“Have any ideas how?” I saymischievously.
Ryan plants a soft kiss on my cheek, “I mayhave something up my sleeve.”
I turn around to face him. God he’sbeautiful. All toned and tanned and sharply defined. He makes mefeel weak, like he emits endorphins or something.
“So what do you want to do?” Ryan asks,grabbing my hand as we start to walk.
“Actually I’m starving, I haven’t eaten allday.” Come to think of it, I haven’t really eaten all week. Thebutterflies have completely inhabited my stomach.
“Is there a particular place you want to go?”he asks.
“I thought we could grab an early dinnerhere, in the park.”
It’s a perfect day for alfresco.
We head over to the Bryant Park Grill, wherethe rooftop is open for dining. After waiting a good half hour weare finally seated. We get a table right next to the railing with asprawling view of the park’s gravel walkways, patio and extensivelawn.
I order a glass of Pinot grigio and thesteamed mussels in spicy thai coconut broth. Ryan orders atanqueray and tonic and the jumbo lump crab cakes. Our drinks aredropped off and now it’s just him and me and all I can think aboutis that kiss. The one by the stairwell of New Jersey Transit. Andhow I want him to kiss me like that all over again. And again, andagain and again.
“Alana?” I hear my name and look up from thenapkin I’m fiddling with. Ryan is staring at me, “What are thinkingabout?”
“How long have you been dancing?” I askcuriously.
His face falls, “About a year.”
He had to know this conversation wasinevitable.
“Why do you do it?”
He shrugs, “Money, women, sex.”
“I see,” I say disappointed; any indicationthat Ryan and I are reconciling just got shot to shit.
“Well, I just do it for the money now,” heglares at me as if he’s laying stake on his claim. I haven’t agreedto anything yet.Ifwe do get back together it will be on myterms.
“How many?” I push.
“How many what?” He tries to play dumb.
“Women.” I clarify, “How many women have youhad?”
Ryan looks absolutely dumbfounded, “Come onAlana, do you really need to know?”
“Yes, I really need to know.”
Ryan breathes, his cheeks puffing out. “Idon’t know a few dozen or so.”
My heart races.
“All from the strip club?” I swallow a gulpof wine.
“Most, yes. But not all. You have tounderstand,” he sits up straighter in his seat, “this job, it’smoney and sex and money and sex and you get caught up in thelifestyle if there isn’t anything anchoring you to the ground.” Heleans forward and brushes my hand with his thumb, “And I want sobadly for you to be my anchor.”
“Do you understand how hard it will be for meif we’re together? Knowing you grind all over women for money.” Thewaitress drops off our dinner just then. She shoots me a strangelook when she places my plate in front of me causing my cheeks toblaze red.
“You make it sound so dirty.” Ryan repliesafter the waitress disappears.
“From what I saw, it kind of is.”