Two: Only If For A Night
Heather wrapped her arms tight about Steven's waist. She pulled his hips closer to hers, pulling him back with her to rest against the bumper of her small Mazda. Steven kept his hands in his jacket pockets, but nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers, his lips brushing like a whisper against hers. Heather pulled away, her heart shaped face pulled into a faux pout. Her blond hair was a halo around her head in the streetlights glow.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Heather asked, lower lip protruding.
Steven kissed her, angling his mouth against hers. Her eyes fluttered when he pulled back, her breath stuttering in her chest. Steven peered down at her, clearing his throat. "Yes, I gotta."
"Well," Heather chewed her lip, her blue eyes darting away and back. She puffed her cheeks. Steven sensed the unasked question.
"What?" He asked tiredly. Heather shook her head no, her pointed chin dropping to touch her ample chest.
"No, nothing." The tip of her patent heel toed the wet pavement.
"Heather," Steven said, pulling back slightly. He was quickly growing annoyed with her coyness, not in the mood for a fight after the events of the evening. She liked playing games, liked to get him to guess what she was feeling. He had spent enough of his life playing games in a relationship. Steven wished she would just shoot him and get it over with. He pulled a hand down his face, eyes heavy with fatigue and belly full of the whisky's he had drunk over the course of the evening. "Just tell me."
Heather heaved a great sigh, her breasts rising and falling. Her right palm slapped down against her thigh. "I just. I don't understand why you have to go to a strip club. Can't you just go to a bar or something? Get wasted and not spend time staring at naked girls? Naked girls who aren't me?"
"Hey, it's not my choice." Steven said. He jerked his head over towards Eric's shadow. Eric had Nancy bent against their car, kissing her thoroughly. "It's just one night, Heather, it's not that big of a deal."
"Not that big of a deal?" Heather parroted. Her tone had grown hard. She released his waist, her arms crossing under her chest. "Uhm, pretty sure you looking at other naked women, gyrating around a stage, while you throw dollar bills at them, is a big deal, Steven."
"Hey." Steven grabbed her chin, bringing their eyes to meet. He smiled, pecking her mouth. Heather barely kissed him back, surprise showing in her eyes at how quickly he pulled away from her. "I won't be throwing dollar bills at anyone. I'll be inserting them in G-strings and crevices like a normal man."
"That's not funny, Steven." Heather said crossly, pushing roughly out of his grasp. She stepped away, moving around the bumper towards the driver's door. The back of her coat was wet where she had leaned against the car.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Steven said, reaching out and grabbing her arm. Heather didn't pull away, but stopped, leaning against the car. She crossed her arms again, this time refusing to make eye contact. A muscle twitched in her jaw. "I'm only joking!"
"Whatever." Heather mumbled. Her eyes darted to his face and away again. Her blonde hair glowed under the dim parking lot light, her teased bangs casting a shadow over the upper half of her face. "I don't think it's a thing to joke about." Her hand rose accusingly between them, diamond glittering beside the brass of her hair. "We are engaged."
"I know we are," Steven said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice, "I am the one who proposed." He stepped back and away from the engagement ring as if scalded.
"You know what?" Heather said, her eyes sharp. "I'll just see you tomorrow. Have fun with your slutty girls tonight, Steven." She yanked her keys from his coat pocket. Heather's hands shook as she attempted to slip the key into the drivers lock.
"Heather, stop it." Steven said. He reached out towards her. "Look, you know how I feel about you and nothing is going to happen. You can't touch the strippers." The laughter that bubbled up his throat died at the withering glare Heather set on him over her shoulder. "It's, like, the first rule of strip clubs."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Heather asked, whirling around.
"Doesn't it?" Steven retorted, brows furrowed.
Heather opened her mouth to respond, incredulous. She gaped at him like a fish for a moment, her brow wrinkling.
"Look, Nancy isn't mad at Forman!" Steven said, pointing to the pair in question. Their mouths made a loud suction sound as they broke apart, turning towards Steven and Heather at the sounds of their names.
"Hey, man, don't bring us into this." Eric said, his hands rising in the air.
Nancy bit her red, swollen lip, glancing at Eric and then to Steven and Heather. "Heather, I'm not really happy with it either-"
"You said you were ok with this."
"-but it's not like they're going to have sex with them. It's Eric's last night of freedom." Nancy's voice was resigned, as if she had had this exact argument too many times to count.
Heather didn't respond to Nancy, but turned her attention back to Steven. Her blue eyes were two sapphires, cutting him with their sharp edge. "Fine."
"Are we going to fight when I get home?" Steven asked. He blew air from his nostrils, an attempt at a laugh leaving him. "Cause I'd rather just get all of that out the way now."
Heather scuffed her shoe, scoffing. "You can be so insensitive, Steven."
"Heather, seriously," Steven said, stepping towards her and bringing his hands up to cup her face. "I love you. And I'm going to marry you. You have nothing to worry about."
He kissed her then, surprising them both with the pressure of his mouth against hers. Their teeth mashed together, Heather's lips glowing white, then slowly back to pink after they parted. Steven's own mouth stung and his licked his lips, pulling a smile at her. Heather didn't return his smile, but her look changed. The corners of her eyes turned down, and she sucked her lips into her mouth, sucking on them.
"Hey," Steven said, knuckling her chin. "Buck up, Kid. I love you."
Heather looked up at him through her lashes. "I love you, too."
Steven kissed her again, softer this time. He stepped into her embrace, his hands sweeping into her hair. Their hips pressed against one another, her full breasts bursting from the top of her dress. His tongue swept into her mouth, clashing with hers, and he sighed into her, knowing he had won when she whimpered against him, her hands grappling at the openings to his coat. She opened her knees, and he stepped into them, rolling his pelvis against hers. His arousal pressed back against her.
"Don't stay gone too long?" Heather whispered against him, nipping his lower lip between her teeth. "I'll be thinking about you?"
"Will you be thinking about me in that little black number?" Steven asked, smirking down at her.
Heather returned his smile coquettishly. She pressed her arms together, accentuating her breasts. "Maybe."
"You do it for me." Steven said, glancing down at her cleavage and back to her face. He pulled her coat closed, buttoning it against the cold. Stepping away, Steven massaged his lips together. "Drive safe."
"Always." Heather replied. She opened the door to her car, throwing her purse into the passengers seat. Pausing before climbing behind the wheel, she wheeled back. "I'm still not ok with this."
"I'll make it up to you." Steven replied, making his way over towards Eric and Nancy.
"Are you ready to go yet, or what?" Kelso yelled across the lot from his parked car. Jon watched from the passenger window, his face lit from the street lamp. Kelso rested his forearms on top of his car. He sounded whiney and cranky. "Come on! It's getting late! Clubs are gonna close!"
"See you tomorrow." Nancy said to her fiancé. She grew stern, eyes narrowing as she watched her future husband step away. "Make smart choices."
Eric saluted her, joining Steven and walking by his side towards Kelso's idling car. "Women." Eric muttered under his breath. His shoulders rose to his ears as they walked in step away from their women. "Its just strippers."
"Eh, I get it." Steven said, working the tension that had settled over his shoulders free. Heather honked as she left the parking lot. Steven raised a hand in response to her fading taillights.
"Last night of freedom, last night to do all those things that single guys get to do." Eric said, waving at Nancy as she passed by, her tires hissing over the pavement. "Donna got it. Hell, Donna went to a strip club herself!"
"Yeah, but you're not marrying Donna." Steven pointed out as they neared Kelso's car.
"Yeah, true," Eric agreed. They parted at the bumper.
"About damn time." Kelso said, ducking behind the wheel. "I nearly wasted half a tank of gas for you two to kiss your women goodbye."
"Quit your belly aching, we're going, we're going." Eric said, slamming his door closed.
"How did you get out of Jimmy tagging along?" Steven asked as Michael put the car in drive. The Community Center's lot was mostly empty, the guests of Eric and Nancy's rehearsal dinner long gone. "I can only imagine how that would have worked out. Jimmy yelling at all the strippers."
"Man, he hasn't changed since high school," Eric said, cupping his forehead.
"Wait." Michael said from the front seat, looking at Eric in the rearview mirror. "Are you telling me Nancy's brother Jimmy, is Jimmy Headgear?"
"Yeah." Eric said, his hand dropping to his lap. "He's a cool guy though."
"Little strange." Steven inserted.
"Little bit." Eric agreed.
"You and Heather ok?" Jon asked from the front seat, his face turned towards the window.
"Yeah, we're cool." Steven said. "I'll make it up to her. Somehow. I just hope she doesn't ask me about it tomorrow."
"What do you mean?" Jon asked.
"She has the habit of wanting to know every little detail," Steven said, adjusting in his seat. "She's like a damn attorney. I'll be cross-examined before I even get to eat breakfast."
"You should be used to that." Michael piped up. "Considering you dated Jackie for a couple years."
"Jackie was never that bad." Steven said. "She wanted to know, but she didn't want all the gory details. Heather will ask the color of the stripper's eyes, if they had any birthmarks, weird shit like that."
"Why?" Eric asked.
"I guess to see how much I was paying attention?" Steven replied. He sighed. "Fuck, I don't know. I never know how to answer her."
"Jackie used to question me for hours after I cheated on her. Hours." Michael said, accelerating once they reached the town line. "One time, she kept me up for a whole night asking details to what happened."
"I'm not cheating on my fiancé, though." Steven growled. Hearing how blasé Kelso admitted to cheating on Jackie brought back all the old feelings of hatred and resentment Steven had harbored towards his friend. He didn't miss the feeling.
"How many times exactly did you cheat on Jackie?" Jon asked, his tone suggesting something that made Steven frown in contemplation. He and Eric shared a look, telling the other they had both picked up on the same nuance.
Michael shrugged, peeking at Jon from the corner of his eye. "I don't know. A lot."
"She was having a good time tonight," Eric said. "It was nice of her to come up from Florida."
Steven scowled out the window. His breath fogged the glass and he pulled back, fraught with memory. He was eighteen, and back in the Camino, cleaning Jackie's fingerprints off the passenger window. She had had this annoying habit of writing their initials surrounded by little hearts in the condensation created by her warm breath. He had spent enough of the evening worried about Jackie, had made a fool of himself trying to open up to her, only to be smacked down without a second thought.
Not that he should be surprised. She had left him all those years ago. Which was why he didn't bother to tell her about Heather. He hadn't spoken to her since the day before she left for Sarasota, when she had promised she would stay here, with him. When he had promised that she was it for him, that he'd marry her and make her happy.
It was obvious she didn't care about him. Jackie had made it glaringly obvious by her departure.
Maybe she never had loved him after all. Maybe it had all just been a game. And Jackie was the queen of playing games.
Pain gripped at Steven's chest, a sharp clutching over his heart, and he felt like a fool all over again. His eyes scanned the other occupants, afraid that maybe they could see how traitorous his heart was being to him. How he was feeling.
Damn alcohol.
"Can we stop talking about Jackie?" Steven bit out, his tone harsher than he meant it to be.
The other three quieted for a moment, before striking up a different path of conversation. The car sped down the highway towards Kenosha, the foursome quickly falling into a bought of conversation interrupted only whenever a good song blared over the radio. Michael needn't have worried about the strip clubs being closed. The seedier part of Kenosha boasted a whole street of strip clubs and seedy bars, all of which appeared to be partying with full force. Parking in a lot at the end of the road, the four men stepped out the car and met at the sidewalk, their breaths clouding before their mouths and noses.
"Where to first, Groom of Honor?" Jon asked, dipping his hands into his pockets and scanning the street. Small droplets of water began to fall, plopping off their shoulders and heads.
A woman dressed in a miniskirt and halter had caught sight of them. She began to make her way towards them, her dampened fur coat falling from one shoulder, and Steven steered Eric away, noting with relief that Michael and Jon had followed. She scowled as they moved away, her smile quickly returning as a car slowed its approach. Her cigarette-hoarse voice echoed down the sidewalk. "Hey, baby…"
Eric's gaze was trained eyelevel, staring into red and pink-lit windows, watching women gyrate and spin on poles and in cages. He paused before a woman covered strategically in large flecks of glitter, a lascivious smile spread on his lips. Music pulsed from club entrances. Burly security guards sat just inside the doorways, thick golden chains hanging from their necks.
Steven watched the women dance, half following, and half leading his best friends down the walk. He stopped before a club, chortling at the name. "The Juicy Bungalow. We take off more than Boeing."
They entered the club, sniffling at the sudden change of temperature. Heat pulsed from the vents, and all four of them unzipped their coats, shaking droplets of water from their shoulders. Steven paid the cover charge to the bouncer, and headed over for the bar. "Beers?" He called over the music.
Jon stepped up beside Steven, his dark eyes scanning the bar and the mirror strategically placed behind it. "Yeah, I'll take a beer."
"Beers!" Michael yelled, following Eric to a table next to the stage, hands on Eric's shoulders as he steered him between tables. A woman with tightly stretched, ballooned breasts was gyrating to Pour Some Sugar On Me. She hooked her thumbs into her thong, balancing on her platform heels as she came down to her knees, her gaze settling on her two new customers.
Steven stepped a foot onto the gold bar lining the bottom of the bar. The bartender came around, the rhinestones on her bra glittering under the pink light. She leaned against the bar, accentuating her chest. Deep lines curved her mouth, and she pulled a drag off the cigarette perched between her first and second fingers. "Evening, gentlemen. What's your poison?"
Jon shifted beside Steven. He sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Eric and Michael as they took their seats. Steven held up four fingers. "Four beers. Four bourbons, two fingers."
"You got it, Handsome." The bartender grabbed a bottle of bourbon, pouring out shots. She set them on a tray and moved off to pour their beers, cigarette smoke trailing after her.
"You don't like strip clubs?" Steven asked Jon.
Jon shrugged. "They're alright." He took one of the beers the bartender set on the tray, pulling out his wallet. Steven waved him off, mumbling the first round was on him. "Thanks. You like places like this? Smells like warm cheese."
Steven sniffed the air. "Warm cheese, vanilla, and baby powder. The trifecta." Steven grabbed the tray and led the way to Forman and Kelso. "I used to like these kind of places."
"What changed?" Jon asked as they neared the others.
Jackie. Samantha. Steven thought. Mostly Jackie. "Ugh, well, it's a long story. Not a very interesting one, either."
"Dude!" Michael said, his attention briefly turning to them. "About time!"
"In honor of Forman's last night of freedom-" Steven set the tray down, passing around the shots. "Bourbons! Drink till you can't see straight!"
"Score!" Eric grabbed his, raising it into the air.
"To Forman!" Steven cheered, his shot glass rising.
"To Forman!" Jon and Michael repeated. They all clinked glasses, tipping back the golden liquid.
Steven grabbed a beer, taking a seat at the table. He stared up at the stripper, climbing the silver pole with ease. Her thighs flexed, and she arched her back, beginning a slow spin around and around, slowly down the pole. Kelso and Forman tossed dollar bills onto the stage, whistling as she cupped her large breasts, teasing her nipples to stiff peaks.
"Artists!" Michael yelled. Jon sighed heavily, swallowing a large gulp of beer. His dark eyes watched the woman slide off the pole, swinging on the tips of her toes around the greased pole as another woman appeared on stage. Lewd cheers rose around them, and Eric stared like a kid in a candy store, his hands absently worrying over a stack of ones clutched in his fingers.
Steven's mind drifted. He sipped his beer, staring at the stripper but not seeing. His blood was already warm with booze from the rehearsal dinner. The bourbon shot fueled his waning buzz. His arms felt heavy, his feet cement in his boots. The air was heavy with the heady, musty scent of woman. Michael and Eric watched entranced, ordering new beers before Steven and Jon had even finished their first ones. The lights pulsed and changed with the music. Women prowled the floors, enticing men with lap dances and strip teases.
"This man here!" Michael yelled, his pointer finger aimed at the top of Forman's head. He waved a twenty in the air. Steven looked to his right, where Michael gesticulated and watched a tall brunette approach. She smiled coquettishly at them, her manicured hands playing at the satin tie of her robe. "This man's getting married!"
"Getting married, huh?" The stripper said, stopping on her pursuit. Her gold-tipped fingers accepted the twenty, palming the air for more. Michael passed her another twenty. Folding the bills, she slipped them into the band of her stocking. Placing her hands on her hips, she teetered on her heels. Gold bands wrapped up her arms; a blue lamé wrap was slung over her shoulders, hanging tantalizingly open and revealing hints of her glittered skin. "Well, sweetheart it's your lucky day. Cherry's here to take care of you."
Cherry grabbed Eric's loosened tie, leading him from his chair towards a low couch. She pushed his shoulders down, beginning to dance for him. Steven turned away, polishing off the last of his beer.
Michael raised his empty beer, signaling for another round. "Man, I haven't been to a place like this in forever."
"Missing it?" Jon asked, taking a fresh beer from the waitress.
"Nah, not particularly." Michael said. He took a gulp of beer and scrunched his nose. "Does anyone else smell cheese?"
-x-
Steven sunk lower into the couch, his eyes unfocused as Sapphire danced for him. She turned her back, showing off her toned muscles, and rubbed against his thighs. He was unsure of how much time had passed, but he knew he was wasted. Double vision wrecked his brain. Every sip he took of his beer sloshed in his belly. Sapphire's dark locks spilled forward over her shoulders and Steven smirked at the sight. Tanned skin, dark hair, and dark eyes, the only thing missing was Sapphire was nowhere near as pretty as Jackie. And her breasts were much larger than Jackie's, stretch marks barely hidden beneath her tiny bikini top.
"What's got you looking so blue?" Sapphire asked, turning. She sat in his lap, a hand running through his curls. Her thumb hooked his chin, drawing his head up and back to rest against the back of the couch. "Girl troubles?"
"It's my ex." Steven slurred, taking a long sip of beer. A hand rose, his pointer finger making circles at his temple. "She's got me all fucked up."
"Did she break your heart?" Sapphire asked, subtly moving her hips over his lap.
Steven scoffed, his thighs opening in response. He felt himself begin to grow hard. "What a bitch. She stomped all over it." He mimed tearing out his heart. "Just like that." Steven made a fist, his head falling back against the couch again. "Her perfectly manicured hands just crushed it. Poof! Like nothing."
Sapphire rose, straddling his waist. Her fingers cupped his shoulders as she danced over him. "Poor baby. Did you tell this Jackie how you feel?"
"Nope!" Steven's lips popped over the p. He laughed without humor. "She's so selfish. It's all about her. Always has been, always will be."
"Put her out of your mind, sweetheart," Sapphire purred in his ear. She revolved over him more aggressively. Steven took a swallow of beer, unaffected except for the growing member in his dress pants.
"All she ever does is think of herself." Steven went on, dribbling beer over his shirt. "Selfish." He sloshed beer over the couch. Sapphire took a step back, her hips still swaying to the song. Her hands rose to her hair, lifting it off of her neck. A lip disappeared between her teeth. Sapphire dipped on her heels, her hands sliding down her legs and back up as she straightened, her hair wild about her head. Steven's free palm slapped onto the leather couch. "I even tried to explain it to her! But would she listen?"
Sapphire opened her mouth to speak, but Steven interrupted her.
"Nooooooooooo." He belched, finishing his beer.
"Ok, yeah, look, I don't know what to say here." Sapphire stopped dancing. She cocked a hip, giving him a terse look. "I make most of my money on tips, y'know."
"Oh." Steven said, snapping his fingers at her. "Right, mo-nay." He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, closing one eye so he could see the remaining bills in his billfold. Pulling a bill from its depths, Steven held it out to Sapphire. She took it, thanking him before making her way towards a group of men sat in a semi-circle further down the couch. They whistled at her approach, and she stepped into their fold.
"You still on about Jackie?" Jon said, sinking onto the couch beside him. He handed Steven a new beer. Red ringed Jon's irises, and a flush had crept up his neck, settling on his cheeks. Jon had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Steven's head felt heavy, rotating on his neck to peer at Jon.
"What?" Steven sputtered incredulously. "I have not been on about Jackie."
"Hyde." Jon said, sounding surprisingly sober despite his obvious drunkenness. "You've talked of nothing but Jackie since we've been here."
"No." Steven refuted. He snorted into his beer. "No."
"You should just go talk to Jackie." Jon said. He clutched the handle of his beer mug, a small burp pushing past his lips. His eyes grew unfocused, lids falling closed. "Go tell her everything."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Steven grumbled angrily. Go talk to Jackie? He had just spent the whole night trying to talk to her. And to what avail? He knew how she was, spoiled and childish. Going to her now would only solidify in her mind whatever warped, fucked-up notion she had already created, justifying her actions. He'd go talk to her as soon as hell froze over.
"Then quit talking about her like you're still in love with her." Jon said, matching Steven's tone.
"In love with- No." Steven gulped down half of his beer, ending on a solid belch. "No, I love the other one."
Jon laughed. He condescendingly asked, "'The other one'?"
"Yeah." Steven squeezed his eyes shut, wracking his brain. He could just make her out. Blond. Big Tits. No, that was the dancer. No, that was someone else. Right? Sam? No, not her. This one had bigger tits than Sam. And a heart shaped face.
"You mean Heather? Your fiancé?" Jon asked. He sounded increasingly disapproving.
Steven sighed with relief, fingers snapping. God, he was wasted. "That's it. Heather."
"Man, what happened between you two?" Jon asked. "You and Jackie. I gotta know. Curiosity is killing me."
"I married a stripper." Steven said matter-of-factly. He stared at a blond waiting with a tray at the bar. From this distance she could pass for a slightly older version of Sam. Steven's voice leveled, and he felt sober for the first time in hours. "She was gonna fuck Kelso in a hotel room, and I was gonna propose, and I married a stripper."
"That explains why you don't like strip clubs anymore." Jon said.
Steven sighed, his beer balancing precariously on his thigh. "All I wanted to do was talk to her. Get it all out in the open." He stretched out 'all', curling his tongue up behind his teeth. "She's mad cause I didn't tell her about Heather. Well I'm mad cause she just fucking up and left."
"Weren't you already seeing Heather though?" Jon asked. "Michael is hazy on the details."
"That's beside the point."
Jon fixed a stare on Steven. "Is it now?"
"Look, Heather and I were nothing serious, and Jackie was about to leave for Sarasota, and I don't know." Steven pushed his beer between his thighs, pressing his palms to his eyes. White stars burst before his vision. He suddenly felt extremely dizzy, and his pulse beat heavily in his throat. His next belch held a tinge of vomit.
"You two did it." Jon supplied.
Steven's hands fell away from his face. "It's more complicated than that."
"You should go talk to Jackie." Jon said.
"I already tried that." Steven said. He took a long drink. "She doesn't want to talk to me."
Jon grabbed Steven's arm, surprising Steven with his intensity. "Than we'll make her listen!"
"What?" Steven asked, apprehension rising in his belly. "No, man. I don't wanna."
"Come on!" Jon said, pulling him up off the couch. Jon led them back to Forman and Michael at the stage. He nudged Michael's shoulder. "Come on, let's go. We gotta help Steven get Jackie back."
"No, I don't want Jackie back." Steven said. His empty mug hung limp at his thigh. "I'm engaged. To Heather."
"You couldn't remember her name five minutes ago." Jon said.
Steven swayed on his feet. "I'm drunk."
Eric stood, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair. "I think you should stay. And throw these dollar bills at these ladies." He spread his arms, kissing his fingertips at the trio of women on stage. "Artists! Artists I tell you!"
"Fine. We'll catch a cab." Jon said. He frog marched Steven towards the exit, their coats grasped in his other hand.
"What?" Steven asked, blinking rapidly. He shivered at the sudden change in temperature as Jon led him out into the rain. "No. I don't wanna. Look, man, you don't know what you're saying."
"Yes, I do. You'll feel so much better." Jon said. He flagged down a cab, shoving Steven in to the backseat. "After Shannon broke my heart, it was the only way to heal. Having it out."
"This girl Shannon broke your heart?" Steven slurred, righting himself in the back of the cab.
"Uhm, yeah." Jon said. He tossed Steven's coat to him. He spouted off an address to the cabbie. "Point Place."
"Costs extra to leave the city."
"Yeah, alright."
Steven rested his forehead against the cold pane of glass, breathing deep and slow. He felt nauseous and anxious. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't remember just why they were doing this. He didn't want to do this. He should be getting home to Heather. His fiancé. Jon hummed along to the radio, and the cabbie managed to find each and every pothole on the way back to Point Place, upsetting Steven's already rumbling stomach.
Jon gave the cabbie turn-by-turn directions once they had made it to Point Place, and Steven sank further and further into his seat. He felt like a caged animal. They entered Donna and Keith's neighborhood, the tires swooshing down the quiet street. Steven wished he could just fall asleep. Maybe Jon would give it up if Steven fell asleep, tell the cab to take him home instead.
Donna and Keith's house was a red-bricked, one story set back in the neighborhood. What little landscaping they had managed to accomplish before the winter had all died, leaving curled and browned flower stalks and bushes. A lone white ceramic duck and her ducklings flanked the mailbox.
The cab pulled in behind Jackie's Volvo at the curb, brakes squealing as they rolled to a stop. Steven groaned, staring through the windshield at the shiny dark blue paint brightened by the cab's headlights. Jon paid the cabbie, tipping him for the extra mileage.
"Come on." Jon said, stepping out of the cab.
"I really don't want to, Jon." Steven said. His knees rubbed against the back of the drivers seat. "You don't know what you're asking of me, man."
The cabbie turned, giving the two men an odd look. Jon noticed, his tone softening. "Look, ya just gotta tell her how you feel. How hard can that be?"
"You fucking kidding me?" Steven asked rhetorically as he climbed out of the backseat. The cab pulled away, Steven wishing he were still in it. The house lurched, the earth at a severe tilt. He leaned against the daffodil painted mailbox. "I'm too drunk for this."
"Liquid courage!" Jon said, high stepping across the wet grass. He stopped at a window at the front of the house, blinds closed tight against the night. Noticing Steven hadn't followed, Jon motioned him on, a sharp whistle escaping his lips.
"Jesus Christ." Steven cursed. He slipped on the grass, scowling down as his feet continued to lead him on. He cursed at his body, betrayed by the thought of seeing her again.
Jon knocked softly on the window. "Jackie?"
Steven squatted down, his back pressed against the brick. "Jon, I don't feel so hot."
Rapping his knuckles against the glass again, Jon called louder, "Jackie?"
The porch light flipped on, startling both men with its brightness. Keith stood on the porch, a shotgun in his hands. He visibly relaxed at the sight of them, disengaging the gun.
Keith called into the house. "It's just Jon and Hyde."
"Were you going to shoot us?" Jon asked incredulously, hands raised to his shoulders.
"That's not cool, man," Steven said, letting his head drop between his knees. A soft belch rose up the back of his throat, acid spilling over his tongue. "Ugh. Totally not cool."
Donna joined Keith on the porch, pulling her blue terrycloth robe closed about her. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her slippered feet sliding on the concrete porch. "Jon? Hyde? What the hell are you two doing here?"
"We're drunk." Steven said. He gagged, spitting into the frozen, dead grass at his feet.
"Hyde has something he needs to say to-" Jon began, yelping when Steven frogged him just over the kneecap. "What the hell?"
"I wanted to know if I could crash here." Steven said. He gagged again, his abs contracting. "I'm wasted. I don't want Heather to see me like this."
Donna looked like she didn't believe a word he said. Her eyebrows drew together on her smooth forehead. "Won't she be worried when you don't come home?"
"Just a couple hours." Steven said. "I'll crash on the couch, be gone before you even wake up."
Donna shrugged, at a loss. Keith looked at his fiancé and then at the two men crouched in the dying bushes before his house. "Alright."
"Keith!" Donna shrieked. She slapped the back of her hand against his belly. "No. Hyde I think you should just go home. I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be here."
"Yeah, alright, I didn't want to come here anyway." Steven muttered. He stood shakily to his feet, his right leg asleep from having crouched for so long in the cold. He meandered over to the curb, sitting with his back against the wooden mailbox stake. "Would one of ya call me a cab?"
Steven's head fell into his hands. He blocked out the small conversation behind him. Embarrassment rolled over him in waves. He was ashamed most of all. What would Heather think of him? She loved him more than he felt he had ever been loved in his life, bent over backwards to make him happy. And he repaid her by spending the night at a strip club, getting trashed, and talking about Jackie. He didn't deserve her, he thought, his head rising. Jon joined him at the curb, sinking to sit beside him.
"Look, Hyde, I'm sorry." Jon rubbed his hands together.
Steven waved him off. His eyes rose to look at the cloudy sky. Freezing rain fell on his cheeks. "Don't worry about it."
A cab pulled the corner and Steven climbed in, leaving the door open for Jon. "Two stops." Steven said, suddenly feeling more sober than he had the whole evening.
Jon was blessedly quiet as they drove towards Heather's apartment. Steven paid his part of the fare, bidding Jon goodnight. The rain had finally paused, and Steven walked as though a man condemned into the building, taking the stairs at a glacial pace.
Half-melted candles littered the apartments flat surfaces. Instantly, guilt multiplied in his body. Heather had obvious spent time up waiting for him. A blanket was crumpled at the end of the couch, and cold when Steven touched it. The clock on the mantle read a quarter after four.
"Fuck."
Steven stepped past the closed bedroom door, intending to take a shower and wash the night off of him before he attempted to talk to Heather. Pausing as he reached the bathroom, Steven waited, listening hard for any rustling behind the bedroom door. Hearing none, he sequestered himself away, peeling his wet clothes from his body, and piling them on the floor by the sink. He turned the setting as hot as he could stand it, using Heather's loofa and strawberry scented soap to scrub his skin raw. Water dripped from his curls, and he secured a towel about his waist, scooping up his soiled clothing. Already he felt better, he thought, less drunk and more cognizant. Dumping his clothing in the washer, Steven started the machine, padding through the kitchen and living room and back to the bedroom.
Heather had her back turned to him, the covers pulled up to her ears. She was stiff, too stiff, and Steven knew immediately she was still awake. Probably watching the minutes tick by, growing more and more upset the longer it took him to come home. Closing the door with a snap, Steven felt a heavy sigh fall from lips.
Steven let the towel fall to the floor, and he climbed between the sheets beside her, scooting across the mattress till their bodies touched. Heather tensed, if possible, more, her chin ducking to close off access to her neck.
"Hey," Steven whispered, sweeping her hair back. "I'm sorry I'm back so late."
Heather didn't respond. Her shoulders quivered. She turned her face into the pillow.
Steven placed a hand on her hip. He shook her slightly, the corner of his mouth rising. "Are you crying?"
"What do you care?"
"Heather, nothing happened." Something had almost happened.
"Why were you gone for so long?" Heather sniffled. She rubbed her chin against the pillow, her folded arms blocking Steven's attempt at touching her. "I didn't think you would stay out this long. You know I didn't want you to go."
"Baby, I told you, it was for Forman's bachelor party." Steven said, the excuse lame to his own ears.
Heather turned so one blue eye could focus on him. "Doesn't mean you had to go."
"I know." Steven agreed. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "It won't happen again."
"Whatever." Heather mumbled, turning away from him again.
Steven pulled the cover off of her shoulder. He kissed her bare skin. "I missed you."
"Sure you did." Heather said. She jerked away from him, hindered by his hand on her hip. "Why would you miss me when you had all those naked women to look at?"
"Cause I love you," Steven said, trailing kisses up her skin. His grip tightened on her. "And you're the one I want."
That must be why you spent the whole night reminiscing about Jackie.
"You're just horny." Heather said, ignoring his advances. Her shoulders curled in, her knees rising under the sheet.
Steven pressed his front to her back, his hand coming forward to cup her breast. He kissed her shoulder, coaxing her to relax to gain access to her neck. She was still dressed in the black slip he liked, the low cut bodice doing nothing to hold her breasts back. They spilled from the top, overflowing into his hands. He pulled up the bottom of the slip, his fingers dipping around the curl her warm center.
"Let me show you how much I love you." Steven said, his voice a pleading whisper. "Heather, you're the only one I want. Baby, I promise."
Heather's shoulders relaxed, and Steven placed a lingering kiss to her neck. He pulled her hip back to meet his naked body. Each kiss to her skin was torture. With every caress he felt guiltier and guiltier. As Heather opened up to him, eventually turning onto her back, wrapping him in her arms, her thighs opening to accept his body, Steven tried to keep his mind focused. With each stroke of his fingers against her he whispered her name. Each kiss was softer and gentler than any kiss he had given before.
"What's wrong?" Heather panted, pushing her hair from her face. Her breath warmed Steven's chin.
"What?" Steven asked.
"You're different." Heather involuntarily moaned as Steven moved inside her.
Steven kissed her in response. His tongue sought out hers, and he moaned into her, his hips rolling in languid movements. Heather's eyes drifted closed and she pressed the flat of her palms to the headboard, holding her steady as Steven rose onto his hands, quickening his pace. Her body was tight beneath him, her ribs exposed and expanding with each quivering breath. Heather's breasts bounced in quicker pendulum swings. She quaked underneath him, coming with a squeal. Heather smiled up at him, her hands rising to curl around his neck.
"Come for me, baby," Heather moaned, pulling Steven down over her.
Their bodies pressed together, Steven squeezed his eyes shut tight, panting as he felt his release near. Heather wrapped her legs about his hips, her heels pressing into his ass. His mouth opened, sucking hard at her neck. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room.
"Steven!" Heather cried.
Pulsing deep inside her, Steven released her skin and released deep into her body, his eyes still closed tight. Returning Heather's kisses, Steven rolled off of her, pulling her body snug to him.
One more day. Steven sighed, his breath fluttering Heather's bangs. He kissed her forehead, his sweating skin sticking to hers. One more fucking day.