Page 104 of Love Resurrected
“Okay.” I smile back.
From the side, the building is unassuming. But from the front, you walk through a large, bright, neon red set of lips to enter.
“Ohmigod.” Tenley laughs as we enter, looking around, eyes wide. “What is this place?”
“Oh, honey,” the hostess—a large African American man dressed in a tight sequined gown with a long blonde wig—says in a falsetto, pulling at her arm. “Are you aKISSvirgin?”
“She is,” I say.
The hostess turns toward me. “Mmm, mmm, mmm. Aren’t you scrumptious?” She eyes me up and down slowly before turning back to Tenley. “He yours, sweetheart? If so, you’d better hang on tight. I’m just one of a few dozen ladies who wouldn’t mind stealing him right out from under your nose. Mmm, mmm. That is one delicious man, right there.”
I smile. “Thank you?”
“Oh, honey.” The hostess pats the side of my cheek with her large paw. “I would rip you in two and relish every minute of it.” She laughs, a large and booming laugh not at all conducive to her voice, as she shows us to our seats.
“Is this a drag bar?” Tenley whispers in my ear.
“With dinner and a show,” I answer.
She wraps her arms around mine and squeezes. “Iloveit!”
A husky, bearded Marilyn Monroe comes to take our drink order just as a stunningly beautiful Cher takes the stage and welcomes us all toKISS.
I order a beer and Tenley a signature cocktail, and we settle in to enjoy the show. One cocktail turns into two for Tenley and she quickly becomes an entertainer favorite. It helps that our table is close to the stage as she claps and sings, dancing in her chair to each new song. She’s soon pulled up on stage by Madonna for a duet to “Burning Up,” which is apparently one of her favorite songs.
I video the performance for Sadie, knowing she’ll be sad she missed it, but stop as Madonna and Tenley approach.
“Now, you go girl, you show your man how you’re burning up for his love. And if you don’t do it, I will!” She laughs and the crowd eggs Tenley on. I hold my arms out to her, happy to play along. She dances toward me, closer and closer, until I’m getting one hell of a lap dance. She turns as the song ends and half collapses against me, straddling my lap. I wrap my arms around her to hold her in place.
“Hi,” she says breathily, her face flushed and slightly sweaty.
Her own arms snake around my neck and as the spotlight hits us, and the audience chants, “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
I pull her head toward mine with my good hand and do exactly that.
And then I do it again.
39
Tenley
Brad and I have beendatingfor almost two weeks. We see each other almost every day between finishing everything with the recruitment fair and when he takes me out. But we haven’t had sex again. We haven’t even talked about it. While I don’t want to be the one to bring it up, it’s kind of driving me crazy. I’m used to a guy wanting to have sex right away. On the first date, even. And since Brad and I have already had sex, multiple times, I assumed it would be a given.
So far? No go.
Sadie thinks I’m being silly, and I should just enjoy the attention. Maybe I should. But I have to wonder if he just isn’t attracted to me like that. We kiss, but nothing hot and heavy. He gives me sweet kisses at the end of the night before he leaves. And when I tried to take it further, he gently shot me down. We haven’t talked again aboutus, since that time at the hospital.
Today is the recruitment fair, and the first time I’ll see Brad in two days. He went back to work this week, in a limited capacity since he still doesn’t have the use of his right hand. I think back to that guy who was so passionate and distraught—who busted his hand punching the wall—and try to reconcile that guy with this one, who is all sweetness and patience, and I have a hard time.
I’m ready to crawl the freakin’ walls if we don’t have sex again soon. Like, for real.
I double-check my appearance in the mirror as I get ready to head down to the park where the fair will be. Slim fitting boyfriend jeans, a snug, navy-blue V-neck t-shirt, my favorite Converse, my hair back in a ponytail and tucked through the hole of an SSFD baseball cap.
“As good as it’s gonna get, Ten,” I tell myself.
I grab my lip gloss and tuck it in a small purse along with some cash—which I never leave home without anymore—my ID, a credit card, and my cell phone. As soon as I grab my keys, I’m out the door.
I stop short.
