Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,36
do all this stuff for ourselves.” He looked serious as he hung the dishtowel over the stove handle and leaned against the counter.
“We’ve known each other a couple months,” he said. A few seconds elapsed as he gathered his thoughts. “Remember when we first met, and you said I was on the rebound?”
She nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Her stomach rolled as realization dawned on her.
“Oh, my God. You’re getting back with your ex, aren’t you?” she said.
“Christ, no! Never. I’m just wondering if you still think I’m on the rebound.”
“Have you met someone new?” She felt a burn of jealousy but tried to remain nonchalant.
“Well, sort of.”
She looked away, crushed. She knew their friendship would end, and she understood why.
“Chris, that’s good. I’m happy for you,” she said, working to keep her voice level.
“It’s you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. The list of ground rules is getting really long, because pretty much everything you do makes me want to kiss you, touch you…or worse.”
The loud rhythm of her pounding heart was the only sound Abby could hear. Chris wanted her. Hearing him say it felt better than she’d thought possible.
“Worse?” she said, her voice shaky.
“Much worse,” he said, reaching for her waist and pulling her into him. “Abby, what I did to you the other night in the sleeping room … I can do so much more. All I want is to take you to bed and show you how good I can make you feel.”
“Do you mean now?” she asked, embarrassed by the eagerness in her voice. She willed him to say yes, because just his words were giving her a warm, wet sensation.
“I won’t have casual sex with you. Do you want us to become something more than we are?”
“I want it, yes, but is it possible? We’re both skittish about relationships.”
“I’m past that. I want to be with you, Abby. The past couple months have shown me that. The only thing holding me back now is the stripping.”
“The stripping?” She was taken aback. “You don’t want to be with me because I’m a stripper?”
It confirmed all the reservations and fears she’d had about getting closer to Chris. She would always feel like she was less than him, and not good enough.
“Not for the reason you think,” he said. “I just don’t want to share you. I’ll be the best boyfriend you can imagine. I’ll treasure you completely. But I won’t have other men using you to get off, or hurting you.”
“You won’t have it?” Abby cried, stepping back from him. “Chris, I’ve been dancing to support my family for four years. I can’t do it forever. I have to save as much money as I can while I’m still young enough to do it. You can’t just come in here and expect me to quit so you’ll be my boyfriend. It’s not a bad habit, it’s my job.”
He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“I just don’t see how you could be serious about our relationship if you were grinding against other men three nights a week,” he said angrily. “Kind of takes the novelty out of it, right?”
“The novelty’s been gone for a long time, Chris. You and I are from different worlds.”
Abby crossed the kitchen quickly, grabbing her coat and purse from the couch.
“You’re leaving again?” he asked loudly. “You can’t just leave every fucking time we argue!”
“What else is there to say? You’re so condescending, Chris. Offering to do me the honor of being my boyfriend if I’ll quit my job.”
“That’s not the only job in the world.”
“No, it’s not. So how about if I quit mine and you quit yours?”
“Not the same thing, Abby. I don’t get other women off for a living.”
“I’m not a fucking prostitute, Chris! I’m a dancer, and yes, I strip. Quit making me feel so cheap. Isn’t that what everyone else is supposed to do?”
Chris recoiled, looking like she had slapped him. Abby was overwhelmed by her quick transition from happy, to aroused, to hurt and angry.
“I have to go,” she muttered, knowing she was about to make the transition to sad.
Abby came through the back door and threw her purse on the counter, relieved to be home.
“Hey,” Justin said, looking up from his homework in surprise. “You’re early.”
“Yeah.”
She sighed as she walked into the living room and saw Kathy, Audrey and Sara watching television. She focused on the screen, seeing a man’s guts spill to the ground as he was stabbed with a long sword.
“This