Just a Creep
HERE I AM AGAIN. IT’S Thursday and I’m back at the same table—it’s my table now. I’ve reserved it for the whole weekend. Lady Marmalade is just as crowded on a Thursday as it was on Saturday and I’m just as much as a fucking creeper as I was then. I’m not sure why I am here, alone, sneaking around. Maybe I like having this for just me. I mean, me and the hundred or so people here. I think I just like to think she’s dancing just for me, no one else I know has seen her like this yet.
I’m half-way through my first gin and tonic when the lights go down. There’s a ripple effect with the lights that make the stage look like water. Wicked Game starts playing and from behind a curtain I didn’t see, Betsy appears. She is in a two-piece, the bottoms an iridescent pearl, the top a complicated dark green with silky fringe. At first, it doesn’t seem like much at all, but when she starts to dance, undulating her body across the stage, the lights hit the hidden sparkles on the top and on her skin. Her tattoos again look like they’ve been enhanced, I want to ask her about it but that would give me away. Her hair is in a high braid on the top of her head and I’m reminded of the first day I met her. She’s wearing her stage make-up and a lot of sparkles so it’s hard to see her eyes. Again, she moves sensually around the stage, touching herself, touching my soul.
There’s a moment where I swear she looks right at me. This moment is also the one where she unties her top at her neck and shimmies as it rolls down to reveal her breasts. They are covered in more glitter or whatever to make them reflect the lights and enchant the audience. She dances for a few more bars of the song and is joined by another woman who also miraculously appears from behind a curtain. This woman immediately glides her hands around Betsy, sliding them up to cup her glittery tits. It’s super hot, but I’m not happy that someone other than me is touching her that intimately. In my head, I know it’s just an act and Betsy probably doesn’t see it as anything more than a performance. She and her partner begin to dance together and it’s gorgeous. The other woman has black hair and is wearing a similar costume, but her top is blue. They dance and touch each other and eventually Betsy removes her partner’s top. They roll apart until they are on either side of the stage when a third dancer suddenly appears from the curtain. She is unreasonably tall and very blonde. Her costume has a deep crimson top which she spends about 30 seconds unwinding from behind her neck until she is topless too. All three come together in the middle of the stage dancing and touching each other. It’s almost too much to look at. The music starts to wind down and Betsy slides to the floor on her knees, legs spread wide, she is still but because of the lights effects, it looks like she is still moving.
I’m not sure what happens with the other two because I only see my Bets. Her chest is moving with her breath, a bit heavy from her exertions. The shimmer of her breasts moving with the lights and her breaths are mesmerizing. I want to lie and tell you I was gazing into her eyes, but I wasn’t. I’m team glitter tits all the way.
There are a few more acts after that and I have another drink. When the tango couple comes out, I know Betsy is on next and I do something you’ll think is weird. I leave. I get in a cab and have it take me home.
When I get there, Jack is in the living room watching a movie with a pretty girl. This must be the girl from his class because I see her crutch leaning against the coffee table. He introduces me and I find out she’s the Kel he was visiting the other night. I raise my eyebrows at him and he gives me a warning look. My hands go up, I say my goodnights and head to my room.
I undress and get into my bed, feeling changed again. The vision of Betsy being caressed by other people conflicts me. Visually it was appealing but deep down I didn’t like it. Maybe I’m feeling a bit possessive, an unfamiliar feeling. My hands fold behind my head and I lay there, staring up, trying to process my feelings.
I must have fallen asleep, naked on top of my covers because I wake up in the dark, my head turning to my chair. Betsy is there, her hair down and loose around her shoulders. She is asleep, book in her lap, mouth open in her soft snore. I get up, slide some sweats on and lean down to pick her up. She startles as I lift her, my face buries into her hair. “Please tell me you put pants on,” she says, her voice raspy with sleep.
I chuckle, tightening my hold on her as I walk down the hall. “Why? So you’ll be disappointed?”
As I place her gently on her mattress, she sneaks a look and I don’t imagine the wistful look she gives my covered crotch. “Ha, you wish.”
“Betsy, I wish a lot of things,” I say as I kiss her forehead then look in her eyes.
“Thanks for putting me to bed, Joe.”
“Anytime.”
* * *
The next morning, I make a Black Jet run out of guilt, and because we are out of coffee. When I get back, Jack and Kel are sitting at the bar quietly arguing. Kel notices me first and nudges my brother.
“Hey, bro, please tell me one of those coffees is for me?”
“I’ve got a tray of four coffees and a full bag of pastries. Do you think it’s all for me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You can be selfish with caffeine and baked goods.”
I hand Kel a coffee and then empty the bag onto a plate and offer it to her. She takes a strawberry scone and smiles at me. “Thanks, Joe.”
“You’re welcome, Kel,” I say, returning her smile. Turning to my brother I shove a coffee at him and grab two danish, blueberry, his favorite, put them on a plate and walk away with it and the remaining coffees.
“Hey! You took my faves.” He looks like a sad little panda and I laugh and skip up the stairs and knock on Betsy’s door.
“Room service,” I call out in falsetto.
The door opens and I am rewarded with an already showered and ready Betsy. She is wearing a tight grass-green skirt and a slinky pink top. She looks like springtime and I want to roll around her garden. Her smile at my offering is wide and friendly. “You are my favorite person today Joe Davis.” She grabs the coffee and the danish, heads to my room and plops down on my chair. “This is officially my new favorite spot in all the land.”
I laugh and sit on the ottoman facing her. “Did you get a load of Jack and Kel down there?” I ask my thumb over my shoulder.
She nods. “Yes, I went down before my shower and he had her up against the fridge, tongue down her throat. I tiptoed out of there. Thank god you brought supplies.” She pops half of the danish in her mouth and takes a big swig of coffee.
“They were at a respectable distance both times I saw them, now I’m bummed I didn’t catch them,” I say fake pouting.
“Like last night when I got home from work and they were clearly getting busy in his room,” she says. “They were so loud I had to come into your room and read until they were done.”
“Oh boy, well I guess the ‘can I borrow you’ line worked.” We laugh and finish up our breakfast.
The kitchen is empty when we bring our dishes down and the “kids” are long gone. I throw the coffee cups in the trash as Betsy puts the remaining pastries in the fridge. When she closes it, I crowd her, my hands on either side of her head. “Is this how they were when you caught them?” I ask as she huffs out the breath she was holding.
“Just like this Joe,” she says, then angles her head, kisses my cheek and then ducks out from where I have her caged. I turn and lean my back against the cold metal watching her grab her things for work.
“See you later?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, face flushed. “You will.”