Page 7 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Four

Connor

“Remember, face down, ass up! You need plenty of tasteful side ass for this spin,” I said, a wicked grin on my face as I patted my ass and demonstrated my back-angel spin to my Tuesday night improvers pole class. My class giggled, well used to my comments by now. It was pole; there was always going to be innuendo involved.

At least there was when I was teaching it.

I spun gracefully to the floor, then demonstrated it a couple more times before setting my class loose. I had ten students in total, which I’d found was the maximum number I wanted in a class. It was busy enough that they could cheer each other on, and it covered the cost of my teaching, but it was small enough that I could give everyone some personal attention.

“Point those toes, Ali,” I said as I walked past. The class was a mix of genders, ages, and sizes. That was something I loved about pole; it was so inclusive. Everyone could do it, no matter who they were. You didn’t even have to be that fit when you started either, although pole would soon help with that. Most people didn’t seem to realise just how much strength was involved in throwing yourself around a metal pole, especially when you wanted to get off the floor.

Most people also didn’t realise how painful it was either. There was a reason I had very little feeling in my inner thighs these days, and I was always covered in bruises.

We practised the back angel for a few more minutes before I showed them the next part of the flow combo I’d developed for tonight—some gentle floor work with a simple swing onto the pole afterwards.

“No floor humping today?” asked Ianto with a cheeky grin.

“No, we’re saving that for the heels workshop next week. Are you signed up?”

“Yeah,” Ianto said, wiping down his pole with a nearby cloth. “But you can’t laugh. I’ve never really worn heels before, and I’ve had to borrow Rhys’s to practice in.”

Rhys and Ianto were twins who’d started coming to the studio a year ago. They were both complete naturals, but Rhys was a little further along in his pole journey because Ianto had broken his wrist in a motorbike crash nine months ago, which had put his practice on hold. They were both incredibly sexy with mussed dark hair and a variety of tattoos and piercings across their rippling muscles. But I made it a policy never to date students. It made things too messy.

Plus, as sexy as they were, they weren’t really my type.

I’d done the whole muscled thing before, and it never ended well. I wanted someone who wasn’t going to give me intense lectures on his leg-day routine or the protein powder he was using or who tried to get me to go to the gym at five in the morning for two or three hours. Ugh, no thank you!

For one, no matter how early a riser I was, nothing on earth would make me want to get up and go straight into cardio and lifting weights. I was much more of an early morning stretch or yoga person.

And two, I’d rather do the gym my way—with cute patterned vest tops, my rainbow trainers, and Lady Gaga blasting through my headphones. I was definitely not one of those gym gays whose exercise routine was their whole personality, and I didn’t want to fuck a guy like that either.

Besides, ninety percent of those guys were alpha tops who wouldn’t even consider putting a dick in their ass. And I was not about to give up being vers. From my experience, none of them were that good in bed.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You don’t have to be able to walk in them. You just need to look pretty! The routine is simple, and we’ll be using ‘No Diggity’ if you wanna listen to it beforehand.”

“Cheers.” Ianto still looked nervous, but I knew he’d be fine. He just needed to let loose and be sexy. It was amazing what a good booty shaking could do for your mood.

“Now, show me your flow,” I said, stepping back to watch him. Ianto smiled, taking a deep breath before reaching for the pole.

The rest of the class went smoothly, and when everyone had stretched and headed home, I finally checked my phone. There were a couple of notifications from Patrick, which wasn’t totally unusual because we were always messaging, but the tone of the messages worried me.

PatrickI know you’re teaching right now, but can you call me when you get home?

PatrickOr when you’ve finished, whichever is easiest

PatrickI need to ask you something. It’s nothing bad though

The fact that he’d had to say “it’s nothing bad” meant it probably was. Although he hadn’t tried to call me, so it obviously wasn’t a complete emergency. Still, it worried me because Patrick was the furthest thing from overdramatic that I could imagine. We were at opposite ends of the spectrum in that respect. Patrick kept my ass grounded with his reason and logic, and he just laughed when I got dramatic, like I was the most adorable thing in the world.

I pulled my tiny pole shorts off, adjusting my equally tiny underwear before sliding my leggings on and pulling a pale-blue hoodie over my vest top. Then I sank onto the wooden studio floor to pull on my socks and trainers, hitting the Call button as I did so. I’d been debating staying for another hour to do some additional practice, but that wasn’t going to happen now. I put my phone on the floor next to me, making sure it was on speaker.

“Hey,” Patrick said, sounding both nervous and drained as soon as he spoke. I suddenly remembered he’d been planning to Skype with his family yesterday, and I wondered if something had happened after that. He’d said in his messages the night before that everything had been fine, but that didn’t mean something hadn’t kicked off since then.

If it had, I’d be getting in my car and driving all the way to Devon to sort this shit out because there was no fucking way I was going to let anyone upset Patrick. Not on my watch. I was small, but my wrath was mighty. As several people had found out in the past.

“Hey, babe.” I tried to keep my voice neutral as I answered. “Everything okay?”

“Sort of.” He paused, and I heard the clattering of pans.

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