Window Shopping

"So what is it with this girl? You can tell me. Strippers are a lot like bartenders. We're supposed to listen then keep our mouth shut."

I laughed. "Well, she's my next door neighbor. And she's sleeping with another neighbor."

"And you can't avoid them?"

"She's my best friend."

"What kind of friend fucks somebody else when her best buddy is next door?"

"A lesbian."

"She never does guys?"

"Not that I've ever seen."

Mickey draped her arm around my shoulder. "You are so screwed. We have some gay girls here. The only thing they like about men is their wallet."

"Emily likes me alright. She comes over all the time."

"Yeah, but she never comes. If I were you I'd get the heck out of there."

"You would?"

"Honey, the only thing carrying a torch does is make your arm tired. Your right arm, if you know what I mean." And with that Mickey winked at me and rubbed her bikini covered breast against my arm.

"My right arm's tired enough as it is. I should have hairy palms by now."

"So should I." And she winked again, and licked the edge of her glass.

I laughed and took another drink. There was another dancer on the pole, a brunette whose cleavage denied gravity. But I turned back at Mickey, and ran my eyes over her body. Her skin showed not a single flaw, soft and supple, and her body seemed so perfect."

"You like what you see."

"Uh huh." I barely got that out.

"I thought so. Why don't you get a table dance? They're only $20, thirty in private. Let me give you a private dance and I'll give you something to grow hair by."

I heard myself agree. Mickey winked and took my hand back to a small curtained booth. She sat me in my chair, drink at my side.

"Keep your hands at your sides," she whispered mouth so close to me ear. "You can't touch me, not for real, not the way we'd both like. The bouncers will come because if they don't the cops will. Just sit back and enjoy, because this is for you." She stepped back but stayed close, but not too close, an arm's length away when she began to sway to the music. The tune was hip hop, I didn't recognize it and loud, but Mickey managed to slow it down, to make her movements sinuous as a belly dancer. She twirled and stood stood en pointe like a ballerina, every curve accentuated. The lines of her pale blue thong drew my eye to her sex. I watched her belly button, and her small, beautiful breasts which her bikini top so delightfully accentuated. She pirouetted and turned, and then I saw her back, rippling with muscle, and her buttocks, smooth and creamy, swaying back and forth.

I could feel my cock swelling and I wanted her, wanted her badly, so perfect and beautiful and so close. Mickey came closer and put her arms on the backs of my chair. She reminded me to keep my hands where they were and she came close, very close, her covered sex only inches from my mouth, so close that I could almost reach out and lick it.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"She giggled and spun and hunched over, her perfect bottom only an inch from my nose. I traced the line of her thong and made out her puckered pink back door. She was so close, and I wanted to just reach out my tongue and lick. I felt like the Sultan and understood why Scheherezade so captivated him.

Then she spun again and her top was down. And her perfect breasts bobbed naked before me. She leaned over me and pressed her chest against me, my mouth between her breasts and began to rub. My cock was aching but my fingers stayed put. I knew the rules, no touching, no real intimacy just the fantasy. But I could feel her breasts around my head and I so wanted to just turn my head and lick.

"You're a sweet one," whispered Mickey, before she spun again and planted herself on my lap. Her buttocks moved band and forth, and on its own accord my erect cock founds its way into the crack, squeezed and rubbed, she moved. It loved it I savored it, but the song ended all too quickly and Mickey slipped away.

"That ought to give you something to think about tonight."

"It did." And I thought of her and Emily together.

"You're a sweet guy. One of the nice ones. Get away from the dyke next door. I know you like each other, but it won't be any good for you until you get somebody of your own."

"Love advice from a stripper?"

"On the house. You're an architect. Build yourself a dream house." She winked again and began refastening her top. "It'll be my dance again out front in a minute. Hope you'll come watch."

I nodded. I took a drink. I walked outside. Mahogany was writhing on a table surrounded by young men. Mickey headed to the bar, and on the way by she exchanged glances with a tall mustachioed man in a leather jacket. Her lover perhaps? I reached for my car keys and headed for the door. It was dark outside, full dark and I spotted flashing lights in the distance. I took inventory of myself and realized I was in no condition to drive.

"Can you call me a taxi?"

He was big and beefy but he nodded, made the call and offered me some coffee. It arrived quickly, and I realized that tomorrow I'd have to get a ride back for my car. I thought I'd ask Emily. After all, her romance drove me there.

Then I reconsidered. I drove myself there. I chose that night because I wanted a night at the harem. I'd had that night. Now it was time to move on. Mickey was right, I needed to leave the apartment behind.

* **

I woke up around nine and made myself some coffee, and started some eggs. Slapped a couple English muffins in the toaster and knocked on Em's wall. It was a signal we had that breakfast was underway. If she wanted any she'd come over. Then it occurred to me that she might have something better to eat than food.

Five minutes later the door slid open and two ladies walked in. Em was in her usual morning sweats and Lisa trailed behind wearing tight jeans and a pink t-shirt the hugged her like a bear. She smiled at me as she shut the door.

"Got enough for a threesome?" Emily leaned over the counter grinning at me.

"I've got plenty. There's grapefruit juice in the fridge. Rule is you have to serve yourself."

"Thanks. " Lisa pulled open the fridge and pulled out the juice bottle. I'd left a cupboard cracked enough that she knew where to find the juice glasses.

"So where were you last night, white man?" Emily looked at me with intent. "Did you have a hot date?"

"I went to a bar."

"Meet anyone cute."

"Yes, but she already has a boyfriend."

"Is that all?"

"It's a long story Em. So what did Emily make for you last night?"

"Chicken cashew."

"I've had that before, it's quite good. Emily's quite the cook when she wants to be."

Lisa smiled at me. "So are you from what I've heard. And see. What all do you have in those eggs."

"Red pepper, garlic, scallions and gouda. With a bit of spice."

"Sounds really yummy. Smells that way too."

"Gary is the king of breakfasts," Emily announced. "His dinner menu is average white man, well done but predictable. But in the morning, he prepares a symphony!"

"Gosh, next time I'll borrow one of your ethnic cookbooks."

"Nah. Your spaghetti and meat loaf stand alone. You just need the right person to share the cooking chores."

Lisa observed that "A man that cooks is a man a girl hangs on to."

I laughed.

"You're right sweetie, but Gary's still a mite tender on that point."

"Carrying a torch only makes your arm tired."

I laughed. "Funny, I heard the same expression last night."

Lisa laughed. "Believe it. You're perfect. All a woman wants is a man who'll fill her every morning."

"Speak for yourself," said Emily, who walked over and give Lisa a lover's kiss.

"Hey, no mushy stuff in here! You two act like a couple girls."

Emily grinned back at me and pulled Lisa even closer for much longer kiss. I could see both of their nipples swelling as the kiss hung on.

After they broke it Lisa gave Em a small kiss on the nose and said, "We aren't being fair to our host here." And she walked on over to me and wrapped her arms around me, stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips to mine.

I was shocked and returned it perfunctorily, my eyes on Emily. But Lisa pulled me tighter. "C'mon, you can do better than that. How do you expect to get your name on the girl's restroom walls if you don't try?"

Emily grinned at me and nodded, so this time I tried. Really tried, tongue and all, And I'd have to say the effort left a nice tent in my jeans.

"He can kiss when he wants to! You ought to give him a nibble Emily. But first make him shave, you aren't supposed to invite a lady over before you shave." Then she went back and slid her arm around Emily and I'd be surprised if Lisa didn't give her a little goose. Which made Emily smile.

"Maybe I will have to kiss him someday. After he's shaved of course. That's one big advantage of kissing girls, baby soft skin all the time."

"I have baby soft skin, just not on my face."

"And what spot could hold such tender flesh, oh burner of eggs?"

I turned my attention back to the eggs. They weren't burned, but in definite readiness for serving. "Rustle up a couple plates there, little lady, because this grub is ready."

We ate quietly. Emily sat very close to Lisa, who seemed to take a neutral stance. I passed out marmalade. Lisa took a couple bites and announced that I was, in fact, "The King of Breakfast." For which I poured her a fresh cup of coffee.

"I'm glad to see you two getting a long so well." I finally said.

"It's been great," said Lisa after which she and Emily exchanged long looks.

The Emily leaned forward. "So tell me, where did you go last night? I dropped by with some leftovers but no one answered."

"I told you, I went to the bar."

"Which bar? You never seemed the type Gary."

I could feel myself blushing."

Emily giggled. "You went to Neon Platinum, didn't you?"

I blushed even more.

They both broke out with the giggles. Em grinned wickedly. "I didn't think you were that kind of guy, Gary."

"Emily, he's a man. They're all that type. The good ones just don't go often."

"But to go there and spend money just to ogle."

"Especially when he gets to ogle at home," said Lisa with a little wink.

I could not have blushed harder.

Emily leaned over the breakfast table and looked me in the eyes. "So, did you find any of the dancer's particularly hot?"

"There was this little blond named Mickey."

Emily laughed then whispered something to Lisa. "She gave me a table dance once."

It was my turn to laugh. "Em, I didn't think you were that kind of a girl."

"Of course I am, as you well know."

"Dancers like girl customers better," added Lisa, her grin growing. "They're generally more polite and flirting with a girl drives the men nuts. You get more tips."

"How do you know that?"

"I stripped when I was in school."

"You did?" Lisa's remark surprised Em as much as I.

"It beat student loans."

"You have a point there," I said. " paid off my debt last year."

"Lucky you." Emily had another year and a half to go.

Lisa worked a lot of nights that week, and so did I because I had that week only to finish the home I'd been commissioned. Naturally I wanted it to be perfect, and worked overtime on even the tiniest details. By the time I got home I was exhausted and dropped right into bed. If Lisa offered me a show I would never have known. Em sent me a couple emails, forwarded jokes mostly and a futile order for me to stop working so hard.

However my boss agreed with Emily. I worked late re-engineering some of the faux gable bracing that partly distinguishes the style. I'd done two or six designs already and finally my boss booted me out the door after refusing to let me email the file home.

He told me to "Go out and get laid." He even suggested a bar "loaded with horny divorcees." Somehow I managed to keep my face straight, though I'm not sure that was the right thing to do.

The last thing I wanted to do was visit a bar. Remembering what Emily said about my 'pedestrian' dinner fare, I bought a Caribbean cook-book at Borders, picked out a recipe and went out to pick up the ingredients. R&D cooking seemed like a good time sink.

I noticed something different when I arrived. Something really different. An Aston Martin parked in our lo, same on James Bond drove in Casino Royalle. It was green, its fenders flowed like liquid and the paint was perfect and I couldn't help but wonder what was a two hundred thousand dollar car doing in an apartment lot for twenty-somethings?

Drawing stares mostly.

I put away the perishables, changed into shorts and a tee-shirt and got out my cutting board and knives. A few minutes later I was slicing and dicing, and roasting plantains in butter.

Emily rapped on my door, and then pushed it open. "I smell melted butter."

"With plantains."

"Plantains? You've never cooked with those before."

"I thought I'd try and remove the ennui from my dinner menu." I pointed at the cook book.

"Hmmm that does look good. Maybe I'll join you."

"Aren't you going out with Lisa?"

"No! She's been really nice but she said she couldn't see me this weekend. I haven't a clue why."

"Maybe she has to work. Networks geeks get called in when something goes wrong."

"Maybe, but I don't think so. If you had a hot, horny woman waiting for you wouldn't you at least lead her on some? You know, make and share some optimistic guess that would allow for a quickie."

"I'd tell the truth if I knew that was a dream. I believe in miracles, but not for me."

"Gary, you have to hope, believe me. I too have my dreams." She squeezed my arm. "Man that looks good. I'm going to outside and have a smoke."

I didn't think much of it. I just kept on chopping, and inspected my olive oil supply as the sliding door opened and closed. A moment later it slid open again. Emily raced by and out the apartment door. She was crying.

I dithered, slid the chopped veggies in the fridge and headed outside. I caught Lisa headed down the walkway in a very, very short dress, a well dressed older man on her arm. He opened the door to that exquisite green Aston Martin and she got in.

Oh crap.

I spun on my heels and headed over to Em's. I knocked on her door.

"Go away!" He voice was half broken, half a shriek.

"Are you going to be okay!"

"No!" I could hear things flopping around her apartment. In a way, that was a good sign. Nothing crashed, which meant Emily was having a solo pillow fight, venting her frustration on the walls and non-breakables. She'd broken things when Mary left.

I waited until things calmed then knocked again. The door popped open. I could see her mascara running down her cheeks. "It's your fault Gary, you're the one who gave me that damned bottle of wine and sent me over there."

"I know."

"It's not your fault! How could you know? You sit there with your computer and . . . " Emily shuddered. "I'm sorry. Of course you couldn't know." And she raced into my arms.

We stood there for a long time, arms wrapped around each other. She wept and her tears wet my shoulder, and I could feel her shudder. But her fingers were tender, alternating squeezes with the softer touches of a lover. The she pulled her head back and forced a smile. "I'm such an idiot. It was just a good time for me, and I started imagining things."

"What was that joke about lesbian dating you told me? The one where you can tell it's a first date because of the moving van."

"I think that's a second date. Hell, I don't remember." And she giggled for a second. "I'll be alright. I just forgotshe's a party girl."

"And she has a very rich party."

"Is she dating the guy with that Bondmobile?"

"Yep."

"Lord, that thing must cost a fortune."

"You could buy a brand new house."

"Materialist bitch! Next time I find myself a political girl."

'Like Sandra?"

"Oh, her." Emily rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Maybe it's time I went back to guys." Then she grabbed me again for another brief round of shuddering.

I held her for a long time, both of us saying nothing, just swaying together, and it lasted longer than her tears. Finally it broke and she kissed me softly on the lips.

"Thank you," she said and squeezed me again. "You have to be most supercalifragilistic guy in the whole wide world."

"Well come on over. I have dinner to finish, and we can keep the drapes shut."

Emily shook her head. "Hell no. Leave them open so she sees what she's missing. But we're not going to drink whiskey. Whiskey is for country songs and nothing could taste sadder. We will drink light fruity, girlie drinks."

"I don't have any."

"I do. I have all the rum and pina colada mix a body could desire."

"I guess I can drink those."

"You shall drink, and you will like them. Now you get going. I want to change before dinner."

"Why? You're fine as you are."

Emily laughed. "You are such a guy! Now shoo! I'll be over presently." And she pulled me into her arms again for a long, tight hug.

"I love you, you know." Her words were barely audible."

"I love you Emily." Mine weren't. She took my face in her hands and looked at me, smiling. "Go next door white man. I'll be right over."

There was nothing else to do but go back to my zucchini. And so I did, resuming prep, heating the olive oil, boiling the chicken lightly to ensure thorough cooking, starting the rice. The recipe made sense, it was something I could do and do well. It smelled good too, and I began to think I ought to try some more exotic recipes.

But the food cooked quickly, and I was beginning to worry, when Emily gave her characteristic warning knock then stepped inside.

And my heart stopped. She was dressed like the anti-Em, a skin-tight shorty t-shirt with big lipstick mark. It hugged her braless breasts and her nipples poked out the fabric. She wore one of the shortest, must butt-hugging skirts I'd ever seen, with a captains cap, sunglasses and ruby red lipstick. She even wore heels.

I felt like an idiot, but all I could do was stand there gape-jawed. I'd never seen her like that. He skin seemed to glow.

Emily laughed. "The nice thing about guys, is that you always know when you have their full attention. Girls are more subtle, though we're no better."

"Emily, anyone who wouldn't notice you tonight is already dead."

"Think Lisa will notice when she sees me through the window?"

"If she looks, she'll notice."

"Good. I want her to see the hot babe and beau hunk she could have been with."

"Em, you alone are the story. I mean, wow."

"I can tell. The tent gives you away."

I blushed. Emily giggled then went to get the blender.

My first effort at this sort of cooking turned out well, the spices could have been better but the tastes of the fresh things mingled well, and so we ate well. Emily mixed sweeter than strong, but that was a good thing. And she put on some music and we danced in my living room. We watched 'Adaptation' then went back to dancing. By the time midnight rolled around we were half crocked, and the music had shifted from urban dance to traditional rhythm and blues. Slowly it shifted from faster to slower songs and we began dancing closer and closer. Until we were locked in a slow dance together, her head on my shoulder, mine locked behind her waist, slowly swaying together.

I was hard as a rock. She didn't pull away either, she pressed against me, and the warmth of her, the shifting fabric and her nipples against my chest kept me at attention. It wasn't more than that really, not a big grope session, just two people dancing together really close.

Finally Em leaned back and looked at me, really looked at me. "Your face is a bit scratchy, but this didn't turn out to be a bad night after all."

"You want me to go shave?"

'No. It's the way you are." And she pressed her cheek against mine. "it's funny about men, you're so much harder everywhere, and I'm not talking about the obvious," and she wiggled her hips in emphasis, "But the edges! The scratch of your beard those big shoulders. Mary was pretty strong, but you, you're so much more big and powerful."