THE BIG APPLE STRIPPERS – sample from the book
“You brushed me off in your last email, so of course I’m doing great,” I say with a biting chuckle.
“That’s the best for everyone involved.”
“Why?”
“It’s just so,” he snubs me and goes down to the Lincoln Tunnel that separates Manhattan and Jersey.
Now I get it. He’s taking me home. How can he know where I live? How did he find out? Did he follow me? Why would he do that?
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
My suspicion was justified!
“How do you know where I live?”
He’s silent and narrows his lips. He’s keeping something back from me. As if he feels guilty, but defends himself with the mere expression on his face. I try to read it, but I have no idea what this is all supposed to mean.
“James, what’s this about?” I insist.
“Ashley. Oh, Ashley.” He closes his eyes.
He gives me the creeps: “Open your eyes! We’ll have an accident.”
He opens his eyes and smiles: “Do you really want to give me orders? I have the car under control. Actually, I have everything in my life under control, except for you.”
“Me? What do you mean? Why would you need to have me under control? You wrote to me not to get in touch with you any more.”
“It seems it’s something that I need.”
“I don’t understand you at all.”
“You don’t need to understand me. It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does. Have you been following me? How do you know where I live?”
He takes a deep breath and obviously hesitates whether to tell me or not.
“Yes, I have.”
I’m happy deep inside. But I guess it’s not appropriate to show how happy I am when he looks so pained. He must care for me if he followed me. Or not? Why would he be doing it?
“Why?”
He’s silent again. We’re out of the tunnel now, driving by the Hudson River and have a beautiful view of Manhattan. I touch his thigh, thinking it will calm him down and maybe even make him talk.
He swallows with difficulty: “Take your hand off my leg.”
I put my hand back in my lap. I feel guilty. Did I go too far by touching him?
He brakes sharply and gets out of the car. I have no idea what he’s doing and why he can’t give me an answer.
I get out of the car, too. He’s standing, looking at the view of New York in silence. We observe the city together. I feel I should help him with something. I don’t know with what or how, but the feeling is very strong and I can’t get it out of my head.
“I can’t sleep at nights,” he says in a coarse voice without looking at me and goes on. “You’re in my dreams every single night and I can’t control it, I can’t get you out of my head. And I can control anything. I have everything under control except for this. Why?”
He’s dreaming about me? My mind and heart are jumping for joy. My smile soon disappears when I see how tortured he looks.
“I don’t know. Is that why you’re following me?”
“I have an urge to control you. But I can’t. The dreams must come to an end. I must get you out of my head.”
“Or I can stay there forever,” I smile positively.
He shakes his head and his eyes settle upon my dress. It’s the first time I’ve had a good feeling about the dress. It’s not a bad thing that it provokes excitement. James licks his lips. God, what is he thinking about!? He has some dirty thoughts, I guess. I would yield to him immediately. We just watch each other. I’m very excited. His look fills me with more and more desire. He grasps my hand. His hand is so hot. I can feel his pulse going from his heart to the deepest corners of my body. My knees are shaking and I’m glad I’m wearing the high-heel shoes – at least I’m not so short by his side. There’s the blush of dawn, day is breaking. I must admit that standing here by the river as the sun is rising above Manhattan is really a romantic experience.
“What are we gonna do with our lives?” He’s looking in my eyes, trying to read something in them.
I don’t know what the right answer would be. I bite my lip and think.
“I’ll take you home and I promise I won’t try to contact you, follow you or anything like that any more. I’ll go away from New York for some time to have a break,” he tells me with a sigh.
“James, please don’t! Give me a chance.”
“A chance for what? I can’t have a relationship with you, that’s out of the question. And it’s not right to meet you. It’s against my rules and the conventions I live with. There cannot be any kind of love or anything like that between the two of us.”
“Give me just one day. Please, a single day spent with you. Make an exception.”
“What would be the point of it?” he smiles as if it’s not a good idea.
“We’ll sort out your dreams. You’ll tell me what happens in them and together we can try to solve it so that they are not repeated anymore. What do you say?”
“It’s not that simple. I have no idea how you’d like to solve it.”
“Maybe if you spend some time with me, then…”
“No,” he interrupts me: “That’s not a good idea. But maybe if I actually did to you what I dream about, the dreams might disappear,” he’s thinking aloud.
“So just do it and we’ll see,” I dare him head-on.
“You don’t have the slightest idea what I would expect of you,” he warns me and runs his thumb over the knuckles of my fingers.
“It won’t be that bad. I’ll do anything. The main thing is that you stop following me afterwards, isn’t it?” I bluff a little to get the opportunity to spend some time with him. In fact, I want him to follow me and have the urge to control me. I want to be the victim of his desire, just as he became the target of my lust, passion and attraction at the very first sight.
“I can’t do that to you.” I can read from his face that he’s waging an inward battle.
I don’t care what he wants to do to me. I can take anything from him. I just care about being with him. I feel great by his side. I need him. I want him. I must have him, at least for a while.
“Yes, you can. You obviously want it. So do it. You’re missing something, that’s why it is in your head all the time. By doing it you can get it out of your mind. And you’ll be at peace. And if it’s terrible, I’ll at least stop thinking of you and I won’t write you emails in weak moments. It’s a win-win situation for both of us, don’t you think?”
“Maybe… Okay. But we’ll play by my rules.”
A. K. Veliká
(Sample from the book – The Big Apple Strippers)
