2

I fell in love at sixteen. And stayed there. Only one girl for me then, and the same girl for me now even if having her was impossible. But I wasn’t ignorant to seduction. The education my body, my size, my name, brought me, had always been unwelcome¸ uninvited, but women had still thrown themselves at me.

The woman in front of me didn’t want me. She hid her face with a mask, all dark purple and black feathers winged at the sides, swathed with small rhinestones that caught the dim light as she moved around the stage.

Imelda’s voice sang on, low, brutal—one, two, three knocks on the wall that calls her man, tells him she’s ready—while the dancer gyrated to her music, moving her hips with each word, a pop, a swirl, arms, torso sliding against the red silks above her as she lifted from the stage, became something surreal, fluttering, borne aloft. This was not a dancer but a dark fairy, with long, curled blonde hair and skin the color of a fawn, and my eyes would not move from every swirl of those silks or the way they cradled her in their tresses.

You’ll find me under your spell

Secret safe, I won’t tell.

She was an athlete. Strong, cut arms corded with faint veins, proof of exertion, testimony of muscle that was stretched, firm. Her legs were fit, thighs supple, but underneath there was the work of a thousand hours, of sweat and movement, of twists and bends that showed itself beneath that smooth skin. I could not stop watching her.

On the silks she took us both from the small room and we left the world behind, with her swooping among the fabric, looking weightless in the air as though she belonged there—free, uninhibited, alone. With the chorus came a quick slip of the silk, swinging her so close to the edge of the stage that I felt my pant leg move against my ankle in the whip of air and movement. Another dip, a quick swirl of her legs and the dancer spun above the stage, hair pulled behind her body, hanging onto that red fabric with the strength of her thighs.

When the song lowered, the bassline dipped into another rhythm, a sensual, vulgar song I recognized, and suddenly I realized there was a tapping at the only window that looked out into the private room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Ironside standing there, gesturing to the dancer to move on with her routine. I caught the shift of the dancer’s eyes, noticing for the first time how she kept glancing towards that window, the worry and anxiety masked behind her movements and the subtle hypnotizing sway of her body.

Her eyes slipped back to Ironside framed in the window, and she slithered off the silks. If I had kept my attention on the slow canter of her movements, then I wouldn’t have noticed the ridged stiffness of her back or the small line threatening to move across her full bottom lip.

She was a professional, giving me a show I enjoyed, but there was no thrill in it for her, unlike her performance with the silks. She advanced as though she was approaching the gallows, and I decided that I wouldn’t let her humiliate herself for the wad of cash that Ironside had probably dangled in front of her.

I followed her glance to the window, worried that Ironside would stay, ready to tell him to piss off, to tell her she didn’t have to dance for me.

Then, she unfastened her corset.

The eye and hooks popped one at a time and I was mesmerized, unable to avert my gaze, feeling my eyes open wider with each expanse of smooth, brown skin that was revealed. My mouth felt dry, like no matter how much I drank I’d never get that cotton taste off my tongue, and it only became worse when her nimble fingers pulled apart her corset to reveal beautiful, round flesh standing firm and proud, decorated by dark pasties over her nipples.

She was just a hand’s grip away from me. I only had to bring my wrist off the armrest to reach out and touch her. One small graze of my fingertips onto her skin and I’d know just how soft that luscious skin would be. But she pressed her lips together, and I realized she was shaking, so much so that she couldn’t hide behind the slow sway of some practiced dance or the sultry whisper of the music that surrounded us.

“Hey.” My one word, spoken not much louder than the heartbeat I heard pumping in my ears and the dancer stopped moving, stopped hesitating and looked right at me. She didn’t back away when I straightened from my slump, when I brought my mouth close to her ear. “If we play along, you think he’ll leave?”

Her shoulders lowered as though the tension in her arms was beginning to lessen. “Maybe.” She exhaled, swallowing so that I caught the thick movement of her throat. “I…I need the money.” There was shame in her voice.

I understood that, respected it and desperately hoped she understood that this wasn’t the way I usually spent my weekends. “You don’t need to do this.” It was a promise I meant, but then her gaze went back to that damn window and the stiffness rose in her again. “Listen, don’t worry about him.” I caught the gold flecks in her hazel-green eyes when she looked away from that window, felt the small zip of pleasure against my fingertips as I touched her wrist. “I…um…I can put on a show too.”

Her smile was wide, lips pink and stretched over straight, white teeth and the deep dip of her cupid’s bow. I’d never seen anything like it before. “You want to pretend?” There was real curiosity in her voice, like she didn’t quite believe me.

Women like her usually know how beautiful they are, but the way she looked down, held her arms in front of her naked breasts told me that private dances weren’t something she did often, and managed to make her look like she wasn’t all that comfortable in her own skin. Still, I couldn’t help my smile, or the way I relaxed against the chair, unable to keep my thumb from smoothing over her wrist.

“It won’t take much effort, trust me.” I slid down further ready to give this girl what she needed, ready to play for Ironside, to service her. It was my custom, something that came to me like a second nature.

I didn’t expect to get anything in return.

“Show me how you move when no one’s watching.”

It took her a minute, a few small breaths while she watched me, like she debated if she could trust me. The tips of the black feathers on her mask held a halo against the stage light when she moved, but then she blinked, released another breath and stood in front of me, naked but for the pasties, the simple thong and the dark stockings held by garters. Freed from having to elicit a response, she could again give in to the music, becoming once more aquiline and supple, a perfect hour glass moving around the music like a snake caught rapt by a charmer, lifting her arms into the air and pushing her hips toward me to the slow beat.

“Yeah, like that, baby,” I said loudly, feeling like an idiot, knowing that Ironside could see me. “Keep moving, sweetheart.” There was a quick grin moving the side of her mouth and I tried not to laugh at the stupidity of it all, then she turned away from me so that I could only see the outline of her cheek, her chin against the dim light and the long, tempting curves of her strong back as she let the music seduce her.

So tell me you love me the song demanded as the dancer arched her back, the ends of her hair brushing against my thighs. Only for tonight, it promised and the round, plump curve of her ass dipped low as she continued to bend, as she began to lose her balance and turned to face me. The small gasp from her whispered out of her mouth and her heel dragged against the small rug beneath my chair. She wobbled, swayed and I caught her by the hips.