Her phone rang. She leaned back against her car, reached into her bag, and pulled out her cell. She looked at the caller. Then she flipped it open. “Hello?”
“I’ve a confession. My name isn’t Jonah. It’s Alex. I really enjoyed the time I spent with you.” I told her, holding the phone, but talking directly to her.
“I did too,” she said softly.
“But it was a little crowded. I’d love to get together sometime, just you and me.” I pushed.
“Really?” she asked.
“Oh. Most definitely.”
“You know, you’re calling back a little late. I’d pretty much given up on you.”
“I am sorry. Why not let me try to make it up to you?” I looked in her eyes. ‘Let me fuck your brains out,’ I was thinking, working hard to convey that message through my look.
She pulled out her Dayrunner, and glanced in. “How about next Thursday and Friday?”
“They’re both good for me,” I told her. “Which is best for you?”
“Both, if you’d like.”
“I like.”
“Between 1:00 and 3:00, both days. I’m at 2425 Meadow, in the Trails,” she told me.
I hung up the call, and edited her contact, saying out loud “2425 Meadow”.
“Exactly.”
I looked around and we were pretty well hidden from view. I moved right up next to her, and leaned down, taking her chin in my hand, and placing my lips on hers. I kissed her warmly, for a few moments, then released her. “Thanks for taking my call. See you next Thursday, then.”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly.
I turned back to the gym, and ran into JT at the door. “Jesus! What are you, some kind of machine?”
I laughed. “It’s a long story. Ask me about it at Hooter’s tonight. Like I said, a long story, but a pretty good one.”
“You bet your ass I will.” He answered.
“I gotta do one more thing,” I told him.
“I’m dying to see what.”
I went in and looked for Teri. She was nibbling on a protein bar by the cold drinks, and quickly put it away and wiped her mouth when she saw me coming.
I stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m Jonah.”
She almost coughed up her bar. “Hi Jonah, Teri” she finally gasped, shaking my hand.
“A couple of weeks ago, I had one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Absolutely incredible. If you would ever, ever, consider a repeat of one special part of that event, well, I’m at your beck and call.” I told her, not releasing her hand.
“Really?” she said, with almost a mocking grin.
“Cross-my-heart, and hope-to-die,” I intoned seriously.
“Damn. I’ve got a client in 10 minutes,” she said seriously. She walked over to her schedule book. “I’m really busy, I mean almost all the time.” She told me scanning through several pages. “Tuesday, I have a cancellation at 10:00 am. Stop by and if I don’t have any last minute changes, we can discuss things then.”
“Thirty minutes or one hour?” I asked her.
“One hour.” she said. “Plenty of time.”
I reached for my wallet, and pulled our $80 bucks. “I really need a workout. Let’s book your time.”
She frowned. “It’s not like that.”
“I know. I just want to lock up the hour. It would kill me to think some last minute interloper interfered with our discussion.” I folded the money and put it on the table.
“It’s only $65,” she argued.
“You can give me the change then.” I told her.
“You are crazy, you know?” she told me, picking up the money, and sliding it into her shorts pocket. Then she scribbled, “Trial Workout” on the big schedule, on Tuesday, under her name. “Ok, you’re on the books.”
“I appreciate it.” I told her with my best smile.
“I’m sure you will,” she said grinning, “eat your Wheaties, and save your energy.”
“You too.”
JT was still waiting outside. He just shook his head at me. “I don’t think I want to know. What’s the story? Don’t EVEN tell me you’re tapping that as well!”
“Hooter’s. 8:00 pm. I told you, it’s a REALLY good story.”
* * *
Hooter’s was a trip. It’s only a block from my office, 10 minutes from the house, and a popular hangout when we do business lunches, or the occasional happy-hour. I can honestly say that not all Hooter’s are created equal. Some are more equal than others. This place had some really impressive looking girls, even for DFW. They openly bragged about their calendar girls. Tony, the manager on duty was a casual friend. Of all the strange things, his daughter and my daughter were on the same 6-7 year old cheerleader team. So we became friendly enough, and he’d comp me occasionally, and it was cool for the girls to sit with me for longer than usual; they’d get a pass from Tony if the place wasn’t too busy.
JT and I got there just in time to order some wings, beer, and catch the end of a Mavs game. We were just working on the wings and I had barely started my story, when Tammy sat at our table. She’d come off duty, and was just hanging out. She went to the local college, and usually worked after lunch. Not the cutest girl in the place, but friendlier than most, and nice as can be. She also had numerous piercings. In her ears, which she hid behind long hair, since they were forbidden, and a few others she’d hinted at but never exposed in my presence. A tattoo on her lower back, that I had been shown, was a real attention grabber.
“Start over,” she said, as I mentioned being tied down, “and don’t skip any details.”
“Shit, Tammy, you’re not old enough to drink, you’re sure as hell not old enough to hear this kind of stuff.” I teased her.
“Fuck that. Now spill, or I’ll put you on the shit list,” she told me, shaking her hair back, and showing her ear pierced with a long bar from the side, through to the top.
“Shit list? You mean spit list, don’t you?” I told her, investigating the wings in front of us.
“That too.” She smiled a big mischievous grin. “And introduce your buddy here, or didn’t your momma teach you no manners?”
“JT, Tammy. Tammy, JT.” Then I started back in on my story, leaving out Jenny’s relationship to me.
I tried to keep the story, well, soft-core, but Tammy would settle for nothing less than XXX. I kept peering around, wondering who could hear our conversation, but she wouldn’t let that daunt me either. When our server, Alexis would stop by, I’d drop the volume, not sure how she’d take it. Tammy would wait until she left to start prodding me again, so it seemed like the right move.
“Did you like the leather mask?” she asked, as I got into the details of my restraint.
“Not really. I mean, it was interesting to not be able to see what was going on, and to be anonymous, but it was hot and sweaty,” I recalled.
“Yeah, but it’s better than latex,” she answered.
I continued my story, and again she interrupted. “So you had all those hands on you. Did you think it was women or men and women or what?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it right away. I guess I assumed they were all women. They were.”