Wild On Brooke Burke

"Eric, my boy, I see some talent here tonight," Darren excitedly observed as we entered the swanky new nightclub with the promising name, Eden. Thanks to an inside connection we were able to bypass the staggering line of frustrated individuals fidgeting behind the velvet rope. We both gave a regal glance back to the peasants, as we shook hands with our inside connection, Alex, a bouncer and regular steroid abuser. All muscle and no brain I matched his crushing shake with an equal amount of macho intensity. It would have been easier to just whip our dicks out and compare size, but civility prevailed, my grip passed his test and he ushered us through with a friendly, but heavy, pat on the shoulder.

After dropping a guest special five for the cover, we were greeted by the thumping bass of the typical techno-club garbage blasting from the massive new speaker system sucking us in like spiders down a drain. Nearly deaf, our skills of sight were magnified in their Herculean task of sizing up the bounty of scantily clad beauties, seemingly countless in variety and perfection. "Some talent, this place is a gold mine," I responded, a huge grin on my face, my eyes devotedly following each pair of legs that walked by. Of course our sophisticated drooling technique led each lady to turn the other way, the standard model like bored look gracing each of their eyes. It must be tough being so gorgeous.

Experienced, Darren quickly assumed the cool reassurance of the crowd around us, an assorted arrangement of the aforementioned beauties, older money men, and calmly prowling young studs, like ourselves, looking for the right opportunity to flash a smile and drop a familiar line.

For ten o'clock the place was already pretty jumping, go-go dancers in their cages gyrating scandalously to the music spun by the always world famous DJ you've never heard of. This was supposed to become "The Place" in Santa Barbara, where young coeds could frolic with vacationing celebrities and wealthy professionals. It appeared to be living up to the hype, although I don't know how many of the more attractive attendees would be there in a couple of months. Clubs in Santa Barbara have the tendency of fizzling out.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you out," Darren shouted in my ear over the music, an exact reason why he had to drag me out.

"My eyes are," I shouted back. I usually can't stand these clubs. I hate the music, the dancing, the pretentiousness of the patrons, and the outrageous prices they charge for the drinks required either to bait a girl into a conversation or to swallow enough liquid courage to try your luck out on the dance floor.

Darren had dragged me rather than his closer friend, Steve, purely for aesthetic reasons. Despite my lack of game and general timidness, I am more than mildly attractive, even better looking than Darren himself, in my own, not quite so humble opinion.

Darren is my workout buddy so we share the same chiseled frame, he's a bit taller, a blonde hair, blue eyed California boy, while I carried off the tall, dark, and handsome routine. Our basic operating procedure is that I play Goose to his Maverick, attaching myself to the friend of his attraction. Not that I grumble at this duty, it suits me reasonably well, except of course, in the rare instances where the second dish fails to qualify for even my most generous of standards.

We had a couple of drinks at the bar, Darren starting up conversations with the various women in our proximity. I was friendly, but neither liberal enough with my cash nor charismatic enough with my conversation, to hold any wandering eye's attention.

Young beauties like these, in a place like this, are looking for a little bit more than a penny less undergrad with zip zero more than the bulge in his off the rack slacks to ply their flexible young legs open with. There were plenty of fat wallets out there auditioning for just the right touch from a gold digging petitioner. Understanding the game I felt only the slightest rejection when each one inevitably turned away from me, and gave the polite, but hope dashing, "It was nice meeting you," good-bye.

Darren, always working an angle, had latched on to a girl next door type blonde, not the model he was looking for, but a relatively cute female whom he escorted onto the dance floor. Knowing Darren, he was either using her to display some of his personally, highly touted dance moves, or getting close to the lesser so he could hit on the better looking friend. As bastardly as it sounds, it is surprisingly effective, so much for female unity.

I really wasn't feeling the vibe of the place, or it wasn't feeling me, so I headed upstairs to the second floor, where I could lean over the railing and marvel at the mating ritual unfolding below me. The second floor was much more laid back. People lounged on the plush couches, sipping their drinks, still scanning the room, but without the eagerness, or desperation depending on your spin, that characterized the wandering eyes below.

As I walked over to the bar I noticed an especially attractive blonde coming out of the VIP area. She clearly was a model. Tall, all legs, a beautiful face, and a body to match. I couldn't get over her legs, which seemed to be avoiding land mines with each poised step. Of course the four-inch heels probably helped, as did the short silver dress, cut high, above mid-thigh, that adorned her delicate body. Our eyes met, or rather she caught me staring. She gave me a quick smile, not inviting, but narcisstic, before turning away from me to lean back into the VIP

"One hell of a night," I mumbled to myself as I stepped up to the bar. I ordered a red bull and vodka in hopes of breathing some life into to my night. Drink in hand I turned from the bar. I saw my model and her equally gorgeous dark haired friend talking, or rather from the pleasant, but impatient, smiles on their faces, being pestered by three eager young men.

"What a bunch of pricks," I thought to myself, annoyed not by the overly confident young professionals, with their designer suits, and expensive watches, but by the balls they had to approach two women obviously out of their league, although I don't know who's league they would be in. Maybe someone with deep pockets, that never seems to fail to equalize any physical differences between goddess and mortal. I approached the group heading towards the stairs so I could pick up the leftovers from Darren; the blonde was pretty cute.

Glancing over I was instantly struck by how familiar her friend looked. Glowing olive skin, not white, not latin, not asian, almost a mix of all three. Whatever she was, she was gorgeous. When she swept her rich dark hair from her face I could see her stunning facial features, mysterious almond eyes, carefully crafted eyebrows, a small narrow nose, parted lips, and a tiny beauty mark on her right cheek. Her face was enough to stop me in my tracks, but her body, her small slender body of breathtaking curves. If her friend was a model, she was a princess, "Jesus, I'm already gushing," I thought to myself.

I was caught staring again by her friend, who surprisingly winked at me as I approached. To my further surprise she turned to greet me, "Hey honey, thanks for the drink," she casually brought me into her circle, a look in her eyes letting me know to play along as she reached for the drink and took it from my obliging hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry man I didn't know she was with you," said the middle suitor in a condescending manner, "my name is Mark, these are my friends Kyle and Rick." I shook each of their hands with equal disdain, as if I was allowing them a privilege, not even giving my name in return.

"How about you let me buy you guys a round of drinks," offered Mark.

"Thanks, but we were about to leave," replied the blonde putting her hand on my lower back, "it was nice meeting you."

"But you can't leave yet, its barely twelve o'clock, have at least one drink with us," Kyle stepped up this time with the offer.

"I'm afraid the car is outside waiting," I replied seemlessly assuming the role offered to me.

"It can wait five minutes can't it?" replied Rick this time, not looking at us, but at the stunning brunette, "C'mon Brooke, its only a drink."

That's when it hit me that I did know this girl. I can't believe it took me so long to recognize Brooke Burke, its not like I ever watched her show for the travel tips.

"Sorry boys, gotta go," replied Burke backing away with the blonde and me. I remained cool as we walked away keeping my arm hooked around the blonde's, neither too eager nor too meek. I continued to play my role.

"Thank you, so much. I hate it when I'm approached that aggressively," said the blonde as she leaned against me.

"No problem. The shocked look on their faces was enough for me," I calmly replied as we gingerly descended the stairs.

"No kidding, like they had a chance with me anyways," she snobbishly answered back, "and you responded perfectly, not even giving your name."

"Just remembering every prick I've ever met."

"You must have met some of Janice's boyfriends then," chimed in Brooke exchanging a playful two way look with the blonde.

"Anyways," the blonde smiled as she shifted subjects quickly, "what is your name handsome?" she asked once we reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Eric, and yours?".

"I'm Janice and this is Brooke."

"Its nice to meet both of you, I thought I recognized your face. You do that show on "E", right?".

"That's right," politely replied Brooke shifting into the fan greeting persona. I realized I'd made a mistake in bringing up the show. It rapidly altered the situation, as I became just another irritating fan boy. And from the sour look on Janice's face this greatly decreased my chances of staying in their company much longer.

"So other than the desire to be harassed by undeserving young men, what drove the two of you out here tonight?" I asked Janice trying to reconnect with her while shifting the conversation back to where it was before with a desperate joke.

Janice didn't bite, it was Brooke who answered, "I'm just here as a favor to my agent who is a friend of the owner. The typical promotional appearance. How 'bout you?".

"Just checking out the new club. My friend knows the bouncer so I thought I might as well."

"I saw you upstairs by yourself, didn't look like you were having much fun," Janice inserted trying to burn me.

"I guess its not my type of scene."

"Not much of a dancer?" asked Brooke.

"No, actually I love to dance, just not to this kind of music."

"Really what kind?" inquired Brooke seemingly interested.

"Latin music, salsa, merangue, that type. Club music tends to get a little monotonous."

"You're right about that. I used to get headaches from all those clubs I use to visit," added Brooke.

"If you're not enjoying it how come you're still here?" impatiently asked Janice.

"I'm just waiting for my...," I saw Darren with a big grin on his face approaching us, "friend who's actually coming this way right now," both girls looked over at Darren as he strolled up to us, he had no doubt seen my fortune from the dance floor. I was a little nervous about Darren meeting Brooke, I mean he has her calendar up on his wall, magazines under his bed, and screensaver on his computer. He even made his last girlfriend watch her show with him, much to his former better half's displeasure. I had no idea how he would react to actually being in her presence.

"Hey, Eric how's everything going?" Jovially announced Darren obliviously trying to maintain his slick persona.

"Not too bad. Janice, Brooke this is Darren, Darren this is Janice and Brooke," I introduced each of them, Darren shaking each girl's hand, but surprisingly paying most attention to Janice, almost ignoring Brooke. I, of course knew this was just one of his usual ploys, but Janice didn't seem to mind it, she was all smiles for Darren.

"So Janice, how do you like the new club?" Darren continued his strategy.

"Its not bad."

"Its not bad, is that all you can say about it. You need somebody to show you a good time,"

"My famous friend here was supposed to, but she's ready to leave," Janice kidded Brooke. She was obviously giving Darren a chance.

"I said I would stay if you wanted to," responded Brooke.

"Famous?" began Darren I couldn't believe he was reaching this far, "Are you an actress? I don't think I've ever seen you,"

"Yes he did," I thought to myself in disbelief.

"You don't know who she is, Brooke Burke, the model, 'Wild On'," asked Janice seeming to share my disbelief.

"I'm afraid I don't watch a lot of TV," replied Darren forgetting the giant fifty-two inch screen enjoying a brief break in his living room. "If I had to guess I would have assumed that you were the famous one," he added pushing his sugary limits with Janice. It was a struggle for me just to keep a straight face.

"Thanks, but now you're trying too hard," replied Janice to the compliment with a pleased look on her face.

"I'm not just saying that," Darren fearlessly continued, "You must be a model at least,",

"Well I am a model, although I really want to be an actress," she replied, buying what Darren was selling. She even enthusiastically added, "I've had a few small movie roles."

"Really which movies?" he eagerly asked.

"Maybe it is Janice he's interested in. She is a total knock out," I thought to myself. I glanced over at Brooke to see how she was viewing the scene unfolding before us. She looked up flicking her long lashes and gave me a knowing smile. But as our eyes lingered she suddenly blushed no doubt seeing in my gaze more than an unspoken joke. She looked quickly away flashing her wedding ring as she used her delicate hand to brush the hair away from her face.

I looked down, first out of timidness, then intently as I admired the attire she wore. Her legs looked amazing in platform heels with ribbons criss crossing up her toned calves. I have a love/hate relationship with feet, they either disgust me, or in the case of the select few, they capture my total fascination, Brooke's were in the latter. They appeared smooth and delicate, the toes small, without being tiny, neatly painted burgundy to match her dress. That dress was obviously made for her body both literally and figuratively. The flimsy fabric swept below her knee, swaying as she walked or turned.

Realizing that my original timidness was evolving into creepiness I returned to her face asking her a question to spark a conversation outside of Darren's exploration of Janice's extensively limited film career, "How about you? What's your professional review of this place?".

"It seems fun. Nothing too special, the typical party spot. I think I'm starting to get too old for these places," she joked at the end of her evaluation.

"You're just not at the right place," I added.

"Where's that?".

"There's a great salsa spot about five minutes from here, can you dance?".

"Can I dance?" she flirtatiously mocked offense, "only if I have a partner who knows what he's doing."

"I don't believe you," I playfully kidded her.

"Janice," Brooke interrupted Darren's royal treatment, "tell him how well we dance salsa."

"Like pros," replied Janice with a big grin.

"Then how about you show us. We know a place not far from her," challenged Darren.

The girls exchanged looks before answering, "lead the way."

We left the club. Acting upon the same mental wavelength we bypassed Darren's classic 1987 Honda Civic and caught a cab squeezing into the back seat with the girls. Darren and Janice were pressed against each other in the middle, and from the way her hand lingered on his leg as he rambled on about Santa Barbara nightlife I realized where that couple was heading.

Where I was heading was a different place. I saw the disappointed look on Brooke's face when she checked her cell phone. I knew she was married with two young kids, so I was trying to fight the urge to hope, but it was hard not to see an image of my frequent fantasy each time her sweet face glanced my way, laden with the disappoint which burdened it from somewhere else. Her husband, her kids, none of them were present, just facts I had read in a magazine, and this siren's presence erased the tediousness of facts.

We arrived quickly at the lively salsa spot, the music, the crowd, the energy, all different, and in each way a little bit better than the club before. I felt my hips begin to sway to the rhythm the second we walked in. The girls seemed to come alive with the energy of the music as well. Wasting no time we headed straight for the dance floor.

"Let's see those moves hotshot," kidded Brooke as she turned to face me. We started dancing, separately at first, then quickly coming together.

"I guess you do know how to dance," complimented Brooke smiling widely as we both expertly stepped in time with each other.

"Would I lie," I joked.

"I'm sure you would," laughed Brooke. Just the slight feel of her body against mine, not pressed together like Janice and Darren who weren't dancing as much as dry humping, but in a truly romantic way. A hand on her hip, a hold on the back of my shoulders. She simply felt, smelt, and looked great, and I felt lucky just to be in proximity to her, let alone the focus of her body's attention.

"Where'd you learn to dance?" inquired Brooke clearly impressed with my effortless movements.

"I dated a girl a while back who was an instructor," dated seems such a deficient word for someone you devoted two years to, but the lingering sentiments that usually arose with the mere mention of that wound, were quickly extinguished by the smile before me.

"She must have been a good teacher."

"But a horrible girlfriend."

"Hey, at least you got something out of it."

We continued to dance for at least twenty minutes, exchanging moves and information. She left out the husband and kid part, which kept my hopes alive, although I danced around the subject of availability with each turn in the conversation.

While we were dancing I noticed Eva, a sizzling hot latina I'd been trying to get closer to for the past month, eyeing me from the bar. Each time I glanced her way she quickly turned her head exposing her interest. I followed her progression from the bar to the dance floor, losing her for a minute before she finally walked up to us.

"Mind if I cut in?" requested Eva looking sexy in a curve hugging red dress, slit high up the right side.

"Sure no problem, I was about to take a break," replied Brooke killing me as she left my arms cheerfully and walked off the floor.

"Where'd you dig her up?" asked Eva obviously jealous even though it was she who had rebuked my previous advances.

"Why does it matter to you?" I curtly asked as we danced together.

"Just don't want you wasting all your money on high priced hookers," answered Eva feigning concern as she looked up into my face.

"Damn, I think somebody's jealous," I responded back a winner's smile on my face.

"Jealous?" She didn't seem to have a problem leaving you."

"Maybe she looked at you and knew she didn't have anything to worry about."

"No girl would leave me alone with someone they wanted, look at me," she confidently replied grabbing my chin and forcing me to look down at her.

"Well, she got a pretty good look."

"And left, either because she didn't want you, or knew she couldn't compete. I think she was just happy to have an excuse to leave."

"Or was scared off by your ghetto charm."

"Ghetto? Sweetie I'm not ghetto," she responded angrily, yet pressing her body closer to mine at the same time.

"Sorry, maybe I stepped a little too far with that one," I apologized enjoying the feel of her body against mine. Maybe it was my cock calculating the possibilities, but I suddenly started seriously pondering how I should act in this situation. Brooke was beyond all comparison. But I had to be realistic. That path was headed towards nothing but frustration and a cold shower. And Eva wasn't anything to complain about either. I'd been pursuing it for a while, and at that moment I knew I had her.