Sweet Little Thing: A Novella (Sweet Thing) (6 page)

Josh turned toward him and glared before turning back to Tyler and me. “That’s her stage name. And Kyle here got to see her perform last weekend.”

“Did I ever,” Kyle said dreamily.

Josh elbowed him.

“Is that an Indian name?” I asked.

“Her real name is Brittney. She’s from Kentucky, total white girl, but man, she can shake it. You know what I mean?” He wiggled his Jack Nicholson eyebrows.

“Nice,” I said, smiling sarcastically.

“Kyle, when are you gonna go for it?”

“Go for what?” The question terrified him.

“What do you think?” Tyler said.

“I’m waiting for the right girl,” he replied in a squeaky voice before taking a large gulp of beer. He was tapping his fingers on the bar nervously.

“She’s cute.” I pointed to a small, unintimidating-looking woman standing a few feet away, trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Why don’t you go buy her a drink?”

“You should,” Josh blurted out. “I’ll help you.”

“No!” Tyler and I yelled in unison.

Josh didn’t listen and Kyle just sat there, eyes opened as wide as they could go. Josh stood up on his toes to see over the other patrons blocking his view of the tiny, short-haired blonde. “Hey, hottie!” he yelled.

“Oh, God.” I planted my face in my palms over the bar.

“Yeah, you, Tinker Bell. My buddy here wants to buy your sweet ass a drink.”

“Christ,” Tyler mumbled.

Kyle literally sank within himself on the stool. His expression was nothing short of horrified. The girl shook her head and moved farther down the bar, away from us.

“Way to go, dickwad.” I said to Josh.

“What? That chick was a bitch. I saved Kyle from some serious heartache.” He smacked Kyle on the back.

“Ouch. I don’t need your help, Josh. You fucking cock block me every time we’re out. What is your problem?”

“Time for more shots!” Josh announced.

Several hours of irresponsible binge drinking went on before the shit hit the fan. Apparently while Tyler and I sat unaware, arguing over where to get the best pizza, Kyle and Josh were having a heart-to-heart. It started when Josh apologized for the scene earlier with Tinker Bell. The conversation went on and on, both of them professing their drunken love for each other while Tyler and I continued an old argument about the difference between yams and sweet potatoes—that’s the kind of profound shit Tyler and I talked about. We were startled back to reality when we heard Josh shout, “What the fuck?”

“
She
came on to
me
,” Kyle said with his hands up defensively.

Josh went toward him in what appeared to be the universal gesture for
I am going to kill you by strangulation
while yelling, “You didn’t have to fuck her.”

“Oh, shit, you fucked the belly dancer?” Tyler said to Kyle.

At the same time, Josh blurted out “Brittney” while Kyle yelled “Saphir.”

The men immediately started rolling around on the ground, trying to kill each other while Tyler tried to break it up. As hard as it was, I managed to ignore all the commotion.

I yelled to the bartender, who was looking on in disbelief. I shrugged. “It’s my bachelor party.”

He nodded. “Right on. Congrats, man. Are those your friends?”

“No!” I yelled back. I paid for all the drinks, another downside to hanging out with idiots, and then I walked outside and gave a homeless guy four dollars for one cigarette.

Tyler followed shortly after. “That was crazy.”

“Are they still fighting in there?” I said, blowing a lungful of smoke into the air.

“No, Kyle escaped out the back door while Josh was puking behind the bar. He’ll be kicked out for sure. It’s only a matter of seconds.”

Sure enough, ten seconds later, two burly bouncers came out, dragging Josh between them.

“We’ll take it from here, boys,” I said before turning and flagging down a cab. “I’ll walk home. Do you want to get Josh to his place?”

“Will, this is your bachelor party—we’ve only been to one bar. We have a couple more stops on the agenda.”

“Dude, I’m done. I’m over it.”

Josh stood between us, swaying. “That bitch cheated on me,” he slurred. “Stupid whore. Im’a kill her… and him.”

“Whoa, Josh, settle down,” Tyler said. “We’re gonna get you home.” Tyler turned his attention toward me. “Will, you have to come with me. What if he passes out?”

“You’re fucking huge; you’ll manage.”

“I can’t lift three hundred pounds of dead weight.”

“Take me to find Brittney. Please, guys.”

“No, we’re taking you home.” I barked, “You can cry all you want, but no one is going to die over a skanky belly dancer.”

“Why you callin’ her a skank, man?” he said and then began weeping like a baby.

We managed to shove Josh into the back of a cab. Tyler got in after him, and I slipped into the front seat. Josh mumbled his address and then farted and burped at the same time. I spent the rest of the drive to Josh’s house with my head out the window.

Unbelievably, when we reached his apartment, he was able to fully navigate his rotund body up the narrow staircase to his door. After we made sure he was safely inside, we went out to the cab and got in the back.

“Seriously, Tyler, I think I’m done.”

“I have a surprise for you.” He whispered something to the cabbie. The man nodded.

“I’m tired.”

“All you have to do is sit there and watch.”

“No. I said no strippers.”

“Be quiet, pussy.”

When we pulled up in front of my loft and studio building, I turned to Tyler. “You’re dropping me off at home. Is that the big surprise?”

We hopped out; Tyler told the cabbie to wait. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and began unlocking the door to the studio. The first thing I noticed was that the alarm didn’t go off.

“What are we doing? Please tell me you didn’t hire strippers to come here.”

“What are friends for? Come on, it would be a waste of money if you didn’t go back there and at least sneak a peek.” He patted me on the back and then pulled a flask from his jacket pocket. “Here, you might need this. It’s whiskey—only the finest.”

“Tyler, I don’t know about this.”

“Just go back there. Take a seat in the control room.” When I took the flask from his hands and entered the lobby, he said, “Have fun.”

“Wait a minute, you’re not going in there with me?”

“No way, this is all for you,” he said before abruptly shutting the door and locking me in. He strolled back to the cab, and then without looking back, he threw his hand up and waved good-bye.

I
shook my head, took a larger-than-necessary swig from the flask, and began heading down the long hallway to the control room. It was so dark that I had to feel my way over to the light switch. I brushed the switch plate with my hand and noticed that someone had placed tape over it, preventing me from turning the light on.

Then I heard a female voice whisper, “Uh uh,” over the control-room speakers. I felt my way to the sound board and chair and sat down. I was squinting, trying to see inside the sound room, when the music began playing. Even though there were no lights blinking on the board, I still felt around for the buttons and knobs but quickly realized the equipment in the control room was off except for one microphone feed.

Whoever was in the sound room had control of the music. I recognized the song right away from the humming in the beginning. It was “Retrograde” by James Blake. The sound room remained dark until the first clapping beat of the song. What happened next is hard for me to put into words, but goddammit, I’ll try.

Right at that first beat, a small light went on overhead on the other side of the glass. The dim spotlight shone down into an empty space in the middle of the sound room until a woman very slowly and seductively stepped into the light. She was wearing a short, black lace dress, so short I could see the black garters peeking out from underneath. Feeling my heart rate increase, I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans and rocked back in my chair nervously.

She threw her leg up onto the piano bench and then ran both hands up her thigh, raising the dress even higher. With ease, she reached down and removed her black stiletto heel, setting it on the bench beside her foot. She raised her dress again and unbuckled the garter from the leg still perched on the bench. In painfully slow motion, she rolled the material down and off her foot before tossing it into the darkness. I could see bright red nail polish on her fingers and toes, the same shade of red she wore on her lips. It was like the overhead light created this illusion that the woman was in one of those black and white photos where only a few objects are colored in. Her skin was radiant and glowing against her dark, almost black hair. She put her heel back on and then repeated the same torturous motion on the other leg as I watched in complete awe.

Her beauty took my breath away and the way she moved and the music—I was about to come undone. I took another swig of whiskey. She approached the glass, slowly unzipping the side of her dress as she moved. Her eyes were fixed on mine. Her pouty lips were just barely open. Standing two feet from the glass, she slid the shoulder of her dress off one side and the whole thing fell to the ground. Her dark hair, curled in loose ringlets, fell back on her shoulders, caressing the tops of her breasts. She turned around and, with her back to me, unclasped her bra, tossing it aside. She gripped her garter belt and thong on each hip and bent over to slide them down her legs. Her perfect ass was right at my eye level.

She strutted away from the glass, never turning around until she reached the piano bench. Her movements were so graceful and seductive, like she had been stripping for years. She turned to face me as she straddled the bench. I watched her expression change from alluring and provocative to playful. A sweet, knowing smile flashed across her face. With her legs spread, totally exposed, she pointed her finger at the glass and summoned me. It was my beautiful, lovely Mia, sitting there wearing nothing but her heels, waiting for me to take her.

I could barely walk I was so turned on. Still disoriented, I fumbled my way through the door into the sound room and past several instruments and chairs until I was standing over her at the piano. Her position, perched naked on the bench, looking up at me through her big, beautiful hazel eyes, was so vulnerable and sweet. Yet I knew Mia was very much in control.

“That was the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby.”

She laughed, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “I can tell,” she said, her gaze moving to the belt on my jeans.

“You have to play that song again so I can act out everything I was imagining behind the glass.”

She stood up, her feet still on each side of the bench. “It’s on repeat,” she whispered as she undid the buckle of my belt.

With her legs spread, I could feel the heat radiating from her body. It was as though my hand had a mind of its own. I reached down and touched her, gently at first and in just the right spot. She sucked in a quick breath and then closed her eyes and moaned quietly. I placed my other hand on her hip and then slid it up her smooth sides, touching her breast, circling her nipple and then up farther until I was holding her neck and kissing her mouth. My other hand stayed at work on Mia as she made approving sounds against my lips. I could feel her pressing herself against me, harder, wanting more.

“I’m ready,” she said in a breathy voice.

I wondered in that moment if it would be shallow of me to like that part of Mia the best, the part of her that liked to plan secret stripteases and let me touch her all over. I’m a guy, after all. When we were together, kissing and touching, it was like playing music. She always knew what move to make, like she was subconsciously counting beats from a sheet of music. We were always so in sync that it felt like we’d been together for centuries, but in a good way. I was convinced we had lived twenty thousand lives, and in each one, we had found each other, like two tiny magnets in a drawer the size of the universe. She and I fit and moved together with such ease, I couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else.

By the time I pulled away from her mouth, we were both naked. When I picked her up, she straddled me. Her perfect little legs were tightened around my waist like a vise, leaving little work for my arms. I moved to the wall and pressed her against the soundproofing material. Who knew those puffy little foam spikes could make wall screwing ten times better? I moved inside her as she settled on me until we were flush. I didn’t hesitate to press her hard against the wall. Our bodies melded together so effortlessly, moving with the rhythm of our mouths kissing and sucking.

She broke away from the kiss and pressed her head against the wall. Looking up and arching her back, she closed her eyes and called out a song of sounds: whimpers and moans, loud breaths and blissful cries so sweet and uninhibited that I couldn’t stop the waves crashing over me as I slammed into her. Against the wall, shivering like it was our first time, we both cried out.

I knelt down, still holding her against me, still inside her. She rested her head on my shoulder as we sat there embracing each other for several moments, trying to catch our breaths.