July 9th
Moving their way through the throngs of people, Susan pointed over Liz's shoulder to a section which had several open seats. The woman grabbed Liz's hand, urging her onward.
"Let's grab a good spot." Susan urged her onward.
Unfortunately, a couple of young women had seen the prime location and were heading in the same direction from a different side of the crowded arena.
Liz noted one sported a tiara and sash, labeling the young blonde as a soon-to-be-bride. She held a precious little dog in her hands, cuddled close. The animal did not like all the noise and confusion going on about it.
Susan and Liz reached the seats almost the same time as the other two women, who scowled their irritation when Susan stepped into the aisle, clearly claiming the rights to the desired locale.
The older British woman sized up her competition, finding them both lacking. "I didn't know they allowed dogs in here." The clipped English accent coupled with a withering glare put the younger ladies off their stride.
"Ohh!" The bride-to-be gasped indignantly for the clear insult, cradling her little animal protectively. "Well, you don't have to be so bitchy about it! Take the seats. We will find better company!"
"There is no better, dear." Susan assured frostily. "Oh, and...you can leave your little dog. I wasn't referring to...it."
Both women stomped off in a fine huff, all to Silas' great amusement. "Susan, remind me to never cross your ass." He quipped lightly, motioning for Liz to take the seat on the aisle. "You have one wicked way about you, woman."
"Well, it's Liz's night." Susan was suddenly all prim and proper to the other girls' amusement. "And these are choice seats."
"Susan." Liz chided. "Stop being so mean. Let's just...enjoy our night and have a little fun, shall we?" She watched everyone find a seat, smiling affably back over her shoulder. "Can everyone see alright?"
"You don't really think we're going to stay in these seats, do you sweety?" Emma giggled infectiously. "Once the action starts?"
Liz smiled brightly. "I'm so looking forward to this."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I can sense the titillation way over here."
"No, really." Liz forced a brightness. "I think this is going to be a blast."
"If you let it be." Silas leaned close, his eyes catching the azure ones. "Just relax and go with the flow. It'll be over before you know it." He raised upright. "I'm headed to the bar...place your orders, ladies, and I use the term loosely."
The giggles started, and the mood shifted as the women prepared to do their worst.
Chuckling under her breath, Liz glanced behind her as their group laughed and whooped out loud, quickly adapting to the exuberant atmosphere.
Blinding multicolored lights flashed in rhythm with the heavy pounding of bass, jarring Liz's senses as she sat, scoping out the room.
Liz offered Silas a wane smile as he approached, beer in hand. The man had made quick work of the refreshment orders. Matthew and another young guard Liz did not know arrived with the drinks in hand.
A loud wave of approval and screams rushed up from the aisles behind. She turned about to see what all the ruckus was about. Clearly, the women in her section had noted the handsome men's arrival.
She rolled her eyes when Silas, himself, beamed a brilliant smile at the sex-crazed audience, winking flirtatiously at the lively bunch, lifting a casual 'hello' hand.
Liz sent him a look, and the grin widened, but he took his leave, finding a nearby beam on which to lean his stocky, more than well-built frame. It was almost as if he struck a 'GQ' pose, all to the appreciation and awe of the gathered females.
Liz looked askew as the hysterics behind her grew in volume. She choked on the icy liquid she sipped, having realized the over-zealous, joyous reaction really was for her guard alone for Matthew and the other young man had discretely taken their leave, both with rather flushed faces.
"Sit down!" Liz demanded loudly, yanking on her guard's hand. "You're making a spectacle of yourself."
Leaning towards the woman, Silas scowled, for he had not quite heard her over all the commotion and 'praise' he was receiving. "What!"
Liz opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shrill scream behind her.
"Take it off, baby!" An admirer encouraged the guard. "Your body is making me so hot!"
Silas chuckled his amusement, allowing a dimpled smile for the woman's antics. He shook a scolding head, but his eyes and expression encouraged the frenzy all the more. The man placed his hand on his belt buckle, the beefy fingers spread out over a most scenic bulge.
The screams of excitement grew in volume.
Laughing her delight, Susan shifted her eyes the guard's way, shaking her head for the charming grin the man adopted. "They're right, he is hot."
"Stop it!" Liz batted the man's hand away from his belt. "You've flashed your dick around way more than anyone ever should... and I've seen enough!"
"When did you see his dick?" Susan wanted to know, taking hasty offense. "I haven't seen his dick."
"You're the only one!" Liz scoffed a derisive harrumph.
"Whip it out! Whip it out!" the ladies chanted in unison, hastily waving money in the air. Liz was reminded of a nature special she had seen on the Discovery Channel once...it involved a shark feeding frenzy... much like the display taking place. "You got what we want, baby!"
"I think they beg to disagree." Silas pointed to his adoring fans, more than game to show the ladies present what he had to offer. "How can I even think of disappointing these poor, unfortunate ladies?"
"So, this is why you volunteered to come play nursemaid tonight." Liz's mouth was a tight line of irritation. "I should have figured."
"An entire room full of charming women with me the only male around for a goodly spell..." Silas sent a 'kiss' his admiring fan's way. "My mama didn't raise no idiots."
"Are you sure?" Liz sighed mentally.
"My god, you are a slut!" Susan yelled above the deafening din, sipping her Margarita.
"He can be my slut!" another woman yelled, hitting Silas in the chest with a pair of lacy pink panties.
Dropping his chin, Silas laughed heartily, bending to gather the soft Chantilly lace off the floor.
Lifting upright, Silas allowed the delicate fabric to dangle from his finger, arching a brow at the little brunette culprit. "You can be naughty." He clearly approved of the notion.
"Sit down!" Liz yanked once more on the man's hand. "You're embarrassing me!"
Stuffing the gift in his back pocket, Silas chuckled his mirth when a hand came out of nowhere and clasped his forearm, roughly dragging him from Liz's hold and into the embrace of a hoard of women.
"Ladies..." Silas allowed the rough handling with urbane deftness, "ladies, now... calm down." His smooth baritone calmed the frantic masses.
Liz scowled at the women behind her with undisguised horror and disbelief as they hung on every word the man said.
"I assure you," Silas' voice lowered in pitch, thrilling them more,"... there is more than enough of me to go around."
"Oh, my god..." Liz sneered her disgust.
"We're the hit of the night. Who the hell needs male strippers when he's about?" Emma's mouth was agape. "The man's a walking, talking chick magnet."
"Which means more to go around for the rest of us when the little angels finally make their appearance." Amanda was all for the odds.
Glancing about the room, Silas caught sight of Matthew, waving the man over as best he was able with four women hanging off his neck and body parts.
Matthew hurried over, rapidly attempting to dislodge some of the more clingy females.
"Leave them alone." Silas sent a snapped command. "All I need you for is to...watch my back and make sure Liz is okay for a while."
"I'm telling Red you shirked your duty!" Liz snapped a reply herself.
"I'm not about to shirk my duty." The guard took several pieces of paper with hastily scribbled numbers on them, casually shoving them into his shirt pocket.
"You sure you don't need my protection?" Matthew grinned for the rapidly developing situation, fawning off a few anxious attempts to make contact with his own personal space
"I can handle myself." Silas replied with a confident smirk. "Or they can...whichever comes first."
"I bet you can, baby!" A woman hung on the guard's neck, licking her tongue lasciviously about Silas' ear. "I'm a lot to handle, though." She shook her ample breasts right in the guy's face. "Wanna give me a try?"
Silas' gaze flitted over the woman with a slow, smoldering sweep, indicating he was very much up for any game she could devise.
"You're on the clock, you know!" Liz couldn't help point out the obvious.
The man sighed heavily, gently but firmly disengaging himself from the women's hold. "It breaks my heart, ladies." He pulled a 'pout' face which made several of the 'ladies' swoon visibly and the others to gasp inarticulately, their awe more than apparent for his abilities. "But if I want to get paid tonight, I better keep my mind on my job."
"I'll pay you, honey." One little blonde stroked his cheeks lovingly. "Anything you want."
Silas' grin melded her back into her seat. "...We'll talk...later." His masculine sweep of that petite little frame caused cheeks to flush and squeals of delight to rise in tempo.
The man sent Liz a benign stare, then took his seat beside her. "Kill joy." He muttered, just to annoy the woman, which... he did.
He lifted a hand, acknowledging the constant attempts to claim his attention yet again. "Behave, my precious little groupies. I haven't forgotten you."
"Yeah, well," Liz grumbled, taking a long drink of her liquor, "they think you're a paid escort!"
"Hey, I'm not about to limit my scope." Silas shifted his eyes behind him, grinning sensually.
"Why don't you just leave?" She snipped, taking her true mood out on someone safe, Silas knew.
"And disappoint them?" Silas dismissed the very idea. "I wouldn't dream of it!" He grinned mischievously when a pair of arms wrapped about his neck from behind and erotically rubbed his chest. He lay a soothing hand on the overly familiar caress.
An ear-splitting roar drowned Liz's snapped rebuke out as the lights raised, indicating the show was beginning.
Turning her glaring gaze away from her madly grinning guard, Liz felt a bubbling groan of despair work its way into her throat at the sight which greeted her.
A man, who bore a striking resemblance to her guard, took to the stage and cupped his package straight out of the gate.
"I'm in hell..." she sighed heavily as the women behind her squealed their excitement... and Silas cackled gleefully.
Settling into their private room overlooking the stage, Red sighed as he sat back into the unexpectedly comfortable seat.
"This is nice." Dembe looked over the luxurious decor approvingly.
"Yes," Red reluctantly agreed. "Much better than Maxim's half-rate watering hole." He made mention of the last dive they visited.
Dembe grimaced accordingly, recalling the gaudy establishment.
"While I'm sure vinyl is easy to clean," Red curled his lip disgustedly, recalling what might have actually happened on that vinyl, "it's garish as hell... especially when lime green."
Absently looking out the tinted glass, Red watched a woman swing herself sensually about a pole before slowly coming to a stop.
Smiling at the audience applauding her efforts, the young lady gathered her accouterments before leaving the stage as the announcer sang her praises.
Red glanced to his left as another woman appeared, wearing a sleek blazer, short black skirt, tie, and high heels.
Well, at least the place had some class, Red thought.
It was so rare these days for strippers to create an illusion... a fantasy come to life.
From all he witnessed so far, each woman adopted a persona men gravitated towards for whatever reasons.
Be it a woman dressed as the farmer's daughter, college coed or, in this case... a forbidden co-worker; many fantasies had been represented in their short time there.
Removing the clip holding her hair in a bun, the woman shook her long locks loose, allowing it to flow freely down her back.
While loud, the music wasn't overly ear-piercing as other places he frequented, the song list had been a decent selection as well.
Unlike other establishments where the smoke was so thick, you couldn't see a foot in front of you; the filtering system was top-notch. Though guests freely smoked cigars, the air seemed crisp and aromatic.
The drinks were robust and fresh, the food delicious, and the ladies pleasant and attractive.
All in all, it was a hospitable atmosphere.
If they weren't going to play poker, his chosen activity for the evening, at least he wasn't stuck in some raunchy, seedy, dive bar.
Still, it went without saying... he would rather be with Lizzy.
Kicking her heels off, the dancer stretched luxuriously, as though she had just returned home after a long day. Silence fell over the crowd as the woman slowly removed her jacket, stretching her shirt firmly over her breasts.
Red enjoyed watching Lizzy return home and begin shedding that shred of civility. Nothing brought him more contentment than watching Lizzy get comfortable in her slouch clothes and warm fuzzy socks... especially if she decided to cuddle with him.
"I wonder if Lizzy's having a good time?" Red mused aloud.
"I doubt it." Dembe looked up from his phone, chuckling.
"You want me to get you a private room?" Silas leaned close to be heard over the raucous cheers as yet another dancer took a bow, his raunchy routine a thing of the past and one of the more favorably accepted by the crowd.
"Whatever for?" Liz frowned curiously at the man beside her.
Silas shrugged. "Just thought you might have a better time away from the horny horde."
"I'm having a good time." She sat upright, her expression one of surprise. "Why would you think I'm not?" she hastily looked over at her friends, hoping no one was paying attention to their conversation.
Thankfully, the girls were distracted by a beefy construction worker... or a poor imitation of one, in Lizzy's opinion. She checked herself. She had to stop thinking in those terms. This was just a fun night out. That's all it was.
But really, she couldn't imagine the construction workers she had seen in DC wearing impossibly tight-ass cut-off shorts and... a g-string.
She especially didn't know any that walked around with a plethora of dildos in every shape, size and color hanging from his tool belt.
Well, not without getting razzed by his fellow workers, anyway.
A shirtless waiter swooped in, taking the now empty glass from her hand with a smile. "I'll get you another, love."
Liz smiled pleasantly enough, thanking the guy for his attentiveness... if nothing else.
"Oh, I don't know." Silas half-laughed. "The look of disdain and boredom on your face."
"I-I just..." Liz scrunched her nose, "they just haven't been my type... that's all."
"You mean rich," Silas laughed around the stem of his bottle, "tripping over their feet to get your attention... or between your thighs?" the man chuckled at his own wit. "That type?"
"Red's not like that at all!" Liz frowned hard, then shrugged, "well, except that rich part, and maybe the thing about the thighs," she conceded, "but you get my point!"
"Okay, so what is your type, pray tell." Silas voiced his curiosity. "More so, why aren't they your type?" he motioned to the establishment's employees with his beer bottle.
"Well, if you must know," Liz lifted her hand, gesturing to the waiters in their skimpy outfits, "they're really oily, first of all." She scrunched her nose once more, her body shivering involuntarily.
Silas glanced to her meaning, shaking his head as one of the shiny men evaded capture, slipping from an overly rambunctious female's grasp. "Well, if you had to be that agile around these women, you'd thank your lucky stars for that fine sheen of lubricant."
"You could probably fry bacon on one of them." Liz agreed, sotto voce.
Liz's brow knitted as their waiter returned with their drinks and smiled so brightly, his teeth and manufactured sweaty body appeared to glow under the black lights.
"Oh, and..." she mentioned a high priority on her list once the waiter was out of earshot, "none of them have chest hair!" she slapped an irritated hand against her thigh. "They go to the salon and wax more than I do!"
The men were groomed within an inch of their life. Not that there was anything wrong with that, they admittedly smelled very nice... but that there wasn't one hair out of place, was disturbing on some level. The men reminded her of the Ken dolls she used to play with as a little girl ... they were so quaffed and superficial.
"They're," Liz sought the words to describe her thoughts, "...freakishly perfect."
Silas nodded half-heartedly in agreement. "And they don't dance half as well as Dembe... or Francis," he sent her a stern look, "don't you even tell them I said that."
"I totally agree, one-hundred percent!" Liz agreed readily. She mused thoughtfully for a moment, returning to their previous conversation.
"I mean, Red is fastidious about his grooming," Liz continued enthusiastically, "but he's just as appealing to me, covered in sweat, grime, and blood."
"It dates back to prehistoric times." Silas philosophized. "Some men bring out the primitive in a woman. I'll bet you would like it if he dragged you around by the hair of the head."
"I'm betting these guys freak out if they get a hangnail," Liz ignored the guy. She was on a roll, "or god forbid, a zit."
Silas smirked knowingly. "You mean like you freaked out a few days back when–"
"Excuse me," Liz took exception, "no woman... no one," she amended, "wants a zit the night of a once-in-a-lifetime ball!"
"Oh, here we go again." Silas' monotone reply was a dry, suffering one, for he knew what was on the horizon.
"Do I have to remind you," Liz strenuously reminded, "you didn't want to save my drowning ass because you didn't want to get your hair wet!"
"It was a magnificent hair day." The guy defended himself, mindless to Liz's gasp of shock when he didn't try to deny his small inadequacy. "Besides... you were fine."
More than put out by the man's disregard, Liz pouted sullenly.
"I suppose those men up there should be grateful you didn't bitch about the size of their dicks." Silas counted blessings for his own species' sake.
"Well, we've seen enough of them, that's for sure." Liz retorted. "And it wasn't that much to write home about, let me tell ya!"
The announcer interrupted the conversation. "We all know there are some lovely brides-to-be out in our audience tonight. Can those who will shortly marry one of our honored Service people... please stand and be recognized."
Much to Liz's dismay, Susan hopped up from her seat, pointing excitedly at Elizabeth.
"She's getting married tomorrow to a Navy man!" Susan laughed heartily, simply because she knew she was mortifying her friend. "This one...right here!"
"Susan!" Liz grasped the woman's hand, trying to pull her back to her seat. "No! Red isn't–"
The crowd drowned anything Liz had to say out as the lights went up, highlighting a man standing at attention on stage... dressed in a Naval uniform.
"Give me a break..." Liz groaned her despair, mindless to Silas' laugh of amusement.
"What are the chances?" Silas made mention, pointing to the guy. "Navy yet!" He motioned that even the uniform was correct, as that type of 'costume' could ever be.
As if it wasn't bad enough to be shoved into the spotlight, the whole thing was so damned cliche, it made Liz cringe slightly.
Not only was the man dancing to an old eighties tune she loathed, there was something about the guy that put her instantly on edge. She couldn't put her finger on it. But... God, she hated that fucking song!
Crossing his arms over his chest, Silas patted the arms still clinging about his neckline. He swatted aside a failed attempt to reach his nether regions, chuckling his mirth, for Liz shrank in on herself, as if she were a turtle retreating into its shell.
Glancing away from the spectacle, Liz blocked sight of the man lest he ruin her fantasy. She had imagined so many times what Red would look like in his uniform... this guy? Oh, my god...no.
"You're such a spoilsport." Silas nudged her playfully.
Rolling murderous eyes towards her guard, Liz bared her teeth as the now half-naked man came spinning their way.
Slowly rolling his cloth covered ass in Emma and Amanda's face, the dancer turned about, tipping his hat low over his eyes as he swiveled his hips in a rather lecherous manner.
Grinning charmingly at their group, the guy did a slow bump and grind before bending towards Missy. Bracing his arms on either side of the woman, he slid his crotch over the giggling woman's knee before offering her a lingering kiss.
"What the hell!" Liz gasped her shock, snapping wide eyes towards her guard.
"Lighten up," Silas sighed, "it's a bachelorette party..."
"I know that!" Liz gaped as the dancer plopped his hat on Melissa's head and stroked her cheek. "It's fine. Whatever. I'm fine with it."
Scratching his jaw restlessly, Silas sighed. What could he say? While he didn't exactly condone what happened, he didn't crucify Melissa either.
It was a strip club, and a bachelorette party at that... shit happened. The dancer did this shit every night; it's how he paid the bills. It was nothing personal. He adapted his persona to fit his client's desires and was paid handsomely for his services.
Susan, laughing maniacally in her ear, broke the stalemate, causing Liz to turn towards the sound... only to come face-to-face with the dancer's white cloth-covered ass.
Jerking back, Liz scowled as the man bent, presenting his rounded butt to his half-crazed onlookers before grabbing his trousers at the hips... tearing them from his body.
The man's white g-string glowed like a beacon under the black light, highlighting the embossed anchor plastered against his bulge. His bare ass almost seemed to gleam as the strobe lights bounced about his Crisco covered body.
Shimmying his stout frame, the man presented his rippled physique to his adoring masses... completely unaware of the complete disbelief on Liz's comically askew face.
Shoving from her seat, Liz leaned into the man's sphere, whispering a frantic explanation.
"Oh, man..." Silas grimaced, readying himself for trouble. The man glanced back over his shoulder, finding Matthew laughing at Liz's antics.
The dancer leaned to better hear the words Liz said, then nodded... moving casually down and away from her vicinity without issue.
"What the..." Silas frowned when Liz sat down, primly lifting her chin, "what the hell did you say?"
"Told him he looked like my ex-husband." Liz grinned maliciously, happily sipping her drink.
Silas scowled, glancing towards the blonde, who looked nothing like Tom Keen, get swarmed by a mob of women. All stuffed the guy's skimpy 'uniform' full of money and God knew what else.
"He looks nothing like–"
"They had the same sleazy, fake ass smile!" Liz begged to differ.
"You know," Silas muttered loudly, "Red wouldn't mind if you let go and have a little fun..."
"You have fun your way," Liz said around the straw in her mouth. "I'll have fun my way."
Red had to give it to the manager of the club. The guy had business acumen.
Not only was the club classy, clean and comfortable; the man had revived a classic.
The Taxi Dancer.
While they weren't the dime-a-dance-girls they once were back in their heyday, instead tonight, the privilege would cost any willing man... twenty bucks a pop; it didn't make the activity any less appealing or charming.
In their time there, Red had found enjoyment watching the boys take a turn dancing with the young women. Even Dembe put down his phone long enough to take a spin or two.
It made him proud. Each had been gentlemanly in their attention, paying the women handsomely for their time. Most of the patrons did not bother with such niceties.
Though Ben and Mark gravitated towards the slower songs, Red knew, at heart, both young men were romantics.
Dembe and Francis leaned more towards the energetic spectrum, opting for techno-based tunes. They appeared to have a wonderful time dancing with their partners to the frenetic music.
Upon their arrival, Michael had commandeered a booth immediately. He and Danny had set up some sort of workshop just off to the left of the stage. Red noted that after each stripper had finished her set, she would rush over and join in on whatever activity had been devised. All appeared very concentrated and focused on their pastime but seemed to be having a wonderful time.
Red wondered what the hell was going on. At one point, he was semi-alarmed because Daniel sparked a torch-lighter to life, holding an object aloft over the flames.
The manager of the establishment seemed just alarmed, rushing over to the table. Danny offered whatever explanation, which seemed to be totally acceptable, for the guy nodded affably, turned, and left.
Michael, sensing Red's attention, offered a hasty thumbs-up to signify all was well.
Red sighed the issue aside. Acknowledging the woman coming up on his left, Red held a bill aloft with a smile. "Thank you, Bunny."
Before donning her little apron, and little else, to work the room for added tips; Bunny had taken a turn on the stage as the woman in the 'business suit' outfit. He had enjoyed her show the most so far.
Admittedly, it was only due to a long-held fantasy he had in which Lizzy performed a similar role play for him, but only he had to know that.
Chuckling inwardly, Red enjoyed the private thought, for he believed with his whole being... it would remain a fantasy til the day he died.
Lizzy and Bunny were not only complete polar opposites, but their personalities also clashed like oil and water.
Bunny was, quite frankly... bubbly. If he were to describe her, he would relate her to the likes of Dolly Parton. She was well-endowed and effervescent. The woman could also tell a hell of a bawdy joke without so much of a bat of her long lashes.
Lizzy was anything but... bubbly. She was moody, mysterious and complicated. The woman continuously kept him on his toes, intriguing his psyche, tantalizing his body to undiscovered heights of passion. Never would he find anyone as alluring as Elizabeth.
About the only thing he could say was remotely similar about Lizzy and this other woman was their ability to read people.
Bunny sensed Red's reluctance to have attended this evening's festivities. Taking the initiative to entertain the man as best she was able, she kept a running commentary about mundane things, amusing Red with her point of view concerning the world situation, the lack of dancing skills some of her fellow business associates showed. She even asked after Red's 'Lady' for it was obvious to her, she said...that Elizabeth was the foremost thing on his mind this night of all nights.
He wondered, how was Lizzy fairing at her own party? Was she as bored as he? Or was she taking the chance for one last hurrah, as it were. He couldn't blame the woman. She was young and vivacious. It is what she should be doing. Gawking at naked men and sharing laughter with her friends.
Staring down into the dark liquid of his drink, Red sighed, truly hoping it was the latter.
The past two years had been a rough for Lizzy, hell, it had been downright torturous in some regards.
If anyone deserved to blow off some stream by watching strippers and giggling over drinks... it was Lizzy.
If only he could say the same for his end of things.
The dancers were pretty, and provided wonderful entertainment, but he suddenly realized, all paled in comparison to his Elizabeth. He really had fallen head over heels for the little sprite of a thing. She had brought him to his knees in the nicest possible way. Was it really such a bad thing, as men claimed? If so, why was he looking forward to tomorrow so damned much?
Shifting his attention, Red watched the multicolored strobe lights flash in rhythm with the pounding beat thumping heavily throughout the club.
He chuckled his amusement as Mark and Ben fell in-step beside Francis and his dancer friend, all dancing together in time with the hurried beat.
With Francis there to act as cover for any fault they may make, Mark and Ben lost their natural inhibitions. Francis was not one to be self-conscious in any aspect of any situation. He fully intended to enjoy all life had to offer. Such a free-spirit was infectious. Everyone around the boy adopted the same attitude.
Mark and Ben displayed a natural rhythm once they forgot to be concerned over the fact. They were clearly having a good time trying to compete with Francis Holbrook's innate aptitude for dance.
The music ended all too soon for Red, who had genuinely enjoyed the men's show. They headed to the bar, having tipped their little blonde partner generously.
Francis cricked his neck, leaning closer to the petite woman as she spoke. His eyes blinked their shock as she went upon her toes, planting a kiss on the young man's mouth.
Red's curiosity piqued as he watched the scene unfold. He was stunned to see Francis grin gently down at the woman before lowering his head almost sheepishly. He sought out his companion, words passing between them.
The little blonde nodded amiably, smiling her understanding. She stepped back, taking the bottled water and money Francis offered over before taking her leave.
Francis watched her go, his look a bemused one.
Well... what had just transpired was unmistakable. Red felt a twinge of something tug at his heartstrings. Was he witnessing Francis grow up before his very eyes?
His companions for the night crowded into the room, each resuming their preferred places in Red's private space.
Michael burst into the room, holding a rudimentarily fashioned necklace aloft. His face was alight with joy. "What do you think?" he asked enthusiastically. "Will Susan love it or what!"
Red studied the objet d'art with an analytical eye.
"Whoa!" Francis' eyes lit up. "Is that a penis necklace or am I just tripping!" The young man was obviously stoked.
"Man, I think I'm gonna tear up. That thing is one-of-a-kind!" Ben gushed. "This is gonna blow Susan's mind... get it!" he barked a laugh. "Blow?" he laughed again at his own wit.
All looked to Red for his opinion.
"...Okay." Red examined the necklace critically.
Small precisely crafted penises dangled merrily from either side, tapering delicately into one centered phallic bauble which would lay nestled between the fortunate lady's breasts, who wore this unique piece.
Red continued to stare. "Michael, what is that made of exactly?"
"It's the silly putty I bought, remember!" Michael's enthusiasm had not dimmed.
"It's okay, I used my lighter as a kiln." Danny was so proud. "They hardened so perfectly! Is that cool or what!"
"This is a one-of-a-kind love token." Michael effused. "I put a lot of thought into this!"
"...I see." Red nodded thoughtfully. "This is what the ladies were helping you with."
"Each penis, man..." Danny explained patiently, "is an exact replica of a guy they," the guy shrugged, "well... you know," he tempered his enthusiasm, seeking a way to phrase the hidden meaning, "... remember fondly?"
"Well, yeah, I know!" Ben assured all. "I already said it!" he snorted, nudging an unusually reticent Francis.
"Color me impressed." Red waved an expressive hand. "I applaud your skill and forethought, Michael... Daniel." he inclined his head graciously. "I can't wait to see Susan's reaction to such a... distinctive gift."
"I concur." Dembe's deep timbre added a bit of charm to the statement.
Smiling, Mark slid a plate of varied treats center table. "...Anyone for a wiener?"
All heads turned, zeroing on the guy.
"There's little hot dogs here, wrapped in bacon." Mark pointed out. "You guys want one?" he kept a perfectly straight face.
"Compliments of the owner." Francis shoved one in his mouth, breathing around the unexpected heat. "Hot!" he fanned his mouth frantically. "Hot!"
Red sat forward, snagging a piece of fried shrimp as the others dug into the variety of treats offered.
Dembe hooked an onion ring, returning to his phone. Red noted the man had pulled up a game of solitaire. He grinned, shaking his head. Dembe would always be...Dembe, no matter the circumstance.
The little blonde, the one who had the talk with Francis, was now taking center stage. Francis perked up. She was dressed up as a staid librarian.
The woman wore a long skirt, argyle socks, a sweater set and dark-rimmed glasses. A slew of pencils held up her hair in a messy but attractive bun.
"Aww, man." Francis Holbrook shifted restlessly about in his seat. Red knew the scenario was one of the boy's top ten sexual fantasies. Red smiled gently for the pained expression on Francis' face.
"There's something to be said for the old-school style of stripping." Mark grinned, lifting his tumbler to his mouth. "Isn't there, Francis, lad."
Setting his chin in his palm, Francis shrugged lightly. "I don't know... I guess."
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Ben muttered around his chicken wing. "She turn you down or something?"
"No!" Francis balked, disregarding the assumption with a scowl. "Get real."
"I think something has occurred to young Francis," Red teased, "and it's nagging at his conscience."
"What the hell could be bothering you?" Ben scoffed. "He doesn't have a conscience."
"Maybe he has a hair out of place after those rather dysfunctional dance moves out on the floor tonight." Mark smoothed the other man's hair, his manner overly concerned.
Sending the man a withering glance, Francis scowled. "My hair is fine," he said, pushing the effort aside. "Don't touch my hair, man. It's sacred territory. You know that." He smoothed the silky strands back into order all the same. "And there is nothing nagging at me...not a thing. I am just fine, thank you."
"Yeah... okay." Ben snorted. "You keep telling yourself that."
"He's contemplating some heavy shit," Red brought himself down to their level in hopes of saving time and trouble, "leave him be." He muttered just as his phone chimed.
Francis went back to his brooding, but it didn't stop him from reaching for a barbeque chicken wing to munch on.
Opening his phone, Red scanned through the info loading, mindless to the action happening on the catwalk.
"We bring you out here for one last hurrah," Ben gestured, "and your eyes are glued to your phone. You're getting as bad as Dembe." Such actions stumped him. "There are bare asses out there, man. Head's up!"
Red chuckled. "And lovely bare asses they are." He typed out a needed reply. "But this is important."
"...So are bare asses." Ben reminded every man present, fighting with Francis for the last chicken wing on the platter. Ben...lost.
"What's going on?" Mark craned his neck to see what all the commotion was about. Red snapped his phone closed, giving over a critical look.
"Mark, you're a brilliant businessman, a good friend, and an amazing host." Red softened the blow. "But you have an insanely big mouth when it comes to keeping secrets."
"I do not!" Mark took offense. "I am the very soul of discretion. Ask anyone!"
"Really?" Red scoffed his disbelief. "How did Susan find out about the new car Michael got for her? Or the trip Manuel had planned for Angela?" He ticked off incidents on his fingers. "Let's not forget about Jim and Lisa's engagement."
"Okay, okay." Mark lifted defensive hands. "In my defense, I wasn't told to keep my mouth shut. Whose fault is it then?"
"It's your fault." Red scolded. "Common sense dictates, scope out the situation before you put your foot in your mouth."
Mark had the grace to look a bit chagrined for his foibles. "I like surprises, what can I say. I like to share in people's happiness."
"That's one way to look at it." Red grinned. He held up his phone. "This surprise will be just that."
"Well, this is one surprise I will share with you lot of losers." Mark lifted a hand to the lovely young thing who had just entered the room. "My treat...to the stodgy old so and so sitting to my left." He thumbed to indicate...Red Reddington.
Red smiled politely to the new arrival, readying himself for the duration, sensing what was to unfold in the next few minutes. "How lovely." He greeted the woman cordially as she zeroed in on her target.
Smiling at the group, the performer stepped up on a nearby pedestal, slowly swiveling her hips in a most suggestive pattern of moves. Her body undulated erotically in rhythm with the song playing as she turned about on the raised platform, effortlessly popping the catch on her bra with practiced ease.
Red smiled politely...again. Her efforts were met with cheers and whistles of appreciation from the other men present.
Carelessly dropping the garment to the floor, Red watched the woman continue her languid gyrations.
Quite a few of his business dealings occurred in such settings. Why was anyone's guess? He supposed men thought other men of any real merit enjoyed such entertainment. Red had long become accustomed to the sight of half-naked women up on stages, doing their thing.
To buy themselves time to discuss Red's offers before actually accepting them, those associates often encouraged dancers to offer him incentive to stick around. Back in the day, he found he was not unappreciative of such efforts.
But the more he watched, the more he learned. Both about his associates, for the girls had no problem downloading to a sympathetic ear if encouraged to do so, especially if they had a grievance or two against said 'associates'. But Red learned more.
That a good majority of these women had taken the position that some women looked down upon in order to support a child or to better their lot in life.
For there was no denying, the pay was good. He also found he could offer the dancers 'incentive' to be on the lookout for any useful information they could pass on. Since the women were in a position to hear things, to see things. They were considered 'invisible' by most of the men who employed them, after all.
It took very little to win over these women's loyalty because they were offered nothing at all in life that they actually did not have to 'earn' one way or another.
"You're a very beautiful woman." Red said, watching the woman's face closely, for this one had the 'look' about her. She would do her job...and well, but emotionally, he could sense, there was no connection what-so-ever to any male in the room. Her smile was a faux one reserved for the 'customer'. One she probably practiced at home in front of the mirror, Red assumed.
Smiling tightly, the woman continued to dance as though nothing had been said.
Red allowed her the dignity implied.
Only Bunny had acknowledged the blatant sexist remark. Red had assumed, correctly it seemed, Bunny was not only flattered, but content in her work at the club. She was comfortable where she was in life at present.
All well and good.
Turning his attention back to the rather hypnotic sway of the woman's hips, he reached in his pocket, pulling a bill free.
"What are you majoring in?" he asked, holding the hundred-dollar bill aloft.
"Anatomy." She smirked a standard reply. She had been approached by the best. It amused Red to see if his approach might garner results.
"Funny." Red waved the greenback, repeating the question, "What's your major?"
"Nursing." She relented after a long hesitation. Hundred-dollar bills did not grow on trees, after all. She could swallow a little pride for that.
"Any specialty?" Red asked curiously.
"Critical care," she swept low, leaning forward... very close to his face. "Obstetrics..." She took the bill, stuffing it in the tiny piece of cloth covering her essentials. "Later, I hope to..." she swirled about slowly, presenting her derriere for closer inspection should he wish.
Red's mouth pulled into an easy smile.
"Move on to OR surgery." She lifted her arms over her head, moving sensually to the beat of the music. "I've worked any shift they would give me to learn different fields of expertise."
"How much do you have left on your student loans?" So far, he had kept the conversation just between them, for the woman was very close to his location. They spoke in hushed tones.
Slowing her movements, the stripper frowned critically down at Red. "I'm not on the market for a sugar daddy." She bluntly stated. "You seem a nice enough guy..."
"And I'm not on the market for a sugar baby," Red countered effortlessly. "In fact, I'm marrying mine tomorrow. Who still has possession of my titanium card, now that I think about it. Which is neither here nor there...now, how much are we talking?"
She had stopped dancing all together. "Why are you interested, then?"
"Isn't it enough that I am?" He countered. It was her call now.
"Twenty-five hundred." She replied hesitantly.
Opening the briefcase at his side, Red counted off five grand, then handed it to the woman. "Pay off your classes and find a job you enjoy."
Ignoring the disgruntled crowd behind her, she crossed her arms under her breasts, taking in the odd stranger before her. "You're serious, aren't you?"
Red held the money aloft.
"...Why?" She was totally stumped.
"Why not?" Red shrugged carelessly, money still out in the breeze.
"No strings?"
"No strings." He assured. "And...by the way. Thank you for this evening's entertainment. The dance was very pleasant."
The woman reached for the stack of cash before reluctantly pulling away, her eyes religiously searching Red's face.
"Don't you want like a lap dance or... something?" She knew there had to be a catch. There had to be.
Ben opened his mouth, only to snap it shut in the next instance when Red directed stern eyes his way.
"No, we're fine... thank you." Red assured.
Hesitantly taking the money, the woman looked askance at Red before swallowing at the growing lump in her throat. "... Thank you." she whispered hoarsely. "...Really. You can't know what this means to me."
"Dembe, could you walk the young lady to her car, see that she gets there safely?"
Dembe, having already made a few trips out, stepped forward. Gesturing for the woman to proceed him, he followed her retreat, shutting the door behind him as they went.
Once in their solitude, Red lifted his hand, smacking Ben upside the head.
"Ow!" Ben grimaced, rubbing the sore spot. "What'd I do? I heard her ask...what's the problem?"
"When I'm having a conversation with someone...do not...interrupt." Red snapped the words.
"I was just gonna ask if she could us get more wings!" Ben said, gesturing to the pile of stripped bones before him.
"You're paying off the strippers?" Mark gasped, aghast by what just happened.
"I'm also getting invaluable good will for the future, just in case." Red smiled happily. "I have managed to convince, so far... two nurses, a lawyer, a criminologist, and an accountant..." he held the names aloft, "and a partridge in a pear tree...to my side of the fence." he said with a chuckle, shoving the papers back in his briefcase. "This has been a very productive evening, after all."
"But you told her there were no strings attached."
"Well, the walls have little ears, I see." Red shifted a cool glance Ben's way. "There are no strings, but if they feel obligated to help in a tense situation, should one occur... who am I to refuse such assistance? If, on the other hand, they would rather not get involved with whatever is going down at the time. I will hold no grudges."
Shaking his head, Mark fought to comprehend the words being said. "Let's just... go." he haltingly suggested. He was disillusioned, to say the least. "I have to get your ass out of here before you shut down the place by stealing all its employees over to your payroll."
"Not at all." Red disagreed. "Most of the ladies that work here seem very content to do so."
"That's good to hear, Red." The younger man groused. "Maybe next time I try to book it in, I won't be black-balled."
Red chuckled amiably. "I really did have a wonderful time, Mark. Thank you for taking the time and effort on my behalf."
"Yeah, whatever." Mark threw some money on a nearby table. "I gotta go deck some halls, anyway. I got a wedding to prepare for evidently."
Red arose, dusting himself clear of breaded shrimp debris. He was all for leaving, but it had nothing to do with the establishment or its employees. "Yes, morning comes early." Red nodded. "Please, if anyone wants to stay, don't leave on my account." He checked the room.
"Nah." Francis wasn't in the mood either, it appeared. "I'm not feeling the vibes."
"Maybe it's something you ate...like the entire platter of chicken wings." Ben searched about for his jacket. "Still, all in all, it was a cool time. I had a blast."
"Come on." Francis motioned to his friend. "We'll stop by the Colonel's. My treat."
"Cool on ya." Ben was happy again. "Can I get one of those chocolate cakes? The large one, not those small ass cupcake like things they try to shove off on a guy?"
"I hate those." Francis preceded Ben out of the room, calling back over his shoulder. "If you're gonna eat cake...eat cake, is my motto."
"Hey, bring some over to the hotel. Help me finish the decorations." Mark wasn't above pleading. "You guys owe me."
Francis shrugged, nodding his acquiescence. "Okay." It was agreed. "But I'm not putting on any gowns or head dresses or high heels...I'm not a freakin' mannequin, you know."
"You looked really stunning in that maid of honor's dress, Francis. I meant to tell you this afternoon." Mark stated sincerely.
"Hey...they needed to adjust the hemline! What was I supposed to do, refuse?"
"Eh..yeah." Ben's face was more than comical.
"Lizzy needed my help...I helped." Francis ended the discussion then and there.
Red was looking at the young man, his expression oddly oblique.
"What, I only held it up to me." Francis explained plaintively. "What's a guy to do with fifty women staring him through with bundles of chiffon weighing them down."
"What was it, Francis, that frightened you?" Ben had to know. "Death by chiffon?"
"They looked tired and hot and...just about ready to cry."
"You or the women?" Mark needed clarification.
"I was a gentleman. I stepped the hell up. I saved their cute little asses. They adore me now."
Francis dismissed any negativity. "I'm like a god to them. You losers weren't even around."
Red sighed heavily. "...I'm going home."
Staring morosely down at her empty glass, Liz glanced about for a waiter.
Craning her neck above all the chaos happening around her. She could barely make out the bar area over by the far wall, but it brightened her spirits somewhat.
"I'll be right back." Liz yelled at Silas, lifting out of her chair, a destination in mind.
"That's not how this works." Silas snapped his fingers, garnering Matthew's attention, pointing to their seats. "Besides, I'm not here to enjoy the view." He motioned to the half-naked men on stage at the moment.
Liz snorted her amusement. "There but for the Grace of God, Silas." She giggled.
Hurrying over, Matthew took their seats, continuing his job of scanning the area for threats. He staunchly tried to ignore the dozens of hands reaching out from every angle to probe and touch his personal... space. Smiling wanly, he put on a brave face. He hoped Silas didn't take too long at whatever task assigned. He didn't like the pressure of this place, not at all.
Placing his hand at Liz's back, Silas guided the woman to her destination with efficient strides.
"Can I help you?" The woman behind the bar smiled a welcome, blowing her bangs from her eyes. "Little humid in here tonight." She quipped.
"Yeah," Liz said, sliding her butt onto an empty bar stool, "you have anything like Coke or–"
The woman snapped her head around, scowling hard at Liz.
"No!" Liz laughed. "I mean, soda... maybe even lemon water, not...the other."
Relaxing in her stance, the woman laughed. Wiping her hand on a bar towel, she held it aloft. "Sorry... we get that a lot here. We have to be on guard. I'm Lisa, by the way."
"...Liz," she shook the woman's hand. "I'd imagine," Liz chanced a glance at the stage, motioning with a nod, "you get a lot of demands for the dancers' numbers as well."
"It never occurs to the patrons, the dancers are most definitely taken." She jutted her chin towards the crazed masses. "Not sure it would matter, anyway." She smiled to lessen the insult.
The woman chuckled as a dancer passed by, giving her a smile and wave...hesitating in his rather confident stride, the guy retraced his steps. He stopped at their location, leaned over the bar and hastily scribbled something on a cocktail napkin, handing it over to...
Silas stared dumbfounded at the bold script.
"Call me." The burly man whispered seductively before taking his leave.
Silas watched him for a goodly beat before calmly placing the napkin on the bar.
"Well, you've had a good night, I noticed." Lisa tittered. "Evidently, you are a valued player...on both teams."
The guard quickly picked up the napkin, a thought occurring. "Remind me to give this to Joe," he said, stuffing it in his jeans pocket. "I'll tell him a hot blonde gave it to me."
Liz shook her head. "You have a death wish."
Grinning, Lisa slid Liz's lemon water over, gesturing to the man. "Can I get you anything, hon?"
"I'll have what she's having." he said, gesturing to Liz's drink.
Snapping her head about, Liz's tone was tinged with concern. "What's wrong with you? You feel sick or something?"
"No," Silas said, sitting beside her. "I am assuming, however, we're about to run for the hills... and since I am the designated driver."
"Not having a good time?" Lisa asked, handing over Silas' drink.
"I know they mean well," Liz said, not denying the observation, "and I know it's expected... but this isn't really for me."
"Stag and Hen parties are rarely all they're cracked up to be." Lisa grinned, wiping down her bar area.
"I've also got so much to do, and so little time to do it in." Liz said.
"She's getting married," Silas said in way of explanation, "... tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Lisa mused. "...that's only a few hours away." the woman consulted the clock behind the bar.
"Don't I know it." Liz could feel the pressure mounting, "but my friends have been so supportive and just look at them."
All turned to witness Susan remove her blouse and whip it around like a lasso.
"They're having such fun." Liz smiled wistfully at 'the pack' as Susan managed to rope in a dancer and pull the guy over into a horde of expectant females.
Silas was concerned for the dancer until the guy's head appeared out of the multitude of women who obviously were trying to eat him alive.
He scrambled back to the stage, a look of petrified terror on his handsome face.
Silas relaxed back into his seat.
"And they are doing it all...without you." Lisa pointed out, lifting a glass off the drying rack. She inspected it closely before drying it with a bar towel.
Liz blinked her shock when tiny Emma crawled up on stage, slowly advancing on some unsuspecting dancer.
"Well," Liz hemhawed, "I mean, this whole thing is in my honor, and I don't want to offend them or anything."
She glanced over just in time to see Amanda on her knees before the dancer's gyrating crotch, arms outstretched, fingers grasping at air, bowing as if to an imaginary deity.
Silas' brows arched quizzically. The guy sighing mentally as Amy hooked her fingers into the dancer's g-string, giving the material a good, sharp snap. Both women fell over, laughing hysterically. The dancer shook his head, smiling, going on about his business.
"Hey, a bride needs her beauty sleep." Lisa reminded. "Besides, if they get offended, who needs them for friends, anyway?"
Pausing mid-sip, Liz canted her head, her brows lifting, as though she just comprehended the words spoken.
"We can see your friends get home safely." Lisa assured. "Our ass would be grass if we didn't."
"The guards are here to escort them back." Silas reminded Liz. "If you really want to bail. They will be fine here. I'll come back later to ensure that. But first...we should get you home."
"I really shouldn't." Liz grimaced, but inside, she really wanted to be convinced it was okay to go, the man knew.
"Give me a second to inform Matthew of our plans." He arose. "Don't move from here." He pointed at the spot. "I don't think Susan is ready to leave just yet, so...it's okay. I'll tell them you got sick from the heat and alcohol. Which is what they are going to do any minute now, trust me."
"Do you think it will be okay?" Liz felt better.
"It's late, you put in your time." Silas said. "Give me a sec." He headed off, his large frame moving fluidly through the throngs of female admirers.
Liz watched the guy go. "I feel like a deserter."
"He's a good friend." The bartender stated her opinion.
"I have so much to do tonight." Liz realized just how late it was getting. "Oh, dear god, how is it ever going to get done if...the girls are...wiped."
"You'll need the calvary." Silas was back with the woman's purse and jacket. "Which means I have to drag a few 'volunteers' out of a sound sleep. Which I enjoy doing anyway, so..."
"Y-You'll help me?" Liz was flabbergasted. "You and the guys?"
Shrugging, Silas finished his drink, sitting the glass down with a decided flourish. "Sure... why not."
"How altruistic of you." Lisa chortled.
"Uncharacteristically so." Liz looked her guard over with narrowed eyes, sensing the man was willing to help for his own benefit... though she wasn't sure how.
"Hey, if it helps me get a few more days off..." Silas grinned. "I've got things to do, after all." the man made a show of shuffling through the numbers he had received this fine night. "Like... Mandy and Cindy," the man pursed his lips, showing Liz the exotic name beside the lipstick kiss on the paper, "and Emilia."
"But not Tom?" Lisa chortled.
Gasping, Liz slapped the countertop with her palm. "I told you!" she pointed a finger. "The smile... the name."
"You didn't even know his name." Silas rolled his eyes.
Lisa was concerned. "Has Tom overstepped any..."
"She didn't like this Tom character, because he 'reminded her of the ex'." Silas air quoted. "Who was a brunet, by the way."
"They had the same smile, roughly the same build." Liz defended herself. "The same name!" she vehemently reminded.
"Yeah, whatever." Silas grumbled, throwing Red's credit card on the counter. "We'll handle the current tab," he leaned close, pointing out the man in question. Lisa clearly enjoyed the moment because Liz knew...Silas always smelled so good. He told her so...often. "See the young man standing so stiffly at alert over by the post? The one who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here?"
Lisa smiled for the humor displayed. "I see him."
"I'll leave the card with him, and he'll close out the tab for the rest of the night, even if the cops raid the joint." Silas moved away, smiling down at the small bartender. "Keep a generous tip for yourself. I insist."
Liz sighed mentally. He was awfully free with Red's money. But in the next instant, she realized, she would have done the very same thing. My god...was she getting to be like Silas?
"You got it." Lisa said, swiping the card quickly, then handing it back to its designated owner.
"We're really going?" Liz asked, hope tinging her voice.
"Yeah, we're really going." Silas helped her off the stool. "Why didn't you just tell them, you'd be happier gossiping over a mani-pedi and stuffing your face with ice-cream." he wondered aloud.
Sing-songing her head, Liz had to admit. "That does sound nice. But no ice-cream. I want the gown to fit properly."
"The things you women have to worry about." The man commiserated. "Let's hit the road."
"Thank you, Silas." Liz smiled brightly for the first time that evening. "I take back most of the mean things I've said about you...most." She cautioned with stern look.
Her guard guided her to the exit of the establishment, sighing his lot in life.
Returning to the hotel, Red bid his companions a good evening, never so glad to retreat to his room for the night.
Opening the door, he instantly focused on the silence which echoed around the empty space.
Normally, he was perfectly fine with his solitude, still was to an extent. He had, however, grown accustomed to Lizzy's presence.
The soft sound as she moved about, the light scent of her perfume as she walked by... her measured breathing as she read with her head in his lap.
The few trips he made since they became a couple had been long and tedious. While he survived her absence, he had missed her terribly. It was a new and evocative feeling.
He often called just to hear her voice. He glanced at his phone cryptically. This spending the night apart was for the damned birds, in his opinion. But the decision had been cast.
If this was supposed to make him miss and value her company all the more... it was fucking working.
Sighing, he retreated to the closet, automatically removing his suit. The smell of smoke and liquor wafted towards him as he folded it into the provided dry cleaning bag.
Performing his nightly ritual, Red spent an inordinate amount on time removing the smell of perfume permeating his senses.
While there was one part of him thankful the boys attempted to distract him, he would have been just as happy at the hotel here, reading an interesting book.
Not that he didn't appreciate the female form. There had been some beautiful women in attendance tonight. But once you surpassed the age of forty; one woman... a faithful woman, warming your bed at night was enough.
It appeared his young friends were realizing that fact earlier than anticipated. Francis was moping about most of the evening, not having a clue as to the why of it all.
Watching his friends deflect more than a few advances during the evening, but more so, the shock which crossed their faces as they realized what they had just done and... the reason behind the gesture? Realization had dawned and for a male, it is a scary moment indeed when one senses the chase has lost its appeal.
That perhaps one woman might indeed...be enough to satisfy all and any needs which could arise?
Close bonds had been formed here at Mark's hotel retreat. Bonds that actually meant something to his male friends. It was a nice feeling.
Not that Red had not found the entire incidents highly entertaining. He had.
Hanging his towel on a nearby hook, the man turned out the lights before heading for the bed.
Throwing back the blankets, he crawled in with a heavy sigh. Glancing at the clock beside him, he noted the time. It was 12:30.
It was tomorrow. His wedding day.
He was thankful the day had come to a close without incident.
He really wished he called for an earlier start to the wedding, because he knew without doubt, there was no damned way anyone would let him anywhere near Lizzy until she came down that aisle.
They wouldn't even tell him where in the hotel she was for the evening. They had called that one right, at least. Because, if he knew her location, he would already be there... climbing into bed beside her.
God, why hadn't they simply gone off somewhere and eloped?
The thought gave him pause, a slow laugh rushing past his lips at the absurdity of such a notion.
This was certainly different than the emotions he felt with his first wedding... his first wife.
That first time, he'd been a nervous wreck. So many doubts ran through his mind, he almost backed out. Even his best man at the time offered to run out and start the car to make a quick getaway.
Now... Red wasn't the least bit nervous, nor was there the least bit of doubt. In fact, he felt the complete opposite. He wished more than anything to get the show on the road.
It wasn't only that. Even the smallest things were different.
When in bed with his first wife, they had remained on opposite sides; enjoying their space and rarely touching in their sleep. Why had he been okay with such an arrangement, but the truth was...it just seemed the way to go.
With Lizzy, it was rare to wake and not find themselves wrapped around one another.
When on leave from his duty, he returned home to Carla… where he felt like a visitor in his own home, and sometimes an unwelcome one. He often felt in the way. That he unsettled the routine she established.
Of course, he had. Of course, he was in the way. It still hurt, especially considering how happy he had been to see her at first. It was a military wife's thing, he always assumed. Weren't all returning men greeted like a guest, almost? Until things settled a bit?
Red had never ascertained the answer to that question.
With Lizzy, it was like he never left. They always seemed to pick up where they left off with ease; it was almost as if he left in the middle of a discussion and slipped right back into it without hesitation. She always made him feel welcomed and loved.
How did she manage that? It amazed him.
She also seemed to understand hectic schedules and last-minute meetings. He hoped he gave her the same consideration in return. She had a career. He understood. He truly did.
As for sex...
He enjoyed it with his first wife, but realized, he was constantly thinking three steps ahead. Not that it was a bad thing to think of ways to pleasure his wife... but there were moments he wished he could just be lost in the moment with her and let their bodies guide their way.
It wasn't until he became intimate with Elizabeth that he completely understood what it was to make love.
The way she tasted, the soft sounds she made, the way her body moved against his and cradled him lovingly within her own... his body and mind reacted instinctively in response to it all.
Never before had he experienced anything so euphoric... or sweet.
Every moment with Lizzy was not only arousing as hell, but it was also damned endearing.
If he hadn't known better, considering how nervous, but eager, she was to explore an intimate life with him, and how deliciously tight Elizabeth felt... he would have believed her a virgin.
During their conversations, however, he had come to realize how sorely mistreated she had been. It saddened and angered him something as simple as providing the woman oral sex had been woefully neglected.
She was a gift given by God. It was Red's privilege to guide and nurture and simply..love.
Given that information, Red used his strengths to provide her as much pleasure he could possibly provide.
One thing he knew for sure... he would treat her a hell of a lot better than that asshole Tom ever would.
Though he knew Elizabeth couldn't give a damn about a house, car or other material possessions; she would never want for anything. Not if Red Reddington had any say in the matter.
Above all else, he would be there always to take her in his arms, exchange a meaningful glance at a boring dinner party, share a smile over a private joke, enjoy a truly loving tumble in bed... or a warm cuddle on a rainy afternoon.
He was more than eager to explore new adventures and enjoy the journey which lay ahead of them as they embarked on a future... together.
The things Lizzy truly wanted most in this world. The things he suddenly realized...he wanted most.
Without affection... without love... you didn't have anything.
Rolling over in the bed, Red sighed as his arm fell flat against the surface of the mattress and not the soft curve of Lizzy's waist.
But then, there was a good reason for that... the bride and groom spent the evening apart before marrying. Maybe just so a guy could remind himself of what he was getting. Red didn't know.
He was marrying Elizabeth... today. He did know that much.
Grasping Elizabeth's pillow in his fist, he dragged it close, burying his face in the surface awash with her scent.
Closing his eyes, Red wished for the pull of sleep to claim him.
Not only to make the time pass more quickly, but to get closer to the moment where Lizzy became his wife.
"Not that I'm complaining, mind you," Silas interrupted the silence, "but you're awfully quiet."
Rolling her eyes towards her guard, Liz sighed her annoyance.
"So... what's on your mind?" he prodded. "And don't say nothing... it's not only annoying, it makes me want to take you out back and drown you in the pool."
"Do you," Liz began with a whisper, "think Red really wants to get married?" she said. "He's not just doing this to placate everyone... me."
"First of all, since when has Red ever done anything because he wanted to placate someone," Silas began. "Let me answer that...never!"
Liz wrung her hands, shifting about restlessly.
"Second, Red doesn't do anything he doesn't want to." the guard continued. "He has the power, the prestige and the money to tell everyone under the sun to go fuck themselves and often has."
"He does do that." Liz granted that much.
"I was there when he bought that ring on your finger," Silas motioned to the object. "I saw his expression. I know how important a thing it was for him."
"How can you know?" Liz wanted to know.
"A man knows." Silas snapped. "I knew what I was feeling when...it was my turn. I saw the same emotions in Red's face."
"He could have bought it for any number of reasons." Liz feared. "One being, we were going undercover, remember?"
"And he inscribed it... why?" Silas asked plaintively.
Frowning, Liz slipped it from her finger, squinting at the small band. "Now and..." she lifted a puzzled stare. "There's nothing else?"
"I guess you'll just have to wait until he gives over the matching ring to read the rest of the inscription, huh." Silas shrugged massive shoulders.
"You mean... he bought them at the same time?" Liz's mouth fell agape.
"Had them made at the same time, you mean." Silas watched the woman's face carefully, uncertain just how deep these newfound insecurities ran. "He hand-picked every gem you see there, specifically with you in mind, woman."
Liz gaped down at her ring, hastily slipping it back in place, for her finger felt weird without it. "He-He did?"
"Said the sapphires reminded him of your eyes." Silas nodded. "I thought he meant vacant..." the guard snickered when Liz reached out, smacking him across the arm, "but he meant, you know... deep, royal blue."
Liz lowered those eyes, flushing a bit. "That was sweet."
"Yeah, he's a sweet guy." Silas rolled his eyes. "You once profiled him right. I know you did because every chance he gets to prove you did something right, he makes all of us guards sit around and listen to him sing your praises. I'm getting kinda sick of it, in reality."
Liz sat up, suddenly interested. "What has that got to do with..." The woman hesitated, clearly torn... "What did he say?" She had to know. "About me?"
"You said Red was a loner, which is true." Silas could do the entire profile verbatim, if necessary, he knew. "You said he traveled the world, remained rootless. Nothing to tie him down."
Liz recalled saying the words. "I guess so...I said that, yes."
"You pointed out that he was careful not to establish any tight bonds. They made him vulnerable. That close friends were like strangers." Silas lifted a brow. "That one hurt, by the way."
"I only meant..."
"You said that he felt conflicted because, down deep, he felt he needed you in some capacity." Silas knew that had made Red uneasy because it was so obviously true. "You said he hated that because, again, it made him even more vulnerable in his own eyes." The man could not dispute any of the claims, nor could Red.
"Silas, what does this..."
"Do you think any of it still applies?" The man made his point.
Liz really gave the matter some thought and out of the silence of the room. "Some of it..." she whispered.
Silas gave the woman a scolding look.
"...One or two things." She amended quietly. "Maybe."
"Red can be a loner," Silas agreed, "but he is his happiest when in your company." Anyone in his right mind could see the difference in Red Reddington now as opposed to before he decided to get closer to this woman who sat so gravely doubtful across from him, Silas realized. "I personally don't get that but, hey...whatever floats his boat."
Closing her eyes, images of Red coming home and the smile on his face flashed by in rapid succession. The images made Elizabeth smile, too. "I hope that is true." She did.
"He has put down roots now." Silas pointed out. "Before you, me and the guys were constantly moving from one safe house to the next. Week in, week out. It's a piss poor way to live, let me tell ya."
Liz hadn't thought of it from their point of view.
"We have a home now...we have Nora." Silas liked that aspect of the whole. "We have Francis constantly dropping by because you gave the idiot a fucking key."
Liz had the grace to be bothered by that accusation. "He's family." She defended herself. "Isn't he?"
"If you say so." Silas let it go. "All of us; the guards, Francis, Nora," he mentioned the outward changes, "...we all have a permanent place to lay our heads at night, because of you."
"Oh, Silas." Her expression softened. "I'm so glad you guys feel that way. I do too. You are my family, I hope you know that."
"Yeah, someone should maybe remind Francis he actually does have a home of his own, though." Silas felt comfortable with the moment, but he sensed the woman was having difficulty with all the emotional shit coming down on her right now.
"He just seems to like it at the house." Liz apologized in her own way. "He does hog the television though, doesn't he?"
"And he eats all the damned chips. What's that all about." Silas wanted to know. "But I digress." He got things back on track. "All these doubts you are experiencing, it's normal, Liz." He waved a dismissing hand. "But completely unfounded, trust me."
The woman was too quiet.
"Look, who would know Red better than me?" Silas spread his hands. "Okay, Dembe, but Dembe isn't here right now, is he? I've spent a goodly portion of my life with your future husband." He shifted about on the massive couch, getting more comfortable. "I've sat in a smelly hut with the guy, surrounded by yak shit. We're close."
Liz shifted an amused stare despite her mood. "Don't make me cry, Silas."
"I know Red Reddington inside and out." Silas did. "The idiot is head over heels. Just like you. You people are made for each other. God saw you and broke the proverbial mold."
Liz sniffed. "I mean it...don't you go making me cry. I don't want puffy eyes tomorrow morning, dammit."
"Red wants to be with you more than anything he's ever wanted in his entire life." The pot was sweetened. "If I thought this was a mistake, I would be the first to tell you both. One? Because I give a shit about you both and 'B'?" The man stopped for a breath. "It's the right thing to do. If something isn't going to work for someone I care about, why would I go ahead and let them walk into a pile of shit?"
Liz felt better, but she didn't know exactly why. "So you think Red really wants this marriage."
"I think Red really wants this marriage." The man lifted his hand to swear on ... thin air.
"I want it too."
"Well, no shit."
"You swear way too much." She decided. "But I feel better, so...thank you for sitting here and listening to me bitch and moan."
"Thank you for telling Susan what a big cock I have."
"I haven't told her any such thing." Liz gasped her shock.
"But you will, right?" He was hopeful.
"She's married, you dipshit!" Liz moaned her dismay.
"Yeah, but she's got a really big mouth and the word will get out faster if she knows."
"You are impossible!" Liz decided.
"Bottom line here." Silas stopped his harassment, but it went against his grain. "All that Red was, went out the window when you came back into his life."
Hugging a throw pillow to her chest, Liz shifted comfortably on the couch, allowing the guard his say.
"Is the man conflicted still about the danger any association with him brings to your life?" The guard could only be honest. "Of course, he is. But we can handle anything anyone throws at us, Liz. I am capable of protecting you. I know my own abilities. I trust them."
"I trust them too, silly." She smiled over at her 'protector' and friend.
"Besides, my stupid parents are the only reason I'm in danger now!" Liz scowled hard. "Red protects me from what they did, and you. You protect me."
Silas smiled when the woman heatedly defended Red now, without hesitation.
"Red knows that...and will move heaven and earth to ensure your safety." Silas said. "Don't get me wrong, Red has his own set of enemies that would dearly love to somehow get to you," the man granted, "but we're prepared to deal with that trash. And it's not going to happen. Not on my watch."
Finally, having been made to realize and believe just how much both she and Red had changed over time spent together, Liz's heart swelled with love and happiness. "Red's really not the same... is he."
"No, he isn't." Silas concurred. "And neither are you. You know, I didn't like you much when I first met your ass."
"I know." She winced. "I didn't like me either."
"Over time, that has sorta changed." He could admit it to the woman's face. It had changed a lot, but she didn't have to know. "I don't think you're like Madeline Pratt or any of the other women Red has known before. You don't give a shit about his money or power..."
"I don't think about that stuff a lot." Liz stated quietly. "It's part of the whole. It's part of who Red is, but..."
"If he was broke, would you still marry him?"
Liz's face was comically astounded. "What has that got to do with anything. Of course, I would marry him, Silas. I love him!"
"So, all these flowers and wedding dresses and catered menus..."
"Well, that's amazingly nice, of course." Liz couldn't lie. "But I would be happy with just you and the guys and Nora and Francis and some beer on ice. We could make that happen, right? We could make it work just fine."
Silas laughed throatily. "We could." He nodded. "As long as Red is there."
"Where else would he be?" She softened. "Of course, as long as Red is there."
Falling silent, Liz welcomed the visions of Red smiling, laughing, holding her close... and the unadulterated passion and love she felt for the man.
Recognizing the glassy look in the woman's eyes, and the obvious reason for it, Silas smirked.
"Don't sit there and tell me the sex isn't good, either." Silas teased, lightening the moment. "I heard it with my own ears, as did everyone else in the immediate vicinity, so don't try to deny it."
"Oh...be quiet!" Liz scoffed, throwing the pillow she clutched at the man's head.
Catching the projectile inches from his face, Silas laughed heartily, watching the woman push upward, sending him a vexed glare.
"I'm going to bed." she said, stomping her way to the bedroom. "And don't even think about calling any of your floozies from the strip joint up here either!" she called back.
"Sweet dreams, Liz," Silas stated quietly, before the woman slammed the door soundly in his face
He broke out into a grin for her mood.
The door opened a split second later, Liz contritely sticking her head through the gap. "If you need the bathroom or anything..." she said, before quietly pushing the door closed once more.
Glancing out the window, Silas stared off into the inky darkness of the outside world.
"...Sweet dreams." he murmured, truly hoping, for at least this one night...that world out there would allow his friends some peace and tranquility of spirit.
If two people ever deserved a little happiness...it was Red and Liz, in his humble opinion. For so long, he had watched Red being swallowed up by his lifestyle. Little by little, it was eroding the man's natural abilities to connect with the human side of himself.
This woman somehow had broken through Red's carefully constructed walls. She was reversing the jaded, caustic outlook invading Red's mind. She was softening his outlook on all sorts of things.
How could that be a bad thing?
Silas sat, musing to himself. Was he just as lost a soul? Where was his savior? Was there one floating around out there in the Cosmos? He doubted it very much, which brought a wry smile to his lips.
Maybe that's why it was so important that Liz and Red find that elusive happy ending. Silas closed his eyes. He felt weary suddenly. If something happened to spoil this upcoming wedding...
He simply would not allow such an unthinkable event.
No...Red and Liz would have their day, no matter who he had to kill to see it come to pass
They had faced so many obstacles to get to this point. They would have their day.
They deserved their day.