6 Aubie
I’M ALREADY RUNNING LATE WHEN I sling the suit bag over my shoulder and head out the door. My mind is on my routine, so I don’t see him until I’m almost to my car.
“Aubert.”
That voice.
I suck in a deep breath and turn to face his deceptively pleasant face, so much like my own. Same angular lines. Same gray eyes. Same full lips, though on him they’re always drawn into a disapproving scowl. At least when I’m around.
Jean-Pierre Gauthier III.
My father.
The last person I want to see.
I sigh; so much for my good mood. “What do you want, Jean-Pierre?”
I watch with secret glee as his jaw ticks at my use of his given name. I refuse to call him Father; he’s never done anything to deserve it. If anything, he’s put all his effort into denying it.
“You haven’t been answering my calls.”
“Maybe you should take the hint. Now excuse me, I’m late.”
I brush past him and reach for my car door. Figures he wouldn’t give up that easily.
“Your tawdry little diversion into taking off your clothes for an audience?”
It doesn’t surprise me that he knows. He’s got spies everywhere. I turn around and meet his eyes with a smirk. “Does that bother you, old man?”
He rolls his eyes. “You always were an unruly child. You may have grown older, but you’re still a child.”
It takes all my control to keep my voice level. “What would you know about how I was as a child? You were never around.”
He doesn’t take the bait. Of course he doesn’t. That’s beneath him. “Is this your cry for attention?”
I take a step toward him. “Your attention is the last thing I want.”
“Then perhaps you should start behaving like a Gauthier. Stop this ridiculous activity before someone finds out.”
Ah yes, his precious reputation. Can’t have the wayward son destroying his public image. “If that’s all you’re worried about, maybe I should call a presser. Get the real truth out there. I’m sure it would go viral in minutes.”
“I’m warning you, Aubert, stop this…or else.”
I can imagine what the ‘or else’ is, but that doesn’t hit me as hard as he thinks.
I couldn’t give a shit about the Gauthier name, which means the only threat he can hold over me is money.
Too bad for him he can’t take my trust away from me.
Even his own mother–the controlling power in the family–prefers me to his heartless ass.
So he can take his ‘or else’ and fuck all the way off.
I like stripping, but I’ll admit part of the appeal is knowing it would piss him off. If he thinks I’m acting out now, he really shouldn’t push me. I could easily make his perfect life a living hell.
“Well, this hasn’t been fun, so if you don’t mind, I’ve got a tawdry life to get back to.”
I turn and get into my car, starting it and revving it up so I can’t hear whatever toxic bullshit is spewing from his mouth as I speed away.
The drive across town is a bit of a blur. I crank up my music, trying to get my head right, but I’m still wound up when I pull into the back parking lot of Eros. I’m either going to be shit tonight or give the performance of my life.
I drop my music off with the Reggie the DJ then grab the stage manager Emil for a couple of requests for my routine before heading to the dressing room.
The frantic chaos engulfs me like a soothing balm, steadying my pulse and loosening up my turbulent thoughts.
I skip the makeup tonight, instead concentrating on my hair to convey my look.
With it slicked back away from my face, it exposes all those sharp angles that genetics ensured made me look like a sculptor carved my flesh.
How ironic that I chose this act tonight of all nights.
It would kill my father to know he just provided fodder for the heartless billionaire aesthetic I’m going for tonight.
When I meet my eyes in the mirror, I can see I’ve got it nailed.
It’s a look I can pull off because I was born into it.
Learned at an early age to emulate it. Before I developed my own voice and a backbone.
Before that night.
Before…Bryce.
Don’t go down that road.
Another reason why I avoid my father.
“Hey, beautiful, how are you tonight?” Daniel slides up next to me.
I paste on a smile as I finish dressing. “Good. Have you been on yet?”
Daniel is the only dancer here who just hangs out in the dressing room before and after his routine. At first I thought he didn’t have anywhere else to go, but it’s more than that. He seems to genuinely love the camaraderie in spite of all its subliminal throat cutting.
I get along with them, but I would never consider any of these guys friend material. Not that they’re bad people. It’s just that the metaphorical knife is always poised at your back, secretly hoping you’ll fail. I don’t know if that includes Daniel, but he’s at least nice to my face.
“Finished up a little while ago. Are you going to Maverick’s party later?”
Maverick is one of the revue dancers who also does solo work. He’s got the tattooed bad boy biker look that commands its own rabid fanbase, though from what I’ve seen of him in the dressing room he’s more of a cinnamon roll in real life.
“I didn’t know anything about a party,” I reply evasively. I’ve never socialized with any of these guys outside Eros and I’m not sure I want to.
“It’s going to be epic,” Ace promises on the other side of me. “His parties are always the best.
“Yeah, he lives with his brother, who’s this big shot music producer,” Daniel continues. “They’ve always got lots of A-list talent wandering in and out. You never know who you’ll meet.”
I look around for Maverick, but he’s deep in conversation with Dominic across the room. The two of them seem to be tight, often riding in together and always talking. Neither seem like the wild party type.
“Depends on how tonight goes,” I hedge.
“Well, that look is killing it,” Daniel assures me. “Giving off rich daddy vibes.”
“Daddy?” I ask, balking at the accuracy of his observation.
He straightens my tie and nods. “Yeah. Makes me want to be bad so you’ll spank me.”
I glance over at Ace, who’s grinning. “He’s not wrong.”
Emil pokes his head in to tell me I’m up next. Daniel pats me on the arm. “Go strut your stuff, kitty cat.”
Meow.
? ? ?
The suit is cut like it was made for me. But then, it was. Classic black Tom Ford. Crisp white shirt. Black silk tie.
I take a deep breath at the entrance to the stage and let the vibe wash over me. Erasing the encounter with my father, emptying my mind of everything but the feel of owning this room.
This is my world…
The house lights fading between deep blue and neon pink.
The hypnotic baseline of my chosen music vibrating inside my chest. Sanctified by Nine Inch Nails. Perfect for this little fantasy into billionaire hedonism.
The exquisite tension of the audience as they wait for me to give them what they desire.
Addictive.
I don’t keep them waiting long.
I stroll out and grab the chair Emil left for me, dragging it to center stage, then posing next to it for a moment before shrugging out of the jacket and draping it across the back.
I sit down, facing the audience. Toeing off my shoes before leaning back, legs spread, and rubbing my dick through my pants.
Feeling good.
The music drives on.
I throw my head back and reach up to loosen the tie.
And that’s when I feel it.
A tingling in my body.
I narrow my eyes and survey the room while slowly dragging the tie from my collar. Every eye is focused on me, so how do I find his?
Standing against the wall in the shadows at the back.
Cutter.
Watching me.
Our eyes lock, mine daring him to look away as I make a production of wrapping one end of the tie around my hand while drawing the other end around my neck.
Pulling it taut.
Milking it.
When I finally let it drop, I rise to my feet and start to prowl.
My body is writhing to the beat of the music as I unbutton my shirt, taking my time with it.
Every. Single. Button.
All while my eyes are locked on his.
I leave the shirt on and sensuously run my hands over my chest, thumbing my nipples before sliding my fingers into the waistband of my pants.
Languidly licking my lips.
Every rotation of my hips ends with a thrust.
Releasing the button on my pants. Dragging the zipper down.
There’s a subtle ripple in the audience as they sit forward. I smirk as I push down the pants, stepping out of them.
Revealing a silky black thong.
I drag my arms over my head and undulate my hips, biting my lip as I feel the flimsy garment shift, trying to contain my rock hard cock.
The hypnotic thump of the music flows through me like a heartbeat.
Driving me.
Knowing they’re all watching me, their eyes caressing my bare flesh. My blood hissing in my veins. My skin flushed with lust.
Knowing he’s seeing me like this.
Exposed.
Intimate.
Like we’re the only two people in the room.
I would’ve thought he’d have looked away by now, making a quick exit, but he’s in as much of a trance as I am.
I break contact first, turning around and shrugging my shoulders so the shirt slips down my arms. With a coy smirk over my shoulder, I let it drop to the floor.
Now it’s just me and that thin piece of fabric.
I bend over and slide my hands down my legs to give everyone a long look at my ass. I peek over my shoulder again and finger the thin straps of the thong.
When I slowly straighten and turn back around, I pull the fabric out and let it spring back while mouthing the question, “Yes or no?”
I quirk a brow, waiting for the audience reaction.
“Yes!” someone shouts.
More echo it.
I smile as I look up to catch his eye again.
Still watching as I peel the thong down my legs and twirl it on my finger before tossing it aside.
Completely bare.
Now I can start my strut. This is the part I like best, when I can live up to my stage name. I dance from one end of the stage to the other with my dick swinging at attention. My hand goes to it without conscious thought. Needing to touch it. To show them all what they’re doing to me.
I trace one finger down and scoop up a drop of precum.
Bring it to my lips, my tongue flicking out to lick it.
The air seems to leave the room as a collective groan goes up.
Gets them. Every. Time.
My signature move.
No one else does that.
And still I keep my eyes on him.
Watching his reaction.
Wondering how furious he’d be if he knew how wrecked his expression looks right now.
If he knew I suspected how hard his cock is right now.
My mouth waters at the thought.
And that’s when I decide I will have that man’s cock at my mercy.
It goes against all my rules, but I don’t care anymore.
I think we’ve already established I’m a savant when it comes to bad decisions.
All too quickly the song ends, leaving me feeling like a raw nerve. Like I could come from a single touch. I take my time collecting my discarded clothing, giving my fans a long last look before I strut off.
By the time I get backstage, I’m ready to burst.
“Good show.” Ace grins as I slip into the dressing room.
The revue is getting ready to go on, so there’s enough space for me to take my time getting dressed. As much as I’d love some relief right now, part of me just wants to go home and take a long, stress-relieving shower.
What does that say about me?
“So…” Daniel says. “About that party.”
Then again…
“Give me the address. I might stop by later.”
Maybe I just need to get my dick wet.