Cheating on Me Causes Accidents II
It was my second week stripping at a new club in Quebec City. I had just found out that I was pregnant, thank you, my dear ex-boyfriend. All that afternoon I'd been sewing on my newest costume, a sheer, chiffon gown with a halter top and an ethereal, flowing gathered skirt. When I finished the final touches, I was so excited to try it out onstage that I left for work early. Carrying my costume bag to the club’s outside dressing room entrance I saw, with alarm, a familiar sight in the parking lot. Son of a bitch. Jake’s blue truck. How did he find me here?
I hurried into the dressing room and peeked out at the club from behind the curtain. Shit. Jake was sitting in the back near the service bar. Not his usual confident self, he was looking a little worse for wear. What was it- an eight, ten-hour drive from Hamilton to Quebec City? Too bad he made the long trip for nothing.
The first stripper of the night had just started dancing. The other two girls were still getting ready in the dressing room and Jean Luc was taking a break at the service bar, chatting with the good-looking waiters. Shit. What was he doing? Jean Luc was heading determinedly to the table where Jake was sitting. No. No. Stop. How did he know who he was anyway? Nothing good was going to come of Jean Luc getting involved in my snit. I couldn’t watch.
I ducked back behind the curtain and started getting dressed and doing my makeup, wondering what to say or even if I should speak to Jake after my show. When Jean Luc asked for my music before my show, I was going to grab him by his scrawny neck and demand to know what he said to Jake.
The first stripper came back to the dressing room and Jean Luc commenced his entertaining. After he announced the next stripper, he came back through the curtain to the dressing room where I accosted him.
“How did you know Jake was here? Why did you talk to him? What were you thinking?” I demanded.
“Calm down. Calm down. No harm done. How did I know? You described him to me a dozen times. How could I not know? I told him you will come and talk with him after your show. That’s what I was thinking.”
“What if I don’t want to talk to him? What if I don’t want anything to do with him?” I asked, hands on my hips.
The other girls in the dressing room stopped what they were doing and eavesdropped on our argument. I guess it wasn’t officially eavesdropping because I was pretty loud.
“You really should talk with him. He drove ten hours to see you and you have important things to talk about.” He said as if I’d never told him I wasn’t telling Jake anything.
“Oh, God. Jean Luc. You didn’t say anything, did you?” I angrily snapped at him.
He ignored my question and asked what show I was planning on doing first. After giving him my tape, he waltzed away to chat with the stripper who was waiting for her show time, conveniently forgetting to answer my question.
After Jean Luc went back onstage to announce the last stripper before my show, I took another peek out of the curtain and saw one of the house strippers sitting at the table with Jake. Well, that was just fine. I was done with him.
I stomped back to the makeup table and slapped on another layer of eye makeup, fluffed my hair, and checked my stockings for runs. Jake had driven ten hours from Hamilton to the club I was working at. That must mean he wanted to talk with me. With Jake, however, perhaps it meant he was looking for French women to screw. It was hard to tell with him, so I wasn’t going to assume anything.
I peered out into the audience once more and the other stripper had flounced herself down next to Jake. I could care less- or is that I couldn’t care less? Anyway, fucking sluts. I hoped they all had fun tonight after the club closed. Maybe Jake could take home a souvenir from Quebec for his wife, herpes, crabs, clap, hoof, and mouth disease, or any number of other sexual ailments.
The last house stripper ended her show and came backstage. Jean Luc introduced me, and my blues tape began playing Stormy Monday. The new gown I had just sewn flowed beautifully with my movements. The spotlight and the blacklights really set the colors aglow. The next song on the tape was Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers. I loved slow, smooth undulating movements, and Ain’t No Sunshine spotlighted these perfectly.
The chair routine song was always a crowd favorite.
The song Black Coffee and Cigarettes was about as sultry as you could get. I did the chair routine a little differently this time. I left the gown on and straddled the chair with my back to the audience while I slowly untied the top of the gown and let it fall away from my breasts. Then, I stood up slowly, lifted the gown to show the tops of my silk stockings, then let it fall to the floor before sitting back down on the chair for my chair gymnastics.
When the last song began, I slid like a snake from the chair to the floor in one gliding movement. At Last, by Etta James, poured out of the speakers like honey and I slowly removed my G-String and dropped it onto the chair. I was not a nice person, and that night I decided to put on a little show to remind Jake what he would be missing out on. Mixed in here and there with my elegant ballet leg extensions and acrobatics there were little memories of his favorite sexual escapades with me from the past seven months.
Eat your heart out, big boy.
When I sat down at my section of the makeup mirror in the dressing room there was a folded note next to my makeup. More fan mail from a flounder, I assumed. Yep,
‘Please come out and talk to me. I need to see you. Jake.’
I took my time getting dressed in my jeans and a sweater. One of the house strippers had come back from the club and was getting ready to do her show. I put a sympathetic look on my face and approached her sweetly, “Hi, just wanted to let you know about that guy you were sitting with.”
“Oui, il est sexy! Mon dieu!” She gushed, practically drooling on the floor.
I had no idea what the hell she was saying. But I got the vibe that she liked him very much. Such a shame. “Um, I don’t want to ruin your night. I used to date him and couldn’t stand it anymore. I came here to get away from him.” I said convincingly.
“But, why? Why would you go away from such a man?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you about his accident?” I shared cautiously.
“Accident? Non, non. What accident?” She was puzzled.
“He was working on a construction project and his- you know, those, (with my hands I indicated round things at crotch level) got crushed when his ladder fell. He didn’t tell you? Oh, that figures. He’s such a liar.”
I mimed a floppy cock with my forefinger and walked away shaking my head in pity for the poor girl he was trying to fool. I had all I could do not to laugh my ass off at the look on her face. Her plans for the evening with that hot guy just went down the drain… all because of a damned ladder accident.
That will get around and Jake will wonder where those hot French girls went. Couldn’t happen to a better man. I was giggling as I walked out to the club. My dear friend, Jean Luc’s very handsome boyfriend, Sol, was sitting a few tables away from Jake and I made a beeline to sit with him, making a big deal out of bussing his cheeks and hugging him. Take that, you asshole. I can sit with a hot guy anytime I want.
Jake didn’t need to know I was the wrong gender for Sol. At least Sol hadn’t suffered from any construction accident, that I knew of. I’m sure Jean Luc would have dished on it if he had.
I had to carefully balance blatant flirting with Sol to piss off Jake without pissing off my delicate friend, Jean Luc. Sol snapped his magic fingers and a hunky, blond waiter appeared instantly to take his order. I was going to order a 7&7, my usual, but Sol took over and told me I should try a cognac cocktail and ordered me a Sidecar.
Sol turned to me after the waiter left and said, “My dear, you could turn a queer straight. Tres chaud, tres chaud. Just don’t tell Jean Luc,” He chuckled and patted my hand.
“Um. Thank you, I think?” I mumbled.
Sol laughed and said quietly, “I see someone has followed you here. What are you going to do about him?”
“I’m not sure. He was pretty busy entertaining the girls, so maybe he’s just looking for French women.” I joked.
“He could have found them three hundred miles ago.” Sol claimed, “No, I believe that Jean Luc was correct. It would be best if you talked with him. You don’t have to do anything but tell him the truth. You know how you complain he’s a liar? If you do not share with him your truth, what does that make you?” He pointed out.
That punched me in the gut. Sol was right. I was angry with Jake for keeping things from me. Now, here I was trying to keep this surprise pregnancy from Jake and feeling self-righteous about it. Truthfully, it wouldn’t change the fact that he would never leave his wife for me. Thinking about it was one thing but hearing him say it out loud was more than I could manage at that point.
When my drink arrived at the table, Sol handed it to me and said, “Go. Talk with your man. If it hurts, it hurts. At least you will have tried to do the right thing.”
I took a big swallow of the drink and steeled my backbone, hoping that Jake’s harem had disappeared. I walked over to his table on wobbly legs. Good grief. Even hating him didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach when I saw him up close. As I approached him, I asked, “Mind if I sit with you?”
He was hunched over the table, carefully peeling the label off his Labatt Blue bottle. Even with a two-day-old beard, he looked far too good to be with me. When he didn’t answer I sat down next to him anyway and waited for him to make the next move.
He looked up at me from his label-peeling project and grumbled, “So, this is how you deal with arguments? You disappear? How does that solve anything? It took me a week to find out where you went.”
Good Lord. He thought we were still together, and I was just having a snit about him leaving for his damned family Christmas party. Incredible. I was at a loss for words, so I downed the rest of my drink. Within two minutes flat a Labatt Blue with an intact label and another Sidecar arrived at our table, thanks to Sol. I waved a thank you to Sol and Jake tipped his bottle to him.
“So, are you fucking that old guy?” He demanded to know.
I was shocked and annoyed and shot back, “No. I’m not like you, Jake. I can’t just jump in and out of beds with people because I’m horny. I have to have feelings for people first.”
“So, then. What’s the deal with you two?” He wanted to know.
“Are you really doing this? Now? Don’t you want to know why I left as I did without telling you? Or do you just want to shift the blame for everything onto me?”
“I don’t know what I’m to blame for. I told you about that deal with the family Christmas party. You knew I had to do that. I told you the truth.” He complained.
“This has nothing to do with a fucking party, Jake. What else have you not told me? Your life when you’re away from me is a mystery- but I have to be content with that, while you put me on the fucking witness stand whenever we get together again.” I said loudly, as I downed the second drink quickly.
“I don’t know what you think I haven’t told you.” He said a little too quickly, confirming what his friend had told me about his wife being pregnant.
“Maybe you should begin by telling me how far along your wife is.” I glared at him and fiddled with my empty cocktail glass.
“Wh-Wait. How. How do you know?” He back peddled.
“Dan came into Hanrahan’s and told me she was five months pregnant. That sounds like the week you went home for her birthday. So, I figured that was about right.”
He was stunned. I wasn’t sure it was because his best friend had betrayed him or because I knew. He stuttered, “I- Oh, God. I. I wanted to tell you. I tried a couple of times. I really did. It was going to hurt you and I just couldn’t tell you. I’m really sorry. Oh, wow. That was an awful way for you to find out.”
“So, when we were in Toronto and you were talking about your wife never wanting kids and you’re going on forty and all that crap was just bullshit, right?” I asked.
“What? No. No. That was me trying to work up the nerve to tell you. We were. We were just having such a good day I didn’t want to ruin it.” He argued.
“You didn’t want to ruin a good day or the possibility of a good fuck? Which one is it with me, Jake. Am I just another piece of convenient ass for you?” I demanded.
He reached across the table and took my hand, which I wasn’t about to give up easily. “No. You were never that. Okay, maybe when I first met you, I thought it would be fun and then one of us would have to move on.” He admitted, “but then after getting to know you I didn’t feel like that anymore. Honestly, I couldn’t stop thinking about you when we weren’t together. You messed with my mind. I’ve been cheating on Bree for years. Literally years. But I never felt bad about it because I could honestly say those women never meant anything to me. It’s different with you. I swear to God.”
“Ummha. Well, you think about that. I have to get ready for my next show.” I got up and walked to the dressing room trying to discern the truth from his lies. It was interesting to me that he believed this was a stunt of some kind because I was mad at him over some trivial thing. He had no idea that disappearing was one of my secret superpowers. I would take a lot of pain and abuse until I couldn’t. Then, I could disappear better than anyone I knew. The question was, did I want to disappear this time?