“I’m trying to think of something a little classier than, come here often?”
The deep throaty voice, coming from two barstools down, shook Heather from her stormy mood and pity driven, dark hole of thoughts.
“I’m sorry?” she replied.
“Oh, I’m just trying to provoke a little conversation and I’m clearly out of practice,” the man let out a defeated laugh. “You look a little lost over there. What is that, number five?”
A crooked glance landed on her face as she tried to piece together what she was missing, “Number…five?”
“Drink. Drink number five? Wow, I really am out of practice. Clay Walker, town pediatrician, and terrible flirt.” He tossed her a wink, and half assed grin, clearly in a funk of his own.
“Nice to meet you, Doc, Heather Reed,” she extended her hand for a friendly shake, “washed up dancer and town…town…”
Her words trailed off as the thought of who she was, or was not, bounced around her head, deepening her sense of woe. Stirring her drink with the long green olive spear garnishing it, a little chuckle escaped her.
“Just Heather, I guess. This isn’t even my town.”
“Well, just Heather, that sounds serious. Tell me, where is your town?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“That, my new friend, is a loaded question. I’m from all over, really. Home was New York, but…not anymore.” She tipped out her toned tan left leg in his direction and pointed to the back of the lower half, where there was an angry scar. “Career ending injury. Or that’s what the headline was.”
“Headline? Career ending? Wow, am I in the presence of greatness?” he joked.
“Ha! I never quite got there.” Her stare moved from the swirling green olives to the handsome doctor beside her. “Got my big break on Broadway. Moved to the Big Apple, and I was on everyone in the industry’s radar…dream come true. Then the male lead let me down too hard from a twirling lift and shattered my ankle, and several bones in my foot.”
“Oh wow. I’m really sorry. I don’t even know what to say.” As a doctor, he understood more than most what that kind of injury could mean for someone like her - a lifetime of physical pain from shattered bones, and emotional pain from shattered dreams.
“Yeah, well…” She let her words trail. “What’s your story, Doc? I haven’t been counting but I’m guessing you had about a drink, or two, head start on me.”
A mega-watt smile crossed his face and his night looked a little less bleak at her comment. If she knew he had a head start, it was because she knew he was there first, which meant she noticed him when she walked in. That also must have meant that she chose to sit nearby, given her close proximity, and the ample empty barstools to choose from. Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be a total bust after all.
“Blind date,” he said.
“Blind date?” Heather looked around, trying to identify the date she had clearly missed, and hadn’t noticed once in the hour or so she had been there. The only other person sitting at the bar was the older gentleman to Clay’s left, who was currently eyeballing her.
She pulled her hand to her chest in surprise, jaw dropping, and eyes wide, she said, “Oh! Oh, I am so sorry.” She leaned forward a bit to address the older man, who still had rummy eyes on her. Waving a hand between herself and the two men, she said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m so sorry. I misread…well, didn’t think…gah! I’m sorry to have interrupted your date.”
Temporary confusion, quickly followed by a humorous look of shock and then amusement hit the good doctor. She thought he was there with the older man. Temptation to run with it tickled his senses as a cocky smirk lead the way in his half buzzed attempt at revealing some sort of sense of humor. “Oh him?” he thumbed in the man’s direction. “Not much of a date. I’ve been paying for my own drinks all night.”
The old man tossed a disgusted look at the Doc before getting off his stool and saying, “Not my type, bud, but this ought to cover it.” He tossed a few bills on the bar and quickly left, mumbling under his breath while shaking his head.
“Oh my God. I am so sorry. I just ruined your date…I…”
He let out a robust laugh, the kind that came with tear filled eyes, and left you gasping for breath, the kind that you couldn’t help but laugh at too. “No…don’t be. He was a little too salty, and not my date.”
Her slightly inebriated mind stalled at the laughing admission, not sure she was interpreting correctly, she said, “Wait, what?! He’s not…wait…what?!”
“My date didn’t show. She is one of my nurse’s, sisters, neighbors, cousins, uncles, gardeners, daughter type of set up. You know, the kind that don’t…show up,” he finished with a sarcastic grin and a huff under his breath.
“Oh. I see. I’m sorry.” She dropped her head, feeling a little guilty that she was actually happy that the Doc’s date didn’t show because that meant he was fair game…not that she was looking for anything serious – ever again. “Wait…you let me think… Well, well, well, the Doc’s a smart ass – interesting!”
“I’m sorry. The look on your face, the nosey old man, five or six drinks…it seemed funny in the moment. I feel a little redeemed after that failed pick-up line I dropped a few minutes ago.”
“So it was a pick-up line.” A statement, not a question, she liked where this was going. Clay Walker was the hottest kid doctor she had ever met. Dark hair, steely gray eyes, and what appeared to be a pretty fit physique by the way that taut t-shirt was hugging his body. Unless the moms in this small town were blind, she’d have to guess business was booming for the good doctor – and none of the kids were really sick.
“Well, it was just chit chat, at first. It’s not like me to hit on a really pretty girl at a bar – or old guys, but you already know that.” The wink he finished with gave her a cheap thrill that danced its way through her like a flock of horny butterflies in her belly. Oh yeah. Doc Walker was flirting – he had been wrong before – he was really good at it.
“I see. Well, Clay Walker, where do you pick up the pretty girls in this town? I’ll make sure to stop in there instead.” Clearly, the alcohol was talking, and shocking the shit out of Heather because she had never been so forward in her life. Maybe this was the new her, where and what she was destined to be now that her dancing career was over – a bar hopping floozy.
“From where I’m sitting, it appears she just got to town…she’s right where she should be, just a few stools down.” His tone deepened with each word as his eyes darkened, pinning her with a look of seduction that drummed through her, striking her core with a bang.
“Oh really…” her response breathy, eyes heavy with drunken desire, “want to get out of here…Doc?” His smile could set panties on fire, and get him anything he wanted, and if Heather had it her way, he was about to get exactly that.
Clay Walker was contemplating his next move, desperately afraid of screwing it up. He was a good looking guy, never had to try too hard to get a woman’s attention, but was awkward as much as he was confident when it came to situations like this. Truth be told, he hadn’t picked up a girl in a bar before, or anywhere really, and wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say that didn’t make him seem too eager or come across like a horny teenager. If it were any other day, or any other girl, he would say thank you kindly and move on. But, there was just something about Heather Reed, and he wanted to figure out what it was…especially the part under that skirt.
“You’re staring at me, Clay Walker…is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Heather wasn’t sure what to think, between the booze and hum this man provoked, she felt cheap and desired all at the same time. She was okay with both, if the night ended the way she had hoped…she would hang her head in shame tomorrow. “I know a place…nearby.”
Tossing money on the counter, Clay quickly left his barstool, grabbed Heather’s hand, dragging her toward the door while tossing a wave and saying goodnight to the grinning bartender.
***
“It’s right up here,” Heather said, leading Clay down the dark sidewalk, “on the corner.”
“The dance studio?” he questioned. “Aren’t we going to get in trouble?”
She snickered at the concern in his voice, finding his fear of getting in trouble both charming and endearing. “It’s okay, I have keys. Sara is my sister.”
He stalled, pulling her back from her swift movement, where she nearly fell, “You’re Sara’s sister?” He knew Sara, well in fact, and wasn’t sure if this was a good idea anymore. How much did he need to share, how much should he share, and how much would feel like a cold shower on their near steamy night?
“Is that a problem? I mean that she’s my sister?”
“Uh, no. No, not at all. I mean I’m the town pediatrician, so I know most of the mom’s in town, it’s just…”
“If this is weird for you we can totally cancel. I’m not one to kiss and tell, hell, I’m not one to something like…this! My point is, it’s not like my nephew Cooper will know his doctor is kissing his aunt or anything.”
Kissing. Somehow the trance she had him in was reinstated with a single word. What he wouldn’t give to kiss her full red lips right then and there, and anything else she was willing to share with him. His concern wasn’t that her sister, or nephew, would know about them. It was more about how much of his life he should share with her. Right now, he didn’t think it mattered, this was just a late night St. Helena hook up, or so he hoped. The details would sort themselves out later – if there even was a later.
“Lead the way, beautiful.”
With a smile, and urgency in her pace, Heather led them down the block to The Barre and Tap Dance School where she taught with her sister. It was closed, it was late, and it was dark. Totally private – just what she wanted.
With a quick look around, taking in the empty streets and closed shops, she was reminded of the benefits of a small town…the sun goes down, and the people go home. Letting them in, she guided Clay through the dimly lit waiting area, main dance studio, to the room in the far back where the only light was compliments of the moon and many skylights across the high ceiling.
“Are those…uh, poles? For um…stripper like…pole…things?” Clay cleared his throat a half a dozen times as he took in the rooms contents. It was sprinkled with shiny brass, or maybe it was silver – it was dark – poles staggered throughout the space, every so many feet. Something about those shiny poles, and the way Heather was swinging from one, had a more personal pole aching to be used.
“Well…if that’s your thing then yes…they can be used for stripping. We use them to teach.”
His voice went high in excitement, and he nearly choked on his own words, “You teach stripping?”
“Not exactly,” she laughed. “It’s more of a fitness and movement class, clothes required, but yes, I teach the women to…work the pole.” Her last words were slow, loaded with heat and innuendo.
She kicked off her shoes, and began to move more purposefully on the pole she had been gripping. With her head tossed back, long blonde hair dangling behind her, and feet against the base of the pole, she began to spin, slowly. As her pace quickened, her feet left the ground, her body firmly against the pole.
Her legs split in a V, her short flowy skirt revealing her perfectly tone thighs and a glimpse of her ass with each turn. Coming to a near stop, she pulled herself higher on the pole before wrapping her legs around it in a tight crisscross way when she let go with her hands…how she was spinning again was anyone’s guess, but Clay wasn’t complaining.
Her skirt nearly around her waist, shirt rising, revealing a taught, sculpted stomach. Her hands traveled up her body, eventually wrapping themselves around the pole, her legs parting in that same perfect split, this time leaving little to the imagination, before she flipped backward, feet landing on the ground.
She continued her dance with seductive purpose, eyeing the good doctor as she did, tempting him with the rhythmic sway of her body, teasing him with her sultry stare. In the back of her mind was a tiny voice screaming, what the hell are you doing, while a bolder voice chanted, taking what I want. Clay Walker was the good guy type, and from the look he was returning, he was having the same struggle with his conscience – do I or don’t I. God, she hoped it was do.
In a completely uninhibited way, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms, and kissed her.
Do...