and argue for a living, but can’t manage to form one simple sentence is beyond me.
 It’s a problem by which I have never been afflicted before.

Seeming un-phased, she continues with a wink, “Well, I’m so glad you did.
 I aim to please.”

Elkins interrupts us again by shoving his body between the two of us, much to my chagrin.
“What’s your name, hottie?”

She gives Elkins a polite smile and replies, “Marta.”

“Marta, huh?  Well, it’s nice to meet you
Marta
,” he says with an emphasis on the name she just gave him.  “I’m Elkins, this is Watson, McComber, Kirk, Denton, Joseph.”  He gestures to each of the guys.  “This is Wyllie, and this is his bachelor party,” Elkins says enthusiastically as he slaps Wyllie on the back.

Her face lights up
, and her voice rises in pitch.  “Oh, you’re getting married?  Congratulations!  When’s the big day?”

“Next weekend, ma’am.
 Next Saturday.”

“Oh how exciting!” Marta leans in to give him a hug, “And please don’t call me ‘ma’am.  It makes me feel old or something,” she playfully scolds him.
 

“Sorry,” E
lkins butts in, “It’s a habit.  Military and all...”

“All in the military, huh?”
 She looks across the row of men.  “I figured as much.”

“Why is that?” Elkins inquires.

“Ummm...  I don’t know…” she says thoughtfully as she looks us all up and down.  “A large group of men who are all clean shaven with short hair, dressed nicely, and have no visible tattoos...  Call it a hunch.”