Gastown Girls

HANNAH

The sun crept over the horizon, casting the first rays of light across Elliott Bay.

I sipped my coffee, closing my eyes to savor the delectable bitterness, the heat flooding my chest with warmth as it slid down to my belly.

I was awake before dawn, nervous and excited to see what the day would bring.

Miles kissed me last night. It was the most amazing kiss I’d ever experienced. And it only lasted a couple of seconds. A slight brush of the lips. It barely qualified as a kiss at all.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

My mother used to tell us we’d have to kiss a lot of frogs before we found our prince. When I asked her how I’d know the difference, she’d said, “Hannah, trust me, you’ll know.”

You were right, Mom.

I frowned as the rational part of my brain kicked in.

Miles wasn’t looking for romance. He just wanted someone to keep his bed warm and his cock sucked while he was stranded on his boat. I was the only pussy available.

And I couldn’t give him what he wanted anyway.

But that kiss.

Oh, my God.

My panties were drenched.

I snuck out while Miles was talking to Judd. It was foolish and immature, but I was scared. Getting fucked by a rock star wasn’t going to be the magic cure for my problem.

This man was infamous for hosting orgies after concerts. He’d done a couple of stints in drug rehab. Reefer probably had herpes, or something even worse.

What was I thinking?

If Judd hadn’t interrupted, I could’ve easily ended up in Miles’s bed. And that would’ve been a disaster.

I swore off men for a reason. It was foolish to think things would be any different with this man.

I took a long shower, enjoying the rainforest head and the luxurious surroundings.

The shampoo was to die for. No wonder Miles was sniffing my hair. I never wanted to go back to the dollar store crap we had at home.

Enjoy it while it lasts. You’ll be back in your shitty apartment before you know it.

I dried off and dressed before heading to the kitchen to prepare eggs benedict. I owed Cleo big time. If it wasn’t for her obsession with Reefer, I wouldn’t know what all his favorite meals were.

I gathered the ingredients, humming to myself as I whisked the egg yolks and lemon juice together for the hollandaise sauce.

“Good morning, Hannah.”

I glanced over my shoulder, smiling at Judd. “Good morning, Judd.”

“Quite a storm we had last night,” he said, turning on the television mounted to the wall above the fridge.

“Sure was,” I agreed. I cracked the eggs into the simmering water before pulling out the package of English muffins. I cut the first one in half, placing it on a plate.

The knife slipped from my fingers, hitting the granite counter with a loud clang. Bile rose in my throat when I turned to look at the television, confirming the voice I heard was his.

My eyes went to the news ticker at the bottom of the screen.

The 30-Year-Old Virgin.

How could he?

~“The ex-boyfriend of Hannah Taylor is joining us this morning on ‘Let’s Dish the Celebs.’ Jordan Kelly dated the now-famous stripper for a year. Tell us about Hannah, Jordan.”

“Hannah is a weird chick. If you’re watching this, Reefer, I dig you. So, I’m gonna give you some advice. Cut that chick loose, man. She’s not right in the head.”

He paused, staring into the camera with a sly smirk. “Hannah is a virgin. A thirty-year-old fucking virgin. She claims she has some kind of hard-on phobia.”

I gasped, grabbing the counter for support as my ex-boyfriend ruined my life. Why would he do this? Stupid question. Money. That’s what he was all about.

“Did you say hard-on phobia?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “She fed me some crap about a pervert exposing himself to her when she was a kid. I don’t buy it. I think she’s a lesbian.”

“Jesus,” Judd muttered.

“So, you’re saying you dated Reefer’s new girlfriend for a year, and you never had sex with her?”

“I never had intercourse with her. She let me do everything else, but I had to keep my pants on while I was doing it. I finally got fed up, you know? Dudes have needs, if you know what I mean.”

I slid to the floor, my body breaking out in a cold sweat. This wasn’t happening. I hugged my knees, rocking back and forth.

How could he do this to me? I was gonna have to move. Change my name and appearance. Get a new job. Uproot my sisters’ lives.

Violent sobs shook my chest as an ocean of tears flowed from my eyes and soaked my t-shirt.

Male voices whispered back and forth. Strong arms lifted me, cradling me against a tattooed wall of muscle while I cried myself to the point of complete exhaustion.

***

“Hannah, sweetie, you need to get the peanut butter cookies out of the oven,” Mom called from the living room.

I slipped on my pink Barbie oven mitts and pulled the trays from the oven.

“They aren’t the same,” Cleo pointed out.

“They are so, Cleo!” I cried.

“No!” she screamed, reaching for one of the cookies. “That one is bigger!”

“No, Cleo!” I yelled. But I was too late. Her fingers touched the edge of the hot pan, and her scream echoed through the tiny kitchen in our apartment.

“I’m sorry, Cleo. So sorry.”

“Hannah.”

I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly as my brain scrambled to remember where I was. Sunlight poured in through the skylight above the bed. I was still on Miles’s yacht.

Miles Maines, aka Reefer, the famous rock star.

And he was sitting on a chair next to the bed.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he whispered.

“Hey.”

“Did the cookies turn out good?”

“Huh?”

“The peanut butter cookies you were baking in your dream.”

“Oh.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just after ten.”

“Holy… I was out for a while.”

“That’s okay.”

“The eggs benedict!” I cried.

“It’s all good. Judd finished it up.”

“Judd can cook?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled with a sheepish grin.

“You jerks!”

“He’s a good cook but he doesn’t enjoy doing it.”

“I can’t believe my ex-boyfriend went on national television and shared all my secrets. How could he be so cruel?”

“People will do anything for a few bucks and fifteen minutes of fame.”

He stared past me at the wall behind the bed, rubbing his jaw before clearing his throat noisily. “Did you really tell that guy you had penis phobia?”

“It’s called phallophobia,” I explained. “It’s a real thing.”

“No, it’s not. You’re bullshitting me.”

“Why would I make something like that up, Miles?”

“To get out of sucking his cock.”

“If I didn’t want to suck my boyfriend’s dick, I would just tell him that. I wouldn’t make up a story.”

“I just can’t wrap my brain around a stripper who is afraid of dicks. How is that possible?”

“I don’t leave the stage. I don’t do lap dances or anything else; no contact with the customers. They aren’t allowed to whip out their dicks unless they’re in a private room.”

“There’s no way,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You don’t believe me?” I gasped.

“You have to admit, it seems pretty far-fetched.”

“Fuck you, Miles,” I snapped, climbing off the bed and storming toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you!”

***

I kicked off my sandals and sat down on the edge of the pool, dropping my legs over the side. The water was so warm. Did anybody ever swim in the pool?

Miles probably hosted wild parties on his boat, with beautiful women in skimpy bikinis everywhere. Classy women. Not strippers.

Fuck him.

He was an asshole. A damn fine kisser, but still a complete jackass. He didn’t believe me! And he laughed at me.

I’d been avoiding him for hours. It wasn’t hard on a giant boat.

The divers were still in Italy. My passport application was stuck somewhere in government red tape.

I just wanted to go home. And it was beginning to feel like that was never going to happen. I couldn’t stay on that yacht indefinitely. I had a life. My sisters needed me.

“Go away,” I said when I heard footsteps approaching.

A pair of giant bare feet appeared next to me, and two hairy legs slipped into the water next to mine. “Can we talk?”

“Did you come out here to laugh at me?”

“No. I actually came to tell you there was a drone flying around.”

“I don’t care. What else could they possibly publish that would be worse than the thirty-year-old virgin stripper with a penis phobia?”

“Fair enough.”

“You can leave.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“It’s your boat, Miles.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Not believing you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to tell. I was ten. A pervert flashed me in the park. I developed a fear of penises. My parents thought I would grow out of it. I didn’t.”

“What happens if you see one?”

“I’ve only seen one since that day. My high school boyfriend and I were getting it on in the backseat of his car. When it came time for the main event, he pulled out his dick and I had a panic attack.

“Ended up in the ER. It was pretty embarrassing. I swore I was never going through that again.”

“What happened to the boyfriend?”

“He dumped me.”

“I’m assuming there were other guys?”

“A few. But none that ever stuck around. And once I started working at the club, I stopped dating. No decent guy wants to date a stripper.

“But then I met Jordan; he didn’t care what I did for a living. I thought he was a good guy. But he wasn’t. I confided in him. And do you know what he did?”

“Broke up with you?”

“Yep. I’m a big loser.”

“I don’t think that.”

“You’re just saying that because you want in my pants.”

“I definitely want in your pants, sweetheart. No doubt about that. But I don’t think you’re a loser.”

“Guess you were way off the mark when you called me a whore.”

“I’d say so,” he chuckled. “You’re the opposite of a whore. You’re an anti-whore.”

“I don’t think that’s a real word, Miles.”

He glanced up at the sky, shaking his head when a drone passed over us. “Want to give them something to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” I said, laughing nervously. “What did you have in mind?”

He wrapped his arm around my waist. I licked my lips in preparation for the kiss I thought was coming, screaming when he pulled me into the pool instead. I went under, getting a mouthful of water.

He popped up at the same time as me, his normally spiky hair pasted to his forehead. I coughed and sputtered, pushing my wet bangs out of my eyes.

“What’d you do that for?!”

“So I could do this.” He slid his arms around my waist, lowering his head and capturing my lips with a steamy kiss that set my body on fire.

His tongue delved ardently between my lips, stroking hungrily, his hands sliding down to cup my ass.

I locked my arms around his neck, our tongues twisting and twirling together. He lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his hips, his growing beast nestling between my legs.

I fought the rising panic bubbling in my gut, like it always did when an erect penis was in my personal space.

In my past sexual encounters, I would’ve pulled away by now. It was easier than trying to work through my stupid fear.

But I didn’t want to this time. I wanted to keep making out with Miles.

His lips were on my neck, sucking and nibbling on my sensitive flesh while he ground against me. “We should get out,” he murmured, swirling his tongue around in my ear. “You’re shivering.”

“Okay,” I panted.

He walked us over to the stairs before releasing me. My legs were wobbly as I climbed out of the pool.

He led me to a glass door marked Sauna. The heat enveloped me the second I stepped inside the small space. The walls were lined with wooden benches; the steam hung in the air like a dense fog.

“Wow,” I gasped, wiping sweat from my brow. “It’s hot in here.”

“It is a sauna,” he chuckled. “That’s the general idea.”

“I’ve never been in one before.”

He stripped off his wet t-shirt and shorts.

My eyes dropped to his silk boxers, clinging to his erection and leaving no doubt about just how long that thing was. I’d heard rumors. And they were definitely true.

I’d seen his tattoos every time I’d entered my sister’s bedroom.

He had Reefer tattooed across his back, wide Celtic bands around his biceps, and opposing mythical lion heads on his chest, the tails curling around his nipples.

Speaking of his nipples, they were pierced with two gold hoops through each one.

My eyes dropped to his happy trail, where a snake head rose from the waistband of his shorts.

“Do your tattoos have meaning?”

“Some of them.”

“What do the bands around your arms represent?”

“They represent the water you cross to get to Elysian Fields.”

“As in the paradise of peace?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the name of your boat,” I said.

“My yacht is the only place I can get any peace.”

“What about the lion heads?”

“No special significance.”

“And the snake?”

“I think that’s pretty self-explanatory, sweetheart.”

“Is he poisonous?” I laughed, taking a closer look at the tattoo. The snake had its mouth wide open, sharp fangs out, ready to attack.

“Nah.”

“Do you have the entire snake?”

“Do you wanna see for yourself?”

I shook my head. “Do you have a tattoo on your penis?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I would never let someone stick needles in my junk.”

“I would imagine that would be very painful.”

“You gonna shed those wet clothes?”

I pushed my t-shirt over my head, dropping it on top of his discarded clothing. My pink bra was completely transparent, my nipples protruding through the wet lace.

“Shorts, too,” he ordered gruffly, his eyes dropping to my breasts before continuing down past my belly.

I pushed my shorts over my hips and down my legs, my knees trembling as his eyes roamed over my body. Which was ludicrous, considering what I did for a living.

But I wasn’t on a stage, where he could look but not touch.

He captured my hand, leading me up the steps to the large cedar bench where he sat with his back against the wall. I settled between his legs, his arms encircling my waist while he nuzzled my ear.

“You’re beautiful, Hannah,” he murmured, his thumbs grazing the undersides of my breasts. “You’ve really never been with a man?”

“I’ve never had intercourse.”

“Because of the penis phobia?”

“Yeah. I freak out if I see an erect penis, even through clothes. Or if one touches me.”

“You seemed fine in the pool.”

“I know, it’s crazy. I was expecting a panic attack, and nothing happened. And your dick is lodged in my back right now, and I’m fine.”

“Sorry,” he said, adjusting himself.

“I don’t know what to make of it. There’s no way I’m cured just like that.”

“I’m glad you’re not afraid of my penis,” he whispered, tilting my chin up to kiss me. “’Cause that would be a real bummer.”

A nervous giggle escaped my throat. “Why’s that?” I asked, my voice trembling in anticipation of his reply.

“’Cause I’d like to take that virginity off your hands.”

“You make it sound like something bad.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. But you’re missing out, beautiful girl.”

“I’m not a whore, Miles. I don’t sleep with guys I’ve just met.”

“I respect that. A lot. And it just makes me want you more.”

“That makes no sense.”

He chuckled.

“What I’m trying to say is, I was attracted to you even when I thought you were a whore. It made me angry because I despise women who sell their bodies or perform sexual favors for money.

“That includes lap dances and backroom blow jobs. I assumed, because you were a stripper, you did those things.”

“I strictly dance. I don’t let guys slip money in my clothes or any of that. They have to throw it onto the stage.”

“I know. Dean sent me a copy of your contract.”

“If I sleep with you, Miles, that would make me a whore.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“We just met. And you’re a famous rock star.”

“This is a unique situation. It’s not like you came to one of my backstage parties. You’re alone with me on my yacht. We’re probably gonna be here for several days.

“And I like you, Hannah. I enjoy talking to you and just hanging out. Like we are right now.”

“You didn’t believe me about my phallophobia. You laughed and accused me of making it up to avoid giving blow jobs.”

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“What’s it worth to you, Mr. Rock Star?”

“Hm.” He slid his hand up my thigh, teasing the edge of my panties with his thumb while he dropped light kisses across my shoulder.

“I’m not opposed to giving a girl some quality time with my tongue between her legs.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” I laughed, swatting his hand away from my panties.

“Why not, sexy lady?” he whispered. “I’m really good at it.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“What would you like, Hannah?”

“Would you be willing to FaceTime with my sister?”

“I could definitely do that,” he agreed.

***

I waited anxiously for Alexis to accept the call. She knew what was happening. I texted her ahead of time so she could make sure Cleo was ready.

Judd connected the iPad to the big screen in the theater. Yes, I said theater. Who has a theater on their boat? Apparently, Reefer did.

He was waiting outside until I called him in. Cleo was going to lose her shit.

Alexis appeared on the screen. “Hi, Hannah!”

“Hi, Lex!”

“How’s it going?”

“Okay. I wish I could come home.”

“Any idea how much longer you’re gonna be down there?”

“No. My passport application isn’t a priority for the Canadian Government apparently.”

“This whole thing is stupid. It’s not like you had a choice about what vaccines they gave you.”

“I know. But that’s not even the problem. I can’t get back into Canada without a passport.”

“So dumb,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Where’s Cleo?”

“Here,” Cleo announced, coming into view.

“Hi, Cleo!”

“Hi.”

“I miss you.”

“When are you coming home?”

“I’m not sure,” I said sadly.

“Do you see him?”

“Who?”

“Reefer.”

“Yes, sweetie,” I said. “I’m on his boat, remember?”

“I remember, Hannah,” she snapped.

“I have a surprise for you, Cleo.”

“I don’t like surprises,” she warned.

“I think you’ll like this one.”

Her eyes widened when Miles appeared beside me. She pursed her lips, her hands travelling up to tug on the ends of her blonde bob while she stared at the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cleo,” Miles said, smiling at my sister. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She lifted her head slowly, peeking at Miles through her long bangs. Getting Cleo to sit for a trim was a challenging task.

Her tongue came out, and she narrowed eyes as she stared through the screen at her hero.

“Say hello to Miles, Cleo,” I encouraged.

“Hello,” she squeaked.

“Hannah tells me you’re my biggest fan.”

She nodded her head vigorously.

“What’s your favorite song?”

“All of them.”

“I’d like to sing one, if that’s okay?”

She nodded again, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“This is a new song that I just started writing last night, so it might sound a little rough.”

He grabbed his guitar and the microphone and launched into a ballad about a sweet blonde girl whom he’d misjudged.

Cleo had no clue the song was about me. But I did. And I was blown away. How did he write that in one night? Maybe I was delusional, and the song wasn’t about me at all.

Lex’s jaw was hanging open, so I guess she also thought it was about me.

And when Miles sang the final chorus while gazing into my eyes, I knew for sure.