章節 148: Chapter 4: Sunk Costs l
-- OCTOBER 2005, SENIOR YEAR --
She couldn't see us, not with the stage lights in her eyes and the darkness of the audience. But we could see her, and at virtually the same time Bert and I turned and gaped at each other. Between us, Kim glanced back and forth at each of us with raised eyebrows, although without the expression of utter shock.
Kady and Noelle were still out on their private dance, and Lynne was oblivious, her attention on the stage as she checked out the gorgeous brunette. But about thirty seconds later, Lynne turned to her boyfriend to ask his opinion of the dancer, only to find that he was huddled together with me and Kim. "What's going on?" she asked quietly.
Bert and I exchanged a look. "We know her," I replied.
Lynne smirked. "A past conquest of the infamous Big Ben?"
I shook my head seriously. "That's Sasha."
Lynne frowned. The name was semi-familiar. On more than one occasion, Bert and I had spoken of our project team, but Lynne didn't immediately recognize it.
Bert added, "She's our classmate and friend."
Only then did Lynne realize what was going on and her eyes went nearly as wide as ours. "I take it you didn't know she was a stripper?" she asked.
All three of us shook our heads. Lynne whistled in amazement.
On impulse, I reached forward and snagged one of the cards used to request a private session with a dancer. Scribbling Sasha's name at first, I rolled my eyes and crumpled the card up before shoving it into my pocket. Retrieving a second card, I instead wrote down "Emmanuelle".
Kim's eyebrows went up and Bert gave me a funny look. "You can't seriously be thinking about getting a lapdance from her," he said reproachfully.
I leveled him with a look and frowned. "I'm just going to TALK to her."
"You sure you want to do that? Maybe it's better if she doesn't find out we're here, and we can ask her in Berkeley some time."
"It's still early. What if she wanders by and recognizes one of us over the next hour or so? Better to have an excuse to get behind closed doors."
"We could leave now," Kim suggested quietly.
I shook my head, but nodded to Bert. "It's your twenty-first birthday, dude. You really want it to end now?"
My buddy scrunched up his face. "Well ... uh..."
Sighing, I raised my hand with the card, and Bert made no further protest. I think he was still looking forward to his own first lapdance. Moments later, a waitress snagged the card from behind me.
"The die is cast," I intoned quietly.
The curtained off room was larger than I would have thought, especially for downtown San Francisco where space was at a premium. But Nocturne was a little bit off the beaten path, so perhaps rent prices weren't so bad. It was bigger than Bliss, for example, with space for a plush vinyl couch in addition to a padded mattress for the more intense encounters.
Sasha dragged me by the hand straight to the couch and practically flung me into it, and then stood over me with an expression of shock and a little anger. Thrusting her hands at me for emphasis, she barked, "What the HELL are you DOING here?"
"Emmanuelle's" arrival at our table went about as you'd expect. A sultry exotic dancer gently rubbed my shoulder from behind as she spun around my chair, offering her best "come hither" look. Her face had transformed into the present expression of shock/anger immediately, although perhaps skewed a little more toward shock at the time as her eye level picked up and scanned across Kim and Bert as well.
But I was the one who had raised the card, at least according to the waitress who had fetched "Emmanuelle". And without a word, she'd taken me by the hand and done her level best to act normally as she led me back to the curtained private area. She even smiled at another waitress as we passed.
But the smile had dropped the instant we were behind closed doors ... er ... closed curtains. And even though I was pretty sure there was a closed-circuit camera above us somewhere, Sasha didn't seem to care about making this look good. She'd flung me into the couch, thrust her hands in my face, and barked her question about what the hell I was doing here.
"It's Bert's Birthday, remember?" I offered meekly. "We SAID we were going to a strip club. We even invited you to come."
"I didn't know you were coming to THIS ONE! I thought you'd end up at one of the glitzy, showy flesh-fests on Broadway!"
I blinked twice and shrugged, doing my best to remain calm. "Amber set this up for us. A couple of our friends are lesbians, and we asked her for low-key and less in-your-face."
Sasha buried her face in her hands and looked ready to cry. Turning around, she dropped onto the couch beside me, and on instinct, I wrapped an arm around her to give her a hug.
She didn't shy away from the contact. If anything, she pushed herself deeper against me while I stroked her back and tried to figure out what to say. Her occupation as a stripper had been a secret, of that I had no doubt. With that secret now revealed, I could only imagine what was going through her head. Shame? The job was considered a vice, after all. But if she was embarrassed in front of me, she wouldn't be letting me hug her, would she?
Or did she still feel shame at the secret being revealed, but feel okay about it being revealed to me? Was she more worried about what Bert and Kim might think, now that they knew as well?
Or was she so completely distraught in this moment that she couldn't handle the situation, period? Was she breaking down inside, feeling her world crashing around her so much that scarcely even realized who was holding her? Sasha had been going through a lot emotionally in the past couple of weeks or so. She'd broken up with her long-term boyfriend. She'd been ostracized by her original group of friends. And after spending more time with me and my clique in the aftermath, she now had to face the knowledge that WE now knew her secret occupation.
And I thought I'd had shitty weeks.
Not coming up with any words, I simply tried to hold her and reassure her with my very presence. Unfortunately, even that didn't last very long. See, there really WAS a closed-circuit camera in the room, and with my arm firmly wrapped around Sasha's scantily-clad body, I was committing a very big no-no.
A burly bouncer stepped in through the curtain and flipped on a light switch. The dim "seduction" illumination was quickly replaced with harsh white fluorescence, and as I blinked away the sudden brightness, I winced at the malevolent expression on his face.
"Tony, it's okay," Sasha said quickly, sniffling and raising a palm. "He's a friend."
"You don' look too 'appy," Tony drawled, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I'm alright. Really."
"Fine den. But ah'll be watchin'." Looking right at me, Tony pointed at the ceiling.
I nodded my understanding, and then he left, turning off the fluorescent lights as he went and returning us to the mood lighting.
The moment broken, Sasha seemed to be composing herself. Her makeup was thick, and her mascara had started to run. But she ran her hands over her scalp and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, she glanced over at me and said, "You should probably get back to the others."
"Are you really okay?"
She gave me a weak smile. "I'll be fine. I do this all the time."
I gave her an innocent look. "You give lapdances to college classmates all the time?"
She shot me a look and punched me in the chest before cracking a true smile. Then taking another deep breath, she shrugged and clarified, "I've got two more requests after you. But I gotta go fix my makeup first."
"You sure?"
"Just go. Enjoy your evening. And if you're still here in another hour, I've got another set on stage."
I couldn't help it. I glanced down at her tuxedo outfit, trying to recall just what she'd looked like with the jacket puddled on the stage and her big tits out for everyone to see. As shocked as I'd been at her identity, I hadn't really appreciated the view at the time. "I'll be here," I replied thickly.
Sasha's eyes popped, and she punched my chest again. "You just wanna see my tits again."
I blinked. "Am I gonna be charged for the time in this room here and not get my money's worth?"
Sasha rolled her eyes, and then turning her face away, she reached down and pulled her jacket open, proudly putting her naked breasts on display for me from only a foot away.
I'd been right: Sasha had D-cups, and glorious ones at that. They matched her olive complexion, and her nipples were a duskier rose. Like magnets, the perfect orbs drew my palms to them. But Sasha slapped my hands and closed up her jacket. "You really are a sexual creature," she sighed.
I shrugged. "Guilty as charged."
"Go back to the others. Enjoy your evening. We'll... talk ... about this on Monday. Fair enough?"
I nodded, and Sasha stood us up. She led me by the hand out of the room, and once outside the velvet curtain she pushed me away with the same hand. "Monday," she stated with finality.
I nodded, and she turned to head toward the back, no doubt to fix her makeup. Taking a deep breath myself, I turned and headed back for the table with my hands in my pockets.
That actually turned out better than I would have thought.
For a while, Sasha was all we could talk about at the table after I returned. Bert stated plainly that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look at her the same way now that he'd seen her naked. With an arched eyebrow, I calmly started rattling off, "Robin, Gwen, Dawn, DJ, the Tri-Delts--"
"Okay, okay. So maybe I can."
Now it was Lynne's turn to arch her eyebrows. "Just what HAVE you been up to?"
Bert jerked a thumb at me. "I hang around with him."
"Point taken." Lynne smirked.
That exchange seemed to break the tension, as did the return of Kady and Noelle. Kim pointed out that the girls had been gone for a lot longer than just one song, at which Noelle blushed pink and Kady grinned salaciously.
From then on, we were able to return to enjoying our evening. And Bert did get two private lapdances, for which Lynne was very sure to point out to the girls, "It's his 21st Birthday."
Neither dancer resembled anything like Lynne, the first being a rather chesty redhead and the second our dear waitress Angelica. Bert came back from the redhead with a shit-eating grin on his face and he returned from his session with Angelica three songs later with a rather more embarrassed expression, not to mention an obvious hickey on his neck.
Kady and Noelle also got two more lapdances, both of them while together. But Lynne wasn't interested, not unless some hunky Chippendale waltzed in. I'd always known that while she was open-minded about such things, her personal arousal meter was pretty close to guys-only.
I also hadn't planned on getting a lapdance, not feeling the need to hassle with no-hands limitations and the semi-prostitution aspect of the business exchange. But Kim didn't feel comfortable getting a lapdance by herself, although she'd shown a very strong attraction to a sultry Chinese girl named Sammi. After she refused our prodding to go ahead and fill out a card, I finally filled it out myself and then dragged Kim with me. In the end, she got the lapdance on the "bed" while I got to sit on the couch and watch. It was a win-win all around.
"Emmanuelle" did do her second set an hour after the first, and if I didn't know any better I'd say she was showing off for us. Bert actually started filling out a request card for her, but a glare from me and a questioning eyebrow from Lynne made him think twice about it. He probably only started doing it in the first place because he was three sheets to the wind by that point.
The big surprise came at the end of the evening when I tried to pick up the tab. The drinks alone would have cost a pretty penny, not to mention the "extra services" we'd accumulated. But to my utter astonishment, Angelica informed us, "The bill has already been taken care of."
"By whom?" I jerked my head around the table, trying to figure out which one of my friends had beaten me to the check. But all of them gave me a blank look.
Angelica flipped a page on her booklet. "Uh, a Miss Amber--"
"Motherfucker..." Kady swore with a smile, interrupting our waitress.
"Yes," Angelica continued. "She arranged a package party for you. Everything is covered, including tips."
"I shoulda got a few more lapdances," Bert drawled drunkenly.
I smirked to myself. I'd of course invited Amber to come, especially since Nocturne was HER recommendation, but she'd been on call tonight. I swore to myself to find some way to make it up to her, even if I was no longer allowed to do so in my usual manner.
All in all, Bert's strip club birthday party was a rousing success. I'd stopped drinking after the first Manhattan and was the designated driver, a good thing since Kady was even more drunk than Bert (no surprise). I got us all back to the girls' Stanford apartment complex in one piece, and had to clear my throat a couple of times to get Kady and Noelle to pull their tongues out of each other's mouth and fix their clothing in the third row. In the middle row, Bert was sound asleep on Lynne's shoulder, and I helped her get him into her apartment.
As for Kim and me, our original plan had been to drive back to Berkeley. But with the late hour, and since Lynne's roommate Ivonne had gone home for the weekend, Lynne invited us to crash in the second bedroom and Kim quickly accepted. After doing a minimal amount of freshening up, a visibly inebriated Kim took me by the hand into the bedroom and stripped down to her panties before directing me to do the same. She then pushed me onto the bed and crawled in after me, rubbing my bare chest and sticking her tongue down my throat for a little while.
My conscience complained for a little bit about taking advantage of a drunken Kim. But after seeing so much boobage and other body parts of sensual, naked females all night, Big Ben was thick and ready to go inside my boxers and I wasn't really in the mood to turn her down. I wouldn't have to. After a minute or two of kissing, Kim sighed and then turned around, spooning herself against my chest. She set her head down on the pillow and pulled my hand up to cup her bare right breast. And then with another contented sigh, she drifted off to sleep.
It had been a good night.
Sunday morning, Kim was back to her normal, hands-off self. She didn't show any signs of guilt over what we'd done the night before, but neither did she make any move to replicate her actions. We accepted Bert and Lynne's offer of breakfast, which grew into sort of a brunch thing when Kady and Noelle came down and even Amber stopped by on her way IN after pulling a night shift at the hospital.
I hugged Amber a big "thank you" for arranging the previous evening, along with a friendly slap on the ass for deceiving me about the bill. She smirked and quite deliberately groped my package before raising a finger and wagging it reproachfully in my face. She also kissed Bert's cheek for a belated happy birthday. And then she downed an egg-white omelet with some orange juice and went upstairs to get some sleep.
Kim drove back to Berkeley with me, her arms wrapped around my waist as I sped her Honda Fireblade across the Dumbarton Bridge and up 880. We took showers and both crashed for Sunday afternoon naps, albeit in our own bedrooms this time. And then we got some homework done sandwiched around dinner, for which Brooke and DJ returned to the house for the latest Project Ben creation.
After dinner, I found myself on the couch watching NFL highlights while the girls handled cleanup, only fair since I had done the cooking. I had thought about getting some schoolwork done before the next day (Sunday night IS a school night, after all), but since nothing was pressing and I was feeling lazy, I stayed right where I was.
I was zoned out enough that I didn't realize my head was being pulled backwards until after the movement had been completed, and I found myself forcibly staring at the ceiling with someone's hands gripping my temples, at least until DJ's face interposed itself between me and the wood beams above. I barely had time to register the upside-down smile on her face, or the particular twinkle in her eyes before her lips met mine. And then our mouths were suddenly open in the instinctive yet unfamiliar movements of the Spider-Man kiss.
The remote control fell limply from my hand as the gorgeous blonde managed to climb over the backrest without breaking our liplock, only rotating it. She wound up straddling my lap, her scoop neck of her top allowing my chin to be squashed in the bare breast tissue of her deep cleavage. And after sliding both hands down to cup my jaw, she looked down at me with an inviting smile.
"Football? Or me?"
I smirked up at her. "How about both?"
DJ arched an eyebrow inquisitively, and I gestured downward with only my irises. She got it a moment later, and that twinkle in her eye intensified. And the smoking hot coed slithered down my torso like she were made of liquid until she wound up kneeling before the couch, and her hands then moved in to unfasten my jeans.
I mused for a moment about just how lucky a damn sonovabitch I was to have such a breathtakingly beautiful young woman willing to do this sort of naughty thing at the drop of a hat. DJ had no security of a committed relationship. Thousands of guys on this campus would kill for the chance to trade places with me, and she damn well knew it. And yet she was here with me.
And while I watched the highlight of a tipped-ball interception, there went my cockhead into her mouth.
It was a shitty time for the doorbell to ring. But ring it did, and DJ pulled off my cock to frown at me, her expression mirroring my own. For a moment, we both waited to see if the visitor would just go away, but the bell rang again, and I realized that even if neither of us went to get it, Brooke or Kim eventually would and we'd still have to stop what we were doing.
So after groans from both me and DJ, I got up to see who had come to visit on a Sunday night. Flipping on the porch light, I checked the peephole and then stood up in surprise. Opening the door quickly, my frown turned into a smile as I said, "Sasha ... on a Sunday? This is a surprise."
"Hey Ben," she greeted me warmly, dressed in the clothes I was used to seeing her in: plain, unshapely, and generally the exact opposite of what I'd seen her wear at Nocturne. "I hope you're not busy or anything."
"No, no. Just hanging out," I replied immediately. A second later, DJ belied my words by coming up behind me and sliding both arms around my body, hugging me rather intimately as if to continue the frisky play we'd been engaged in up until a moment ago.
Sasha frowned, a wince forming on her face. "Uh ... I'm sorry. I should have called first. If this is a bad time, I can be going..."
"No, not at all," I replied immediately. Taking a step back and opening the door further, I gestured her inside before turning to DJ and saying, "Hey kiddo. Maybe later, huh?"
DJ pouted, giving me an angry look, but she nodded and released me to return to the living room. Sasha looked up at me with raised eyebrows, but then came inside and let me close the door behind her.
"What's up?" I asked quietly.
"I just wanted to talk ... about last night, of course." Sasha blushed. "I still owe you an explanation for ... all that. I was having dinner and realized I didn't want to put things off until Monday."
I shook my head. "You don't owe me anything. Your personal life is your personal life, and you certainly didn't have to come all the way here. I sort of figured you'd give me, Bert, and Kim the cliff notes version after class or something."
"No, I needed to come here. I needed to do this face-to-face, and I couldn't wait until tomorrow."
I blinked and nodded, then gestured down the hall. "Maybe we can go up to my bedroom? I'm not going to try anything; it's just private and semi-soundproofed."
"Sure." Sasha nodded and walked ahead of me, but when we got to the archway to the living room, we found that Kim had come out from the kitchen where she'd been cleaning up dinner, apparently curious to see who had come to to door. Sasha stopped and glanced back at me. "Oh, I didn't realize Kim would be here tonight."
"She stuck around for the weekend." I shrugged. "Might as well tell her everything, too."
I started gesturing for Kim to join us, and she waved shyly, but Sasha spun around to her with an apologetic expression. "Hi Kim. It's nice to see you again, but actually ... if you don't mind ... can I just talk to Ben alone?"
Kim measured Sasha with a glance and then nodded. "Of course." She waved us on.
Sasha went first, turning and going up the stairs. Behind her back, I popped my eyebrows at Kim. She gave me an "I-don't-know-either" look and gestured for me to go after Sasha. And I quickly did just that, hopping up each tread a little more quickly to catch up.
Having been to the house before, she knew the way to my bedroom, although she'd never actually been inside it. She paused just inside the door, looking around for a good long while, and as I stood behind her I similarly scanned the room while silently cursing myself for not tidying up at all. My room wasn't a MESS, but it certainly wasn't giving its best impression, and for some reason I wanted Sasha to have a good impression of me.
A moment later, she walked directly for the small sitting area my room had by the window. She went over and looked outside for a moment, taking in the view outside with the darkening sky as the street lamps were just beginning to turn on. I closed the door and followed after, and as I settled down onto one of the armchairs, she turned around with both arms crossed over her midsection. "I don't think I know where to start."
"Wherever you feel comfortable."
"It's kind of a long, complicated story."
I shrugged. "I've got the time, and I'm here to listen if you need to talk."
She sighed. "I do. Nobody knows this story. Well, ROD knows the story, as do most of our old friends. But nobody outside that group, and now that I'm no longer a part of them, I feel ... I feel..."
"Isolated?"
"Yeah."
"Left all alone?"
"Yeah."
"That's natural. It's a part of any break up, and something I'm unfortunately all too familiar with."
Sasha snorted. "You? Surrounded here by friends and family?"
"Well, perhaps. When Dawn left me, I was staring into this summer feeling quite alone. Bert and Kim were both gone. Gwen and Robin were Dawn's friends. And really, I didn't have any other true friends beyond them."
"Your sister is here. And DJ. And Bert and Kim came back."
I nodded. "I'm not trying to compete with you for loneliness. I just wanted to express that I can understand the feeling of being isolated."
"Right, right." She exhaled. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to jump all over you like that. I'm just ... unsettled right now."
I decided not to respond verbally, and instead let Sasha continue talking. She paused for another moment, and then as if noticing the second armchair for the first time, she went to it and sat down heavily. She fiddled with her thumbs at first, and then taking a deep breath, she looked up at me and said, "You're probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you alone."
"The thought did cross my mind."
"This isn't the kind of thing I want to make public knowledge – not just my day job ... well, evening job – but the whole back story as to how I ended up becoming a stripper. Bert and Kim are friends, but ... I just ... I ... Can I trust you? Can I trust that you won't spread this around?"
"Absolutely."
She nodded. "I know, of course. I just feel better hearing you say it. I'll have to tell them a little bit, of course. I can't pretend they didn't see me at the club, but they don't need to know the gory details, alright?"
"You don't have to share the gory details with me, either. I'm curious, of course, but you don't owe me any explanations."
"Maybe not, but I still want you to know."
I nodded, and Sasha collected herself again. Her significant hesitations to explain everything had my wild imagination conjuring up all kinds of sordid affairs in her past, something I was trying to keep it from doing. Sasha's background was a black hole of information, even after more than a year of being project teammates. But I didn't think it would help anybody for me to start speculating on what I didn't know. I had to be patient, be a good listener, and be the best friend I could be at a time like this. Less than two weeks ago she had been that friend for me, listening as I poured my heart out about the breakup with Dawn, and now it was my turn.
Sasha took one final deep breath, let out a long exhalation, and then grabbed each armrest with a hand, tightening her grip on the corners. "Okay, here goes," she began.
She was right. Compared to her, I knew NOTHING about isolation.
"Your first question would be the obvious one: How did I become a stripper?"
I made a face. "I'm not judging what you do for an occupation."
"I know that, but it's something about me you didn't know before and I already know you're curious. You were curious enough to put in a request card for me just to initiate a confrontation--"
"ConverSAtion," I corrected.
Sasha cracked a smile. "Whatever."
"Well, you DID tell me you were a waitress at a club downtown, usually working both weekend nights."
"That's true enough. I AM a waitress. The customers like having that social interaction with us before we go on stage. It lets them see us as more than sex objects, which then makes the sex object part that comes later all the more ... uh ... intimate."
I remembered the particular arousal I felt watching Angelica on stage, knowing she'd been our server that evening, and I had to agree. "I think you also said the last thing you wanted was for me and my friends to go have dinner there."
"Well THAT ship has sailed."
I smirked and nodded. And then without really meaning to, I let my eyes drop to her bosom-level, remembering how they'd looked when she flashed me from only a foot away.
"Ben, really?"
I jerked my gaze back up to her eyes, blushing sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Couldn't help it. You're usually so ... covered up."
"Like now?" She put her hands on her hips and thrust her chest forward, making her boobs dent out the bulky sweater she was wearing. Her torso was still relatively shapeless because of the sweater, but there was no obscuring the size of those dents.
"Why is that, anyway? With a body like yours, why do you hide it? Little makeup. Baggy clothes. You can already look around the campus and know that thousands of girls who don't have your physique are still dressing to impress while only wishing they had your curves."
"I'm on display enough, don't you think? Despite doing what I do, I'm not an attention-whore. Besides, I'm here to study, not to hook up. I've found that I can focus on my schoolwork better when I don't have guys walking up and hitting on me all the time. Plus, the last thing I want is for someone who's actually been to the club to recognize me while I'm here. As for all the flirting and sex stuff, that's what my boyfriend is for."
I nodded my understanding, but Sasha was giving that thousand-yard stare at the wall.
" ... WAS for..." she finished, as if only now remembering that she'd broken up with Rod."
I waited her out, letting her collect herself without any pressure.
Eventually she did, and taking a deep breath she focused once again on me. And in a subdued voice, she began, "So that brings us back to the original question: How did I become a stripper? Or maybe more importantly: Why?"
I gestured for her to continue.
She sighed. "The first reason is obvious: I need the money. And for whatever else you may say about stripping, the pay is huge. But then again, so is tuition here."
I blinked in surprise. "You're stripping to pay your way through college?"
She gave me a sideways smile. "Am I really such a cliché? I have no money of my own. And I don't have any family support. Oh, I've got a couple of academic scholarships, but almost every red cent I earn goes into paying for tuition and housing. This school isn't cheap, and working a full-time job would cut into my study time way too much. Working at the club has been the best way for me to make as much money as I could just on weekends."
My mouth gaped open. "Wow ... uh ... okay." I nodded my head slowly, digesting all that. If Sasha had stopped right there, I would have been fine. She needed a job to pay for school, and she'd found one that could do it for her. Not every penniless student had a body like hers to earn money the way she did, so she was literally working with what she had. I couldn't judge her for it.
"Do you remember when you bought me that backpack? The roller-one?"
"Of course."
"You have no idea what that meant to me at the time. You remember that I had a hip injury at the time?"
"Yes."
"Well as you might guess, I hurt it while on the job. Aerials ... as in rings suspended from the ceiling, not cartwheels. Not a lot of girls can do them. But that's not the point. See, I don't get health benefits or worker's comp or anything like that. I needed to rest or see a doctor to get it properly healed, but I quite literally couldn't afford to. If I'm not working, I'm not making money. But even so, I couldn't dance 100%, and some days the pain was just so much that I could barely waitress, let alone go on stage. Money was really tight, and I meant it when I said I couldn't pay you back."
"Never asked you to."
"And I know that. I appreciate it. I'm really not one to take charity. But back then ... I ... I really wasn't in a position to say 'no'."
I shrugged like it was no big deal.
Sasha sighed then, more than just a usual exhalation. Her look was mournful, really and truly sad in this moment. And all of a sudden, she was looking around my room as if seeing it for the first time once again. "Do you ... does your family... own this place?" she asked hesitantly.
I shook my head in the negative. "Long-term lease. The owner is a friend of Dawn's family. They give us a cut rate, less than what they could have been making off regular students, especially for a house this close to campus. In exchange, I pretty much do all the maintenance myself and we don't bother them with usual renter complaints."
"How much is the rent? Wait, nevermind. I didn't ask that," Sasha added quickly before looking chagrined. She bit her lip for a moment while staring at the floor, but then looked up at me and said, "Your family isn't really short on money, are they?"
It was more statement than question, and I blinked in surprise. "Uh, well ... I wouldn't say we're rich or anything. But my parents both have pretty good jobs. We're ... upper-middle class I'd say."
"We were too. Well ... used to be, anyway."
"Used to be?"
Sasha exhaled again, and then put her hands on her knees and used them to push herself up and off the armchair. She crossed to the window again, folding her arms across her chest and looking out. But even from here, I could tell her eyes weren't focused on anything outside the window.
"Growing up, I never knew exactly what my dad did for a living. What kid does, really? All I knew was that he wore a suit to work and drove a big black Mercedes to The City every day. We moved into a nice house next door to Rod's family, you know that part already. My mom was a stay-at-home. We were never rich but I never lacked for anything. We had enough to go on family vacations and buy Christmas presents without having to worry about paying the mortgage. And both my parents pushed me every day to be the best possible student I could be."
"Sounds great."
She glanced back at me, a wistful smile on her face. "It was. But then it all went away."
"Went away?"
Sasha's gaze was out the window again. "I still don't know all the details. I was only sixteen. Dad got locked up for racketeering or something. They froze all our assets and the bank foreclosed the house. Mom was fighting it for a few months, so we didn't get evicted right away. But she started doing drugs and about a week before we DID get evicted, she disappeared."
I blinked. "Disappeared?"
The first tear had shown up on Sasha's cheek. "I came home from school one day to find most of her clothes missing, along with all her jewelry, the TV, and the computer. There was a note next to the phone in her handwriting that just said, 'I'm sorry. I love you.' She was gone. That was that."
Sasha was quiet for a long time after that, except for the sounds of crying. She'd dropped her chin to her chest and hugged herself tightly. And without thinking about it, I got up off the chair and went behind her, first rubbing her shoulder gently before moving in closer and wrapping my arms around her waist just below her own crossed arms.
I didn't touch her except for that. The back of her head was against my chin, and I turned to present my cheek so she wouldn't feel the bony bump pressing against her. Acting only on instinct, I swayed the both of us gently for a minute or two before my brain caught up to what I was doing and I suddenly worried whether or not she was going to turn and punch me or something.
She didn't. Actually, after a while she pressed herself back against me. Her butt was just below my pelvis, but an erection was the absolute last thing that was going to happen to me right now. So obviously in pain, Sasha's crying increased until she was practically sobbing, and I started to wonder just how rarely she'd let herself revisit this part of her past.
Eventually, the sobbing stopped and with a few more sniffles, she composed herself. She stood up straighter, and I took that as my cue to release her and step back. She turned around and located the box of tissues I kept on the nightstand, and after wiping her eyes and blowing her nose she returned to her armchair and sat down. I followed her lead and sat down in my chair as well.
"You know," I began, once she seemed to have calmed down. "You don't have to tell me anything more."
"I do. I do." She nodded firmly. Then taking a deep breath, she looked at me through red-rimmed eyes and continued, "All this happened five years ago, during my Junior year. I was freaking out, with both parents gone and no one to turn to."
"Understandable."
Shaking her head and staring at some point behind my left shoulder, Sasha began talking quickly. "The first thing I thought about was my legal status. I had just turned 17, and was still a minor. The very LAST thing I wanted was to end up in some foster home and moved to some other city away from my school and from my friends. So I went to the police station myself and explained that my mom had disappeared and that my father was in jail. They were very nice to me there, and helped me get through all the paperwork. Basically, I wanted to be formally emancipated, but they wouldn't agree to do so unless I could prove financial self-sufficiency. Without a way to take care of myself or put a roof over my head, I would have had to go into the foster system."
"But you didn't."
She looked at me again and shook her head. "That's where the Vandenbergs came in. As our neighbors, they'd seen what had been going on at my house for a while. Their whole family had come out to the lawn when the cops showed up to arrest my dad, and Mr. Vandenberg had actually tried to defend my dad, not violently of course, but arguing with the arresting offers and demanding to see warrants and such. He's a lawyer, did I mention that?"
"No, but that's alright."
"Anyway, Mrs. Vandenberg was always coming by to check on me, and of course Rod was concerned. We weren't dating yet or anything, but we all knew he cared about me. When the police said that I needed proof I could take care of myself, my first thought was for the Vandenbergs. It's all very complicated with legal jargon, but the point is that they signed an agreement to take care of me until I turned 18."
"You became their ward."
"Essentially."
I chuckled and shook my head. "Adrienne. Did you ever meet Adrienne? No? Long story, but the upshot is that my family did the exact same thing with her."
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Small world." The faintest of smiles touched Sasha's face. "I'll have to ask you for that full story sometime."
"Sure thing."
"Anyway, I moved in with the Vandenbergs the day my house got repossessed. They have a three-bedroom, so me moving in forced Kit to move into Rod's room, something for which Rod REALLY wasn't happy. On the other hand, he was pretty thrilled that I would be living with them, and his mom told me that he'd never kept either himself or his room that clean ever before or since."
I managed a smile, thinking of how any 17-year-old boy would handle having the girl he loved move into the next room. It was easy to imagine. After all, I'd done it myself.
But then Sasha's smile faded. "It was right after that when I started dating Rod. All this went down right before finals, and it took everything I had to focus on those. Once school was out and we were into the summer, Rod wanted to spend all his time with me, both inside and outside of the house. I liked him well enough. And after a while, I thought, why NOT him? I'd never had a boyfriend before. And ... well ... you're going to think I'm terribly horrible for this..."
Her voice trailed off, but I didn't say anything. I figured I could guess what she was about to say next, but I didn't want to guess wrong.
I wasn't wrong. "I suppose I thought I 'owed' him, you know?" Sasha explained. "I had been completely abandoned by my family. I had no money at all, and every meal being put on my plate was being done so out of the kindness of the Vandenbergs' hearts. They wouldn't hear of me getting a side job just so I could pay them rent, and they considered me a part of their family when it came time to buy new clothes or do Christmas shopping or whatever. They were giving me SO much, and I felt ... well ... How could I NOT go out with him, you know?"
"Did Rod ever know how you felt?"
"I never said anything, but I think he always knew it. Certainly, he'd made his interest quite clear before everything went down, and I hadn't gone on a single date with him. Even..." Sasha bit her lip and scrutinized the floor while wringing her hands together. "Even giving him my virginity, right after our Senior year started; I figured that I owed it to him by then."
I winced.
Sasha sighed. "It's not that I didn't care about him. I liked sex with him. It made me feel protected, comforted. And I was happy I could please him. But I think he's always worried that if it wasn't for my parental situation, I would never have dated him in the first place. And I think it always made him paranoid that I'd leave him."
I bit down on my response and looked at the floor.
Sasha guessed it anyway. "I guess he was right."
When she stayed quiet for a long time again, I took a deep breath and said finally, "You said it yourself: to stay together through graduation would mean really and truly settling down with him. You weren't ready for that."
"I know. But I'm still a despicable person for what I did."
"What DID you do? Did you lie to him, tell him you loved him and wanted to be with him forever?"
What, like Dawn told you?
Shut up. Now's not the time.
Sasha shook her head. "No, no. If anything, I always told him we were young and had our whole lives ahead of us."
"Did you ever TELL him you only got together because you felt that you owed it to him?"
"No! And it really was more than that. There's a part of me that felt ... obligated. But I really did like him. He's one of the good guys, and I appreciated him for that. I really put in the effort to be a good girlfriend, and I never short-changed him in our relationship."
"So from everything you've told me, you made that boy very happy for more than four years. He always wanted you, and he finally got to be with you. Would it have been so much better for him to have never been with you? Do you think he would have preferred that instead?"
Sasha frowned. "Probably not."
"Then why are you feeling 'despicable'? You didn't do anything wrong. You just never felt the kind of love for him that he felt for you. That's sad, but it's not criminal."
"I KNOW. It's just ... After everything we'd been through ... After everything his family did for me..."
"You can't stay with someone for the rest of your life out of obligation to his family."
"I KNOW. It's just..." she groaned and buried her face in her hands. I gave her some space, and then eventually reached over and rubbed her knee reassuringly.
She eventually sighed and dropped a hand on top of mine, rubbing with me. Then she finally dropped the other hand and sat up straighter. With a wistful smile, she shook her head and said, "You know the crazy thing? With all this, and all my guilt, it was ROD'S idea to break up."
I jerked my head up. "Really?"
She nodded. "Oh, I'm sure he didn't really want to. In fact, he probably only brought it up as a ... a test ... or something, to get me to really commit to him. But one time, maybe a month before we actually broke up, right around the beginning of school, he said he really wanted to confront the nature of our relationship or something like that. He said he was tired of trying to force things, or of me forcing things, or something – I don't remember exactly. But he said that if I didn't really love him, then maybe we were better off splitting. He said he'd rather get it over with than drag things out if we weren't going to last forever."
I nodded my understanding.
Sasha started hugging herself again, as well as rocking back and forth a bit in her chair. I stayed where I was, letting her run through all the emotions and memories rolling around in her head. I sort of figured she would eventually calm down and resume her narrative where she'd left off.
She did, actually, but not in the way I would have expected. One minute, she was rocking herself for comfort, the next she stood up laughing and started pacing back and forth across the room with a silly grin on her face.
"What?" I finally asked when Sasha covered her mouth for the fourth time to cover a silent laugh. She'd kept trying to say something, only to find the laughter rising up again.
My question only made her start and stop twice more before she got the giggle fit under control. And a long sigh, she shook her head and finally remarked, "I STILL haven't told you how I became a stripper."
I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. The revelations about her family life and abandonment were groundbreaking enough.
"It's a simple enough story. I knew I couldn't stay with the Vandenbergs forever. I would be a legal adult when I turned 18, and the winter break of my Senior year I started waitressing. They still wouldn't let me pay rent, but I outright refused to let them pay for my college education. My first job was at a Chili's in San Bruno. Then I got a a gig at a high-end Italian place in South San Francisco. And it was a fellow waitress of mine who started working in one of the glitzy strip clubs downtown and invited me to join her. Just waitressing, mind you, not dancing. The pay was a helluva lot more, and once I got accepted to Cal I realized that I was going to need a lot more money than I was making at the Italian place. At the club, I put up with a lot of shit from guys who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves, but I was making a decent living. The problem was: I wasn't working enough hours, since I was still trying to finish my Senior year of High School. And Rod really didn't like the idea of me working in a strip club, period. Knowing other men were leering at me wearing those really brief waitress uniforms sparked his jealousy streak, something I think you've run across a time or two."
I nodded, remembering the threats from Sasha's meathead boyfriend. Well, maybe now I would have to re-think the "meathead" assessment.
"So, even waitressing in a strip club two/three nights a week, I calculated that I wasn't making enough money to pay for tuition, room, and board. In-state tuition really isn't so bad, but I didn't want to keep living with the Vandenbergs. Rod's mom thought I was crazy. In her opinion, I could freeload at their house forever, take the BART to school, and easily cover the ten grand or so I'd need just for classes and books. But I'm stubborn like that. Becoming their ward until I was eighteen was just a legal requirement to not get stuck in a foster home. I appreciated everything they'd done for me, and I still care a great deal for all of them, but deep down I'll always know I'm not really part of their family and I couldn't live with myself taking any more than I absolutely had to. Even though I turned eighteen before I graduated, I agreed to stay with them until I did. But then as soon as school was finished, I rented a room off a want ad and moved out."
"And you turned to stripping to cover your expenses."
"Just at Nocturne. The first time I went there I knew it was the kind of place for me. If it were anywhere else, I wouldn't have done it. Working amongst all the depravity of a booze and flesh bar kind of numbed me to the idea of taking my clothes off. Getting groped every night while delivering cocktails, it didn't seem like such a stretch to performing on stage. At least that was something I was used to."
"Ah, that's right. You've had formal dance training, haven't you?"
Sasha blushed. She was still pacing the room, and she now stopped and performed a graceful pirouette with one arm in the air, just like a ballerina. "My mom's influence. She was a dancer herself, and in the good times, she made sure I took lots of classes. Modern, jazz, ballroom ... even a little hip-hop." Her voice drifted off. "All that went away, of course."
I shrugged. "C'est la vie."
She was still staring at the spot of floor she'd finished at a moment before. "Still cried myself to sleep when I got home that first night, though. Took a really long, REALLY hot shower. I scrubbed myself for like an hour, till skin started flaking off. Couldn't shake the feeling of being... unclean. I wouldn't let Rod touch me for a week. That was probably the closest I came to giving up and moving back in with his family. But it was summer, and I didn't have any other jobs. I went back to work the next night, and the next, and the next, and I made quite a bit of money that summer."
"So you got used to it?"
"Used to what? The job?"
I winced, feeling bad for asking but too curious to not ask. "Used to taking your clothes off in front of paying strangers."
Sasha took on a thousand-yard stare for a moment. She was quiet, and I wasn't about to interrupt her. And after what felt like five minutes, she spoke without turning to look at me. "I suppose 'used to it' is the right phrase for that summer. At first, I hated it, I guess like some people hate their job and dread going to it every day. But I don't hate it anymore. There's a fine line between stripping and prostitution, but it's a line I firmly don't cross, and I take comfort in that. And oddly enough, to be perfectly honest, there's an element of the job I actually enjoy. It's empowering, to be able to manipulate a guy ... or even a girl ... with the way you move and the way you look. It's a performance, and if a girl doesn't get some kind of thrill out of doing it, she doesn't last long. I've seen other girls come and go, just not cut out for this kind of work. But it's been more than three years now, and I'm not just 'used to it' anymore. While it would be nice to have the financial security to do something else, by now I actually kinda like it."
She'd started staring out the window again, and I studied her for a long while, trying to reconcile the image I used to have of her with the woman I saw before me now. For the entire time I'd known her, Sasha had been a beautiful but low-key girl, not given to drawing attention to herself. When I thought of her, the image in my head was that of a demure, studious young brunette who downplayed her attractiveness in favor of establishing an academically-driven identity. To find that beneath the baggy sweaters was a sensuous exotic dancer who felt empowered by her ability to manipulate people was, quite frankly, mind-blowing.
Not to mention ... a little exciting...
Sitting back down, Sasha interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms out in front of her before separating her hands and stretching them to the sides, unintentionally thrusting forward her bosom again. She paid me no mind, though, as she sagged against the backrest and propped her face on one hand with the elbow planted on the armrest.
"Hasn't all been smooth sailing, though," she continued. "Had to change apartments a couple of times, lost the security deposit once. Then there was the hit and run that wiped out my car when I didn't have collision insurance. And of course, Rod and his family were always trying to get me to move back in, which only made me even more firm in my resolve to be independent. I think it's because I always knew he and I would break up eventually. Staying together forever was never a part of my long-term plan; I always knew I didn't really love him. And if I HAD stayed with them any longer than graduation, how could I have broken up with him? How much MORE would I have owed them? Even now, I keep promising myself I'll pay them back for rent and everything else they gave me. I even recorded the receipts for the clothes and other stuff they bought me."
I popped my eyebrows at that. She'd called herself stubborn, but I knew that when this girl put her mind to something, she really was driven.
"And now, this is all that's left."
I hadn't been looking directly at her, my mind drifting over everything she was telling me. But I drew my eyes to her now and found that she was holding up the front of a delicate gold necklace that had been hidden beneath her sweater, although now that I thought about it, I'd caught a glimpse of it at the back of her neck every now and again when her hair wasn't in the way. And I couldn't help but wonder what Dawn was doing with that bracelet right about now.
"It's nothing fancy, just a simple thing Rod bought at JCPenney the first month we started dating. It's probably just plated, not real gold. But it was from him, and I always wore it for him." Picking her heels up onto the seat cushion, she examined the necklace more closely in both hands.
I let her scrutinize it, the symbol of their relationship and everything it used to be.
But that was over now, and as if she were on the same train of thought, Sasha dropped the front of it and reached behind her neck, feeling with her fingers for the clasp as she commented, "Probably about time I took it off."
She futzed with it for a few seconds, turning the entire necklace counterclockwise and then clockwise a bit. "Stupid clasp. It's a tiny little screw thing, not a normal hook. I can never just feel it out with my fingers. Always need to go to a mirror."
But I'd gotten up when she first showed trouble finding it, and I was already kneeling beside the chair when she mentioned the mirror. So rather than get up, she merely turned her head away from me and pulled her hair aside to give me a clear view.
Maybe there was some kind of symbolism in me being the one to take off the necklace her ex-boyfriend had given her. Maybe it really didn't mean a thing, and I was just doing a favor for a friend.
What the hell are you DOING, period?
I found the clasp easily enough, and within seconds I was unscrewing it. But the instant my fingers scraped across the back of her neck, she stiffened, and I felt the same electric zap skitter up my forearm as well. It was probably static, but even so the sensation started my heartbeat going a little faster. And despite doing my best to focus on the task at hand, I could feel my skin flushing with heat.
Moments later, the clasp was undone and the necklace went slack around Sasha's neck. She reached up and grasped the front of it, and I let go of both ends so that it slithered down across her shoulders and out of the way. I was still kneeling where I was when she turned around to face me, and since I hadn't backed away, our faces wound up only inches apart. In retrospect, I'm sure she leaned forward a bit as well, otherwise she would have been a good couple more inches further away, but there we were, so close together. And then her eyes flicked down to look right at my lips.
I leaned in. She leaned in. And we both puckered up.
But at the last moment, I stiffened and stayed right where I was. Sasha didn't close the gap any further, either, at least not until she'd turned her face and then moved in and pecked my cheek. I felt a shiver run down my spine with the touch of her lips, but then she was getting up off the chair and I was pushing myself to my feet as well using the armrest as leverage.
"So that's my story," she said off-hand without looking at me, pacing away a step or two.
"You were right: Long story," I replied lamely.
I don't exactly remember what was said after that. Sasha said something about needing to get back home since it was a school night. I said we'd see each other in class tomorrow, and that she should figure out what she'd want to say to Bert and Kim. Sasha tried to say her goodbyes right then, but the White Knight in me suddenly remembered that it was dark outside and the Berkeley BART station wasn't nearly as close to the house as I would have liked for safety. Sasha insisted that she'd be fine and knew how to take care of herself. I insisted that I drive her over, seeing as how I wasn't worried about finding a parking spot when I got back. My chivalry won out over her stubbornness, this time at least. And I drove her to the station with a minimum of small talk.
The girls were all in the living room when I got back, watching a movie. But my mind was still on Sasha and everything she'd told me tonight. And my mind was on Dawn, about whether or not I should be moving forward, and whether doing so meant had anything to do with this ... confusion ... I felt about Sasha. For example, why they hell did I just try to kiss her? AGAIN? Hadn't she made her feelings quite clear about hooking up with me?
Isn't she sending you some pretty mixed up signals?
I went past the girls without a word and then started my evening routine. I took a shower and changed into my pajama lounge pants, shirtless since it was a relatively warm evening. Sitting with my heels on the edge of the bed frame, I stared at my desk, wondering if I should distract my mind with academics or go downstairs to watch the rest of the movie rather than dwell on Sasha and her eye-opening back story, or dwell on Dawn and my remnant feelings for her, or dwell about Dawn versus Sasha or whether there was anything going ON with Sasha in the first place or ... ARGH!
Focus! Study or movie! Pick one!
But before I could decide one way or the other, my bedroom door opened.
DJ slipped inside and then closed the door behind her. She too had dressed for bed, which meant bra-less with one of my baggy T-shirts that ended just below her ass and pajama shorts that didn't extend much further. I merely looked up at her as she came straight to me and then hugged my head to her bosom, and despite everything that had happened tonight I felt blood re-direct itself to my crotch and make Big Ben begin to swell.
"Long night?" she asked quietly.
"Something like that."
"Would you like me to distract you?"
I only thought about it for a second. Then raising my head, I grabbed DJ around her waist and hauled her onto the bed with me.
"Hey there, stranger," Bert greeted me with a fist bump and then fell into step alongside me as we trudged up the hill. And today, I really mean TRUDGED. It was Tuesday morning, and seemingly overnight the temperature had dropped off a cliff. Summer had finally given way, and the real October had suddenly arrived with a vengeance. Strong winds whipped up cold air from the bay and blew it straight across the campus. The hills backstopping the University offered no protection, instead channeling the wind and causing it to move even faster to match air pressure. And despite all logic about the bay-fed wind blowing west, and therefore at our backs, I could've sworn the wind was pulling a U-turn three inches past my face just so it could blow straight into my eyes.
"Isn't it supposed to be the afternoon by now? As in ... warmer?" Bert complained as he tucked his hand back into the pocket of his jacket.
I glanced up at the gray sky, not an uncommon sight in Berkeley, and sighed. Really, it wasn't COLD, not like winter would be. But it was just so much cooler than yesterday, and the chill was biting its way through my windbreaker. And even more, less than 20 minutes ago I was still nestled beneath the warm blankets of my bed, made even warmer by the naked body heat of both myself and Miss Paige Jacobsen, who had dropped by for her weekly sperm injection.
I'd really rather be back in bed.
Within minutes, we arrived at Cheit and ducked inside the friendly confines of wind-free indoor hallways. There was quite the crowd of students making their way in both directions through the doors, and after stepping around the corner I turned back to make sure I hadn't lost my friend.
Bert was still with me, but coming through the door about ten feet and three people behind him was a familiar face.
Immediately, I waved. "Hey, Sasha!"
At the sound of my voice, she turned her head and spotted me, a broad smile spreading across her face. Though wearing a shapeless Cal Berkeley hoodie, I could still tell the brunette was quite beautiful as she sauntered over, spreading her arms in open invitation for a hug.
Hugs were pretty typical between us by now, but today she snuggled in just a bit deeper. It was different enough that I noticed, but before I could say anything she hummed and said, "Ooh, you're warm."
I had unbuttoned my jacket in the indoor hall's warmth, and I probably still had a good layer of heat trapped within my shirt. I patted her back and replied, "High metabolism. The girls DO love to snuggle with me in wintertime."
Sasha rolled her eyes at my comment, but then deliberately went back in for another hug. "You're so lucky. I didn't realize the wind would be so intense and didn't bring a jacket, and I get cold SO easily. These bulky sweaters aren't just for cover-up, you know. So thanks for letting me steal some heat."
"Anytime," I offered magnanimously.
She squeezed me tight for a few more seconds to soak up what additional warmth she could, and then finally released me and went over to hug Bert "hello" as well. He was a little stiff, the same way he'd been since yesterday afternoon when Sasha sat us all down in my living room during "team project" time and gave the short version of her "How I became a stripper" story, which mostly amounted to having no money and no family to depend on. It wasn't that Bert judged Sasha at all for the way she'd chosen to pay her way through college. It was that Bert really couldn't help but remember what Sasha had looked like on stage, which had shattered his previous perception of her, and he was still trying to re-calibrate his comfort level with her.
But he started to relax, and at last, she let go of him as well. And then nodding her head, she said, "Let's get to class."
The three of us finished Rutledge's UGBA 131 Corporate Finance class and then huddled inside the Cheit lobby just before going back outside and into the wind.
"So what's for dinner tonight, Master Chef?" Sasha asked while rubbing her hands together.
"Oh, uh..." I blinked and looked over at Bert, who shrugged helplessly at me. While it had become a common thing for Bert and Sasha to join Kim and me at the house after Isakova's Econ course on Mondays and Wednesday, especially since that was "project team" time, it was only in the last couple of weeks that they'd started to come by on the occasional Tuesday or Thursday as well, or even a Friday. Making a Project Ben dinner for them had never been a regular thing, and although we'd done it last Tuesday, there had been no set plan to do so again tonight. Indeed, I'd already told Kim as such, and she had already said she would spend the evening with her other friends.
Sasha stopped rubbing her hands and gave me a nervous look.
"Actually, Bert and I already made plans to go play ball right after class," I explained apologetically. "Tuesday nights I used to do motorcycle lessons with Kim, but I got my license so we figured it was a good day to get in some exercise."
"Oh. Okay, I see." Sasha's face fell. "Then ... I'll see you guys tomorrow?"
Bert and I both nodded, and Sasha sucked her hands inside her long sleeves before shoving the left one into the front pocket of her hoodie. She grabbed the handle of her roller backpack and pivoted to go outside, but just before she did, I quickly offered. "Hey, want to borrow my jacket?"
Sasha glanced over her shoulder but didn't turn around. "Thanks, but I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
She rolled her eyes. "You're sweet, but I know you've only got a T-shirt on under there."
"I can handle it."
"I'm sure you can, but I'm tougher than I look." With a last smile, Sasha turned and went through the door.
Bert suddenly punched my arm. "You're so sweet," he mocked in a sing-song voice.
I turned and hit him back.
Bert snorted. "You really ARE sweet on her, aren't you? Stirring that White Knight complex of yours, now that you know her background? Beautiful damsel in distress? 'Oh, noble sir! Please rescue me from my life of poverty, sin, and misery!'"
"Whatever, man."
"Hey dude. It's kinda cold outside. Can I borrow your jacket?"
This time I shoved Bert hard enough with one hand to knock him off balance as I shook my head and went through the doors. He just laughed and followed after.
"Right pick, right pick!"
The warning had come too late, and my head slammed into the hard, unyielding chest of Randy, a burly 6'4" big man, as Duy, the opposing small forward, crossed over and drove into the lane. Thankfully, while Bobby was late in warning me he was quick to come over on help defense and I looked back just as he rose into the air to challenge Duy's floater.
Duy's shot was off the mark and everyone scrambled for the rebound. Once my team corralled it, I hustled off down the court on the break, ignoring the ringing in my right ear. I had a step on the defense, with Duy well behind the play. Jimmy lofted an arcing pass toward me that unfortunately began spinning to my left. With my head turned to the right to track the ball, I started feeling off-balance as I leaned over to stay with it. In the end, I had to twist in the other direction and re-acquire the ball mid-air in order to catch it, and doing so carried me away from the basket and the expected easy layup.
"Ben! Ben! Ben!" I heard Bert chirping from behind me. Blindly, I palmed the ball in my right hand and flung it over my left shoulder toward the sound of Bert's voice. I turned around just in time to see him snag the pass with both hands, although he'd needed to take a step away to get it. Setting his jaw, Bert looked up at the rim and launched into the air, extending the ball up into the air for a quick two points. But just as the ball cleared his hand, Big Randy came flying out of nowhere and slapped the ball out of bounds.
"Unghhh..." I groaned in disappointment while Bert winced and shot me an apologetic look.
"Not your fault," Jimmy sighed, jogging up and patting Bert on the back. "Good hustle. My bad on the pass."
That last part was directed at me. I shrugged and moved over to the left wing, my hands on my knees as I waited for the ball to get checked in at the top of the key. Bert came alongside me and apologized, "Sorry. I should have gotten the layup up sooner."
"No worries. It's still our ball," I replied. Breathing heavily, I allowed myself a proud smile. Playing basketball again felt pretty good, and I wondered why I had let myself go so long without the game.
Well, I knew exactly why I hadn't been playing recently. Upon my return to campus under my newly single status, I had resolved to get myself into basketball once again. I'd even played one Sunday afternoon back in early September. But my days and nights for nearly two months had been very tightly scheduled since then, what with Project Ben and all. And playing the game had fallen on the priority list below things like Krav Maga, making dinner, and finishing my MBA application.
But not tonight. Bert and I had grabbed sushi on the go, enough to quiet our bellies without making us feel heavy or bloated right before playing. And for over an hour we hustled up and down the court shaking off rusty shooting and rediscovering the joy of simple athletic competition.
Well, at least I did. Bert? Let me just put it this way: The opposing team's strategy for defending Bert was "Let Bert shoot the ball". But at least he had fun. With practice and instruction, he'd get better. And I resolved to make the time for him (and me) to get that practice over the next few months.
There were other things I wanted to catch up on, and one of them was Kim. Although I'd had "the talk" with Kim about the nature of our relationship without the Master/sub thing and our insistence on remaining friends, I found that I really hadn't been spending much time with her lately. Oh, she was still part of the project team, and then of course there had been Project Ben. But as I'd proven my culinary skills, we'd been having fewer organized dinners for the four roommates of the house, with Brooke and DJ choosing to spend some of those evenings working out at the gym and Kim also spending some dinners with her biker friends. And since we no longer had the motorcycle Tuesday thing, I wanted to make sure I didn't lose touch with her completely.
So on Wednesday during lunch, I specifically invited Kim to stay and hang out with Bert and me playing Xbox, at least until our 2pm Strategic Planning class. Bemused, Kim agreed and walked back to the house with us instead of meeting up with her other friends.
"So what's it gonna be? A one-on-one fighter with Ben and me? Some kawaii-cute game? I think I've got a Harvest Moon in here somewhere. Ooh, I know. A motorcycle racer ... Hmm..." Kneeling next to the TV, Bert used his fingers to flip video game cases left and right on the shelf looking for just the right one.
"Pssht. You apparently don't know me very well," Kim drawled before darting a hand in and plucking out a case with Shaq in a deep red Miami Heat uniform on the cover. Smiling, she knelt down next to the Xbox and thumbed open the disc tray.
"Basketball?" Bert asked incredulously before remembering that Kim actually played. "Oh, right."
Kim and I shared a knowing look, and I smirked at the memory of playing ball in Kim's backyard with her brothers. "Maybe you should hit the gym with us the next time we go," I suggested. "Lull the boys into a false sense of security before you school them."
"Shake 'N Bake..." Bert chuckled as he snatched up a controller and backed up toward the couch. Kim and I did the same, and soon all three of us were side-by-side (by-side) in a row with our controllers in hand.
Just then, the front door opened behind us and I craned my neck around to see Brooke and DJ walk in with their backpacks slung over their shoulders.
"Surprised to see you two here," I remarked.
"Boy drama," Brooke sighed. "Don't ask."
"Hey, one of you want to join us?" Bert inquired as the game finished booting up. He held up a controller for emphasis. "We could use a fourth."
Brooke rolled her eyes and preened, showing off her manicured nails. "Do we LOOK like we spend a lot of time playing video games?" she drawled, unable to contain her grin.
Bert chuckled at her mocking tone and smirked. "Looks can be deceiving."
"I'll play!" DJ bubbled, dropping her backpack to the floor and coming over.
Bert was already focused on the TV, futzing with the game settings as he chose his team and arena. Kim smiled at the approaching girl before joining Bert's team, leaving me and DJ to team up.
"Do you know how to play?" I asked.
"Nope," the blonde shrugged, but threw me a pixie wink as she took the fourth controller and dropped herself sideways in my lap. "Mash buttons until the ball goes in the hoop, right?"
Bert leaned forward from the other side of the couch and grinned. "Exactly right."
I laughed. "Don't worry, it's easy and I can teach you."
"Or..." DJ drawled, leaning in close and whispering in my ear. "You can let Bert and Kim play the game, and then take me up to your room so we can play our own game instead."
Rolling my eyes, I glanced back as I slid DJ off my lap and onto the couch beside me. "Not now. It's game time."
"Bennn..." DJ whined.
But I shook my head firmly and gave her a look that said to drop it. As exciting as sex with DJ always was, I really did want to spend time with Bert and Kim.
She pouted, but returned her attention to the controller. Bert started up the game, and then we spent the next fifteen minutes or so duking it out NBA-style. DJ really did kind of button-mash, but she was starting to get the hang of it. And although we lost, DJ insisted on a rematch. "In just one minute though. I need to put my bag away and use the little girl's room."
We watched her go, and I sagged back into a lazy slouch, watching Bert futz around with the game settings. A moment later, I felt someone's gaze on me and turned to find Kim giving me a bemused smile. Arching an eyebrow at her, I asked, "What?"
"Sure you don't want to head upstairs?" she asked quietly through intense eyes. "Bert and I really won't mind."
I shook my head. "Class is in little more than an hour and this is our time to hang out."
"But you used to be so accommodating for your girls."
I shrugged. "I know what I want to do right now, and I'm doing it."
Kim grinned. "Just haven't seen you turn a girl down like that in a while, especially DJ. Actually, not sure I've ever seen you do that."
"You're not around after Rutledge's finance class," Bert commented without taking his eyes off the screen. "Casey McCahill and Carolyn Forge have spent two months trying to crawl into Ben's pants with no success. He shuts them down cold."
Kim giggled. "Good for you, Ben."
"No, NOT good," DJ pouted as she returned to the room. "I'm single and horny and I liked you better when you'd drop everything to service me."
I arched an eyebrow, giving DJ a skeptical look. "We still have plenty of fun. Besides, I think playing hard to get just makes you want me even more..."
She made to protest, but her pink blush gave her away and she slapped my shoulder before giggling. "Okay ... maybe..."
Shaking my head, I glanced back at her. "You know, I think I'm going to hold out on you for a day or two just to see how stir-crazy you get."
DJ jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."
"Can we PLAY already?" Bert groaned.
"I'm telling you, those player ratings are way out of whack. No way is Allen Iverson the best point guard in the NBA. No way," I grumbled as I hitched my messenger bag a little higher up my shoulder as we walked along the pathway.
"He certainly ran circles around your guy, John Nash," Bert laughed.
I popped an eyebrow. "It's Steve Nash. JOHN Nash was Russell Crowe, the mathematician in A Beautiful Mind."
"Whatever. Guy can't play defense, Steve OR John."
I rolled my eyes. "How the hell did you beat me if you don't even KNOW these players' names?"
Bert shrugged. "Names aren't important, ratings are. Well that and how fast you can twitch your thumbs. The players themselves are just a bunch of pixels and numbers to me."
"Maybe we've been playing this game a little too much the last few days," Kim commented. "You guys are taking the competitiveness about this a little too far."
"It's Monday!" Bert whined. "We didn't play at ALL the last two days."
"And I'll bet you spent all weekend researching new moves and strategies, huh?" Kim smirked at him.
"Whatever," Bert scoffed, although it was probably true. "Man, Ben. Now you've stuck this image in my head of Russell Crowe in frumpy Harvard professor garb trying to play basketball."
I couldn't help but smirk at that, but I kept my gaze straight forward. Cheit Hall was within sight, and there was someone else within sight.
"Hey! Sasha!" I called ahead, waving as my heartbeat sped up a bit.
The brunette on the path ahead of us turned around and waved back, stopping to wait for us.
"Haven't seen you around for a while," I said cordially as we approached. I started opening my arms for a hug, but Sasha had already spun the backpack around to be parked between us.
"Been busy. Crazy studying, and I, uh..." Sasha blushed and averted her gaze. "Well, I picked up weekday shifts the end of last week."
"Oh, okay," I replied lamely. I meant what I'd said about not having seen her around for a while. She'd skipped the team meeting after class Wednesday, and then not joined us for lunch or dinner on Thursday or Friday at all. The only time I'd seen her was for Thursday's finance class, and again she'd left immediately afterward. Of course, there had been no reason to meet up over the weekend either, and for some reason, I found that I'd ... missed her.
Shrugging, Sasha turned her gaze across Bert and Kim. "What's up?"
Bert grinned proudly and announced, "I just whupped Ben and Kim at Basketball."
"Seriously?" Sasha looked back and forth between us skeptically.
"Xbox," I explained.
"Ah."
"Hey, don't be hatin'," Bert cracked while leaning to his left and flashing his hands out, his right forming a Major 7th piano chord and his left the 'hang loose' sign, only pointing down. "I'z gots mad skillz on the real court, too."
Sasha cracked a smile, her first since we'd arrived. "I'll take your word for it."
"I've seen you play buddy, and you are getting better," I stated sagely. We'd gone to the gym together Thursday afternoon as well. "But I really think your 'mad skillz' are limited to gaming consoles."
"I am a digital samurai..." he intoned seriously, miming karate chops with his hands and exaggerating a wide-eyed kung fu stare.
Sasha laughed and then sighed, flashing me a look. "Well, Ben. I'm glad to see that you're managing to find some exercise the old-fashioned way."
I arched an eyebrow. "Old-fashioned way?"
She chuckled. "Well, OTHER than screwing every hot babe that crosses your path."
I stopped walking abruptly, forcing my three companions to stop a few steps ahead of me and turn around. I'd heard the barbs time and again, from Bert or Gwen or even my own little sister, often using the exact same vocabulary Sasha had just used. Whether from jealous guys or girls who wanted to BE that next hot babe getting the Big Ben experience, I'd heard it all before. So it wasn't the words that had stopped me. It was who had said them.
And it hurt.
I couldn't put my finger on exactly what I felt for Sasha, or had started to feel for her lately. I'd always had a physical attraction for her, but her initial stand-offishness had put me firmly on the defensive and I'd always been careful not to intrude into her personal space. But since the beginning of the year, she'd been much more open and comfortable around me, and in the last few weeks since her break up, we had certainly been on the path to becoming good friends. She'd confided a lot in me, from the details of her background to the circumstances of her relationship with Rod, and I had confided a lot as well. I liked her, and I wanted her to like ME. And to find out that what she REALLY thought about me was just ... I sighed ... It was disappointing.
With an arched eyebrow, I gave Sasha a steady look and quietly intoned, "Never thought I'd hear that tone out of you."
Instantly chagrined, Sasha winced. Ever since I'd known her, Sasha had probably been the ONLY person on campus to not comment on my rather salacious reputation. There were only three types of girls at Berkeley: those who'd slept with me, those who wanted to sleep with me, and (a much larger group) those who simply avoided me at all costs. For over a year, Sasha had been the lone exception to this categorization, treating me like a friend, classmate, and all-around human being as if the Sex God reputation didn't exist.
She was, of course, fully aware of the reputation's existence, but she didn't comment on my personal life, respecting my privacy the way she wanted others to respect hers. And even though we were quite comfortable around each other, my sex life was just something she never joked about.
Until now.
Why?
But as I stood there and stewed on that, she quickly stepped forward and touched my arm. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "That came out wrong."
"Hey, I do Krav Maga two nights a week and ballroom dance on a third. I get 'regular' exercise, and the LAST thing I've been doing all year is screwing every hot babe that crosses my path," I muttered defensively.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry."
Rubbing my temples, I sighed and shook my head. "No, no, it's fine," I brushed off her apology. "Nothing I haven't heard before. Nothing I should overreact over. C'mon, let's get to class."
"No, really. I didn't mean to imply--"
"It's fine," I cut her off. "I'm used to hearing it."
"Not from me." She blushed and averted her eyes. "I don't want you to think that I ... I mean ... Not that there's anything wrong with you ... Uh ... It's not that I'd get jealous if you ... Ah ... There's nothing between you and me and you're fully within your rights to ... I mean ... What am I saying? I just meant that your personal life is just that: personal. And I have no right to judge what you do, especially since lately you haven't been ... I mean ... And of course what I ... Ah, SHIT."
Bert started chuckling. Kim clicked her eyes back and forth between us.
Sasha composed herself, taking a deep breath and giving me a frank look. "I'm sorry," she stated plainly.
I shrugged. "Nothing to apologize for."
"There is, for me."
"Fine then. Apology accepted."
She gave me a tight, embarrassed smile. I smiled. Bert waded in, wrapping an arm around each of our shoulders and drawing us all together. "There, there. Now kiss and make up."
I rolled my eyes and Sasha slapped Bert's arm. He let go of us and grinned. "Man, class is going to be extra-boring after that."
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