Just Get Your Hands Off Her
THE EXPERIENCE IS SIMILAR TO all the others but also not. I watch the same opening sparkle tits sequence, the tango couple, Betsy’s solo and a few other routines. There’s an intermission a little bit after her solo so I go to the bathroom and order another drink. I text Jack and he tells me he’s staying at Kel’s again. I’m happy because it’s time, I need to face Betsy and put it all out there. I’m not 100% sure what all out there means but I have to let ‘er rip.
I take a big gulp of my drink when the music starts and almost choke on it when the curtain goes up and Betsy is about 10 feet off the ground, wound up in two long swaths of silky green fabric hanging from the ceiling. Her back is arched, one leg bent and her neck is long with her head all the way back. Her braid falls behind her, making her seem even longer. She unrolls herself to the floor and dances with the hanging fabric, hiding her body for the most part. I catch glimpses of her bare skin, colorful flashes in between the green. I’m loving everything about this until someone else slides down the hanging fabric from the ceiling. It’s the tango dude and he is wearing a sparkly, dark green, fucking tight speedo. I can tell it’s tight because I can also tell his religion from the outline of his monster dick.
Once he lands, his dance with Betsy begins. It’s a teasing dance between them, he’s trying to get to her and she’s giving him chase until he catches her. My fist tightens around my drink and I take a giant swig. I lean forward and watch as he finally catches her and picks her up by her upper thighs. It’s then that we all get a view of what Betsy is wearing. Her minuscule g-string matches his green speedo, her entire body is covered in a shimmery makeup and then that’s it. No shoes, no stockings, no top, just the tiny scrap of a g-string.
He changes the position as he raises her over his head, her shins on his shoulders, her arms wrap around the fabric so she is barely resting on him. Her legs go straight on either side of his head and he pulls her back so her crotch is so close to his face he could stick his tongue out and lick her. Oh fuck, he just stuck his tongue out and licked her! I mean, I’m sure he didn’t really, but now they are doing this elaborately beautiful simulated oral sex dance and my dick is rock hard but I’m also fuming. How could she do this with some dickwad she hardly knows? Maybe she does know him? That makes me even more livid.
I’m being a possessive and jealous asshole, I can see it but I can’t control the way I feel. During a quiet break in the music, Betsy swings forward and flips to her back. When she swings back, she wraps her legs round the dude’s neck and lets go, draping herself down the front of his body. He bites the inside of her tender thigh and I growl and stand. People are staring at me as I walk to the stairs and exit the theater. Thankfully I’ve paid for everything in cash as I ordered and I’m not stiffing my waiter. I barely think of this as I start walking.
I walk past Union Square and down to Jackson Square Park, where I sit on a long ledge. There aren’t many people out and about. It’s not that busy at night, a vast difference from the daily crowd. I get up and continue my walk to the Embarcadero. I’m finally somewhat cooled off by the time I get to the Ferry Building. I sit on a bench and think about what the fuck I’m doing. Why I had such a visceral reaction to Betsy dancing with a man. I can imagine I’d have a different reaction if they were merely dancing instead of the almost fucking they were doing.
Did she do this for me? If she did, was it to piss me off or turn me on? Maybe she just wanted a reaction. Of course, I gave her one and like a complete jackwagon I lost it and left. I feel so tired suddenly. I find the Lyft app on my phone and order a car that comes in like 30 seconds, thank god.
When I get home, I go through the motions of getting ready for bed. I sit on my chair in my boxers and attempt to wait up for her. Around midnight I wake up suddenly and check the house to see if she’s here. She’s not. I go back to my room and lay spread eagle on my bed and berate myself until I fall asleep. Before I drift off, I make a promise to myself to stop fucking around and talk honestly with Betsy.
* * *
She didn’t come home last night. Or if she did, she didn’t come to my room. Her door is slightly ajar and I try to peek in as I walk by but I don’t see anything. Jack is in the kitchen sitting at the island drinking coffee. I check the time and it’s only ten. Early for him, especially on a Sunday.
“Hey, I thought you were at Kel’s,” I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“I was, but then I wasn’t feeling well so I came home. Couldn’t sleep.” He rubs his eyes and I look at him, he does look a little pale.
“You sure it’s not all the knockin’ boots you’re doing?” I ask while gyrating my hips suggestively.
“Ugh, no, please stop doing that, it’s making it worse,” he says but has a small smile on his lips.
I stop and start taking things out to make french toast, his favorite. “I’ll make you some breakfast and that should help.”
He moans and takes a sip of coffee. When I’m almost finished making the french toast, Betsy comes in the front door. I inspect her outfit and she is in head to toe black. Back yoga pants and a tight black tank top. “Morning, Jack,” she says very obviously ignoring my fabulous presence.
“Morning, Bets, yoga?” he asks.
“Yep, had to stretch after a very rigorous performance last night,” she says and winks at him.
They high five and I want to throw something. “Nice. Joe just finished making french toast. It’s so good, like the legit only thing he makes well.”
I fake hurt, “How dare you?”
“Oh please, bro, I dare because I’ve had your lasagna, baked chicken and enchiladas,” he says and he’s right.
“Fair point,” I concede, then look to Betsy. “How many slices, Bets?”
“Two,” she says and that’s it. One syllable, no eye contact. We are back to this.
I serve up the food and we all eat. Betsy and Jack talk about her yoga class and how much she was stretching her chi or whatever. She asks him about Kel and they talk about her for a while. Jack mentions watching her sleep this morning before he left.
“Jack, that’s sweet. Just make sure you don’t become one of those creepy voyeurs,” she says and that’s it.
I stand up and my barstool falls behind me in a loud clatter. “I did not mean to do that,” I say and then take Betsy’s hand. “Come with me outside please.”
I drag her behind me, she’s making it hard on purpose but is keeping up. The sliding door opens easily and I close it behind us once outside. “I went to your show last night,” I say.
She stands in front of me arms folded. “I know. What I don’t know is why you were there and didn’t tell me.”
My hand rubs the back of my neck as I avoid looking her in the eye. “I’m not sure why, but I need to go on record that I’ve been to several of your shows.”
I see her flinch out of the corner of my vision and I look at her. She is staring at me eyes blinking. “Joe, I’ve invited you to come see me. It is or was an open invite. Why would you try to sneak around like a fucking weirdo?”
I shrug and she sighs.
“At first I thought you were going to surprise me and I was excited. Once I knew you were coming and not telling me, going out of your way to hide it, it hurt my feelings.”
I grab her upper arms and she looks at me. “I never want to hurt you, Betsy. My only explanation is at first, I thought I would go and surprise you. Then I went and I was forever changed, you changed me. It scares me a lot, and yet I couldn’t stay away. I look forward to every performance. Last night’s with that guy being the exception.”
She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re an idiot. You told me I was your friend, made a big deal out it actually. Friends don’t sneak around and hide shit from each other.”
“Please don’t be angry with me, Betsy. I promise I just wanted to have something for myself for a bit. I meant no harm.” I drop my hands and she rubs her arms.
“I am angry with you, but I’ll forgive you soon, I need to be away from you for a little, okay?”
As I nod my okay, Fucking Frank slides the door open and comes outside.
I introduce him to Betsy and he gives me a look that telegraphs him being a dick to me about this situation in a few minutes.
Betsy makes her escape and I take Frank’s teasing. He’s always been the king of the one-sided love affair. Now finds it endlessly amusing that I’m in a similar situation. Unfortunately, he is distracted by his own troubles with Mikey. I invite him to stay and we order a pizza and drink beer. Betsy joins us eventually and she and Frank get along. It’s annoying. After we finish pizza, we hang in the living room watching baseball and sipping our beers.
“I’m going to bed,” Jack says with a yawn around ten o’clock, early for him.
“You okay, Bearcub? You look a little pale,” Frank says. His mom called Jack, Bearcub when he was little because he was gangly and had long hair. The long hair was probably my fault because I didn’t know how to do stuff like take my kid brother to the barber.
“I’m good, just too much partying and sexy times and not enough sleep,” Jack answers and heads up to his room.
About fifteen minutes later, Frank passes out on the couch and Bets and I are sitting on the floor leaning against the love seat. She managed to wrestle Frank’s phone from him so he wouldn’t be pathetic and drunk text Mikey, who broke up with him today. I’m surprised but I’m sure they’ll work it out. I can’t imagine another person on the planet who could be more perfect for Frank than Mikey. I’m starting to feel the same about the woman sitting next to me.