The Virgin Bet (8 page)

“Fuck your point system, and fuck you, Chad. I love Temperance, and I’ll not have
anyone
talking shit about her. Especially a pathetic sack of slime like you.”

Chad held up his hand as if expecting another blow. “Dude—”

Brent stormed back inside the building, before he could beat the shit out of Chad. He searched the dwindling crowd. He couldn’t find Tippy anywhere. He searched the hallways, trying locked doors to classrooms. He even tried the restrooms, but no Tippy.

She’d vanished. Worried, he called her cellphone. No answer. Anxiety mounted. He asked his old classmates and finally a woman she’d spent the evening with told him she’d called a taxi to come pick her up. He ran back outside, only to see the taillights of a taxi disappearing into the distance.

“Fuck!” What the hell had happened? He jogged to his car, hoping to catch her at her home. He got caught up in a traffic jam behind a fender bender. By the time he arrived at Tippy’s house, he saw the light on in her home, but she refused to answer the door. They’d exchanged house keys but hers was at his place.

“Temperance!” He shouted then pounded on the door again. “Temperance, answer the door!”

A neighborhood dog barked, and a porchlight across the street came on. He growled, getting the cops called on him wouldn’t look good back at the precinct.

He had no idea what had happened back at the reunion, unless fucking Chad had said something to her. Fury made his face burn hot, and he took several deep breaths to calm his temper.

Brent stomped back to his car, jumped inside, and forcing himself to stay within the speed limit, drove home. A tight ache had settled inside his chest. He’d give her the night to cool off. They’d talk in the morning. He loved Tippy, but he feared the tenuous thread of their relationship might have snapped.

Brent kept trying to call and text, but Tippy ignored him. She’d gone so far as to stay at a motel in a neighboring town just to avoid a confrontation. She’d been used for some insipid high school bet. She’d given her virginity, and worse, her heart, to a man who hadn’t matured beyond the age of eighteen. And it was all her fault for trusting him.

Never had she felt so used and pathetic. And so lost and lonely, she missed him so much she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could barely function. He’d been the one she’d leaned on when she had a bad day. She’d come to rely on his strength when she felt she didn’t have any of her own. Before Brent, she could deal with things on her own, but he’d made her weak. She hated feeling so weak and needy.

“I knew this would happen,” she mumbled, sitting on the motel bed, staring at the wall, hugging a pillow. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

He’d opened Tippy’s heart, he’d bared her soul, and the trauma seemed impossible to ever repair. She could go home to her parents but she didn’t know what she could say to them. They’d offer her the perfunctory condolences for her broken heart, but her practical mother would remind her she’d walked into a dead end relationship with open eyes. She should’ve known better. And Tippy didn’t need to hear the obvious. She wanted to be held, she wanted to cry her eyes out on someone’s shoulder, and she realized how desperately she needed a friend.

She thought of Melanie, the closest thing she had to a real friend these days. She shot her a text, asking if she could get a sitter and go out tonight. The idea of staying huddled in a strange room is what appealed to her, but she had to get out and away somewhere.

A few minutes later, Melanie texted back she’d love to go. Her husband would watch the kids. Melanie lived an hour away. Tippy pulled up a nightclub on her phone in Melanie’s city, then texted the info to Melanie, telling her she’d meet her there.

Tippy showered away a week’s worth of pity party stench, and dug out a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt. She’d drive to her place to grab something more presentable for a nightclub. The place didn’t say it had a dress code, and she’d picked up a couple of nice dresses while dating—

She quickly cut off the train of thought. She wouldn’t think of
him
the rest of the day. She refused to, because now was the time to get on with the rest of her life. And she’d do what she should’ve done in college—go out, get drunk, and maybe pick up some guy to have bad drunk sex with. The idea revolted her, but that’s what you did in these situations, she was sure of it.
To get over one man you have to get under a new one
, an old college roommate had told her once. Suddenly the idea made sense.

“Women survive heartbreaks every day,” she told herself aloud. “I’m nothing special.”

The drive to her place left her a nervous wreck, but when she arrived she didn’t see any sign of Brent. Of course, he’d be at work now. She ran inside, dressed in one of her nice dresses, then jumped back in her car, planning to spend the day in Melanie’s city. She’d find something to keep her occupied, maybe go to the museum there, until she met her friend.

She enjoyed the drive north. The day was sunny and the traffic light. She played a classic rock station, and found she could almost be distracted from her heartbreak. Almost, but not quite, it still left a gaping hole in her life, but she felt braver than she had in a long time. She was out in the world, not cloistered in her home. She was meeting a friend, rebuilding an old friendship. Thanks to Brent she’d been pushed out into the world and it’d broken her out of her shell.

The idea should’ve given her comfort, but a tear rolled down her cheek.
Why did I have to fall in love with him though? Why couldn’t it have just been hot sex and spanking?
She squirmed on the car seat, she hadn’t had a good spanking in so long. She missed it. However messed up that was, she’d fallen into domestic discipline like it was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe some people need it, she thought. Maybe for some it made life easier. With it she’d been forced to face her demons.

More tears streamed down her cheeks and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. By the time she reached the city, she’d gotten herself under control. She pulled into the museum parking lot and cut the engine, staring through the windshield. The place was surprisingly crowded, several school buses sat in the parking lot, and lines of kids and teachers waited to go inside the front doors. Tippy smiled at the enthusiastic kids as teachers tried to corral them and shoo them along one by one through the doors.

Would she find the right man to give her kids before she hit menopause?
Brent is the right man.
She shook off the thought. Brent wasn’t the right man; she’d been nothing more than a conquest. What she needed was a man who’d love her for who she was. A big book nerd with too much red hair who liked a good spanking to keep her in line from time to time.

She reached out and started the car, she didn’t want to fight through the crowds of children for the museum exhibits. Instead, she decided to head to the mall. Another place she normally avoided like the plague. She walked inside and meandered from store to store, window shopping, but resisted buying anything. Her money flow was dwindling, soon she would have to find a job or she’d lose her house. She didn’t want to spend the insurance pay-off she’d gotten. A lot of it had been used to pay off vendors, a small business loan and other business bills, the rest she wanted to hang on to in case she reopened the bookstore. Worrying about money was a distraction from Brent but not a good one as she felt anxiety settling in. She stopped in the food court and got a smoothie, then took a seat, checking the time on her cellphone. Only five more hours to kill. Ugh. She should’ve gone to the library, but being around that wonderful book smell would’ve made her miss her bookstore that much more.

Tippy managed to distract herself with games on her phone and catching up on a couple of reality show episodes until it was finally time to meet Melanie. She drove out to the nightclub, finding a spot in a nearby parking garage. She put on some makeup using her rearview mirror, and got out, walking down the sidewalk. College kids made up the majority of the crowded walkways, making Tippy feel like an old maid. In college she hadn’t gone to any clubs or bars.

She spotted Melanie walking towards her. Tippy waved. Melanie waved back and met her with a big hug.

“You look wonderful!” Melanie exclaimed.

“You do too,” Tippy said. Her friend looked amazing in a fitted knee length dress which was much more club appropriate than her flowery summer dress. Her friend always had enviable curves that could fill out anything she wore.

Melanie gave her shoulder a playful slap. “Look at us, being the cool party chicks out for a night on the town. I think the best we did in school was study groups at that terrible pizza joint in town. I promised my husband lots of pics if I get arrested at any point.” She laughed, and Tippy laughed with her. How had she forgotten how fun Melanie could be?

The club she’d chosen was mostly made up by people their own age, you couldn’t get in if you were under twenty-five. They stopped at the bar. Melanie ordered a martini and Tippy threw caution to the wind and got a whiskey sour. She chugged the drink, nearly finishing it off in one go. Melanie lifted an eyebrow. “Dang girl.”

Tippy gave her a tight grin. “Let’s dance.”

They weaved into the crowd of people on the dancefloor. Tippy had absolutely no rhythm, but the alcohol was working fast on her empty stomach. The relaxing affects loosened her up and she swayed to the beat. A guy appeared. Melanie flashed her wedding ring and shook her head, but this was what Tippy had hoped for. Some way to forget her broken heart. The guy moved behind her, grinding his hips against her butt, and Tippy quickly reconsidered the idea. He was vulgar in his dancing, gyrating against her, and she felt the unmissable sign of his arousal poking her in the backside. Sickened, Tippy pushed him away from her. He grabbed her arm, trying to yank her back close, his lips pulled back in a snarl. He yelled something she couldn’t hear over the beat of the music, but looked an awful lot like a
Fuck you
. Angry now, she stomped on his foot, making him jump back. Tippy grabbed her friend’s arm and guided her off the dance floor.

“Weirdo,” Tippy shouted over the music. “He was getting too much of a thrill out of that.”

“Where’s Brent?” Melanie asked.

Tippy threw back the rest of her drink. “Want another?” she asked, avoiding the question. She was here to forget.

Melanie guided her further away from the speakers. “Uh oh, you two have a fight?”

Tippy blew out a breath then nodded. “We broke up. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Melanie gave her a big hug. “Well let’s have another drink and forget about him for a while. I’m buying.”

After the first drink, Tippy paced herself, having a glass of wine, and after that, water. By the time the club had last call she’d danced and hydrated herself sober.

“Thanks for a great evening. I haven’t had a chance to let my hair down in a long time,” Melanie said once they were outside.

“Me either,” Tippy said. “Thanks for meeting me.”

They hugged it out with promises to meet for lunch the following week. A warm happy feeling settled within Tippy. Rekindling this old friendship was one of the best things she’d done in a long time. It lightened a bit of the grief settled inside her heart. Perhaps with Melanie’s help she’d finally find a way to get over Brent.

Tippy headed for the parking garage, weaving in and out of drunk college kids. She walked inside the parking garage and headed to her car. She fished for her key fob inside of her purse.

“Hey there,” she heard a male voice call.

She tensed and searched the shadows for the voice’s owner. The place had taken on a dark and ominous tone. Someone stepped around the front of the large SUV parked next to her car.

“Hey, remember me?” The man asked, moving toward her. It took a second for her to realize it was the guy who’d danced with her in the club. The one whose foot she’d stomped. Had he followed her to her car? “You never gave me a chance to get to know you.”

Tippy’s hand shook as she fumbled deeper in her purse. Where the hell was her fob? The guy walked up, reeking of beer, and stale cigarette smoke. He grabbed her arm before she could retreat to the other side of her car.

“Let me go!” She tried to wrench free of the man’s grasp.

“Bitch! You led me on in the club, and now you’re going to pay for it.”

Tippy heard traffic and voices outside, and she opened her mouth to scream for help. The guy slapped his sticky hand over her mouth, cutting off her cry. She brought her knee up, trying to catch him in the groin, but he jumped back, still holding her tight.

“This time you’re not giving me the slip, pretty thing.” He laughed, wrapping an arm around her to pin her arms down. He kept his nasty hand clamped over her mouth.

She stared into the alcohol-glazed gray eyes of the guy, fear filling her own eyes with tears. She struggled helplessly, escape options tumbling through her mind, but she couldn’t pin one down long enough to use it.

“Now we’ll just get inside my rig here, and see where the night takes us, doll.”

Bile rose in Tippy’s throat, and she did the last thing she could, she went lax, hoping her deadweight would loosen his grip. He dragged her toward the backdoor of the SUV. When it seemed all was lost, her assailant suddenly launched backward. He kept hold of Tippy, dragging her with him. Then she was free. Tippy fell to her knees on the hard concrete, and pain shot through her kneecaps. Her assailant yelped, and she looked up to see a large silhouette throw the guy down like a large ragdoll.

“Get the fuck out of here, now!” her hero shouted.

Brent! Thank God!
Tippy got to her feet, and had to brace against the back of her car to keep from falling down from her shaking legs. She watched the guy beat a hasty retreat.

Brent turned to her. “Fuck, Tippy, are you okay?” He stepped to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We need to go to the police station and file a report,” he told her.

Tippy shook her head. “No, please, I’d rather not.”

He placed gentle hands on her shoulders, and tipped her chin up. Though his face held the flush of anger, his gaze was gentle. “If you don’t, this asshole will attack another woman.”

Tippy shook her head again. She didn’t want to relive the experience—especially with strangers at the police station who’d most likely judge her as being irresponsible. After all, she’d walked into a dark parking garage alone. “But I don’t even know who he is,” she said lamely. “And honestly I could only give them a generic description that’d match a lot of other men.”

Brent held up a black object. It took a moment to recognize it as a wallet. “He dropped it,” Brent said.

She cocked her head, eyeing the wallet. “You stole it from him, didn’t you?”

Brent shrugged. “I wanted to see if you were okay, and I couldn’t do a citizen’s arrest and see to you at the same time. I only wish I had jurisdiction here.”

Tension began leaking from her tight muscles, making her shake head to toe. Tears streamed from her eyes and she let out a choked sob. Brent collected her into his arms again, hugging her tight. He rubbed her back in comforting circles.