The Lonely Hearts Club (21 page)

“Well,” Candace said a little breathlessly. “That was nice.”

Liz wrapped her arm around Bren’s shoulders and playfully nuzzled her ear. “Enjoying your birthday so far?”

Bren laughed. “Who wouldn’t?”

“You’ve got a point.”

Bren scanned the room as the lights came up high enough to prevent patrons who were making a mad dash to the bar between acts from stumbling. A few disappeared down a hallway she hadn’t been able to see earlier. The bartender, a bald African-American man the size of a Volkswagen moved with the grace of a running back in his tight runway, mixing drinks and passing bottles of beer at lightning speed. When the blonde who had just performed emerged from the hallway in a miniscule bikini and walked to the end of the bar, he handed her what looked like a glass of champagne and nodded toward a lone man seated at a nearby table. The blonde took the drink and joined the customer.

Bren watched for a second as the blonde straddled the man’s lap, then looked away as the blonde began a slow grind. A petite brunette and a painfully thin blonde with enormously enhanced breasts, both in various stages of nudity, appeared from somewhere backstage and worked their way between the tables. When the brunette slithered onto the lap of an attractive woman with shoulder length brown hair and rubbed her breasts across the woman’s face, Bren decided she’d had enough of the floor show. Turning in the opposite direction, she stared, not certain at first she wasn’t imagining the two women wending their way between the tables toward them. Then she heard Liz’s swift intake of breath beside her, and she knew she was right.

“Hey! Parker! Reilly, over here,” Bren called.

*

Liz hadn’t seen Reilly in five days, and she couldn’t take her eyes off her. Her tight white T-shirt stretched over her strong shoulders and arms and clung to the swell of her breasts. Her jeans were just tight enough to show off her athletic legs. Her hair was shaggy around the edges. She looked a little disheveled, a little unpolished, and a lot sexy. Liz liked the look. What she didn’t like was the fact that Reilly had her arm looped around Parker’s waist. Parker leaned against her as they walked, and they looked good together. Liz hadn’t noticed before just how fluidly attractive Parker was. Next to Candace’s cover girl beauty, Parker seemed androgynously handsome, but when snuggled against Reilly, she projected a softer sensuality. It would have been exciting to think about that sexual flexibility if she hadn’t been with Reilly at the moment.

“Well that didn’t take her long,” Candace muttered.

“Who?” Liz replied.

“Both of them,” Candace snapped.

Liz didn’t answer because Parker and Reilly grabbed chairs from a nearby table and dragged them over.

“Mind if we crash the party?” Parker said with a big grin.

“Looks like you already did,” Candace grumbled.

“Great! Drinks everyone?” Parker asked, apparently oblivious to Candace’s snarl.

“None for me,” Reilly said, watching Liz.

“I’m good,” Liz replied.

Candace and Bren gave Parker their orders and she sauntered off. After a second, Bren jumped up. “I’ll give her a hand.”

“I’m going to the restroom,” Candace said to no one in particular as she bolted after them.

Reilly indicated the empty chair next to Liz. “Okay if I sit down?”

“Of course.”

“I hope it’s okay we showed up. Parker said—”

“It’s fine.”

“So. How are you?”

“Good,” Liz replied, thinking
fat and terminally horny and really glad to see you and wishing I wasn’t
.

“That’s good.” Reilly rubbed her hands on her thighs and looked around the room. “Is it just me, or is this place particularly sleazy?”

Liz laughed and felt herself relax a little. “Extraordinarily sleazy.”

“Bren having fun?”

“We all are.”

Candace dropped into the chair on the opposite side of Liz and casually draped her arm around Liz’s shoulders. “So where did you find Parker, Reilly?”

“We met at the hospital and had dinner,” Reilly replied, her gaze flickering to Candace’s hand cupping Liz’s upper arm.

Candace smiled frostily. “That’s nice.”

Liz shifted just enough to cause Candace to move her arm to the back of the chair, but then her thigh snugged up against Reilly’s. Reilly didn’t move away, and neither did she.

*

“So Bren,” Parker said expansively, “this is some place you picked for a party, honey.”

“Isn’t it?” Bren softly touched Parker’s cheek on the uninjured side. “How are you feeling? You look like you might’ve started the party a little bit early.”

“Feeling great. I only had a few beers.” Parker frowned. “Except I did have that pain pill right before dinner.”

“You be careful with the drinks from now on, okay?”

“Yes ma’am. Anything you say, ma’am.”

“And Reilly’s driving, right?”

“Yeah that Reilly, she’s terrific.”

Bren nodded. “Can you make it back to the table with the drinks?”

“Oh yeah, sure sure. I’m fine. Feeling great. Hey, where did Candace go?”

“I think she’s back at the table now.”

At least Bren hoped so. She hadn’t missed the fact that Candace wasn’t too pleased to see Parker show up with Reilly, and Candace had gotten quite a few looks as she’d sashayed to the bathroom. At least two men and one woman had said something to make her laugh in passing. Candace on the prowl was always unpredictable.

“She’s really gorgeous, isn’t she?” Parker said.

“Yes, she is.”

Parker leaned over and kissed Bren gently. “But ya know, so are you.”

Laughing, Bren pressed her palms to Parker’s chest and held her at arm’s length. “And you, my friend, are a sweet talker. Go sit down now.”

“Oh, right. Right. That’s where I’m going.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The lights suddenly dimmed again, and for a few seconds, Bren couldn’t see anything. Then the music started and the spotlights lit up center stage. This time, the dancer was a tall, curvaceous redhead wearing white cowboy boots with tassels, a brown suede vest, a two-gun and holster set, and a white thong so narrow that from where Bren was standing it looked as if her sex was bare. She twirled her guns and bent over with her very shapely ass to the crowd. Then she dropped her head low enough to smile between her spread legs at the anonymous faces. Her red hair streaked down toward the floor like flames. Licking her lips, she dragged one of the gun barrels up her thigh and rubbed it back and forth over her labia. The light glinted off the barrel as if it were wet.

For just an instant as the woman smiled up at her, Bren had an image of sliding that gleaming rod ever so slowly inside the redhead. The sudden tingling between her legs was both exciting and disturbing. She turned her back on the dancer and found the bartender a few feet away, regarding her contemplatively. She glanced the length of the bar and realized she was the only one not watching the show.

“Get you something?” he said in a deep rumble.

“I was wondering if you might have a message for me.”

He regarded her impassively.

“A note…” Bren almost didn’t finish the sentence, because the absurdity of the whole situation was almost more than she could discount. But he seemed to be waiting, so she went on, “for Melanie.”

“Would you be Melanie?”

Bren didn’t even hesitate, because it felt completely natural to say, “Yes. I am.”

Wordlessly, he turned his back and walked away.

The disappointment was greater than she had anticipated. Rationally, of course, she knew any other outcome was impossible. For a stranger to recognize just from reading her books the needs she had successfully hidden from everyone, even herself, was highly unlikely. And for someone to actually find her and lead her here? Impossible. She peered into the dark recesses of the room, hoping to discover someone watching her, waiting for her. But no one was. She was alone with her fantasies just as she always was.

Shaking off the familiar melancholy, she started back to her seat.

“Don’t forget this,” the bartender said.

Slowly, she turned around. He held out a small envelope, the kind usually attached to floral deliveries. Bren tried to see something in his face, but it was smooth as stone and just as unreadable. She took the envelope and sat down on the bar stool, swiveling so her back was to the bar and the bartender.

On the stage, the redhead had taken off her vest and was snapping the hammers of her revolvers on her nipples. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Bren examined the sealed envelope. There was nothing written on it. Sliding a fingernail underneath the flap, she carefully opened it, trying hard not to tear the flap or the paper. The small card held a single embossed black rose in one corner and words written in bold, black script. She couldn’t tell in the murky light, but it looked as if it had been written with a real pen. A fountain pen.

I want to dance for you. Jae.

Bren felt her sex pulse like a fist clenching, then springing open, and just as quickly, she was wet and fully aroused. She slipped the card back into the envelope and surveyed the room again. No one was paying any attention to her.

Who had written the note? Was it the redhead up on stage now? The blonde who’d masturbated on the pole? Or perhaps the brunette who had teased the female customer with her breasts. Bren tried to imagine one of them as her secret stranger, and she couldn’t. But then, she’d never seen a woman who came close to fulfilling her fantasy, which is why she’d started writing to begin with. She had acquired not only success, she’d found the satisfaction she couldn’t find anywhere else.

Why risk a perfect dream with imperfect reality?

“Is there any message?” the bartender asked from behind her.

Bren realized the music was climbing to a crescendo and the act would be over soon. Then the lights would come up and she would need to rejoin her friends. The friends she loved, and who loved her. Safety. Anonymity.

She spun around on the stool. “Tell her yes.”

“There’s Bren,” Liz said to Candace as the lights came up, pointing across the room.

“Well, at least one of us looks like she’s having a good time,” Candace muttered.

Liz, sandwiched between Candace on one side and Reilly on the other, watched Candace drum her fingers on the one small patch of table that wasn’t covered with glasses and beer bottles. Candace had been agitated ever since Parker sat down next to Reilly, on the end of the semicircle of chairs farthest from Candace. Liz hadn’t had much time to decipher Candace’s reaction because during the entire previous act, all she’d been able to think about was Reilly’s thigh pressed along the length of hers. She didn’t find the stripper onstage attractive, but she had to admit that sitting in the dark watching a woman fondle herself was unexpectedly exciting. It was far more distracting, however, to know that Reilly was watching the same thing. Liz couldn’t help but wonder if the striptease excited Reilly. Then, as soon as she thought it, she tried to discount the possibility. As ridiculous as it was, she didn’t want to think about Reilly being aroused by anyone. Though she supposed she should be more concerned about Parker, who had her head on Reilly’s shoulder at the moment, than about an anonymous stripper.

“Where did you disappear to?” Candace snapped, interrupting Liz’s internal debate, when Bren dropped into the remaining empty chair.

“I got caught at the bar when the lights went down. Some act,” Bren said.

“She had some nice moves.”

“I guess you told Parker we’d be here, huh?” Bren said.

“I might have mentioned it. I didn’t
invite
her.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I really like her.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Candace muttered.

Before Bren had a chance to reply, Parker leaned across Reilly’s lap and said loudly, “Hey Liz, can we switch seats? I’ve been talking to Reilly all night. I want to talk to Candace.”

“Sure,” Liz said, standing. As she squeezed between the table and Reilly, Reilly put both hands on Liz’s hips to guide her. Her touch was gentle, and Liz found the simple contact both reassuring and exciting. Reilly had a way of noticing her—where she was, what she was doing, what she needed—that made her feel cared for, and special.

Parker jumped up unsteadily and tried to pass Liz before Liz had cleared the table.

“Wait a minute,” Liz protested, laughing, “there’s not room enough for both of us in this space.”

“Oops, sorry.” Parker’s shoulder struck Liz’s chest, throwing Liz off-balance.

“Oh,” Liz exclaimed as she felt herself falling.

Reilly caught Liz around the waist and pulled her down into her lap, holding her firmly against her chest. “Okay?”

Automatically, Liz wrapped her arms around Reilly’s neck. With her mouth against Reilly’s cheek, she murmured, “Fine.”

Reilly tilted her head back, squinting in the dim light to study Liz’s face. “You sure?”