StripperwithSpice (17 page)

Oh, Carlos, what have you done?

I tap Zena on the shoulder. “What did Brian just do to you?”

“He gave me a lap dance.”

“I know but was it…special?”

She blinks. “I’d say so. It was very nice.”

Her neutral reaction shows she didn’t get the same treatment
I did. I have a feeling I just received a one-of-a-kind Stallion Palace dance.

I can’t tell her, but I have to share this with someone
before I explode with the naughty excitement of what I just experienced.

“Zena, you aren’t going to believe this but Carlos had sex
with me just now.”

“No!” She looks around. “Where? Here?”

I nod. “When the lights went out.”

“Oh, my God. Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Probably.”

“What a gyp. Brian didn’t even show me his dick.” She grabs
my arm. “Come on. They’re calling us backstage.”

When we walk behind the curtain it’s as if we’ve entered
another world. It’s quieter back here and much more brightly lit. A stray
feather from someone’s act lies on the floor and a chair has various garments
thrown across it.

“Where is everybody?” Zena asks. “Are we in the right
place?”

We turn a corner and I see the edge of a vanity mirror.
Traces of different colognes, mixed in with some enticing male sweat, linger in
the air.

“I think we’re near the dressing rooms,” I whisper.

“How could you be such a dumbass, Simpson? Someone could
have gotten hurt and sued my ass off. Then where would we all be?”

One of the men fidgets by drumming on something.

“Sorry, man. I fucked up.”

“You’re also fired.”

Zena and I both shrug at each other after hearing the gruff
male voice, which must belong to the owner, and the younger one. They can’t see
us and we can’t see them. Until I figure out what’s going on, I prefer to leave
it that way.

“I’m not letting Simpson take the rap for this. I told him
to mess with the lights.”

My heart drops to my feet when I hear that familiar voice.

“What the hell for, Carlos?” the older man asks.

“I was trying to impress my lady. I’m really sorry and I
swear it’ll never happen again.”

I turn and lean my forehead against the rough cinderblocks
of the hall wall as my worst fears threaten to come true. Will he be fired
instead?
Damn!
Why did he take such a big chance? But I already know. He
risked everything because he loves me. Although he’d already told me, his actions
tonight validated every word.

I love him too.

The realization hits me with the same force as the orgasm I
just had in that chair. Maybe he was right. I’d kept my heart so barricaded
from years of hard knocks a desperate act was probably the only thing that
could expose it. But were my feelings worth the price he might have to pay?

After a long pause, the owner speaks again. “You’re damn
right it won’t. I keep telling you guys to stay out of relationships. It messes
with your heads too much.”

I sag against the wall with relief. Carlos’ job has been
hard for me to handle in so many ways. The exposure to numerous other women
kept me on tenterhooks, wondering when he’d leave me for one of them. Not to
mention the financial instability of a career based on tips and with such young
age limits. Worst of all, I always worried how dating him might affect my job.
I don’t agree with companies dictating the lives of their employees, but that’s
the way the world is.

Despite all these difficulties I’ve had with his job, I’d
never want to cause him to lose it.

A group of three girls clatter toward us on heels, louder
than an entire cavalry. “Like, are the guys back here?”

We nod and follow them to the dressing room doorway,
pretending we arrived at the same time. The guys file out, all smiles, as if
the tense scene with the owner never happened. The thin guy with the pinched,
pale face must be Simpson. Carlos is last out and I fall in beside him as we
follow the others.

“I overheard what happened,” I say. “Why did you take such a
chance for me?”

He puts an outstretched hand between us. “Please don’t say
anything right now. I can’t handle it.”

I grasp his hand and steer him toward the wall, letting the
others get ahead of us. We may not have needed speech during our sexual lap
dance, but at this moment my throat aches with the need to talk.

His face is pale and the muscles around his eyes are drawn.
Apparently his stunt wasn’t as effortless as he’d made it look.

“I have to talk to you, Carlos. Please.”

After a pause, he nods. “Let’s go outside.”

As soon as we walk out the side door, cool air and privacy
envelope us. My body is so warm with emotion and recent passion, it doesn’t
faze me.

I grip his shoulders, steering him toward the brick wall.
“Why? Why did you do something so crazy?”

His solemn eyes barely blink. “I did it for you.”

“I was afraid you’d lost control.” My nails dig into his
shoulders as I grab a shallow breath. “I sure did when I tried to stop you.”

He shook his head. “I planned every detail.”

Though his expression is as hard as the wall behind him, the
fire in his dark eyes and sheen of sweat on his forehead hint at the emotions
swirling inside him.

My fingers drift to his cheek. “But you could have lost your
job and almost did! You shouldn’t have taken such a chance on me.”

He seizes my hand so hard I gasp. “Yes, I should have and
I’d do it all over again. When I said I loved you, I meant it.”

Even though I’d given him nothing back, he’d handed me his
entire heart. I’ve never felt so weak…so selfish. The muscles in my calves
tremble so I lean into him, sandwiching him between me and the brick wall.

“Just so you know, I was nervous as hell.” The tension in
his face breaks and his arms go around me, holding me close. “I thought my
heart was going to short-circuit. I almost chickened out before I got inside
you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

A small smile lifts his lips. “When I saw you sitting there
looking so pretty and sexy, I had to show you my love.”

I touch his smile, wanting to hold it forever. “When you
said you loved me before, I shouldn’t have left you hanging. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t ready.” He shrugs and shifts his back against
the wall. “I’m glad you didn’t say it back because you felt obligated. That
would be worse.”

His restless movements tell me he has no idea how I feel
now, but how could he? I still haven’t told him.

He glances toward the door. “Let’s go in. It’s cold out
here.”

“I’m afraid I have three more words to say, Carlos.” I
anchor the sides of his face to make sure I have his full attention.

“I love you.”

He cocks his head. “Seriously? You’re not just saying it?”

“Seriously.” I plant a big kiss on his growing smile. “Do I
need to give you a lap dance in my cubicle at work to prove it?”

“Hmm.” He returns my kiss. “That has possibilities…”

Carlos picks me up Sunday morning to take me to Fernando’s,
his brother’s restaurant, to celebrate his mother’s birthday.

“Wow. What’s this for?” I ask when he hands me a bouquet of
roses in a glass vase. “It’s not my birthday.”

He sets the flowers down on a nearby table. “For being such
a trooper at the club the other night.”

When I drift into his arms, every cell in my body sighs with
relief as if this is my natural habitat. He wears a black vest and pants and a
red shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a cross pendant hanging from a leather
cord. The ensemble accentuates his bronze skin and dark eyes and hair, evoking
the flavor of Old-world Spain. I’ve concluded he looks gorgeous dressed as just
about anything—cowboy, athlete, rich man and now this.

I smooth back a stray lock of his hair. “You should have
told me ahead of time what you planned to do.”

A warm hand cups my bottom. “I told you I was going to fuck
you someday in those five-inch heels. You’re not complaining, are you?”

“Are you kidding? It was the hottest thing anyone has ever
done to me.” My hand rests on his chest, drinking in the warmth and the steady
beat of his heart. “But I still wish you hadn’t risked your job for me.”

“It was worth it to hear you say you love me.”

How did we get here? We love each other and now I’m about to
meet his mother. The thought sets a bunch of butterflies loose in my stomach.
What if she takes one look at me and asks what he’s doing with an old bat like
me? What if she’s almost the same age as me or, gulp, looks younger?

His dark lashes lower and his lips touch mine, igniting an
electrical storm inside my body. A flicker of hot tongue against my lips sends
a sizzling flare between my legs. I dig my fingers into his pectorals, wanting
to strip away the red fabric and touch his bare, smooth skin where his spicy
scent lingers.

He clasps my hands and steps back. “We’d better get going
before I take you to bed, but don’t worry. I have a lot planned for us later.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s just say I’ve thought of some ways to work on
building your trust.”

I laugh. “Why are you always so mysterious? It’s
infuriating.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a hint.” He lets go of my hands and
steps behind me, rubbing his hardness against my buttocks.

A tremor of need clenches inside me, pinching my nipples and
clit at the same time.
His cock…
He plans to insert it into my behind.

Oh God.

“I-I’m not sure if I could do that, Carlos,” I say in a
small voice.

“You don’t have to, but I wish you’d try it just once. It
would help you trust me.”

At the moment, meeting his mother seems much safer.

* * * * *

Carlos parks in the Fernando’s lot, which has several cars
in it.

“I thought you said the restaurant was closed today for the
party,” I mention.

“Did I tell you I have a big family?”

More people to disapprove of me. Great.

As soon as we walk inside, I hear a variety of voices
speaking Spanish. Mexican party music plays in the background. The arched
entryways and stucco walls are festooned with pink party decorations. I’ve
never seen so many people in my life—young, old and every age in between.

“Which one is your mother?”

He grabs my hand and leads me to the head of a big table,
which is made up of several small ones pushed together. A petite woman with
short, dark hair sits surrounded by gifts. She wears a fitted, teal blouse
garnished with a big silver necklace.

My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth.
Shit.
I
should have brought her something. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Mama.
¿Cómo está?
” He bends to hug her and kiss her
cheek. When he straightens, he looks at me with eyes so warm and full of pride
they melt me inside.

“This is Janice Sullivan,
mi chica
. Janice, my mother
Elena.”

“How do you do?” When I shake her hand, I hope she won’t
notice how cold and clammy mine is or see the nail prints I’ve been working on
all morning.

Her eyes, dark like her son’s, sweep up and down me. “And a
lady you are, I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Unlike her son, she speaks with an accent. I’m glad she sees
me as a lady. It’s a good thing I wore my yellow cardigan and jeans instead of
the strip-club miniskirt and slut heels. As I predicted, the color blends in
with the walls here, which is just fine with me. If his relatives don’t notice
me, they can’t disapprove of me. To my surprise, she extends her arms, inviting
me to hug her.

Carlos beams at me after the hug. “What do you think, Mama?”

I can’t believe he’s asking her that right in front of me.
Please,
floor, swallow me up now!

“She’s better than the others I’ve seen. You’d better keep
this one.”

His arm slides around my waist. “I intend to. Oh we got you
a little something.”

We?
He pulls out the gift-wrapped box of earrings
from his jacket pocket and puts it on the table with the other gifts. At least
I’m covered in the gift area now. Standing in the soft glow of the orange
overhead light while festive music and scents of food drift around me, I forget
reality for a moment.

I’m Carlos’ wife. This isn’t his family. It’s ours.

I shake my head, trying to gather my wits. People have
stopped talking and snacking on the nachos and salsa to look at me with
curiosity. It will take half a day just to meet them all.

He has aunts, uncles and cousins. His younger brother
Fernando and sister Luisa are married with several children each.

One of Luisa’s little boys hugs my leg. “She’s
linda
.”

Next, he rubs his belly. “
¡Tengo hambre!
”

“We eat soon,” Luisa assures him.

The adults laugh and I let out a breath. It seems I’ve been
accepted by the family. I watch Carlos with them and notice he’s had a full
smile on his face since he walked in the door. It’s hard to picture him as Cool
Hand Carlos now. Here, he’s Carlos Aguilar, family man and an everyday guy.
This is the man I want in my life. I only want Cool Hand Carlos to appear in my
bedroom.

A tall man in a white chef’s uniform brings out a platter of
steaming fried plantains. Some women and teenage girls follow with more food.
My stomach growls as I eye the empanadas and tostados and sniff the aroma of
melted cheese.

The last entrée is a huge Mexican flag salad. The eagle,
depicted with black olives, reminds me of Carlos’ coming-of-age story. I know
the red tomatoes symbolize valor. So does his red shirt.

The chef waves at everyone on his way out. “Enjoy. I’m off
to San Antonio to see my family.”

“
Gracias
, man,” Fernando clasps him on the back.
“Safe travels.”

Everyone takes a seat at the long table while two of Carlos’
cousins pour drinks from large pitchers swimming with wheels of lemon slices.
One pours ruby-red sangria while the other pours iced tea.

Fernando sits across from us, so I study him. Except for
some resemblance in the eyes, he couldn’t look more different from Carlos. He
has a goatee, a rounded, jolly face and a rounded middle to match. His plaid
shirt and baggy khaki pants seem chosen more for comfort than style. Even
though he’s younger than Carlos, he appears older. He probably doesn’t pay
attention to other women and they probably don’t look at him.

He’s the kind of man it’s safe to commit too. Why did I have
to find the dangerous one?

“You’d better hope Pedro comes back,” Carlos tells his
brother. “This place would be sunk without him.”

Fernando takes a bite from his taco. “Why do you think I
haven’t expanded?”

“You really should.” Carlos turns to me. “He could turn this
place into a local chain. Maybe even go national.”

“I don’t know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a family
business. The kids keep me so busy.”

I take a sip of the best sangria I’ve ever had. “You could
start by opening one new store. Then watch the profit margin for the first two
years.”

The man’s eyebrows go up. “Your lady has a head for
business,
hermano
.”

Carlos looks down at his plate. “I wish I did.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll find a real job someday.”

His brother grins to show he’s jesting, but for the first
time all afternoon, Carlos’ smile is gone. He must be thinking about his
uncertain future.

Carlos raises his glass of iced tea in the air. “Today is a
special day. It’s Mama’s fiftieth birthday.”

I nearly choke on my drink. She’s only seven years older
than I am and I’m closer in age to her than her son. If Carlos ever tells me he
likes me because I remind him of his mother, I’ll walk away and never come
back.

She raises her glass of iced tea too. “That’s not all. I’m
ten years sober too.”

Shoot.
Why didn’t I choose the iced tea?

When Carlos looks at his mother, emotions play across his
face as if it’s a movie screen. And then I see his childhood. What it must have
been like. Not just head of the family when he was a boy himself but taking
care of an alcoholic mother.

She barely lowers her drink before spilling it. He’s out of
his chair and by her side in an instant.

“Are you all right?” he asks, taking the glass out of her
hand.

She massages her knuckles. “It’s just a little arthritis.”

He clasps her arm. “Are you in pain? Have you been to the
doctor?”

She waves at him. “I’m just getting old. Go back to your lunch.”

We continue to eat and I absorb the chatter around the table
as if I’m a sponge. Carlos asks the children about their activities and it
reminds me of how he comforted the little boy in the mall.

Family.
With my parents gone, I don’t have any. He’s my
family now. His family is mine too. But what if it disappears? Why get attached
to something that may not last?

“You okay?”

My mood changed for an instant and he notices? Perceptive
doesn’t even begin to describe this man.

Fernando gestures with his fork. “She probably realized the
gazpacho is too bland today.”

“Try adding more cilantro,” I blurt out.

“Ah, the lady has a palate,” Fernando says, grinning with
approval.

“She’s a good cook…among other things,” Carlos replies.

My cheeks flame as I think about what he has planned for me
after this.

“Maybe I’ll get you both in the kitchen doing dishes
sometime.”

Carlos shakes his head as if remembering the drudgery of his
teenage job. “No more dishes.
No más
.”

When we finish eating, Elena opens her gifts. Then someone
turns up the music and Carlos dances with me between the other tables. It
doesn’t take long to realize everyone is watching us. As his hips swivel and he
spins me around, I realize Cool Hand Carlos has made an appearance today after
all. He waltzes, tangoes and does moves I can’t even identify.

Dancing is definitely his main talent.

When we finally stop to catch our breaths, he gives me a
light kiss. “They adore you, by the way. I knew they would.”

Which will just make losing them all the harder.

We drift to the window and watch a bus chugging into the
parking lot and stalling out across three parking spaces. When the driver
knocks on the door, one of Carlos’ cousins tells him we’re closed for a private
party and offers to let him use the phone. The driver declines and walks back
to the bus with slumped shoulders.

Elena rushes toward the door. “We cannot turn those people
away. They’re probably tired and hungry.”

Fernando scratches his head. “We could let them use the
bathrooms, but Pedro is gone.”

“We can cook.” Did I just say that? I must have had too much
sangria. Or maybe Carlos’ spontaneity is rubbing off on me.

He looks at me with awe and grins. “Let’s do it.”

Once the decision is made, everything follows in a
high-speed blur. I help Carlos’ family clear the table and consolidate what’s
left of the food Pedro cooked while Elena moves her gifts to another table.

Carlos greets the tired passengers as they come in. It’s a
sports team of teenage girls with some parents and chaperones. They perk up considerably
when they get a look at my man. One girl has a bandaged foot and Carlos helps
her to her seat, asking if she’s okay. He uses that
you’re-the-only-important-person-in-this-room focus I’ve enjoyed so many times
and seen at the club.

By the smile on her face, she must not be feeling too much
pain. If these girls weren’t underage, I’d be pretty jealous right now. Dancing
is not his main talent after all, I realize. Carlos knows how to make people
feel good, especially women.

But I don’t have time to observe him long before Fernando
grabs me by the arm.

“The kitchen is this way. I hope you’re as good a cook as
Carlos says.”

I hope so too.

When we reach the brightly lit kitchen, it’s like a fantasy
come true. How many times have I watched chefs on TV and pictured myself in
their aprons? But I’m a financial analyst, not a chef. I’ve never even gone to
cooking school. I can’t do this. Carlos’ family already likes me. Why not stop
while I’m ahead? What if I accidentally give Fernando’s customers food poisoning?

I grab an apron hanging from a hook and put it on over my
sweater. Using a rubber band from my pocket, I tie back my hair. Then I
thoroughly wash my hands at the sink. Going through this ritual of preparation
sends tingles of excitement down each nerve ending.

My brain struggles to keep up as Fernando shows me where
everything is, including the treasured, grease-stained recipe book.
Unfortunately Pedro didn’t prep much extra food because the restaurant is
supposed to be closed for a couple of days. Members of Carlos’ family show up
to help me.