Chapter 7
Rebeckha
The beginning of a relationship has a steep learning curve sometimes. You have to figure out the other person’s schedule, how to mix your schedule with theirs, along with the on-going deciphering of what they like and what they don’t like. Then there’s the whole shit ton of mind-blowing sex!
I found out that he does not like pineapple on his pizza. He rather detests it, actually. It’s something that I will have to get used to, as I love my pineapple and my pizza to be together and get along. When he eats, he closes his eyes and hums in appreciation. When he wakes up in the morning, he can’t just spring out of bed; he has to wait until he is more awake to make any movements, which just puzzles me. When he eats junk food, which is one of the basic food groups of my diet, he seems to work out a little longer, probably to work off that extra french fry or something.
Even though I told him I wasn’t keen on knowing about his dancing, I realize that it’s a large part of his life and have basically thrown that rule out the door without really mentioning it. I held onto it for a day, but I’ve slowly been asking more and more about the job. He’s been patient and willing to answer every question that I throw his way, which has alleviated any negative feelings that I would have, since he’s so open.
I still am not completely comfortable with it, and would rather pretend he didn’t strip down to a G-string several nights a week for other women, but I can tell that when he talks about it, he loves what he does. I’ve now met two of the guys he works with and they are like brothers to him. For these reasons and more, it would be unforgivable of me to block out a part of what makes him who he is, just because I don’t want to hear about it.
I’ve seen him dance, and I do have to say there’s more to it than just taking off your clothes. The amount of work that he puts into rehearsing, working out, and eating right is just insane for anyone. He can do things with his body that I wouldn’t even say that I could do just to sound cool. He’s flexible and strong, controlled and even graceful. He can do acrobatics like he belongs in a circus, flipping his body into the air with so much height. To me, it seems unreal but I’ve seen him do it and I have to say I’m amazed.
The old notion that good dancers are good in bed, while I never believed it before, I can say thatin Malcolm's case, it's definitely true.". In the two weeks we’ve been dating, I’ve had more orgasms than I have in my twenty-seven years of life so far, since previously only ten or so of my lifetime climaxes resulted from being sexually active with a partner and not just my fingers.
In between spending time with Malcolm whenever he is free, I’ve been taking part in the final preparations for Deena’s wedding. Today is her final dress fitting and then her bridal shower is this evening. The bridal shower, I’m happy to say, was planned by the other bridesmaids since I was so busy with doing everything else for Deena and Nate. So, since I’m unsure what the evening will be like, I am guzzling water right now to make sure I am fully hydrated for the evening’s event. It could get wild, or it could be pretty tame, but knowing some of the girls in the wedding party, it could go either way.
I’m sipping my water when Deena walks out of the dressing room in her gown. She has pinned up her long brown hair to show off the semi-sweetheart neckline. The tiered skirt of her off-white gown glistens with pastel butterflies hidden under a layer of tulle. When she turns, the train of her dress is just a short sweep that isn’t too much and just perfect for her body type.
“You look amazing,” I gush, setting the bottle down and standing to approach her.
I pinch some of the tulle between my fingers and smile.
“I love it. Do you love it?” she asks.
“I do. Did you decide if you’re going to do a veil?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“Shoes?”
“Mom will kill me, but I’m wearing flats. I don’t want to be taller than Nate, and it’s not like anyone will even see my feet under this thing.” She smiles, tears shining from the corners of her eyes.
“You are a beautiful bride,” I say quietly, trying to fight off my own tears.
“Ah! I can’t believe it’s this weekend!”
“We’ve been planning this wedding since we were fifteen.”
“I guess my vision board wasn’t working when I asked to marry Justin Timberlake.” She shrugs.
“No, but you’ve got the next best thing,” I say sweetly.
“And look at you… How’s Malcolm?” she asks, as she turns in the mirror and plays with the fabric of the dress.
“He’s good,” I say in a sing-song voice.
“Oh, he is now?” Deena turns and laughs.
“Oh, shut up. He’s good. We’re good.”
“And the stripper thing?”
“I’m working on it.”
“He’s really hot, like really hot. You should find your high school vision board and put his picture up there.”
“Oh, stop it. We’re still getting to know one another. Marriage has not been talked about.”
“Well, you should you know. You’re getting old, Beck,” Deena teases.
“You’re older than me, you hag!”
“By a month. That’s nothing. How old is Malcolm?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Is he a career stripper?” she asks seriously.
“No, he has something cooking. He hasn’t been too talkative about it though. Doesn’t want to jinx anything.”
“Oh, cool. And haven’t you been back to a show since?”
“You will be the first person that I drag with me.”
“Promise?”
“Definitely.”
“Does it make me a bad person if I say that I really enjoyed his dancing?” Deena teases as the small woman quietly moving around her pinning parts of her dress pats her side and scurries away.
I roll my eyes as she giggles and then runs back into the dressing room before I could say anything.
***
Jello shots. Ice luge. Margaritas. And a keg.
These are the kinds of things that usually are not a part of a bridal shower, based on my internet searches. However, when Deena and I arrive at the home of Dominique – one of the bridesmaids – those are the only beverage choices. I search for water or something else non-alcoholic but can’t find anything fitting that description, so I get myself a margarita.
We play silly games and each of us gives a speech. The soon-to-be in-laws are silent for the most part, quietly taking in the scene until my mother stands up, red Solo cup in hand, looking out of place in her pant suit and hideous costume jewelry.
“I’ve known little Deena since she and my Rebeckha were in pigtails. The girls would spend half their time at our home and the other half at hers. I’ve seen it all, folks, I’ve heard it all, and I’ve lived through it all. Deena had some questionable beaus during her dating years, though, that’s not to say Beck didn’t also. That being said, I think that Nathan is a wonderful man and I couldn’t be happier for her. He is quite the dashing and respectable gentleman. I’m so happy that you found your prince.” My mom holds up her cup. “To the bride!”
Knowing I should also give a speech and also wanting to continue on with the fun of the evening, I stand up, chug my drink and take my turn to give a speech.
“First, thanks Dom, for letting us barge into your house and drink up all the booze. Also, I hope the ice luge can hold my weight, cause I’m going to be all up on that bitch in just a sec! Any woo… We’re here because my number one bestie is getting hitched. She’s going to walk into the sunset with Nate and they’re gonna have some really cute kids, you know, in a few years. Like my mom said, I’ve known D since we were kids and we’ve always had this idea in our heads that we would have joint weddings, live in the same house – a house with different colored rooms that we referred to as Calico, like a cat – and our babies would grow up together just like we did. So, I ask – since I’m nowhere close to marriage right now – that you guys let me move in and we’ll call it even. I so happy for you, D, and I can’t wait to pick out my new room!” I playfully nudge her as everyone raises their cups in salute, then disperses..
I make my way to the backyard to get another drink and head straight to the ice luge. Planning to make the most of tonight, with my best friend before she gets married.
Malcolm
Beck: Can you come and pick up Beck?
Me: You talking in 3rd person?
Beck: Sorry, it’s Deena. We’re drunk, she fell off the luge, and no one here can drive.
It’s one of my nights off. Jacks and I had spent the last two hours playing video games when my phone started going off.
“Luge,” I say.
“What?” Jacks looks over at me while still playing the game.
“Wanna help me rescue my drunk girlfriend?”
“She can’t Uber over here?”
“I think she hurt herself, I can’t tell. But I’m sure whatever it is, it’s guaranteed to be entertaining,” I promise him.
He puts his controller down and he puts his shoes back on. I respond to Deena and get the address to wherever I’m picking up Beck from, then Jacks and I are on our way.
We pull up to a house in Henderson with a dozen cars parked around it. There’s laughter and bright lights coming from the back, so we make our way around the side and let ourselves into the yard. Scanning the sizeable crowd of women, I finally see Beck, sitting on the floor with a cushion under her bum. I angle my head to Jacks and we start walking that way.
“Oh! Who ordered strippers?” Some female shrieks just as I bend down to Beck. Her face swings over to me in shock and immediately a smile appears.
“Hey, love. You ‘right?” I ask her while ignoring the women.
“Mal! Mal’s hot friend!” I turn my head and Deena appears, hobbling towards us. Her dress is wrinkled and had wet spots randomly on the bottom.
“Can you stand?” I ask Beck.
“Sure, let’s try.” She smiles.
She ropes her arm around my neck and my arm goes around her waist to pull her up. She gets up but is slightly hunched.
“What happened?” Jacks asks.
Deena jumps in to answer. “You see that? She climbed on it and slid down it a few times.” She points to an ice structure on the grass that we walked past without noticing.
“Is that… Is that an ice luge?” Jacks asks, his eyes wild.
“Yup. There’s some tequila somewhere around here.” Deena pulls Jacks in the direction of the luge and positions him at the bottom of the luge, then goes to the top and pours several ounces of tequila for Jacks. He takes all that she pours, then stands as he wipes his chin and shakes his head.
“Woooo!” he shouts as he stands.
I look over at Beck, who is glassy eyed and still smiling. With her arm still draped around my neck, she looks at me.
“I fell. All the old people finally left. My mom was yelling at me about wanting to slide down the luge, so when she finally left, I slid down it. Then I fell. I hurt my ass. My ass hurts. Will you kiss it for me, Mal?”
“You slid on the ice luge?” I ask.
“I did. It was cold. I didn’t pee my pants. I’m wet because the ice is wet,” she slurs.
“How much have you had to drink tonight, love?”
“This many.” She holds up a hand.
“That many what?”
“Things. Pretty drinks.”
“Okay. Let me get Jacks and we’ll take you home,” I say, as my eyes search for Jacks.
Deena has Jacks pushing her on a swing. I perch Beck by the wall and grab him. I thank Deena for calling me and we leave the hen party or whatever it is with Beck tucked into my side.
“Your friends like to have fun!” Jacks says from the back seat.
“I fell, Jacks.”
“I heard. Your arse ‘right?” Jacks asks.
“My arse hurts. Mal’s gonna kiss it and make it better.” She smiles looking at me.
When we get back to my place, Jacks takes off and I carry her to my bedroom.
After I close up the rest of the house and go back to my room, I find Beck passed out and curled into a ball. Her hands are under her head and she has nuzzled into the pillow. I gently remove her shoes, pull the covers over her and then grab some water and medicine for when she wakes. I set it on the table next to the side of bed she’s on. Her side of the bed.
I climb onto my side and grab the remote to turn on the telly. I put the volume on low as she sleeps and soon I find myself falling asleep as well.
***
I wake to groaning. It’s coming from beside me in bed. It’s not the pleasurable groaning that I like to hear in the bedroom, coming out of my woman’s mouth. I roll slightly and see she’s clutching her head.
“How did I get here?” she mumbles.
“Deena called me and we picked you up last night.”
“We?” she inquires.
“Jacks and I went to rescue my damsel in distress,” I say with a sleepy smile.
“I needed rescuing?” she shakes her head.
“You ice luged.”
“I did what?” She turns her head quickly then grabs at it in pain.
“Love, there’s water and some aspirin next to you. I wanted to give it to you last night, but you passed out before I had a chance.”
She shifts her body and tries to sit up only to screech in pain.
“What the fuck happened to me yesterday? Why is my hip on fire?”
“You ice luged,” I repeat.
“No?” she questions her voice hitching at the end. “Last night was a little foggy.”
“From what I was told, you did.”
“This is so embarrassing.” She puts her hands over her face and groans into her palms. “Did you see me do any of this?”
“No. When we got there to pick you up, you were sitting on the ground on a cushion.”
“I didn’t throw up? My mouth tastes like a cat used it as a litter box.” She grabs the glass of water and gulps it down.
“Unless you did in the middle of the night, but I doubt it because you barely moved.”
“Well, that’s less embarrassing.”
“If you did throw up, I’d hold your hair back,” I promise her while rubbing her back.
We’re interrupted when her phone goes off from her purse, which lies on the floor beside her. She reaches over slowly and, when she grabs it, the screen lights up.
“Oh my god!” she gasps.
I look over at the screen and see there’s a full video of Beck ice luging, her ungraceful fall on repeat. It ends with her on her arse with her feet up in the air, her dress pretty much around her waist, showing her lacy knickers to everyone!
My girl. Not only is she a gold medalist at bedroom Olympics with me, she can also ice luge like a champ!