The Odd Ballerz (34 page)

# # #

“So should I expect you this evening?” he said, crawling up her body later, smacking his lips down on hers, after many tiny and not so tiny climaxes.

“Do you want me to?” she asked when he pulled away.

“I do,” he said, touching his lips to hers again.

“Not too fast this thing, whatever it is that we’re doing?” she asked against them, looking up at him.

“Is it too fast for you?” he asked, looking down into her eyes.

“No,” she said. I’ve wanted you… this, since the beginning, was what she wanted to say but didn’t.

“I’ll cook?”

“Or I could bring something. I don’t want you to think you always have to feed me,” she said.

“I like feeding you,” he said.

“Fine, feed me then,” she said, chuckling.

“So, do you have time or do you need to get to work?” he said, pushing her legs apart, settling his hips in between them now.

“I have time,” she said, and kissed him back, wrapping her legs around his hips as he slowly slid into her warmth.

# # #

Thursday afternoon

Lunchtime found Memphis standing outside of Charlotte’s door, needing to talk—to tell all. It had been all she could think about today: them, him, the things he’d said, the things he’d done; and she was going back this evening for more.

“Hey,” Charlotte said, the baby in her arms, the only one too small for school. “This is a surprise,” she said, holding the door open.

“I need to talk,” Memphis said, following her sister inside to the kitchen.

“You hungry?” Charlotte asked.

“Nope.”

“What’s up?” Charlotte said.

Memphis smiled and started to talk, and it all came bubbling out in a rush of surprised chatter filled with lots of
Wow
s and
Dang, that man,
and happiness.

“Well… well, that’s good,” Charlotte said, after Memphis’s words had slowed their frantic tumble out of her mouth.

“Yes,” Memphis said, smiling.

“I told you. I knew last year, the first time I met him, and I should have followed my instincts, and you and he would have been married by now.”

“Okay, let’s slow ourselves down,” she said, and then laughed, but wishing right along with her sister.

# # #

Wednesday

Aarik, Anson, and Alex stood off to the side of the football fields, watching as the last of the boys in his son’s age group moved off the fields, to be replaced by an older group of boys. A steady stream of kids, practicing and preparing for the upcoming season, was this place in the evenings.

“Thanks for sticking around and helping me,” Aarik said.

“Yes, thank you, Ms. Alex,” Anson said, sliding into the passenger side of his dad’s car.

“You’re welcome,” she said, looking down at the small boy through the window. He was a cutie, a little version of his father.

“I’m going to walk Coach Alex to her car. I’ll be right over there. I can see you, so stay put. Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” Anson said.

Aarik waited until they were some distance away from his son before he said, “Let’s say that for some reason you’re unable to make it to practice and I can’t reach you by phone. What should I do? You know, to make sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I could give you my sister Charlotte’s number, I guess,” she said, scanning the parking lot as she had done off and on all evening, unconsciously. It spoke to how spooked she was that she didn’t hesitate in handing over her personal info to him. It wasn’t just that, she was also starting to trust him. She rattled off Charlotte’s number and he entered it into his phone.

“I’m a really good listener if you want to talk,” he said, smiling when he was done.

“No, I’m good. Past history. And every now and then I get spooked easier than I used to, but I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“I am. It’s an old boyfriend that didn’t take my leaving well, and I haven’t heard from him in a while. Haven’t seen him here either, but I can’t shake this feeling.”

“I’m not going to invite you to stay with me. You could if you wanted to. I don’t think you will, so how about staying with one of your sisters? Until whatever it is that has you afraid passes.”

“I’m good. Really, but thanks,” she said.

“If you need me, you can call me, you know,” he said.

“Somehow I knew that. Not always did I know that, but I do now.”

“It could be at any time, day or night. I like you, Alex,” he said.

“I like you too,” she said, sliding behind the wheel of her truck.

He stood, watched her drive away, and as he had done the other nights, he waited and scanned the streets for he had no idea what. Maybe he should call the sister, Charlotte, and tell her about the concern that he couldn’t name or see.

Thursday

T
hey were out on his deck now, much later, both of them sated and hungry, he in his favorite lounge chair nude, legs stretched out before him, and Jones seated cross-legged in between them, wearing nothing but his t-shirt. Dinner was a bunch of different things, and all left over from earlier this week. He thought to cook for her, but after seeing her step out of her car earlier, food had been the last thing on his mind.

“It’s hodgepodge, leftovers from the week,” he said about the meal before them, composed of fried chicken—which was great cold, she thought, taking a bite from a drumstick—and fresh greens he had mixed up really quickly in some spicy vinaigrette. There was some kind of potato salad made with those red potatoes, skin left on, and all of it great tasting.

“My leftovers never, and I do mean never, taste like this. You’re a great cook,” she said, pointing her fork at him to punctuate her words.

“Thanks,” he said.

“It explains the kitchen,” she said.

“Yeah? What does it explain?” he asked.

“It’s a gourmet kitchen, complete with all the new and modern gourmet gadgets. I know you know that. The rest of your home is not like it. And don’t take that in a negative way, it’s just that it’s clearly a focus for you, this and your studio; things you apparently like, and are good at. And oh, let’s not forget football. You’ve built your very own football field in your backyard. Who does that?” she said, chuckling.

“Does what, build their home around the things they love? I don’t know but we all should.”

“Sure we should. So… did you go to culinary school or something?” she said, clearly enjoying his food, not even going to pretend she didn’t.

“Nope,” he said.

“Who taught you then? Your mom?”

“I taught myself. Ended up being in charge of cooking for my little brother. Started out making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, boiling eggs, that type of thing, and it grew from there. My parents were always busy doing other things so I became the cook out of necessity.”

“So you’re good at everything?”

“No. I was dyslexic, remember? School was a bitch,” he said.

“Right,” she said.

“It didn’t get in the way of your art, your dyslexia?”

“Nope. One of the easiest things I do, then and now.”

“What’s your favorite thing to make?” she asked, getting back to discussing his inventory. It had been cut short Wednesday evening.

“Lighting for the home, chandeliers, using my designs. It’s where I spend most of my time… creative time, that is. Most of what you saw in the storeroom is considered more production pieces and less art. Made from molds, mostly. Believe it or not, most of glassblowing is for production. It’s what pays the bills. Very few of us glassblowers become hugely famous,” he said.

“Who taught you?”

“My family. I grew up in an artist commune of sorts. Not all of them were glassblowers, no, but they were all into art. My aunt, my father’s sister, taught me the most,” he said.

“She lived near you?”

“Yep,” he said.

“That’s nice. Your family sounds interesting and close knit,” she said.

“It was. They are.”

“You work at night?”

“Not usually, but I will if I have a deadline to meet.”

“Saturday is a deadline?”

“Yep.”

“How’s that going?”

“Good.”

“So communicative are you. You have help?” she asked.

He laughed. “Yes, Meredith is helping me. She’s good at what she does,” he said, smiling.

“I bet. I heard you two that morning, by the way.”

“What morning?”

“Last Saturday morning and here I am, wow, sort of doing the same things, probably making the same sounds, and that was quick. Maybe not for you, but for me. So what, I’m the new Meredith? Is that what I’m doing here?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

“What, fulfilling a mutual need?”

“Is that what you two were?”

“We are friends mostly, but yes, we were that too.”

“Oh,” she said, not sure if she was okay with that, even though she liked being here with him.

“What you heard was all it was ever going to be with Meredith. Nothing beyond friends with the occasional benefit.”

“Where there is room for more with me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How much more?” she said.

“I don’t know. Do you?” he asked.

“No, I guess not,” she said, wiping her hands on the napkin. Done eating. “What about the woman last year?” she asked.

“What about her?”

“You like her?”

“I thought I loved her,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. Hadn’t expected that answer. “So what happened?” she said, surprised by his admission.

“I’ll tell you later, if you decide that I’m what you want.”

“What kind of answer is that? It’s not just me that has to decide,” she said, eyeing him for a second, trying to take in his last comment. Was she what he wanted? She wondered, but wasn’t ready to ask. “You are a hard dude to read,” she said, staring at him. “What, you have an evil twin living in your closet or something? Is that what I have to learn about you?” she asked, chuckling.

He shrugged. “Just get to know me, and then we’ll see,” he said.

“I guess I can do that,” she said.

“Good,” he said, using her shirt to pull her towards him until she was sitting atop his lap. He smiled and kissed her.

# # #

“It’s really dark out here,” Memphis said, following Z out onto the back deck. It was near midnight and he had talked her into a swim sans swimsuits. They were making their way to his pool. Really, Z had been nude since she’d been here, and it had been full out I-need-you, can’t-get-enough-of-you sex, and in no way was that a complaint.

He entered the pool first, while she remained seated on the edge with her feet dangling in the water, watching as he ducked his head under and then up. He turned to face her and reached for her foot, which she moved just out of his reach. He laughed.

“What?” she said, holding on to the pool’s edge. He just stood staring at her with this look in his eye, waiting for her to join him, she guessed. So, into the water she went, ducking her head under and then up to face him. She placed her hand in his and he smiled, pulling her along until his back hit the side wall of the pool. His wasn’t a very deep pool. Five feet at the deepest end, three at the shallowest, and he settled somewhere in the middle.

He pulled her in for a kiss and after they pulled their mouths apart, looked down and smiled, admiring her breasts floating on top of the water. These two he could love. He reached out and touched the right one and then the left. Smoothly he moved his hands over them, a tug here, a caress there, making her body tingle.

“Beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

“Thanks. Glad you like them,” she whispered too and his eyes lifted to meet hers. So much desire in them, and a complete match to what she was feeling. How had she missed seeing it? she wondered again. He pulled her closer, didn’t stop until her breasts were touching his chest. He kissed her then, softly, feather-light kisses to accompany the soft feather-like touch of his fingers moving over her skin, downward until they reached her waist. They slid further downward to cup her ass, to lift her and to place her squarely above him, legs open and positioned on each side of his body.

He slid his hips forward then, wanting enough room for her legs to lock securely behind his back, not sure if he would ever get enough of this, enough of her.

“Put your legs around me,” he whispered, before he thrust his hips up, sliding into her warmth, as he pushed her slowly downward to take him into her body. She moaned, dropped her head onto his shoulder and let him do all the work of lifting and lowering her down onto his erection and then up again. And dang, after a while, another climax was rushing through them both.

# # #

Friday evening

Alex stepped out her truck, searching the parking lot of the apartment complex that was her home. All clear; nothing untoward happening here, not that she could see. She sighed, relief coursing through her body. Maybe this fear and foreboding she’d been living with lately was all in her head. She made her way down the sidewalk, looking around the area as she made her way to her unit’s front door. She was ready for a shower under extremely hot water and then relaxing in front of the TV. She put her key into the door and felt the presence of someone at her back, followed by a hand, hard and strong gripping the back of her neck, preventing her from turning her head. Not that she needed to. She already knew who it was. The male voice from her past, the one she’d lived in fear of for far too long was back.

“Hello, Alex. It’s been a long time,” he said.

# # #

Z stood waiting by his studio door. His alarm had sounded thirty minutes ago and he’d sort of rushed to finish up whatever he was working on. He wanted to be free, with nothing to get in the way of him and Jones and the next hour or so. She was here parking, and of course he watched. A skirt and a blouse; simple enough, but with her in it was something else entirely. He stood smiling, waiting as she made her way over to meet him. Nervous at the new, always, yet pushing through whatever was Jones.

He could love this one. Hell, he was partly there now, and that was scary ’cause he wasn’t quite sure of her reaction to him, to all of him. Love me. Love my stuff. It could go either way—had gone either way, as recently as last year. You could never be sure until you were. However, given what he’d seen of her so far, he was hopeful that his take-everything-in-stride Jones would take him in stride too.