Stirred Up (8 page)

“Well, it’s not,” Jason said, maybe too
vehemently. But there was no way he was going into any detail with
Brad. He wasn’t that kind of friend. “We had more work to do and
decided to head to the coffee shop, but it was packed.”

“They didn’t make them that way when I was in
school, I’ll tell you that.”

Jason said nothing, hoping his silence would
communicate his lack of interest in the subject.

“Since nothing’s going on between you, how
about you give me her number?”

Jason looked at him.

“Whoa, never mind,” Brad said, throwing his
hands in the air as if surrendering. “Forget I said anything.”

Pissed now but trying not to show it, Jason
turned his attention to the list of beers on draft. He had no right
to be this angry, and he shouldn’t let Brad get to him. But no way
was he ever letting him near Cheryl.

Hopefully this would be the end of it. Brad
could be a decent enough guy, but he was also the type to latch
onto an idea and harass you about it until you wanted to knock his
head in. Years ago Jason had made the mistake of confiding his
crush on a friend’s sister, and Brad had razzed him about it for
years. The guy didn’t do subtle. But Jason had known him for ages
and their friendship was a habit. Besides, they ran with the same
crowd.

They watched a basketball game on the TV
above the bar, not saying much beyond the odd comment on the game.
At halftime Brad took a long pull of his beer and turned to
him.

“I meant to tell you we’re meeting at Hugo’s
at nine tomorrow night. That way we can get toasted on cheap drinks
before heading to the strip joints.”

Jason sighed and rubbed his face. He’d been
over strip clubs for a long time now, but no one else seemed to be.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t think up something a
little more original for Kevin’s bachelor party. We’ve been going
to strip clubs since we turned twenty-one. Before that, even. Isn’t
anyone tired of it yet?”

“Tired of strippers?” Brad said, looking
confused. “That’s not a thing.”

“I just wish we could show a little
imagination, that’s all. But whatever, I’ll be there.”

“Did you guys know about the sweet redhead
Jason’s got interning for him, or has he kept it a secret from you,
too?”

Jason groaned and silently cursed his friend.
They were a few rounds into a long night of drinking, and all six
guys were now looking at him expectantly.

“It’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand
dismissively. “She’s a teacher in training and I’m mentoring
her.”

“But she’s cute?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” he admitted. Pretending
otherwise would only have been more suspicious.

“So are you gonna hit that, or what?” yelled
Steve, way louder than necessary, and everyone cracked up.

“Dude, that’s a firing offense, so no, I’m
not.”

This was greeted with a few seconds of
disappointed silence.

“Bummer man,” Steve said, shaking his head at
his glass, like he couldn’t believe how unfair the world was.

Jason stood there, torn between annoyance and
amusement, but mostly hoping the conversation was at an end.

“You guys ready to head to the Pussycat?” Tom
called out, diverting them all.

In short order the seven of them piled into
two cabs and headed to the Strip, where they poured out again in
front of the club’s neon pink sign, its signature feline curling
sinuously over the doorway.

Ah, the Pink Pussycat. It was here, among
other clubs, that he and his friends had come to see naked women
and get sexually frustrated in their early twenties. He was no
longer into getting all worked up with nowhere for it to go, but it
was hard not to feel a thrill when he walked in and the loud music,
sweetened by a few rounds of drinks, pumped through him.

After a few minutes of milling, they were
shown to a table to the right of the stage, just a few rows back,
and Jason settled in for the show. Eventually he was clapping and
cheering along with everyone else as the girls on stage did their
thing, the energy of the hopped up Saturday night crowd egging him
on.

Then the strains of a song he dimly
recognized as one of Britney Spears’ finest came on and a sexy
redhead took the stage.

Jason sat bolt upright, his mouth hanging
open in shock.

It couldn’t be. His head spun as he stared at
the girl on stage, her red hair spilling over her shoulders like
he’d imagined so many times, her hot little body dressed in a prim
blouse and skirt. Her movements were shy at first, coy, eventually
turning brazen as the lyrics explained that she wasn’t so innocent.
She strode up the stage to the very edge and smiled wickedly,
tearing the white blouse off and tossing it aside to reveal a red
bra and perfect ivory skin that shimmered under the lights.

His heart pounded in his ears and he couldn’t
catch his breath, but he couldn’t look away either. Everything he
thought he knew crumbled to dust as his innocent young intern
seduced the entire room. Transfixed, he watched as she slid her bra
off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, baring her lush,
perfect breasts to the hundreds of people crammed into the
club.

He’d been lying awake at night, picturing
what it would be like to take her clothes off piece by piece,
slowly revealing her curves and glorious skin. He’d tortured
himself imagining the sighs and moans she’d make while he did it,
all the time holding out for when the semester was over and nothing
stood in their way.

Now here he was, seeing all of it for the
price of admission. He felt stupid, and a little sick, and as
turned on as he’d ever been in his life.

He held his breath as she lowered the zipper
of her skirt, teasing the crowd, killing him. When it finally fell
to the stage she stood before him in heels, a thong, and the
garters circling her thighs.

He shouldn’t be seeing her like this. Even in
the midst of all the dark, irrational thoughts that spun through
his drink-addled brain, he knew it was wrong, knew it would kill
her if she knew. There was a reason she hadn’t told him.

Billy Idol was yelling
more more
more
as she glided along the edge of the stage, making it easy
for the men crowded around to push money into her thong and
garters. She winked and laughed, flashing a smile that belonged to
another woman.

He was watching a pro.

“Give it up for Cherry,” the announcer called
over the sound system as she walked off the stage, and the whole
place went crazy again with drunken catcalls.

Jason slumped back in his seat, too drunk to
think clearly, not drunk enough to be numb. The guys were laughing
and ordering more drinks, oblivious to Jason’s inner turmoil. He
ordered a scotch and took a deep slug as soon as it came, desperate
to stop his brain. Surely with enough whisky he’d stop seeing her
up there, her bare skin glowing, her hair like flames licking at
his soul.

And then he did stop seeing her up there,
because when he looked up again, she was standing next to Kevin,
looking like the greatest temptation since Eve with her apple.

Christ, he’d forgotten that they always came
around, working the floor, teasing the customers.

Performing lap dances.

Her hair was parted on the side, a gleaming
wing waving over one eye like a forties starlet. She must have
taken all the money out when she came off the stage, since there
was less there than when she’d finished, but a light fringe of
bills was once again lining her garters.

She hadn’t seen him yet. He was sitting at
the far end of the second table they’d taken, and her attention was
on Kevin. The guys were requesting a lap dance for him, waving
fifty-dollar bills at her and telling her to make it the ride of
his life.

“You up for it, hot stuff?” she asked Kevin,
her smoky voice teasing.

“Hell, yeah, he’s up for it,” Brad said,
slapping Kevin on the back.

Thank God Brad didn’t seem to recognize her.
If he had, there was no way he’d be keeping his mouth shut about
it.

Kevin was looking uncomfortable. “Ah,
actually, I kind of promised Anne…”

“That’s so sweet,” Cheryl said. “We wouldn’t
want you to break a promise. Maybe I can entertain one of you boys
instead.”

She was smiling, her gaze moving over his
friends, assessing them, sizing them up.

No. Hell no. He wasn’t going to make it
through this if he had to sit and watch her grind on one of his
friends, her breasts in his face, her ass on his crotch. He wasn’t
a violent man, or one known for extremes of temper, but tables were
gonna start flying if he had to watch that.

He must have made a move, or started to stand
up. Her gaze locked on his and went blank with surprise right
before all the blood drained from her face. Falling back a step,
she looked at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Why don’t I leave you boys to think it
over,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted as she addressed Brad
and the guys again.

Then she turned and practically ran away, not
pausing to talk to anyone else, though men all around her were
calling her over, trying to get her attention. His friends looked
at one another, their dismayed confusion comical. Or it would have
been if his world hadn’t been turned upside down.

“Is she coming back?” Tom asked no one in
particular.

Another dancer appeared at the far end of the
floor and they called her over and began it all over again. Cheryl
was forgotten, just one of many girls who could be bought that
night.

***

Cheryl ran for the dressing room without
looking anywhere but straight in front of her, ignoring everyone
who called for her. When she finally made it inside she collapsed,
shaking and hyperventilating, onto a chair.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” Emily
asked, turning around on her stool, a mascara wand poised in
mid-air.

“I can’t believe this is happening. Oh my
God. Oh God, what am I going to do?”

“Cheryl, you’re scaring me,” Emily said,
kneeling in front of her. “Slow down and tell me what
happened.”

She looked at Emily, her expression concerned
and intent, even with all the stripper makeup and big hair.
Breathing deeply once, then twice, she began to get enough control
that she could speak.

“Remember Jason, the teacher I’m working
with?”

“Of course. What about him?”

“He’s out there with a bachelor party. I was
getting ready to do a lap dance for one of his friends before I saw
him.”

“Oh.”

Cheryl laughed bleakly at Emily’s dumbfounded
expression. It really was as bad as she thought.

“How will I ever look at him again? What if
he tells someone? God, he must think I’m such a skank.”

It was hitting her in waves now. All the
implications, the worst-case scenarios. Having to face Jason when
he’d seen her like this. A sob was working its way up into her
throat and she clamped down on it even as the pressure in her chest
built.

“Okay, we need to stay calm here,” Emily
said. “It’s not like you’ve done something illegal. It’s a job, for
God’s sake. You’re putting yourself through school. Besides, he’s a
grown man, not some kid.”

Cheryl was rocking now, her arms wrapped
around her middle.

“This is the one thing I was most afraid of,
and I kept telling myself no one would ever find out. What were the
chances of someone I know from that part of my life coming to this
club, out of all the clubs in town?”

“It’s going to be okay. I know it seems bad
now…”

Cheryl let out a harsh laugh and Emily
flinched.

“I’m sorry, Em. I know you’re trying to help.
And maybe you’re right. But even if he doesn’t tell anyone,
whenever I’m with him I’ll know he’s seen me up on that stage,
taking my clothes off for money.”

“You said before he’s a good guy. There’s no
reason you can’t still work together. And it’s only for a couple
more months.”

“I’m going to ask to switch classrooms.”

“Will they let you do that?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

Emily stayed where she was and stroked her
back, and eventually Cheryl calmed enough that her breath no longer
heaved in and out. There was a knock on the door and Cutter’s voice
called from the other side.

“Cheryl? You all right?”

Emily looked up at the sound of her fiancée’s
voice, and Cheryl sighed. Cutter would do anything to protect the
dancers, but this was one mess he couldn’t get her out of.

“I’ll let him know you’re okay,” Emily said,
heading to the door, where the two of them spoke in low tones for a
minute.

Emily came back over and looked down at
her.

“So what now? Do you think you can go back
out there for your next set?”

A wave of nausea ran through her at the mere
thought of it and she bent over, the way you were supposed to do
when a plane was crashing.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Emily said, sighing
worriedly. “That’s fine. I can go on for you. I’ll wear a wig and
maybe Steve won’t notice.”

“Really? Do you think you could manage it?
I’m so sorry to make you do that. But I just can’t -”

“Not to worry. I have more than enough dances
worked out, and I’m not the slightest bit tired.”

Cheryl couldn’t help smiling at that. As a
ballet dancer Emily had put up with a far more rigorous schedule.
Now that she only worked one night a week at the club, she seemed
to never get tired.

Cheryl changed into a new outfit and re-did
her hair and makeup so that she’d be ready to go on again if Jason
ever left.

She waited miserably in the dressing room,
answering questions from the other girls with as little information
as she could get away with. An hour later she peaked through the
curtains that hung in back of the stage and sighed with relief.