A short story idea that keeps running through my head as I try and complete my last story. Well one of 5 stories but this one won't go away. Thought I would start it and get the first chapter out of the way so that I could focus. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.
I do not own any Glee characters
Muse
As Brittany set up her easel and lay her brushes and paints out on the pallet she waited to see who the live model would be for the day. Art is Brittany's passion, though she makes her living in accounting. Numbers come easy to her, but the work doesn't excite her, it doesn't move her. She enjoys dancing most of all, but having moved to the big city from a small town she came to discover that she was far more shy and introverted here in New York City than she ever had been when she lived in Ohio. It hadn't always been that way, but a desire for a fresh start had changed her. She no longer craves the spotlight. In the year and a half since she had been living in New York she had only gone dancing twice, and she felt totally alive on the dance floor, but she didn't do well with people, not anymore. People couldn't be trusted. People are cruel and play on your insecurities. She's an extrovert by nature, and an introvert by necessity.
Brittany has always been quite an artist, she loved making the colors come alive on a canvas, marrying hues and swirls together, creating beautiful worlds that people want to immerse themselves in. Even her classwork throughout her school years had been in technicolor, with Brittany using crayons and colored pencils to complete many of her assignments, much to the dismay of her teachers. She didn't mind painting the stereotypical bowls of fruit, but today she was happy they would be painting with a live model. Even better, today they would be painting nudes. Now, Brittany is a true artist, and so she knows that every nude isn't the stereotypical perfect form. They look for the interesting, the unique. Sure, sometimes the models are perfect, and sometimes they're not. She's painted everything from people with severe scars and skin conditions to people with weight issues, be it too heavy or too thin. As an artist her job is to find the beauty in every subject.
Sometimes, on days like today, you don't really have to look that hard.
When the young woman walked into the room everyone's eyes went straight to her. It's normal, the artists want to know who they are painting for the day. They want to see their subject, to start considering their approach, to mentally prepare for the work of art.
The woman had on white fluffy slippers and a white robe, long dark curly hair flowing over her shoulders. She wore no makeup, truly bare, and Brittany knew that she would add none to her painting, because this girl's face was perfect. She came and sat on the stool in the center of the room, rolling her shoulders like a cat, stretching and preparing to sit in the same position for the majority of the 90 minute class, attempting not to move.
Brittany knew that no matter what, everyone was required to keep it professional, to make the model feel comfortable, to simply paint without leering or comment. Still, she could see the anticipation in the eyes of some of the men, and she wondered if anyone could see her own.
A few short minutes later the instructor announced that they were about to begin, and alerted the nameless model that she could remove her robe when she was ready. For some reason Brittany felt nervous for the girl. To be able to sit there, countless sets of eyes boring into you, staring at every part of you, exposed. She wondered how this girl could do it, no matter how beautiful Brittany knew that she already was.
"Please everyone, settle down, we're just about ready to start. Our model is ready and you have roughly an hour to complete your work. Remember, let the model be your inspiration and paint her as you see her. It doesn't have to be literal."
Everyone turned to their pallets and prepared to paint. Brittany tried to ignore the annoying comment of the guy next to her about what he would rather be doing with her for an hour. The same guy who leered at her the first time she stepped into the studio. He should really be concentrating, Brittany had thought, because his paintings suck. Still, she let the slight flare of anger pass, as she watched the model elegantly allow the white robe to slide down her tan shoulders.
"Should I let it drape around me this time, or should I take it completely off?" the model asked the instructor.
"Take it all off!", the douchebag next to Brittany said loudly, garnering a few snickers from some of the men in the class and glares from the women and gentlemen.
"Shut the hell up and be professional will you please, before we lose our model for the day. She's not a stripper, if you want to yell take it to the strip club." Brittany growled.
"Well if she leaves you could always model for us, babe," he smirked.
"Mr. Puckerman, if I have to go through this with you again I will dismiss you from the rest of the semester and you will not be getting a refund for the classes you can't make. For the final time behave yourself and treat our guests with some respect. There are artists here who came to do a job and I will be using your fees to refund them for the session if we lose our model."
After that the snickers ended and the smiles faded, the men getting the hint.
"My apologies. If you don't mind, you can remove your robe if Mr. Puckerman hasn't made it too uncomfortable for you to do so," The instructor added.
"I'm fine," the model said in this raspy voice that made Brittany's head spin. She locked eyes with Brittany as she let her robe fall to the floor before sitting on the stool that was covered in some soft type of white silk, elegantly crossing long dark legs. Her dark hair long and curly, falling over her shoulders. She turned her shoulder slightly and cupped he right breast with her left hand and allowed her chin to drop down to her chest, all cute and coy. It wasn't until she stopped moving that Brittany realized that she wasn't breathing.
"Is this okay?" She rasped and the instructor smiled.
"Perfect, okay class, you may begin."
Brittany looked over the model, committing as much of her to her memory as she could. She mixed her colors, creating the perfect tint of brown to bring the model's perfect skin to life on the canvas. She wanted to pay attention to every detail, she wanted to take her time, and yet she found herself painting quickly and mindlessly, wondering what the woman thought about as she sat there motionless for an entire hour the models usually stay for. The way the brush moved across the canvas felt almost intimate, as if she were dipping the brush into the model's skin and applying it to the canvas, trying to capture the essence of her in the oil painting. Brittany almost wishes she could dip her fingers in the paint, trace the lines and curves of her body, feel the art. The painting took shape quickly, Brittany changing nothing about her, except for adding the slight crease in her cheeks, not quite a dimple but still adorable, that she had caught a glimpse of as she smirked at Puckerman's remark while trying to remain stoic.
The time flew by, Brittany in a zone, painting every detail perfectly. She used a dark, almost stormy background with just a hint of light shining through. For some reason that background feels like this girl, a storm, beautiful and potentially destructive. As if she could eat the earth up at a whim and just as quickly become calm, letting life and light shine through. The instructor moved through the room, assessing everyone's work and offering constructive criticism, but even she knew not to bother Brittany in this moment. She was witnessing someone inspired, and Brittany was one of her most talented students. It was nice to see here in this space, streaks of paint on her face where she would mindlessly scratch her nose. When she was finished she simply sat admiring her work for the couple of minutes that were left, not finding anything she wanted to improve upon. How do you improve upon perfection? This just may be the most perfect thing she's ever painted, and she wasn't sure if she was talking about the painting or the subject.
"Ok class, that's it for today. Please let's take a moment to thank our model," the instructor led the class in a gentle round of applause for the model as the instructor handed her the robe she had let slip to the floor, helping her to avoid having to pick it up in her state of undress. Puckerman groaned loudly in irritation at the lost opportunity to see the model bend over. Once again instead of giving Puckerman the pleasure of any eye contact her eyes instead fell briefly on Brittany's as she slid the robe around her body and fixed her curls so that they could fall once again across her shoulders.
There was that crease in her cheeks again, just a hint, and a hint of something in her eyes.
Beautiful...and potentially destructive.
The woman sauntered off, likely never to be seen again. They never used the same models twice in a class, never shared their names. Anonymity was key, especially with men like Puckerman around. Last thing a model needs is a potential stalker.
Once the woman was gone it seemed as if the room filled again with air and everyone could breathe. Puckerman chanced a look at Brittany's work and was quite impressed.
"Damn babe, you got her perfectly. You should let me buy that from you. She definitely belongs in my bed but unless I can catch up to her my bedroom wall will have to do."
Brittany rolled her eyes. "You had the chance to paint her just like the rest of us. Would you have felt better if they would have given you a box of crayons?"
"Don't hate on crayons, slim. We can't all be Bob Ross. I'm more Bob Dylan, but not exactly. Did I tell you I was a musician? You should come hear me play one night."
"I'd rather stay home and listen to my cat scratch his balls. Besides, if you play anything like you paint I'll end up jamming this paint brush in my ear."
"I like a challenge babe. Keep it up, its like foreplay to me."
"Eating cheese is probably like foreplay to you."
"How did you know?"
Brittany scoffed in disgust and looked once again at the man's painting.
"It's Cubism, babe. Haven't you ever heard of Picasso?"
"Tell yourself whatever you need to in order to help you sleep at night," Brittany said, standing and moving her easel against the wall so that her painting could dry.
As Brittany was cleaning her brushes and packing her things the instructor made her way over to speak with her.
"Ms. Pierce, I must say your work is always magnificent but this painting belongs in a gallery. It's stunning."
"Thank you."
"Your use of colors and the softness you managed to capture, it truly is the best work I've seen from you yet. I can't wait to see what's next."
Brittany smiled as the instructor made her way around the room looking at the finished products. Brittany did the same. She had to admit she felt that while there were many beautiful versions of the woman hers seemed to capture an inner beauty as well. She was quite proud of the way she seemed to capture the true beauty of this woman, a woman she knew she would likely never see again, whose name she would never learn. This painting would be all she would ever have to remember her by, and so she wanted it to be perfect.
Brittany's life was simple. She worked, she went home, she hung out with her cat and she slept. Then she would wake up and do it all over again. She had friends, but not good friends. She had left all of those back in Lima, Ohio along with all of the people who had betrayed her trust. Brittany was okay with doing things like this, taking classes to express her creativity. The art classes were the first classes she treated herself to. While she loved dance she had been doing that her entire life back in Ohio. She wanted to try another outlet. Then she moved on to cooking classes. Eating out in New York City was expensive and a waste of money when she was mainly eating alone or ordering take out. So she takes the cooking classes and she's met some people that she's become friendly with in these classes. Still, there's the little matter of trust, and not letting anyone too close. New York was her new start, and she wasn't going to mess it up by making it a place she hated being because people she hated lived there.
The following week, as those who needed more time put the finishing touches on their work of art, Brittany chatted with some of her classmates who were also finished, each admiring the work of the other. After the short break she was back, this time painting a beautiful sunset over the ocean. A brilliant orange sky with a hint of yellow sitting above the water, an orange glow cast against the still waters. It was simply how she felt in that moment, tranquil, admiring the natural beauty that exists in the world. It's how she felt thinking about last week's class. It's how memories of the pretty model made her feel.
It was three weeks later when by chance the unimaginable happened. Brittany was sitting in the coffee shop a few blocks from her art class, wasting time because she had gotten off work an hour early that day and didn't want to go home just to have to go back out to art class. She had her laptop open, working furiously on finishing an account she had been working on, hoping to get it done so that she could have her weekend to herself. The most glorious voice made her look up from her laptop. She knows that she's heard it before.
There she was, her hair down once again, wearing a tight leather jacket and some skin tight black jeans, short boots, a simple black tank top beneath it all. She was with a massive man, her boyfriend perhaps, smiling up at him as she waited to place her order. Brittany doesn't know what this strange feeling she had about seeing her with a man was. Once their order was placed the two stood to the side chatting and laughing as they waited for their name to be called. Maybe now Brittany would learn the name of the woman who managed to creep into her thoughts more than once over the past few weeks. Even if she wanted to forget her, the painting sitting in the studio would never let her.
It was when their order was ready that the woman finally caught Brittany looking at her. She smiled softly at her and Brittany smiled back, hoping the woman didn't find her creepy for looking. Why would she, Brittany thought, after all she sort of knew her. Well, not knew her but had seen her naked, had drawn her body to perfection, including the not quite dimples that she was finally truly seeing for the first time, the interesting curve of her perfect cheekbones that accentuated that stunning smile.
She gave Brittany this cute little wave and Brittany's heart fluttered. Brittany smiled and waved back.
"Dave", the barista called, and the massive man stepped forward, grabbing their order.
"Damnit", Brittany thought. She thought she would at least learn the name of the beautiful woman she had brought to life on canvas.
Brittany watched as the woman turned to her friend and said something before watching him look her way. He said something in return before nodding his head and kissing her on the cheek. He handed her a cup and a small bag before saying a final few words and leaving.
The woman began walking towards Brittany, a slight smile playing on her lips. Brittany followed her with her eyes, no longer smiling, just intrigued.
"Hello," the woman said, before transferring the bag to the same hand as her drink. "You were in the class I modeled in at the art institute a few weeks ago, right?"
"Yes," Brittany answered, her throat suddenly dry despite the drink she had been sipping for the past 15 minutes.
"Santana," the woman smiled, extending her hand for Brittany to shake.
Brittany took the soft hand into her own and smiled up at the woman. She was stunning up close.
"Brittany," she responded.
Santana smiled. "May I," she asked, looking at the empty seat across from her.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Certainly." Brittany responded.
"So, Brittany, thanks for speaking up when that guy was being a jerk in class that day. I'm used to guys speaking up just to look good and then looking hopefully at me like I'll wait outside of class for them afterwards. For the record that never happens," Santana smiled, taking a soft sip of her coffee.
"No problem. The guy is just so skeevy."
"Dude literally has a landing strip on his head. That haircut screams that he watches too much porn."
Brittany laughed and Santana smiled.
"So are you originally from here, Brittany? I don't get native New York vibes from you."
"Originally from Ohio," Brittany answered.
"Cool, never been. Then again never thought about going either," she chuckled and Brittany laughed.
"You're not missing anything," Brittany smiled.
"No, it seems the best that Ohio has to offer I can find right here in New York," Santana replied, staring right into Brittany's eyes.
"Wait a minute, is she flirting with me?" Brittany thought. "But I'm not gay," she thought further. Sure, Brittany has found women attractive, she's even been curious what it would be like to be with one, but it's just a fantasy. She doesn't want to be with a woman. It's probably because she's sick of dealing with men. Well realistically she thought some women were sexy before she ever got burned by men but she never thought too much about it. Like, she was a cheerleader, she was surrounded by pretty girls all of the time. She was bound to think at least some of them were hot.
Santana simply smiled, waiting for the woman across from her to catch up.
"Yeah, New York has everything. I love it here."
"How long have you been here?" Santana asked, using plump lips to cool her drink before taking another sip. Brittany hopes that drink never cools down, because she totally wants to see that again.
But she's not gay. Really.
"About a year and a half," Brittany answered.
"Fresh meat," Santana smiled.
"What about you?"
"Hell's Kitchen born and bred," Santana answered proudly. "What about you, what part of New York do you claim as your own now?"
"Stuytown," Brittany answered.
"Ouch"
"What?"
"Stuytown has a racist history, but no way you would know that."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they didn't allow blacks for years, they even built Riverton houses in Harlem as separate but equal housing. Took a lot of fighting to get black people into Stuytown. To this day it's still mostly white and Riverton is still mainly black."
"Didn't know that," Brittany replied, almost embarrassed.
"No reason you would, unless you hang out with your 92 years old neighbors."
"So why do you know it, are you some kind of history buff?"
"No, my grandmother is African American. Hellraiser from the South, always protesting and fighting. When things like that happened her and the civil rights groups she worked with were on that shit quickly. She was totally my hero," Santana smiled.
"She sounds very heroic."
"She was," Santana replied with a bit of sadness. "Lost her a few years ago."
"Sorry to hear that," Brittany replied.
"Death is a part of life. The saddest part, but unavoidable. She left her mark, it's all you can ask for in this life, and to live long enough to be someone's hero, well that's a life lived with a purpose."
"Yeah," Brittany replied solemnly.
"I still have my abuela, my dad's mom. Another hero of mine. She's stubborn, opinionated and headstrong and I totally have her wrapped around my finger," Santana said confidently.
Brittany smiled.
"So Brittany, did you enjoy painting me?" Santana smiled cheekily, back to flirting.
"I got some good art out of it," Brittany answered, blushing.
"Oh yeah?" Santana smiled. "Would love to see your work."
"Maybe next time you're at the art institute you can stop by and see them."
"I'm at the institute a lot, easy money."
"You're not self conscious?" Brittany asked shyly.
"With this body? Should I be?" Santana asked sincerely.
"No, definitely not." Brittany answered quickly and, then embarrassed, went silent.
"Look, the key is not giving a shit. I used to care and then I realized most of the people who would have anything to say about it are also the same people who aren't willing to let you see them naked. They talk about the people brave enough to show themselves and probably fuck with the lights off. They have so much to say about you as they hide, afraid of their own flaws. Those fat guys they have you paint, they've been teased their entire lives, well at least their fat lives if they didn't start out that way. They show themselves to show the world that they can't shame them anymore. They embrace their beauty, the beauty that most people don't initially see, and they hope you can capture who they really are on canvas."
"That's a nice way to look at it."
"Yeah, I love to see how people paint me. Sometimes it's literal, that's why when there's guys like landing strip in the room I cover more of myself, so they can focus because a glimpse of a nipple sends them over the deep end. Then when there's a more mature class, or a class with a lot of women or serious artists, I may choose a pose where my breasts are more on display. I love my breasts, I paid a lot for them," Santana laughed.
Brittany was shocked by the woman's openness. "They look great," she said sincerely.
"I think so. I didn't go huge, had no desire to look like a blow up doll, just wanted to enhance my shape. If I had to do it again maybe I would and maybe I wouldn't. I'm not as critical of my body as I once was." Santana said, offering Brittany a piece of the lemon pound cake she had in her bag before finally taking a pinch for herself.
"No, thank you," Brittany replied. "Can I ask you a question?" Brittany asked shyly.
"Do I seem like the type of girl that's afraid of questions?" Santana joked.
"No, no you don't," Brittany paused. "What made you become less critical of your body? How did you do that?"
"Dated this girl once, she wanted to be famous, hell, so do I. I'm a singer out here trying to make it. I sing and waitress at this little club in the village. She had the bright idea to leak a portion of our sex tape online without telling me first to create buzz for her band. Not only did she leak it but she used our real names because of course what good would it be without our real names, right? At first I was horrified and irritated. Then people we knew started to see it and felt like they had the right to comment to me about their opinions. Most people thought the tape was hot and hey, not gonna lie, the girl was crazy but so was the sex. Then some of them thought it was okay to comment on our bodies. For the most part those comments were positive as well, but then some people get mean and critical. They talk about your body, they dissect it. I pretty much developed an eating disorder over it for a short time. Maybe it even influenced me getting the boob job, don't know and not paying a therapist to find out. Eventually I had to learn to live with it all, to survive the years until the next new thing came along and we faded into the background. I read a lot of books, books that I found healing. Then I was offered the opportunity by your instructor to pose at the institute. I thought maybe I could face my issues for the last time by exposing myself on my own terms. The check didn't hurt. Now I pose for classes there a few times a month."
"That's awesome, Santana."
"And I love to see the artists renditions of me. Some of them do a really great job, some of them paint me in styles I don't even understand, and some of them are so beautiful they make me want to cry, the thought that someone sees me that way when for a time all I could see was the negative things people pointed out about me. I look at those beautiful paintings and say to myself, "wow, what a beautiful woman". Then I realize that it's me. That's how someone saw me, when for a time I couldn't see myself that way. Sometimes seeing yourself through someone else's eyes isn't bad at all, just depends on who the person is, and what the motives are behind the way they see you."
"I get that."
"So yeah, would love to see how you saw me," Santana added, pausing to sip her drink. "Your instructor usually lets me take a peak at some of the work when I come in to pose for different classes."
"Did you have the opportunity to see the work in our class?"
"I did, some of them were really nice, but then I had my favorite," Santana said.
"Which one was that?" Brittany asked.
"Whichever one you painted," Santana flirted.
Brittany laughed, "No really, you have to say it first before I tell."
"How about we meet in the middle and I will say that the artist found something about me that nobody else in the class found about me. So now, describe your painting to me."
"It had a dark and stormy background, with just a streak of light to brighten the focus on the subject."
Santana smiled brightly, "That's the one."
"Stop messing with me," Brittany said seriously.
"That's the one, Brittany. You were the only one who painted my cheekbones with a hint of a smile. Don't know how you saw it when I'm pretty sure that landing strip guy wiped any smiles I thought of having that night right off my face."
"You smirked at him and I saw them," Brittany confessed.
"A true artist, you see what others don't."
"There's a lot of good artists in that class, it happened so quickly, blink and you would have missed it."
Santana smiled, "Well I'm glad you didn't blink, they're one of my favorite assets."
"They are pretty awesome," Brittany said, almost sounding like she was flirting back.
Santana smiled, putting those perfect cheekbones on full display.
"Plus you were the only one who got my eyes right. People drawing nude models rarely take the time to get the twinkle in their eyes just right. Maybe that's why it felt like your painting captured my soul best."
"I detected a little mischief there, after meeting you now I don't think that I was wrong."
Santana laughed, "Nope, you certainly weren't wrong about that. And why the dark background?"
"It just felt like you for some reason."
"What does that mean?" Santana wondered.
"Just from watching how you handled Puckerman's unpleasantries, you seemed like you had this fighting spirit that could be dangerous if unleashed, but that bright streak of light, even when covered in clouds, is strong enough to light up the entire sky when it breaks through. Also, it's all dark and stormy, but there's also a beautiful sense of peace beneath that storm, like there's a rebirth on the horizon."
"That's quite beautiful," Santana said.
"But is it accurate?"
"Perhaps."
"I've always loved the contrast of a dark and stormy sky, the brightest silver streak of light fighting through. It's hopeful, it's powerful..."
"It's sexy, the way you describe that." Santana interrupted, and both women went temporarily silent, sharing a soft smile. "So is your passion when you talk about art," Santana continued. "Is it what you want to do? Is art what gets you off?"
Brittany blinked hard at the image the words shot into her brain, but Santana had spoken them so sincerely she knew that she wasn't trying to make it anything sexual, it was sexual because this woman simply IS. She is sensual and raw and Brittany just wants to dip her fingers in...
Not what she meant, she wants to paint her, she wants to feel what she felt the first time she painted her.
"I'm an accountant," Brittany laughed. This is just a hobby, an outlet."
"It should be more, you're that good. I'm totally in love with that painting. Would love to see more of your stuff."
"Anytime you're near the studio you should stop by."
"I don't really hang around the studio. Lots of creeps in the world. That's why the models never share their names, or engage with the students so yeah, I'm going to need you to keep this meeting to yourself amongst your classmates if you don't mind. That's why my friend Dave meets me after every modeling gig. His friend lives a few blocks away from here. He will make sure nobody is waiting around for me, the instructors always make sure I have enough time to get dressed and leave before anyone leaves class although they really couldn't stop someone if they really wanted to leave. So Dave meets me, we jump on my bike and ride somewhere to get some food or a cup of coffee, it's all the payment he will take. Then I'm off to work or on nights like this, to enjoy a cup of coffee with a pretty girl." Santana winked. "By the way, can I buy you another cup, since you were gracious enough to let me interrupt your work and join you this evening."
"Oh no, I was just wasting a little time. I'm here because I have class tonight at the institute and didn't want to go all the way home first. I think I can squeeze in time for one more cup of coffee."
Santana smiled, "If I throw in a pastry will that get me a phone number?"
"Sure, you can have my number, but I don't want to mislead you Santana. Would love to make some friends here in New York, but I'm not gay. Not that I have anything against being gay, just don't want to lead you on."
"No problem, Ohio. Appreciate the disclaimer, but I wasn't expecting you to put out for pastry and a coffee, even though it is fucking good coffee," Santana smiled.
Brittany laughed, "Cool, then yes, please, and a chocolate chip scone. Next time will be my treat."
"See, we're best friends already," Santana winked.
"Oh, the bestest!" Brittany said with a smile.
Brittany watched the woman go and place their order. Something about the way she moved, the stories she shared so openly minutes after meeting her, made Brittany want to open up as well, and it fascinated her. This girl could help her heal, help her come to terms, she just felt it.
This girl is truly a muse.
Santana returned with their order. She removed their empty coffee cups and threw them in the trash as Brittany packed her laptop away. Then she sat, picking at the remainder of her cake as she blew on the steaming hot drink.
"So enough about me, what do you like to do for fun?"
"I like to dance, I love to dance actually, but I don't get to go often."
"Sweet, well if you ever want to go, let me know. I party every chance I get," Santana smiled. "Would love to see what you've got...on the dance floor that is." Santana clarified.
"Sounds like fun. Maybe I could come and hear you sing first, if you don't mind?"
"Why would I mind? I love it, and I'm good at it, so yeah, whenever you want just let me know." Santana stated, pulling out her phone to lock in Brittany's number. "Give me your number so I can send you mine." Santana said, as she waited for Brittany to call off her phone number. Once they had exchanged numbers Santana knew that Brittany would have to be leaving soon.
The women chatted until they finished their coffee. Brittany couldn't bring herself to end the conversation so Santana did it for her.
"Well, thanks for the company, Ohio. I know you have to get to class so I won't hold you up any longer. Do you need a ride to class?"
"No, thank you, besides I don't want to bring you back over there when your friend just picked you up."
"I don't worry about it too much, especially when I have my bike and a helmet on. Dave is my big gay mother hen. Good luck keeping up with me when I'm on that thing," Santana smiled.
"Oh you meant like a motorcycle bike?" Brittany asked, and then wanted to slap herself in the head. "I mean, I know you mentioned your bike but I was thinking maybe a scooter."
"Ouch" Santana laughed. "Do I look like 'scooter' is my speed?"
"Haven't known you long enough to know what your speed is?" Brittany smiled.
"Hmmmm, you painted a storm behind a woman who rides a scooter?" Santana joked.
"What's with the scooter slander? Scooters are cute."
"Puppies are cute, doll. I'm hot."
Brittany had to smile. If anything this woman was confident, and it was admirable.
"You're right, scooters are cute, however I have a need for speed. I ride a Ninja 400, total crotch rocket and I dare anybody to say otherwise. She's my baby," Santana said proudly.
"No arguments out of me, I know absolutely nothing about bikes."
"I'm a part of a riding club, if we end up enjoying each others company maybe I'll take you out with us one day. It's not a bunch of marauding lesbians, so you should be just fine, Ohio," Santana smiled. "I'll keep you safe."
"I'm not afraid of lesbians, Santana, I just don't happen to be one."
"Cool beans," Santana replied and Brittany smiled in return. "So once again thanks for the company, and you've gotta take a picture of that painting and send it to me. I wanted to do it but I kind of respect the whole artist thing and you may not have thought it was ready for sharing. It's your work, you deserve the right to show it how and when you want to. I may have peeked, but if you send me that pic I'm totally showing it off, I look fucking awesome." Santana said and once again it brought a smile to Brittany's face. "Anyway, I'll walk you out, Ohio."
Santana stood and waited as Brittany gathered her things, and then she and Brittany walked to the front of the shop.
"There's my baby over there," Santana said, pointing to a shiny black bike parked not far from the entrance to the coffee shop. "I tend to park it in this area when I go to the art institute because Dave will walk back here with me and we'll either eat or grab coffee in the area. Don't know what nights you have class but I'll be here again on Tuesday around 6, otherwise, we'll talk." Santana said, winking at Brittany. "Anyway, paint something awesome, tonight, Ohio. Have fun!" she said before stepping into the street and grabbing the helmet off her bike.
"Later, New York," Brittany replied with a smile as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder and started her walk to the art institute. She couldn't help but look back when she heard the motorcycle rev up, a dark figure with long flowing hair peaking beneath her helmet, riding off into the night.
Brittany doesn't know why the thought of not being gay crossed her mind once again in that moment.
Brittany did paint something awesome that night, a dark figure on a bike, riding through the city night.
It was only a day later when Santana dialed Brittany's number. Brittany was just finishing up her laundry when she saw Santana's name flash across her phone screen.
"Hey Ohio, if you're not doing anything tonight I'm performing at the club. Should have invited you last night but we squeezed a lot of conversation into a little bit of time. If you feel like coming out you can stay afterwards and have dinner at the club with me. Then if you're up for it I'll give you a ride home on my bike. Kill two birds with one stone and all that jazz."
"That sounds like fun," Brittany said.
"No pressure, doll. It's all spur of the moment. Anyway, I only have four songs to sing. Dave will be there, his boyfriend is singing and a couple of other people. If you want you can come early and hear them all or I can let you know what time I go on. Don't worry about the cover charge, just ask for Lumps the Clown at the door and tell him that I invited you and he'll let you in."
"Lumps the Clown?" Brittany asked. "Is this some kind of weird sex club I need a code name to get into?"
Santana laughed, "No, I don't belong to any weird sex clubs, just regular sex clubs," Santana smiled. "Just ask for Hudson and you're in, that's if you're available tonight."
"No, I had nothing planned this weekend but work and trying out a recipe I learned in cooking class. Thanks for the invite."
"No problem, Ohio. See you there. I'll text you the details."
Brittany sat for a moment and wondered if the excited feeling she was feeling was that feeling you get when you are going to see friends you haven't seen in a while, or you're going to spend time with someone who makes you smile. Brittany wasn't sure, especially since it's been so long since she's wanted to make a new friend.
Then came the struggle of picking out something to wear. She wanted to look nice but she didn't want it to look like she was going on a date. She was going out to hear people sing and so she certainly wanted to look nice, but she didn't want to look hot. Then again who doesn't want to look hot? When people go out for the evening they want to look hot, or at the least very warm. Yes, that's it, she's going to look hot enough, like soup after you've bought it and taken the cab ride home. It's good enough to do the job, but its not exactly HOT.
What the hell am I doing? Brittany thought. Just pick something to wear for the night.
Over an hour later of her trying on outfits that she's already seen herself in and mixing and matching combinations she settled on a black and green dress. This after changing out of a black form fitting number that she maybe shouldn't wear around the girl who enjoys flirting with her even though she knows she doesn't have a chance. Brittany just thinks Santana is a flirt, she grew up with plenty of girls who would hone their skills on whoever was close enough for them to practice their magic on, she was a cheerleader for goodness sakes. It doesn't bother her, as long as Santana is good with boundaries, and she seems to be so far, at least from what she could gather from one coffee date.
Well, not a date.
Why was this day moving so slow? Brittany had finished working by 4 in the afternoon and the rest of the weekend was hers. So she decided rather than sit around watching the clock tick she would go grocery shopping and get the ingredients she needed to try a few of the recipes she had learned in her cooking class. She could just have a day of cooking on Sunday and relax before returning to work on Monday.
After shopping and putting her groceries away Brittany decided to have a nice long shower and start to get ready. Santana had told her that she worked at a restaurant and bar that had live entertainment and a DJ. She would be performing at 9, but her friends would start going on at 8. Brittany decided to be there by 8 so that she could get settled in.
By 7:30 Brittany was out of the door and hailing a taxi to the address Santana had given her. Once she arrived she asked for Hudson at the door as she was instructed and was greeted by a tall, dark haired man. She gave her name and he smiled, letting her past him and instructing her to make her way to the bar and tell the bartender who she was there to see.
Brittany made her way to the bar and was greeted by a young woman.
"Hi there, what can I get for you?" the woman asked.
"I'm here to meet Santana," Brittany replied.
The woman smiled, "Does she know you're here to meet her, or do you just want to meet her?" the woman asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
"She's expecting me," Brittany said.
"What's your name?"
"Brittany"
"Oooooh, Santana always says Brittanys are trouble, so she must be looking to get into a little trouble tonight. Then again she says the same thing about Ashleys and Keishas and Nikkis and apparently Heathers are a toss up."
Just then Santana walked over to the bar. "Hey Sugar, what are you up to over here?"
Brittany wasn't sure what was happening and why Santana was calling her sugar but she wasn't going to make a fuss over it. She's flirty, remember.
"Hey Sanny," Sugar replied. "Your date is here."
"My friend, but I like the way you're trying to dig for information. Far better than you used to be when you would just come out and ask if this was who I was fucking tonight."
"Yeah, I learned my lesson when I asked your cousin that question. She nearly puked all over my bar."
Santana kissed the bartender on the cheek. "That was because of your strong ass drinks."
"Hey Britts," Santana came over and gave Brittany a hug. "Glad you could make it. This is Sugar. I don't know what she's said to you already but whatever it was I'm sorry."
"Self diagnosed Asperger's," Sugar explained.
"Also be careful with any drink she makes you. It's going to be strong enough to take out a man twice your size so drink easy."
"I just like making sure people have fun."
"Alcohol poisoning is not fun, trust me I know." Santana replied. "Sugar works the bar because she loves talking to people, or rather listening to the drunks tell all of their business. The only reason she gets away with overpouring like a mad woman is because her mom Holly owns the place."
"My step mom, and also because my dad is filthy rich."
"Yeah, that too."
"So if there's anything you want just let me know, and since you're Sanny's friend everything is on the house."
"Sugar, you and this Sanny shit..."
"It's because you're so cuuuute," Sugar purred.
"Oh for fuck's sake let's go find you a table Britts," Santana said exasperated.
Santana took Brittany's hand and pulled her from the stool. She led her to a table in the center of the room.
"Best seat in the house. Do you think you'll be comfortable here?"
"Sure, but its just me, I don't need all of these seats."
"I'll be joining you once I'm done, and if you don't mind when Dave gets here he'll want to sit with you so he can see his boo sing up close."
"I don't mind."
"Good then. Listen, order whatever and I'll let Quinn know it's on Sugar and I'll tip her at the end of the night."
"You don't have to Santana."
"No, it's fine. I put up with her boyfriend's shit when I'm waiting the tables and she's performing. She can serve you and shut the hell up about it. It's what we do around here. She just hates when I make her tip me accordingly."
"Okay"
"Don't worry, Dave will teach you the ropes."
"I'll be fine."
"Good, so I'm going to change and get ready."
"You look great already," Brittany said, before blushing slightly. She hated when her mouth moved faster than her brain.
"Thanks doll, and you're adorable by the way," Santana winked. "Listen, sit back and enjoy the show, and remember, drink slowly."
Brittany smiled, "I will."
"Okay, see you after the show."
Santana wasn't gone five minutes before an appetizer sampler showed up with some sort of green concoction that looked every bit as strong as Santana had warned.
"Hello I'm Quinn, your waitress for the evening."
Brittany looked up confused before her eyes made her way to the bar where Sugar was waving vigorously at her and smiling. Brittany held up her drink and mouthed a thank you before taking a small sip of the drink, her eyes widening and Sugar smiling with delight.
"And you're Santana's friend I presume. Look, you seem like a nice girl but you're here with Santana so what do I know. Just letting you know that if you run me crazy because Sugar likes to give things away for free it's going to cost Santana...a lot. This one is not your fault, so I won't hold it against you."
"Nice to meet you Quinn, I'm Brittany, and I'm also totally uninterested in whatever the deal is with you and Santana. For the record, I'll treat you exactly how I expect to be treated, with respect. Do we have a deal, Quinn?"
Quinn smiled while looking at Brittany's outstretched hand before shaking it.
"You'll be okay around here, if Santana doesn't run you off," Quinn said, before turning to leave.
A few minutes later a huge man stood near Brittany's table. Brittany looked up and recognized him from the coffee shop.
"Hi, I'm Dave," he said, reaching his hand out before Brittany shook it.
"Hi, I'm Brittany."
"Yes, I remember, from the coffee shop last night. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too."
"Mind if I sit? Santana said you held our table for us."
"Of course, Santana told me you would be here."
"My boyfriend Kurt works here as well. It's a great place. Really nice vibe. Owner is really cool, her daughter is insane but loveable, and they treat the performers really nice here. All of the waitstaff sing, and depending on the day of the week they are either performing or waiting tables. Tonight is a good night, I don't often get to hear Santana and Kurt on the same night, and then we also have Mercedes performing she's awesome. Then Sam, he sings and plays the guitar. A really talented bunch tonight, though they're all really talented."
"I'm really excited. This is such a nice place. Never would have found it if not for Santana."
"They haven't been open for all that long. What I like the most is that there is a mixture of all types of music. Country, pop, R&B, jazz, showtunes, you name it."
"What does Santana sing?"
"She's pretty versatile. Most of them are. Don't know what she has planned tonight, but they each get a 30 minute set and Kurt said the theme for tonight would be to pick music from a particular decade. He chose the 80's. In between sets they have dancers sometimes, sometimes they have this hip hop violinist, she's awesome. Sometimes they have these dueling cello guys, or just a DJ doing a set in between performers. Mostly though, people come here for the singers."
"Cool"
"Santana usually likes to start with an up tempo number and end with one, and in between she may have something mid tempo or a ballad. She will end with something high energy, though most of the time."
"I can't wait."
"You won't have to wait long. She goes on right after Sam tonight and right before my boyfriend Kurt. If you stay until the end you'll get to hear Mercedes bring down the house at the end."
"I wouldn't miss any of it."
"Great," Dave smiled.
"Please, have some of these appetizers. The bartender sent them over." Brittany said.
"Great, be careful with that drink."
"I've been thoroughly warned," Brittany laughed.
Soon Santana came over and greeted David with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
"Hey Dave, how are you?"
"I'm good Santana."
"Glad you're here, you can help keep the wolves off of Britts."
"Don't worry about me, I know how to deal with guys," Brittany said.
"Who's talking about guys, I'm talking about our so called friends," Santana rolled her eyes as David laughed.
"They're well meaning," David started and then Santana looked at him sarcastically, "Well most of them are," David continued as Santana looked on in agreement.
"I've got it Santana, you should be going backstage to change," Dave continued.
"I look good just like this," Santana scoffed. "Britts said so," Santana said as she winked at Brittany. Brittany turned a bright shade of red.
"I thought you were going to change the last time you were out here" Brittany answered, rolling her eyes.
"I was, but you said I looked good, and I wanted to let you have this eye candy a little while longer," Santana smirked.
"You are relentless," Brittany said, shaking her head.
Santana smiled, "Well I'm going to get ready now. Try not to miss me too much," Santana said, turning to walk away. Brittany doesn't know why her eyes dropped to her ass as she walked away. It looked amazing in those jeans. Quickly she brought her eyes up and looked to see if anyone caught her looking. She doesn't think that anyone did.
The show started around 8:15 with a blonde guy named Sam singing a medley of songs from the 60's while playing along on his guitar. He performed for about 30 minutes. Brittany enjoyed the performance but she was more excited that Santana was coming on next. She knew that Santana was doing her homage to the 70's but she didn't quite know what to expect. By the time she hit the stage in a pink backless jumpsuit and gold headband, her hair flowing down in perfect curls, Brittany couldn't even hear the music playing. This woman was stunning. Brittany watched as she launched into her version of "If I can't have you", sashaying across the stage with all of the confidence of a superstar. Brittany stared, mesmerized at how good the woman was, at how good she looked, and Santana took a moment to strut in her direction and give her a wink as she sang. Brittany couldn't help but smile, and everyone couldn't help but notice the blonde that Santana had just acknowledged, including the woman seated two tables down from Brittany who was now wearing an unconcealable scowl on her face.
Sugar hadn't missed the exchange, nor the glare on the face of the woman who had positioned herself directly in Santana's view. She had the feeling that this Santana and Brittany friendship would be interesting to watch play out. She knew that Santana was a relentless flirt, it had been one of her favorite parts of the day when they had first hired Santana, watching the way she pulled off wearing the tightest dresses and jeans and making both men and women feel like a million bucks with just a smile and a wink. Sugar had almost made a game out of people watching. She noticed how the frat boys, the trust fund kids, they loved to sit in Quinn's section. The bad boys, the ones that believe that no woman can resist their charms, they loved to sit in Santana's section. They knew that she was a raging lesbian and yet they all felt that they would get her to change her mind. They all loved the way she would reject them with a brutal wit that would make them howl with laughter on the outside as their friends razzed them and internally curl up on the inside in need of a hug. Sugar also knew that the ladies who loved ladies loved coming to see Santana, and she knew that Santana loved accepting their drink offers afterwards.
Sugar knew that gay guys, especially the older ones for some reason, loved Kurt. She knew that the wholesome girls came to see Sam. The theater nerds loved Rachel Berry. The soul music enthusiasts who love the vocal power and sassiness of Mercedes Jones were present each time she performed. Each had their fan base, their regulars. Each had the ones who came and stayed afterwards, wanting to be closer to them.
Next Santana launched into Chaka Khan's "I'm every woman", playing to the crowd as she danced across the stage singing. The crowd was having a good time, but Santana was just getting started. Next she sang a nice rendition of Thelma Houston's "Don't leave me this way". When she launched into "I will Survive" the crowd went wild. I mean, you really can't do a disco tribute and leave that one out. It was certainly a good closing number. So when Santana launched into a 5th song, when she had told Brittany she would be doing four, she was pleasantly surprised.
When she heard the opening notes to Donna Summer's "Last Dance", Brittany was entranced. It felt perfect. The way she placed the mic in the stand, almost caressing it, as she prepared to sing the opening notes so slow and tender, Brittany sat transfixed, prepared to hang on every note.
There was something so innately sexy about the way Santana slowed it down for the opening of the song, her face glistening slightly, not quite sweating but...glistening. After the upbeat number she had just finished and after she returned the mic to it's stand, she stepped forward and caressed it like she was caressing every person in that room. Her eyes closed when she launched into the first note, and the sound that came from her was mesmerizing.
oooooohhhh oooohhhh
It felt so intimate, as if Santana was touching her in the way that Brittany had touched her when she painted her. When she wanted to dip her fingers in the perfect brown hue and trace every hill and valley on her body. Santana did that with her voice. She touched Brittany, intimately, when she opened her eyes and locked brown with blue, singing so soft and sultry Brittany felt like she was floating on a cloud.
Last dance
Last chance
for love
yes it's my last chance
for romance
tonight
I need you
by me
beside me
to guide me
to hold me
to scold me
'cause when I'm bad
I'm so so bad...
When Santana sang so slow and hauntingly like that Brittany just wanted to dance. Not for anyone's eyes but her own, and maybe Santana's. She just wanted to dance in a way she hasn't in a very long time, in the way she had been taught for so many years.
Brittany swallowed hard. She couldn't tear her eyes away. There was just something about this woman. As the tempo picked up and Santana broke her gaze, she worked the stage as the crowd responded. Brittany admired the confidence in which she worked the crowd. Santana's admirer was all smiles as Santana turned her attention to her, singing and dancing flirtatiously as the woman's smile grew bigger and bigger. She stood and danced with Santana and Santana moved with her before shooting her a wink and moving on to briefly sing to a group of men at a table. Soon enough Santana was singing to yet another woman, floating from flower to flower like a butterfly. Somehow, as the song neared it's end, she worked her way to Brittany. She pulled her from her seat and danced with her.
oooohhhh I need you
by me
beside me
to guide me
to hold me
to scold me
cause when I'm bad
I'm so so bad...
With a slight twinkle in her eye she quickly brought Brittany's hand to her lips and kissed it before letting it go, quickly moving on to sing to yet another woman, who instantly jumped up and showed Santana her moves.
With her crowd pleased she finished her set strong and the crowd applauded loudly. She disappeared backstage and Dave took a moment to look at Brittany and smile. The girl was clearly mesmerized.
"She's good, right?" Dave leaned in and asked, both of them still applauding with the rest of the crowd even though Santana had left the stage moments before.
"Wow," Brittany replied. "She was great."
"Yeah, the crowd eats it up when she performs. She loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves her back."
"I can tell."
"So you still plan on staying for the rest of the show?"
"Of course, it's been great so far."
"Santana will be out soon. She'll change, stop by and say hello to a few people, and then I'm sure she will be right over."
"I'm fine, she doesn't have to worry over me, I'm enjoying myself just fine."
Soon Quinn appeared with another drink and more appetizers. As Brittany was about to look at her confused Dave squeezed her hand and nodded towards the bar, where Sugar waved back furiously with a huge smile on her face.
"She's insane," Quinn mumbled, placing the items down. "She's also costing Santana a ton of money tonight."
"No she's not," Dave interjected, rolling his eyes.
"I can pay my own tips," Brittany declared.
"You will do no such thing," Dave replied. "Everything is taken care of."
"Careful with that drink," Quinn replied before spinning on her heels.
"Santana's friends can be a little overprotective," Dave said apologetically.
"Ya think?" Brittany replied sarcastically.
"And one of the reasons why is heading this way right now," Dave answered.
A gorgeous brunette with olive skin glided over to the table.
"Hey Dave," the woman said in a sugary sweet voice but instead of looking at Dave she was staring directly at Brittany.
"Hey Sophia," Dave replied rather unenthusiastically.
"Great show tonight, huh?"
"As always"
"Kurt's up next,"
"Yup"
"You must be excited"
"As excited as always Sophia."
"Sooooooo, you gonna introduce me to your friend."
"Why?"
"Well it would be rude not to, David."
"Nope, doubt she'd mind."
"Hello," Sophia said, extending her hand towards Brittany. "I'm Sophia."
"Brittany," she replied, extending her hand.
"Nice to meet you. So did you come here to see Santana?"
"I came here to see the show."
"Oh, yeah, the shows are always great. So umm, enjoy the rest of the show. It was nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
Sophia leaves and goes back to her table.
"Let me guess, one of Santana's fans?"
"Everyone here has their fans, and let's just say that Santana is a fan of beautiful women. They tend to vie for her attention from time to time."
"Well that must be an ego boost. Explains all of that confidence she has."
"No, Santana worked hard for that confidence. The women flock to her because of it, she doesn't have it because of the women."
Brittany took that information in. "And I guess they think I'm the competition?"
"Santana is sometimes a flirt. She gets asses in the seats. She gets them to spend money. With that comes people who will want more from her."
"And do they get more?" Brittany asked, not knowing quite why.
"A lucky few, but those few she usually didn't meet here."
"Like that one that keeps shooting me dirty looks over there?"
'That's Nikki, according to Santana, Nikkis are trouble. Before her Nikkis were a toss up. She lost with that one. I think it caused her to declare all Nikkis as trouble."
Brittany thought back to Sugar explaining Santana's name rules to her. Apparently that was a real rule of life for her.
The two stopped chatting as Kurt made his way to the stage. Brittany smiled at how Dave looked at the man. Kurt and Dave didn't look like she expected them to look as a couple, but what is a couple supposed to look like? What does love look like? There are no boundaries.
By the time Kurt finished his first song Santana had changed and made her way to the bar. Sugar handed her a thermos that was hidden beneath the bar and then Santana turned towards the table where she started towards Brittany and Dave. She stopped along the way to greet regular patrons and hug friends, soaking up compliments along the way.
When Santana tried to quickly greet Nikki and keep walking Nikki stood and took her hand, pulling her down into a seat next to her.
"Great show, Santana."
"Thanks"
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Not tonight doll, I've invited a friend." Santana hates turning down drinks, they help pay for all of the freebies Sugar gives away to her guests. Santana is good at getting the guests to spend money. Still, she knew a drink from Nikki would mean time out of her night, which she didn't mind. What she did mind is that Nikki would keep buying them until the night ended, hopefully with Santana in her bed, and that wasn't going to happen again.
Well at least not that night.
Santana had no intention of going there again, no matter how spectacular it was.
But hey, it was spectacular, and she's only human.
Then again that's not what Nikki said after her third orgasm.
"Maybe I can buy a round for the table and join you?"
"Maybe next time, doll. It's been a while since my friend and I had some catch up time. We're just going to chat and enjoy the rest of the show. You should stick around though...great show tonight."
"I've already seen what I came to see Santana. Besides, if I drink too much, who will make sure I get home safely?" Nikki purred.
"One thing I know Nikki, is that you would never have a hard time finding a woman to take you home."
"True, but I only want one woman to take me home tonight," she smiled.
"As tempting as that is, and believe me I mean that Nikki, that's a discussion for another night."
Santana rose to her feet and kissed Nikki on the cheek before squeezing her hand. Santana shook off the devil on her shoulder trying to convince her to climb into Nikki's pants and excused herself, greeting a few more people before reaching the table with Brittany and Dave.
"Hey guys" Santana said before taking a seat and placing her thermos in front of her.
"Great set, Santana, as always. You were on tonight."
"Thanks Dave," Santana smiled.
"Santana, you are amazing."
"Thanks, Ohio"
Dave was lost in Kurt's performance, with the women occasionally chatting as they listened to his performance.
"Man, you are a force out there. I don't know how you do that in front of all of those people."
Santana grinned and then opened her thermos, using the cup to pour herself some tea.
"Thanks, Ohio. Those dance moves of yours look very promising. I like the way you move."
Brittany blushed at the compliment.
"Want a shot of tea?" Santana grinned.
"I'm good," Brittany replied.
"Your loss," Santana smiled as she blew on the hot beverage before taking a sip.
There she goes doing that thing again with her perfect lips, Brittany thought. There's something about her that has Brittany intrigued but she hasn't had enough time to put her finger on it. All she knows is that it's not what that girl Sophia must think as she keeps shooting glances at her and Santana.
It couldn't be, because she's not into women.