ALEXA

Damon’s jacket is way too big and probably more enjoyably cozy than a stranger’s coat should be. There is a worrisome churning inside my stomach and I know it has everything to do with the jacket’s owner. What was I thinking?

I wasn’t, I guess. He has all the trademarks of my usual mistakes. Did I think because he had a partial safety reference from Sam that it’d be okay to throw myself at him? I don’t need those relationships anymore. I know better than this! Psychologically well-acquainted with my track record, I know how to recognize and avoid my classic errors, but this? It’s as if I haven’t moved on at all.

Admittedly, my instant attraction to him was a definite warning sign, but somehow, without intending to, I ended up in his arms. And I definitely didn’t expect that to feel so... right. He was different. He held me like I was precious, and my body went crazy with tingles all over.

And that kiss. The buzz from that kiss traveled all the way to my toes and back, making me want so much more. That man made me forget everything else in the world. I would happily have spent the rest of my life in those arms and that scares the hell out of me.

I see a good looking guy that’s built for fighting, and I automatically need him to want me so that he will feel obliged to protect me. It’s a vicious cycle that I’m trying to break out of, but instincts are hard to ignore. Especially when they’re coupled with the wild sparks that were flying between us.

Today I basically threw myself at a stranger and felt something so strong, that I wanted to see him again just to check I wasn’t dreaming. After dance class, his car was gone and I considered going into Jake’s gym to ask about him. I didn’t though, thank goodness. It was a terrible idea. Damon feels like relationship material and I’m definitely not falling into that trap again. Even if Damon does come with Sam’s stamp of approval - which is incredibly rare, he’s a complete unknown. For all I know, he could just turn into the next guy I need to be protected from, even if he does seem very nice and gave up his jacket to keep me warm.

This disturbingly pleasant jacket.

It smells of a men’s cologne that I am unfamiliar with, but now know to be my favorite. Masculine, but subtle, it embraces me comfortably without making me feel overwhelmed. Kind of like he did. Pulling the soft fabric closer around myself, I walk home from the bus stop.

The apartment I share with ten others - nine, now that Violet has moved out, I remind myself - is above the strip club where we all work. Beyond the Horny Buffalo is not a regular strip club though. It’s a nurturing place for troubled young men and women to openly explore and work through our sexual issues in a safe look-but-don’t-touch environment. Nina Pryzbylewski (or Prez, to her friends), offers free room and board, and work on or off the stage if you want it, to help support us through what no other community program seems to do: steering our sex lives back into the healthy lane.

Several of my roommates are survivors of abuse, like me. Others have suffered damage to their sexual confidence from body-altering accidents, or choices they’ve made in the past, social anxieties, or even the body image misconceptions they’ve received from unhelpful family members. At Beyond, we are a family. A strong one. We support each other to work through our histories, in order to move into the future with hope, rather than fear or shame.

I’m still a work in progress.

Inside the club’s front doors, I step to the right and punch in the code on the door to the stairwell that leads up to our apartment. Trotting upstairs, I breathe a sigh of relief to be home. The whole place smells of freshly baked cookies and I can hear the clanging of trays in the kitchen. I smile in greeting at Kat as she bends to the oven and switches a tray of hot, golden discs with one of beige, dough-y blobs.

“I love it when it’s your turn to cook, Kat. The apartment always smells how country kitchens look like they’d smell in those happy family movies.”

Straightening, Kat flicks her auburn braid over her shoulder, adjusts the temperature, and does a double take in my direction before focusing her full attention on me.

“Nice jacket,” she says with a smirk. “Got a nice story to go with it?”

“There’s a story, alright. How long do you have?” I ask nodding at the oven. “Because I’d love some advice.”

Kat is the oldest of five kids, for whom she has been responsible since she was eighteen, and is still providing for, even though she no longer lives in the same town. She also happens to be a whiz at all things to do with hair, and works part-time in a salon downtown, and she is very good at listening.

“Nine more minutes. Enough time for me to put the kettle on while you go dump your dance bag. How was class?”

“I don’t remember. Good? I think.”

Laughing quietly, she shakes her head at me. “This is going to be a good story. Where will we talk?” she asks, getting out two mugs. “The living room is empty.”

“My room?” I ask with a squeak.

With a knowing smile, she waves me towards the other side of the big kitchen and the long corridor that leads to the bulk of our huge apartment’s bedrooms and bathrooms. “Sounds juicy. I’ll meet you there in... seven minutes.”

Flashing her a smile over my shoulder, I head to my bedroom - the first in the long hallway. Hanging my bag on its hook, I throw my sweaty gear into the hamper and straighten my room a bit to make things presentable for company. Kat arrives shortly after, with our herbal teas and a couple of still-warm cookies. Taking the goodies she’s offering, I shut the door behind us.

“Ooh, complete privacy,” she teases as her eyes travel the shelves. “Well, almost. They really don’t creep you out at all?” she asks of the many dolls standing guard along my walls.

“I like them. They watch over me. Seat?” I ask, gesturing to my cushion covered bed.

Kat makes herself comfortable and blows across the top of her tea as her eyes come to rest on me. “You’re still wearing the jacket.”

“It smells good,” I explain, holding the collar to my nose and breathing in. “Too good,” I admit with a sigh. “Kat I did something stupid.”

“Picked up someone else’s coat from coat check?” she asks, trying to make me smile as her eyes cast their worried gaze over me.

Shaking my head, I eat my cookie and try to think where to start. “I gave my puffer jacket to a friend that was cold. She sort of pointed me in the direction of someone she thought I might like and Kat, I did like him.”

“That sounds... good?”

I shake my head again. “I mean I really liked him. And I don’t even know him, which means I liked him for all the reasons I always like men. Except he felt... different.”

Frowning in apparent confusion, Kat sits up a bit more. “Hold on. Let me try to understand. You met a guy,” she says, waiting for my nod before she continues. “A guy who used to have a very nice jacket...” I nod again.

“A guy who you thought might be the same as all the other guys, but he was different. Different from... the bone-head, alpha guys that you let take you for a trophy when they beat up anyone who bothers you?”

Nodding again, I’m glad that Kat and I have already covered this material extensively.

“Isn’t that good?” she asks, her voice uncertain. “I mean, he sounds like a healthier option than what you used to choose.”

“I know, but I’m all confused. He made me feel safe, which is a huge warning sign, but there was something else, and I don’t know... It was as if he made me feel loved, or something, which is crazy, because I only met him for a few minutes. And I approached him like a groupie which is classic Lexi, not sound decision-making Lexi. I practically threw myself at him.”

“Did he catch you?” Kat asks with a smile.

“Yes!” I reply, knowing she’s only joking, but that she’s said it exactly right. “He caught me when I was falling and he didn’t let go, Kat. I thought about it all the way home. It should have felt completely weird and inappropriate that a complete stranger had his arms around me for what was seriously too much time to be considered ‘appropriate’, but it felt so right, I didn’t even notice the time ticking by. I wanted more.”

Kat pauses on her way to taking another sip of tea. “Did you get more?”

Sighing, I take a sip of my own peppermint tea. “I got him to kiss me.”

Kat chokes on her tea and reaches out to put her cup on my desk so she can cough in earnest. “And?” she asks, her eyes watering.

“And that man could kiss, Kat.”

Looking up to the ceiling, I release a wistful sigh. “I felt that kiss everywhere, not just my lips. In a good way. A great way. You know, most guys get rough too quick. They start off nice, but end up mashing their lips into yours, then barging on in. And they only kiss harder when they get more excited,” I add. “But Damon started off gentle, and right when I thought he was going to ruin it, he backed off again and kept his kiss so sweet and tender it made my insides ache.”

“His name is Damon?”

I nod. “And his kiss was so nice I forgot what day it was. I forgot where I was. Who I was,” I add sadly. “By the time I remembered, I was freaking myself out so much that I blew him off.”

“You what? He sounds amazing!”

“Too amazing! He went and got his jacket for me to wear, because he knew I’d given mine away. He said he’d like to see me again, but gave me all the power to pursue that, instead of telling me what I’d be doing. Then he thanked me for ‘brightening his day’. Who does that? How can you be an alpha male and relinquish your power enough to be so sweet?”

“Maybe he’s not an alpha,” Kat says with a shrug. “Maybe he just looked like one. Or maybe he’s a nice one - they do exist too, I believe. So, why did you blow him off?” she asks, leaning in. “I’m still not sure I understand. He looks good, smells good and kisses so well he makes you lose track of both time and space.”

“Well what do I do with that?” I ask, just as confused.

“Marry it?” she says, laughing.

“What? Ever since Scarlett and Bruno got engaged, you’ve all had marriage on the brain! I am a twenty-two year old stripper, struggling to pass my High School Equivalency while I balance helping the homeless and my dear, sick friend. I can barely manage casual sex, which I only enjoy on quite specific terms. I have a whole host of issues that no sane man would want to enter into, and I wouldn’t expect them too until I’ve at least mostly sorted it out myself. I’m a total catch - Kat, I know that’s what you’ll say. But I hate the word boyfriend, let alone what having one means to me. I’m not ready for anything with commitment or grown-up feelings.”

“And that’s what this Damon guy gives you? Grown-up feelings?” she asks with a cheeky grin and a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Definite adults-only rating there,” I confirm.

“Maybe he’d be interested in casual?” she suggests. “It seems a shame to waste his talents.”

Considering briefly, I shake my head. “Too confusing for me. I’m so confused when it comes to sex, I don’t even know where the line I crossed today was. He made me hot and my mouth watered for him, so I sucked his face.”

A shiver runs through me. Every time I think of his kiss, it blows my mind. I’ve never felt anything like that before and it scares the hell out of me.

“So you’ll just give the jacket back and be done with him?”

I shrug. “He said I could keep it. I think he said that because he thought I wouldn’t try to find him.”

“How would you find him if you wanted to?” Kat asks, nodding at the jacket I can’t seem to take off. “Anything in the pockets?”

I shake my head. “I’ve already searched every pocket.”

Kat perks up. “You did?”

“Out of curiosity, not to find a number,” I explain, watching her shoulders droop a little. “There was nothing in any of them, but he goes to the fighting gym down by Madame Jermaine’s. I could ask there if I wanted, but I’m scared of what I might do if I saw him again. Probably screw him till he’s happy then lie in the mud so he can walk all over me. That’s my usual method,” I say quietly, looking into my tea.

“I don’t know,” Kat says lightly. “I think you’ve become pretty good at taking care of yourself and keeping guys at a distance.”

“The problem is that I don’t think I could keep my distance from this one, Kat. Apparently I’m so weak-willed I can’t even take off his jacket.” Looking down at it, the thought angers me. Setting down my tea, I shrug out of it and toss it on the floor.

Kat leans over to pick it up, searching each pocket and then the tag inside the collar.

“It’s been easy to keep things distant with the last few guys, because they’ve been safety-approved by you guys and I’ve only thought about them as practice tools.”

Kat giggles a little at my phrasing and I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve had predictable endings, because there’s only so long they can stand to live by my rules, and I don’t want more than that. But what would I do with a guy that I feel like I need to have more of? Where do I draw the line then?”

Frowning, Kat scans the inner lining and smiles. “He gave you his number.”

Peering over her hand at the numbers clearly written in black permanent marker, I stare at the name above them. Damon S. S? Why is his jacket labeled like a kid who’s gone to camp? A camp that had enough Damons to warrant the need to distinguish himself with an S?

“So?” I ask, slumping back into the cushions. “I can’t see him, Kat. What if he’s perfect and then I scare him off with all my baggage?”

“What if baggage doesn’t scare him? What if he has baggage? What if he is perfect? What if he’s an ass?” she says weighing each idea in her palms and coming out even. “How will you know unless you call? What’s the worst that can happen? We’re all here to protect you now,” she says, gently nudging my knee with her elbow. “You can be brave if we’re all standing behind you. You could bring him around here and we can all assess his worthiness.”

“I don’t normally bring guys back here,” I say softly, looking up at my dolls.

“Well maybe don’t bring him in here,” Kat says as she glances up at the dolls too. “You want to size him up, not freak him out. Though if you do want to try to have a healthy relationship, it might include the guy knowing about your hobbies and interests,” she adds with a shrug. “If they don’t bother him, he might be a very special person.”

“They’re not that creepy!” I cry, pulling Charlotte - my oldest friend, into my arms and stroking her matted hair as she looks up at me with one friendly blue eye and one empty socket.

“They really are, Lex. And that new picture is the creepiest of all,” she says with a smile, so that I know she still likes me, even though I have a ‘creepy’ collection.

“Next to Charlotte, that picture is my favorite.”

“It’s a broken baby head!”

“Baby doll head; it’s not a real baby. And he’s hurting, look at him. He’s much better off in here with me than on some gallery wall where people just think he’s creepy,” I tease. “I love him. And you. Thanks for talking with me.”

“You going to call him?”

“Maybe.”

“Alexa.”

“Fine, I’ll call him. But only to tell him I’m too damaged to take it any further. That way he’ll understand that he is actually very, very, extremely tasty and his feelings won’t be hurt. And I won’t have to see his gorgeous face when I tell him, because I just know if I see him again I’ll rub myself all over him uncontrollably and ruin everything.”

Kat giggles. “Ooh you’ve got it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“Did you smell the jacket?” I ask, eying her as if she’s crazy. “It smells of serious trouble. Intoxication style.”

Kat lifts the jacket to her nose and smiles. “Whatever you’re smelling isn’t even registering a tingle on the old Katarina sniff-o-meter. I can barely smell anything. Except cookies. They’ll be cool enough to put in the tin now, so I’ll catch up with you later?” Pausing at the door, she studies me a moment. “My guess is, you’ll be on stage last tonight, Alexa Carrington. You’ve got sex vibes rising off you like there’s no tomorrow and none of us will be able to out-perform you. This Damon guy has got you all hot and twisted. Maybe you shouldn’t dismiss him so quickly. Think on it a while.”

Taking a deep breath, I try not to think about those sex vibes she’s talking about. I can feel them. Every time I think about Damon, or catch a whiff of his scent I feel them intensify. Nodding, I lean Charlotte back against my pillows and get out my math books. “Thanks Kat.”