~*Chapter Six*~


I was the last to jump into the second cab, the rest of them were waiting for me while I tried to collect myself and shake off what Alec had said to me in the lobby. I asked where we were heading, even though I had an inkling by the direction the cab was driving. I groaned when my suspicions were confirmed.

"Come on, Eddie! You didn't think we'd let you come to Chicago and not visit the 'Rippers' while you were here."

"I should've known it would be on the top of your sight-seeing list." It was true, back in university we had our monthly excursion to the strip club. It wasn't something I particularly looked forward to but I always went along with them, because it made for an entertaining night while I laughed my ass off at their desperation. At this point in my trip, I thought maybe I actually needed a good dose of tits and pussy and laughter to counteract all that had happened.

"That's our boy!" was shouted along with other encouraging comments when they saw my enthusiastic smile.

This wasn't just any local strip club either. Not like the ones we used to visit in our poor school days, this was the elite, the one we always wanted to come to but could never afford the mandatory drink cover charge of $50 a head, or I should say person because even at that steep price you weren't guaranteed anything but two drinks and some of Chicago's finest ass to watch... not touch. If you wanted to touch, it would take a lot more than Grant's head on a bill to do that.

The place was dark enough to provide customers with more exclusivity than any other place. If you didn't want anyone to see your face, you didn't have to. There was the 'VIP' area at the back, where I was fairly definite that for the right amount of money, there were more than lap dances going on.

We were escorted to a private table with a reserved sign on it. It's no wonder the guys were so adamant about the time... "Nothing but the best," they said.

It was a large booth-like table that had individual seating-enough so that if one of us wanted to see one of the dancers up close and personal, it could be done without having to juggle seats around. Our waitress was probably no more than twenty, and she had the body to go with it.

Every one of the servers wore silver hot-pants with latex, black boots that came up to their thighs. They also had long, straight wigs in all colors, slicked back in a ponytail that hung down to the crack in their asses. Each of them wore nothing but silver, sequined pasties covering their nipples. A little cliché, but I had to give it to them... as far as strip clubs went, these were the classiest of servers I'd come across. I was just grateful they weren't wearing those clear, plastic stripper heels that most of these places made the women wear.

Our server's name was Celeste, I guess that was as close to a stripper name could be without sounding tacky. Of course her name brought on all kinds of rhymes from the dickheads in my party. Even a limerick was performed on the spot, all to which she politely smiled and played her part perfectly, having told them she'd never heard that one before.

She must get paid very well for her 'performance,' I thought.

Other than the girls and the décor, it was still like most places I'd been in. Bad music, bad DJ, but the one surprise was the liquor. For once, it wasn't watered down and it wasn't cheap. They really did tailor to the business man here.

The drink of choice for me tonight was vodka... the expensive stuff. It wasn't often I drank it, but after the third drink I realized I was actually enjoying myself and I hadn't even missed Jasper.

It was refreshing watching my friends make assholes of themselves, and just to be able to sit back and laugh at them. Not wanting to participate in the slightest was enough for me. At least not until a prima ballerina stepped on stage and started dancing to a heavily mixed club trax with Debussy interlaced within in it. The guys whooped and hollered and were convinced she was the one for me, even though I protested. She had just finished dancing on stage when Jasper finally decided to turn up. He greeted everyone without even giving me a second glance. The alcohol in my blood seemed to fuel my anger and before I knew it, I was agreeing to a lap dance the guys insisted on buying me.

"What's this all about?" I heard Jasper ask curiously.

"We've got the perfect girl for Edward! She's a fucking ballerina who danced to some of that classical shit he's always listening to. No fucking joke!"

"She's perfect!"

"Edward doesn't do lap dances," Jasper said disagreeing. "Remember?"

"Well, he does now!"

The other guys turned their attentions back to the stage where a new dancer had emerged. Jasper looked at me and all I could do was shrug indifferently in return.

"You're giving me the 'shrug?'" he said, annoyed. "You know I hate that fucking shrug, and when did you start agreeing to lap dances?"

"Things change." I shrugged again, purposely to annoy him. I signaled to our server for another drink, and told her to make it a double.

"Something new from those buddies of yours back East?" He started to laugh. It was a cruel laugh, one based on spite.

"Fuck you. There's a lot that's changed about me," I responded with bitterness in my tone, "one being, lap dances. I guess I like them now..." I threw back the remains of my drink, and slammed the glass down, "especially ballerinas."

The ballerina in question was now on the floor and was being directed toward our table. She asked in a thick Russian accent, "Which one of you is Eddie?"

I started to second guess my decision now that I was faced to face with her, but I saw Jasper's smirk on the other side of the table, acting as if he knew I wouldn't go through with it.

I raised my hand, and she acted pleased by what she saw. I was under no illusions she was truly happy about this, she was an actress playing a part... and I suppose I was too.

The music started, a slow, melodic sensual beat and the ballerina started to sway her hips. She was thin, too thin for my liking, but I made the resolution that I was going to try to enjoy this. She turned her back to me and she was tall enough that her ass was almost in my direct eye line. She stepped backward, straddling me and bent over so her ass and pussy were now inches from my face, close enough that I could smell her. I knew I wasn't going to enjoy this, and I didn't really know what to do, but I caught Jasper's smug smile watching me, analyzing my reactions to the stripper shoving her cunt in my face.

I heard the guys egging me on, and turned my attentions back to the Russian, trying to feign my pleasure in all this. She had turned around, and her tiny, hot pink tutu briefly rubbed against my chin, surprisingly softer than I thought it would be. I knew better than to touch, that much I did know, so I let her do her thing, shaking and rubbing her tits in front of my face.

I couldn't stop myself from glancing in Jasper's direction. Our eyes made contact and for a brief moment, I saw the hurt in his eyes before he looked away. It pissed me off more than anything. He was hurt? What the hell did he have to be hurt about?

He got up and walked toward the bar, leaving me on my own with the ballerina. I wasn't really watching her, or even paying attention to her, my eyes were fixed on Jasper's blond hair leaning over the bar waiting for his drink. She sat down on my lap and she groaned at the hardness that was there like the dutiful actress she was being paid to be. I wanted to shove her off of me and scream at her that my cock wasn't hard for her, but instead I kept my focus on Jasper, and let her do her thing.

The song finally ended and the guys tipped her handsomely for being the first dancer to finally 'pop my lap-dance cherry.' She kissed me on the cheek rubbing her tits on my chin and I still had no problems obeying the no touching rule.

I casually crossed my leg over my knee, hoping to cover the fact that I was hard, but the guys noticed, and more ripping ensued. Thankfully, they'd never know it wasn't because of the pussy grinding on my crotch.

All I wanted to do was prove to Jasper that I didn't give a shit, just like he didn't, but it seemed to be backfiring on me. I was only hurting myself, waiting for him to react, which I now knew he wasn't going to. He really didn't give a shit.

Jasper eventually came back to the table with a drink in hand, which he raised to me in salute.

"To pussies and pricks," he said over his glass as he swallowed the clear liquid all in one shot before sitting down.

"So where the fuck have you been, man?" someone shouted at Jasper from across the table.

"I had some shit to take care of at home," he said calmly.

"And by shit, you mean fucking that gorgeous wife of yours, don't you?"

Jasper's faced turned red, and quickly glanced in my direction, but he did nothing to correct their insinuations.

"What can I say? I live a hard life," he said laughing while staring right at me while he spoke, there was no mistaking the message he was trying to convey. Something in him had changed drastically since this morning on the rooftop and he was letting me know that as cruelly as possible.

I ordered two more vodkas, straight up, no ice and decided to disregard him as much as I could for the rest of the night. The evening wore on, and I was tired of tits, and tired of everyone around me. I wanted to go back to the hotel, and forget this entire trip had even happened, but no one would hear of it, they wouldn't let me leave that easily.

"What's wrong... Eddie?" Jasper said the nickname he never used. Only the others teased me with it when they were trying to get a rise out of me. "Too much pussy, you pussy?"

"Fuck you," I spat back.

He only laughed in return, looking around to see who was listening to our exchange.

"We'd be happy to head to the pub. I think there's a game on... should be full of dicks if that's more your taste," he taunted, purposely trying to hurt me.

My heart started hammering, and my head was swimming while my ears burned.

"Burn! You going to let him get away with that?" someone yelled. "Where's your dance, Jasper?"

"No, boys, I'm a happily married man." Jasper held up his left hand wriggling his ring finger in our direction. "I don't need to prove anything." He looked directly at me.

Seething in anger, I was seconds away from throwing a punch in his direction. I started to move, but a hand clamped down on my shoulder, thrusting me back in my seat.

"Oh, fuck, Edward! That Russian ballerina has invited you to her private room! Fucking hell, that shit never happens to me!"

I turned my head in the direction of the hand still on my shoulder, which was now patting me encouragingly. My eyes looked past the hand, only to be met by a giant of a man dressed all in black with an earpiece in his ear standing behind my friend. That man meant business.

"What?" I asked, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"She's asking for you! To come see her in her 'private' room. You know what that fucking means!"

I didn't exactly know what it meant, but I could only guess. My heart continued to hammer, and I looked over at Jasper who was glaring at me, just as angry with me as I was with him, except, I was the only one that should have been angry. What he had said to me, or implied was cruel and meant to hurt me in a way that only he knew would. I was fucking pissed, and he knew it. All I wanted to do was to get away from him.

I could hear the guys ribbing me, trying to convince me to accept the ballerina's offer. I had no intention of doing so, but something about the way Jasper was sitting waiting for me to answer, made me want to hurt him like he had hurt me. I wasn't thinking about my wife, or my life back East, which I should have been. In that moment, everything in my body was on fire for Jasper and how the consequences of my decision would affect him.

"Well? Dude, are you going?" The hand on my shoulder pushed me forward. "You have to go, dude. At least tell us what it's like back there!" There were catcalls and whistles, while Jasper remained immobile, his face was a mask of indifference, but his eyes were saying something in complete contrast.

All I wanted was a sign from him, one little gesture that would tell me not to do it. Locking eyes with him, the music pounding in my ears, I waited for him to laugh with me and make some wisecrack about it or give me the look that only I would understand that I wasn't the kind of person that would follow through with this. He didn't, instead, he picked up his beer and raised it to me and looked back toward the stage.

His apathy caused me more hurt than his antagonizing had. I threw back the last of what was in my glass, stood up rubbing my hands on my thighs and turned to face my friends who were waiting with baited breath.

"All right, all right!" I said raising my hands to everyone. "I'm going." Turning to face the giant, I said, "Let's do this!"

The large man signaled to me to follow him, while my friends acted like the asshole frat-boys I always knew them to be when it came to shit like this. Shoving my hands in my pocket, I maneuvered my way around the table, gently brushing against Jasper without giving him a second glance.

We walked to the back of the club, where I was told to stay put until someone came and got me. I hadn't had time to think about what was about to happen. I supposed nothing needed to unless I wanted it to, but the implication of going to a private room would be enough to suggest something did happen, and maybe that would be enough.

There was no way I could actually go through with this. I would never do that to my wife, even if we were fighting, sex-or whatever it was that was done back there-with a random stranger, a stripper no less, was not the road I wanted to go down no matter how miserable I was. I could turn around, and head straight out the door, no one would know. This whole trip could just be over with. I didn't have to answer any more calls from the guys. I could finish my business, fly back home and continue on with my life.

But what was waiting for me at home? Only more emptiness. I could do this and feel something. Whether it was disgust or shame or guilt, at least it would be something.

"Don't do this," I heard whispered in my ear. Jasper's throaty voice resonated through my whole body, causing a flame to burn deep within, but it still wasn't enough.

"And why not?" I said without turning around, my words came out hard and angry.

"Because you'll regret it." He pulled on my arm, forcing me to face him. His grip was solid, while his expression was anything but.

"No I won't."

"Think about your wife." He was pleading now, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, and looking anywhere but at my eyes.

I couldn't help but scoff at him. He wanted me to think about my wife... after all that I had told him, he didn't give a shit about my wife, and reminding me about her was not exactly helping. He had no fucking clue about my life. All I could think was that what he told me last night about his life was a lie, only to make me feel not so inadequate.

"That's what you want me to think about?" I shook my head. "My wife? After what the fuck happened this morning, that's all you have to say? You're an asshole, fuck off." I shrugged away from him.

"Please, don't," he said softly, finally looking at me in the eyes, but it still wasn't enough. I wanted more from him.

"Why do you care?" I shot back.

"You know the reason." He briefly looked away, but then held my gaze again.

"No, I don't."

"Don't make me say it," he whispered shaking his head.

"Maybe I need you to." He just stood there staring at me, unable to speak. I sneered, astonishment written all over my face and said, "That's what I thought."

A woman appeared, ready to take me back to the rooms, and I turned to her because there was nothing else to be said to Jasper. It was such an awkward moment, but I was past the point of caring.

"Don't." I felt Jasper's hand clamp down on my arm. "I don't think I could stand it... knowing you're back there with... her."

"Why," I said, grinding out the word.

"Because you know why." He was begging not to make him say it.

But that wasn't enough from him, I wanted him to say it, so I tried to release myself from his grasp, but he held tight leaning in toward me, lowering his voice so I only I could hear him.

"Because you're better than this, god dammit, and," he sighed, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine, "it's not you."

"How do you know it isn't?" I didn't move away from him, while his breathing continued on the back of my neck.

"Because I know you, Edward," he whispered. "Better than anyone else ever will."

I closed my eyes, knowing that he was absolutely right, and with a slight nod of my head I let him know it.

"Can we go somewhere and talk about this... alone," he added, his voice hard. "This isn't the place." He grabbed the sleeve of my jacket pushing me to the door. I didn't protest, I didn't even look back toward the table, I just followed him blindly out the entrance and into his car.

"Maybe you shouldn't drive, we-"

"Just shut up," he said cutting me off. His hands were on the steering wheel, but he hadn't turned the key in the ignition yet.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he said to himself. "What is it with you?" He turned to me with tears in his eyes. "Every time you're near me, I can't think straight, I forget who I am and all I want to do is lose myself in you." His voice was thick with emotion, and he turned his head, placing it on the steering wheel. "I don't know how to get past this." He took a deep breath and added, "I don't know if I want to."

I started to feel sick. Whether it was the copious amounts of vodka I had in my system or the mixture of guilt and joy, something was wreaking havoc on my body. I didn't trust myself to speak, and instead rubbed a hand over my face.

"We can't do this," he said, still leaning into the wheel. "We made our decision all those years ago."

"It wasn't over." I felt myself saying the words without meaning to. At this, he finally turned to me, almost as if he was surprised to find me sitting next to him.

"No, it wasn't," he said sadly and then added, "it isn't."

He leaned across the console, reaching his hand to my face. His thumb gently rubbed along my chin while he placed his head against mine. "I want this," he said, "more than anything I've ever wanted."

I couldn't help but laugh a little, for the joy inside was brimming and I couldn't contain it any longer.

"I hoped," I said. "I hoped it wasn't just me." My heart was beating ferociously, and as my hand rested against his neck, I could feel his pulse racing just as mine was. "I've loved you since the day I met you. I just didn't know it, or want to admit it."

"I know the feeling." He laughed in return, causing my heart to soar even more, and I couldn't help myself, it was instinct more than anything. I placed my lips on his, ignoring everything my brain was telling me and, for once, listened to my heart. I loved this man, and he loved me, that was all that mattered in this moment.

He grasped the collar of my jacket, the leather making the only sound in the car, and pulled me closer to him. Fisting my hands in his hair, I opened my mouth seeking his tongue with need. I moaned when I felt it touch the inside of my mouth, and his fingers moved from my jacket to the back of my neck.

The kiss was slow at first, each of us testing the other, tender and hesitant, until I couldn't stand it any longer. I shifted in my seat hoping to get closer, and ran my hands down his back, feeling the curve of his muscles. I was lost in just the two of us, we weren't two men, but two lovers who had been denied passion for too long.

The kisses were hard and wet, each of us sucking and biting the other, trying to find our rhythm. I gasped, trying to get a breath, while his hand reached for my belt. My stomach flipped and it felt as though my heart was in my throat as I realized we were going to take this next step.

"Not here," I said out of breath. He stopped immediately, waiting for me to say something else. I shook my head. "I don't want it to be here."

He leaned back, adjusting himself, and I could see that he must have been in as much pain as I was in. He closed his eyes, putting his fists to them and let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm afraid," he said under his breath.

"What?"

"I'm afraid if we leave from this place," he hesitated, "from this car, it won't happen. Something will stop us again, you'll change your mind or something and I don't think I could bear it."

"I'm in this," I said with complete honesty. "I'm not changing my mind. I want this... you. I need to see where this is going." I was beyond terrified at what all this entailed, but I had to try, I owed it to him and I fucking owed it my miserable self. I leaned over and squeezed his thigh. "Let's go... we'll figure it out." I laughed again, because I didn't know what else to do.

He leaned forward, without looking at me and turned the key in the ignition while he reached around putting his seatbelt on, and the clicking seemed to echo in my ears over the sound of the engine. He shifted the car into drive, and was staring straight ahead, and I waited, holding my breath not having a clue what was running through his head. I was starting to regret having stopped things before they had went any further. We had a lot to talk about, I realized, and maybe he was having second thoughts again. My heart sank, but eventually, he turned to me smiling.

"If you've given any of those fuckers your key, I'll skin you alive!" he said laughing while the car moved forward.