The Spirit Girl Ch. 02

"Honey, don't say it like that, it sounds like I'm ashamed of you! I'm not, I'm just trying to do what you dad told me to," she pleaded. "Trying to do the best possible job for the Jammers!"

"It makes me FEEL like you're hiding me, like you're ashamed of me or something," I argued. "Like on the radio—those guys asked you if you had a boyfriend, and you just said you didn't want to talk about your personal life on-air. Why didn't you just come out and say yes? You wouldn't have had to say who I was. Yeah, it's true that you don't want to talk personal life on-air, but now the guys on the radio think you're available, not to mention scores of listeners. No wonder all they do is flirt with you on-air."

"Honey... that's all an act," she explained. "They know I've got a boyfriend, I've told them off the air. Truth is, one of those guys is married, and the other is gay! I don't really like all the innuendo stuff, but it does draw in listeners, and all of those listeners then hear my promos for the Jammers. Does it make you uncomfortable to listen to?"

"Yes... it does," I agreed sourly.

"Honey, it's all fake! There's nothing to be jealous about!" she pondered. Then a moment later, she added "Is this about the radio, or is this really about Marshall Jacobs?"

"Not unless Marshall Jacobs is now 6'4" and white," I retorted.

"6'4" and white..." her expression seemed to clearly indicate she was at a loss and was searching her memory for a match. "Johnny MILL??? You think I have a thing for Johnny Mill?"

"What am I supposed to think? You're always laughing and giggling when you're around him. Once upon a time you used to laugh and giggle with me, too... but not anymore, it seems. I'm not even sure why you're around the practices all the time in the first place; what does that have to do with promotions? You even walk him to the door of the locker room, for crissakes. I'm just waiting for the day that you go in there with him."

"Good God! If this is what you've been thinking, no wonder that you've been pulling away from me! Honey... PLEASE don't misinterpret things." she pleaded. "The only thing I feel for Johnny Mill is sympathy. His dad played in the Association, then took the money he earned and bought a farm. Johnny grew up in the middle of nowhere and went to a small school. He's has never lived in town of more than 10,000 people and he's completely overwhelmed living in the city. He's cute because he's totally clueless and naive. I've been trying to help him get used to playing to the pros, but also to city life and how to deal with street-wise teammates—like Marshall Jacobs. Johnny Mill is a good kid, but I assure you, I have NO romantic interest whatsoever in him whatsoever."

"And yes, it IS my job to get to know the team," she continued. "Most of our promotions center on individual players, and appearances are coordinated through me. Sandy recommended that I get to know them personally, because it will make it much easier to get them cooperate with promotions if they know me. I admit I spend more time doing that than I would need to, but that's only because I really care about the team--you know that!

"Honestly? That's all?"

She kissed my cheek gently. "Absolutely, positively. Cross my heart. I love you, and I have absolutely no interest in anyone else."

My face must have looked sad. "I'm sorry, honey. I guess I HAVE been getting paranoid. You mean so much to me... I feel like every man in the world wants you. I don't always feel like I'm man enough to keep you in the face of all that competition... "

"Now you're just being ridiculous," she scolded. "There is no competition. My boyfriend, just so happens to OWN the basketball team I've loved since I was a little girl. There's 12 new Spirit girls every year; there's only ONE Davis Rutherford III! If anyone should be worried about being replaced, it's ME."

"No one could ever replace you," I spouted like a sap.

She kissed me. "What can I do to make you stop becoming paranoid every time another guy says hi to me?"

"Well... I guess now that you've explained it, I understand why you can't be more demonstrative at work. But can you at least not beless affectionate with me than with every other person on the payroll?"

She squeezed my arm. "Yes, I suppose I can do that. But I can't promise that I won't start kissing you if I do! If people figure it out and start talking, YOU'RE going up with me when I have to answer to your dad."

"Deal," I agreed, "I don't think he meant that you'd be in trouble if people found out—I think he meant it was important that you prove yourself first. I think you've already done that."

"Thank you. I hope so."

"From what I've seen, you're doing a great job. But there's one more thing you could do that would make me feel a lot better."

"What's that?"

"Can you please have talk with Johnny Mill? Just to make sure he knows you HAVE a boyfriend? Because I don't think he does."

"What do you mean?" she was genuinely perplexed.

"You said yourself how he's kind of naive... well, from what I've seen, I think he's seriously got the hots for you. I should know; I've been there."

She squeezed my hand, but asked "He never asked me if I had a boyfriend... why would he assume I didn't?"

"Try to look at this like a guy would. A beautiful woman like you gets lots of unwanted attention, right? In order to avoid bad situations, you're usually proactive about telling guys that you're not interested. One of the first things Jenna told ME when I met her was about her boyfriend in Texas and she was not interested. That cleared the air and allowed us to become friends without any misunderstandings."

"So?"

"So I don't think that's the message Johnny Mill is getting. On the one hand, you've been very nice and outgoing to him, something that pretty girls don't usually do if they're not at least a little interested. On top of that you've never said you had a boyfriend, which he would expect you to have said early on if you had one. Thus, from the male point of view, the logical conclusion is that (a) you're available and (b) you're interested." She frowned, trying to understand the way that men viewed the world. "It's the same thing with the radio--maybe the DJs know better, but since you've never said on air that you had a boyfriend, most of the audience assumes you don't. I think that's why your web page gets so much traffic."

She gave a tiny shudder."Well that would at least be one explanation. Lord knowsI have had no clue as to why so many people check that page out. I'm not an employee of station or anything. And when they asked me to pose for some new promo pictures..."

"What do you mean? You asked my Dad for permission to do it," I pointed out.

"I didn't ask him if Icould do it... I asked him if Ihad to do it. I was very uncomfortable with the whole idea. But I also knew it would generate a ton of traffic on the website, which in turn would generate more exposure for the team, and that IS my job. So if the team wanted me to do the shoot, I would have. But I was VERY concerned about how much just how much exposure the station had in mind forme. I was SO relieved when your dad told me I could tell them no."

I kissed her. "I'm relieved too. I thought that you wanted to pose for them."

"Why would Iwant to pose for suggestive pictures to be leered at by thousands of strangers?"

I shrugged "I didn't know. That's part of what made me so paranoid."

"The only person I want leering at me is you," she declared, and we kissed briefly. "I'm so glad that we cleared the air about all this... but this could have all been avoided if we had talked about it sooner, rather than letting it fester. Next time I do something you don't understand, please ask instead of assuming?"

I nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry. You're right--that's exactly what I've been doing. I saw a lot of things I didn't understand, then just jumped to conclusions as to what I was seeing. I should have asked you to clarify them right away. I would have saved myself a lot of worry if I had. I promise I won't do it again."

She kissed my cheek. "And while I still think you're wrong about Johnny Mill, I will be happy to make a point of mentioning that I have a boyfriend next time I see him."

"Thank you. That would make me feel a LOT better."

--------

Friday we were in the Garden for the first-round games of the tournament. One thing I hadn't thought of: while I was able to get Sam in for the early session, there were no tickets left for the evening. We watched two games, letting out around 5:00. Sam was kicking back, but with her well-fitting jeans lovingly hugging every curve just so and her black boots, she still looked incredibly hot. We had to vacate the arena between sessions, which was perfect because it gave us a chance to catch some dinner. While we were eating, we were discussing what we would do yet that night.

"I talked to the concierge... he said the hottest dance club in the city right now is a place called Club 67. I thought maybe we'd give that a try," I suggested.

"I'd love to check out a hot New York club--but I didn't pack any clothes for that."

"You look great, sweetheart... those clothes won't fly?"

She smiled condescendingly at my naiveté. "This is New York, honey. These clothes would work find back home--but not here. Unless you want to spend the night outside, standing in line and never getting in."

I threw up my hands. "You obviously know more about these things than I do. I said if there was anything you didn't remember to pack, I'd buy it. Do you want to go shopping while I watch the first game of the late session."

"Hmm, going shopping in New York... I suppose you could twist my arm about that," she kidded. "I wonder what would still be open?" We asked the waiter, and he suggested she head down to the big department store on Herald Square, that was open late. I was a little concerned about letting her go unescorted in New York, but she assured me she'd take cabs everywhere. We agreed to meet back at the hotel at 10.

Sam was wearing her long coat against the autumn chill when I came for her, so I didn't see what her new club outfit looked like. I saw she was wearing a little beret-like hat, which looked great on her, and I knew she was wearing some sexy heels. She had picked up some tailored pants and a nice shirt for me, so I quickly changed and we headed downstairs to catch a cab. It wasn't very far to the club; aside from the velvet rope on the sidewalk, you might never have known it was there. Sam unbuttoned her coat as we strode up to the bouncer. "Hot?" I asked.

She elbowed me in the ribs. "You've got to have the right look if you want them to let you in. I want them to see what I'm wearing." I saw now that the bouncer was eyeing her appreciatively as she approached.

"Good evening ma'am," he said politely, and told her the cover charge. She nonchalantly reached for the cash, and indicated that I was with her. He gave me a quick once-over, then accepted cover charge for two. We got in.

"I didn't realize that it was a privilege to pay outlandish cover charges to get in to a club," I whispered.

"Shh," she hissed. "Most people never get past the doorman. Let's drop our coats and get inside." We went to the coat check, where we removed our coats and handed them to the girl working. That was the first time I saw what Sam was wearing. Oh my mother-fucking god! She was wearing a short, tight skirt that barely covered her ass over black thigh-high stockings. The fancy decorated tops of her thigh-highs were clearly visible, accentuated by the hemline of her skirt, which was exactly the right length to cover the bare thigh while showing almost all of the intricate lacework at the top of the stocking. Paired with this she wore a sleeveless shirt with a moderate neckline that was cropped a couple of inches short of her waist. She was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I didn't think it was possible that she could be hotter than in her Spirit uniforms, but while this didn't quite show as much belly, those thigh-highs with the sexy heels beat the shit out of those vanilla white dance team tennis shoes.

Sam picked up our coat check receipts, turned to hand them to me, and found me frozen, staring with my mouth half-open. She quickly pressed the receipts into my hands and pulled me out of the main hallway before I embarrassed her. "What's the matter with you?" she hissed. "We're in a hopping place; don't stand there gaping like a hayseed!"

"Can we go back to the hotel... like, right now?" I panted.

She knitted her brow in confusion for a moment. Then she noticed my eyes drinking in the length of her body, figured out what was going on and frowned knowingly. "Ah, I get it... I take it you like my new outfit?" She held her arms out slightly at the sides and did a little half-turn like she was in a dressing room.

I lunged to grab her, grabbing two handfuls of tight ass through the tiny skirt, grunting "not half as much as I want to tear it off you!"

I moved to kiss her lustfully; with a giggle, she deftly turned her cheek to my kiss and squirmed free of my grasp. She held me at bay with one hand, then gave me quick, publicly-acceptable kiss. "Hold your horses Romeo. You need to wine me and dine me first. After that... we'll see. Now, let's go check out the club!" Before I could respond, Sam seized my hand and dragged me inside.

I have to admit, the place was quite a sight to see. There weren't too many people there yet, but the dance floor was already moving to the non-stop bass. There was a main floor, with three levels of smaller, elevated dance floors rising up from it. In a separate booth along the mirrored back wall, a DJ seamlessly mixed one nondescript dance track into another so the beat never stopped. There were huge bars on either side of the floor, each at the base of a staircase that provided access to the two mezzanine floors above, each of which provided 360-degree views of the dance floor below. Red lights and lasers provided minimal illumination. "Wow... this place is awesome!" Sam marveled.

"It is quite a scene." I was starting to notice some of patrons. A lot were kind of normal, but a few were clearly interested in being noticed. Some did so with skin; a number of girls wore less clothing than a the pictures in a lingerie catalog. Some went one step further with wild attire, feathers and boas and glitter like 70s glam-rockers. "Check that one out," I nodded towards a slender figure dancing in an outfit like a Vegas showgirl, complete with sky-high heels, two-foot-high headdress and an Adam's apple you could see from across the club.

"Cool, the drag queens are here," she buzzed, "this must be the place to be."

"OK," I agreed. I didn't know that drag queens were the ultimate authority on what was cool--but I had to admit, their dancing and histrionics did give the place a certain lively vibe. "Come on, let's grab a drink."

"OK," she agreed. I motioned that she should lead. The bar area was raised three steps from dance floor level; Sam took up a position along the railing separating the two while I went to the bar. Even steeling myself that the drinks were going to be outrageously expensive I was still shocked by their cost, but at least they were decent sized and a sip quickly told me generously poured. I steered the drinks towards Sam--and found her waving two little pieces of paper towards me.

"What's that?" I asked as I handed over her glass.

She gave me the two slips of paper to hold. "Two free drinks!"

"How'd you get them?"

"I was just standing here, and this bouncer-guy came up and handed them to me," she explained with pleasant surprise.

I nodded my head. "I bet. You've got the look they want. They want you to stick around," I commented.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't think they really do that, do you?"

"Of course they do. Look at that guy dancing on the riser--or is girl the appropriate term? Look at how much attention he helps keep the club pumping. I guarantee you, that guy can come here ever night and never spend a penny."

"Oh sure," she agreed, "but look at her. I don't look anything like that."

"No... you look better, because you don't look like a histrionic club junkie of uncertain gender. You're wearing something a normal person might wear, if that person was hotter than hell and lookin' for some action."

"Dave, calm your hormones! I get that you like my outfit, but that doesn't mean every other guy in the place is going to react that same way."

"No?" I challenged. Then I described to her three men standing around behind her, who I'd already noticed keep looking her direction. There were so many mirrors in the place, she was able to see who I was talking about without turning around. And I was increasingly aware that there were others.

"OK, they're looking this way," she admitted after checking them out, "but that doesn't mean they're looking at me. We're surrounded by other girls."

"Not anywhere near as worth looking at as you, honey. Want to give it a test?"

"What do you mean?"

"Kiss me—not just a peck on the cheek, a good one." I tipped my head towards the corner, where there was a woman and a man kissing that hadn't come up for air since I'd been there. The woman seemed to be balancing on one leg—I wondered if his dick wasn't actually whaling away inside her skirt, right here in the club.

"It does seem that public displays of affection are acceptable here, so..." she wrapped her arms around me in the way I love, and we kissed deeply. I peeked over her shoulder once or twice, saw them see us... and then almost immediately walk away.

When the kiss ended, I said "I liked that. And I was right—the second they saw us kiss, those three guys bailed and went somewhere else." She whipped around to see for herself, but there were now two gay guys in the spot where they had been standing.

"That doesn't prove that they left because they saw us kissing." I then pointed out five or six other guys in the place that I had caught stealing glances at my honey. "OK, now you're starting to get ME paranoid. Let's go out on the dance floor, then at least people would have a reason to look." So I let her lead me out onto the floor.

"Please help me out," I whispered, "tell me if I'm doing something that looks funny. Personally I don't care, but I don't want you to be embarrassed to be seen with me."

"You're doing fine," she whispered back. "Just listen to the music and let it move you." What I did instead was watch whatever she did, and if it seemed like something I could do as a guy, and not a particularly graceful one at that, I did my best to copy it.

After we'd been out on the floor for a while, a barely dressed club girl tapped on Sam's shoulder and talked with her for a moment. I saw her look at something, say something, then shake her head. The girl went away. "What was that all about?"

"She was inviting me to come up and dance on one of the risers."

"You didn't want to?"

"She invited ME to dance up there—not necessarily you. So I told her I wasn't interested."

I stopped dancing. "See. I told you I was embarrassing you..."

Sam grabbed my hand and danced with it. "No, you don't embarrass me at all. Please? I'm really having a good time; we don't have clubs like this at home."

"OK... but only because you're enjoying yourself."

"Thank you honey," she cooed and stopped to kiss me right there on the floor. Then we started to dance again. "Besides, I don't think I want to dance up there. I'm starting to think you're right about all these men watching us."

"Watching you," I corrected. "They'd be looking up your skirt if you were up there; maybe that's why they invited you." She gave me a funny look. "Take a look—there's ring of guys at the base of the thing now. They're not standing there because it's close to the bar." She turned and saw exactly what I was talking about. "So can I say 'I told you so' yet?" I kidded.