Free Pole Dance by J. A. Hornbuckle Page A

tend to speak too fast or too soft or too garbled or something to effectually make my point."
"Still, I can help," she countered with confidence. "Why don't we set aside some time and you can deliver your speeches to me and we'll work on them together? Carl was such a blow-hard that my main job, outside of writing every word he needed to say in front of an audience of more than two, which included both him and me, was to keep his hollering to a mild bellow. If I can rein him in, honey, I can let you out. In fact, let's share dinner and wine first to make sure your relaxed and ready to go."
While we had never socialized in the strictest sense, I felt Marianne and I had always had a close connection. Dinner would be good but experienced help would be even better.
"You're on," I said. "Let's just hope Professor Davis is willing to let me do extra credit to bring my grade up."
"Sunday evening good for you?" Marianne asked.
I nodded thankfully. I didn't get much help now that I was on my own and I appreciated her offer. Patting my arm she nodded and turned to continue back up the stairs. As I was just stepping cautiously onto the walkway though, she called my name.
"Caitlin?
I caught her eyes as I carefully turned the top part of my body towards her but kept my feet firmly planted on the icy path.
"That Mr. Jamison?" She almost whispered as she scrunched up her nose, "He's not a good guy, honey. Please don't let him get you alone anywhere outside the bank, okay?"
"You know Mr. Jamison?" I asked still twisted and stunned by her warning. What was her experience with Mr. Jamison?
"Yep, kiddo, more than I want or need to," Marianne said on a sigh looking towards the sky. Bringing her eyes back to mine, she said firmly, "Just take care of yourself when you're around him, honey."
"Uhm, okay," I mumbled after watching her turn towards the front door.
I tightened the belt of my jacket, feeling the cold January wind cut through the thin fabric as I carefully made my way down the walk. Next purchase, when my budget allows, was a warm wool coat I promised myself as I began my three-block trek to Tudors House where my Speech class met.
Just as I was approaching the narrow ribbon of concrete that shot off from the main sidewalk and led to my classroom, I saw a tall, tall man swinging his long, long leg over his big, big motorcycle. I couldn't clearly see his face as he adjusted his jacket, but there was something familiar in his stance, his shoulders.
"Yo, Caitlin," he called. How did this guy know my name? I shaded my eyes to better see in the reflected snow glare as I scanned my memory of anyone I knew that rode a motorcycle and came up blank as my steps stuttered to a halt. It wasn't until he gestured, with the rolling of his hand towards his chest, in a come-hither move that I got it.
Jake!
Oh, crap, JAKE.
My heart sped up until it was practically beating out of my chest and every pink area on my body was sat up and took notice, up to and including the end of my very cold nose. It was like every fiber in my body had suddenly become a cheerleader, raising their pom-poms and yelling, "Squeeeee" very loudly at just the thought of him.
Thoughts that I had been very careful to push away ever since he brought me home the other evening. Thoughts that I would only think alone in my bed.
"Hey, Jake," I replied trying to be as cool and collected as I could possibly be in spite of the resounding boom of my increased heart beat.
Damn, I should've said, 'Jake, right?' or, even better, 'Do I know you?' Yeah, I know. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
"You okay, Darlin'?" he asked.
Weird, that was two people today asking me if I was okay. Since my parents had died I could count on one-hand how often that had happened.
I nodded and then asked my own question, "Why are you here?" as I tried to subtly, covertly take the whole wonderfulness of him in through my eyes.
Attired his leather jacket, boots and well-worn jeans I was guessing that he dressed for comfort