Chapter 5
Another Tuesday night and I’m at the club again. After multiple classes today, I decided to forgo the heels once more, and I find relief stretching my feet in the dance moves. The music flows through my body, and I relish the stretch and pull up my muscles. There’s a good crowd tonight that is fueling me up nicely for the coming week. I let the magic of their longing fill the shallow well my magic became over the past few stressful days.
I’m grateful for the boost but wistful for the days when I rarely needed a refill.
Something shifts in the air. Not the mood of the entire club. That stays the same. But I notice something different about the atmosphere. There is a thrum of excitement. An awareness that another presence has entered the space. Without being obvious about it, I let my eyes scan the room.
There he is.
Sammy.
He’s looking my way as he usually is, but I don’t let my gaze settle on him. I continue to move and sway and tell myself that I’m dancing for no one but me. Even if I do try a new move that I’ve been working on that has my body upside down, hands gripping the bar as my shoulder presses against the metal and my legs spread wide.
That’s for me. Not for him.
Still, I look forward to the taste of peanut butter, and from the corner of my eye, I track his approach to the VIP section. There’s an odd slouch to the way the man moves. Normally he stands upright, striding along with a hint of swagger. A small corner of my brain wonders if he’s injured.
Doesn’t matter. It’s not my problem.
If Sammy knew what I could do, he would probably make it his problem. He’d be at the edge of the stage begging not for my attention, but for my aid in healing whatever ails him.
I don’t share my magical skills with other people in my community. They know I’m a witch and that’s enough. There’s already too much expectation in what witches can do. As if our magic can solve every problem. As if we just need to find the right words and the right combination of herbs and speak them with the right connotation, and we can change the world.
But we have limitations like everyone else. Me more than most.
I climb the pole and relish the height. Gazing down upon the gathering, knowing that they can see the ample curves of my ass cheeks in the bedazzled boy shorts I opted for today. The material under the crystals is stretchy, comfortable, and stays in place no matter what gymnastic move I make.
As I slide down the pole in a twirling glide, I realize that Sammy has approached the edge of the stage. I pretend not to notice, though I still wait for him to possibly offer up another pretty box.
I don’t need another message of introduction. Or a silly quip.
But I did like the boxes.
I brought them back to my apartment and now I use them to store things. They’re well-made with intricate designs on them. They don’t make me like him any more than I did before, but I’ll take a beautiful box if someone’s handing it to me. Better than a string of pearls.
My toes settle on the stage, and just as I am about to sink to my knees for a little floor work, my eyes sneak over to Sammy once again. As if realizing I am aware of his presence, he pulls back the expensive lapel of his peacoat and retracts his hand from where it once hid inside the fabric. Kind of like a flasher, but the guy doesn’t pull out his dick.
Cradled in Sammy’s large hand is a furry ball with wide eyes. It blinks in the dim glow of the club and stares at me. Directly into my heart.
He brought a kitten to a strip club!
All thoughts of my dance fall out of my brain, and I dive across the stage to come to a kneeling position in front of him, my arms outstretched. It’s a kitten. I can’t keep away.
Sammy grins wide as he offers the little cat to me. Our fingers brush as I scoop the animal from his grip, but I’m too focused on the fluffy perfection to pay heed to the tingling spark of our contact.
The cat doesn’t seem scared, only curious as I hold her against my chest. Her fur is luxuriously soft, and she lets out a little mewling sound that is sweeter than any lust I’ve ever tasted.
“She’s yours.” Sammy says the words clear enough to be heard over the music. “If you want her.”
I’m just figuring out a way to respond to this wild turn of events when there’s a commotion behind the man’s back. My boss Yasmin appears, followed closely by one of our security guards, Aspen. Yasmin is a tall, slim woman who can don an imposing appearance when she needs to.
Right now, she looks menacing.
“Samuel Reyes,” she snaps.
His happy expression falters, and he flicks his gaze over his shoulder. I watch those same shoulders droop when he realizes who is behind him.
“Yasmin. Hey?—”
“You brought a cat into my club.”
“Technically, yes. But?—”
“You are banned,” she declares, and the other people in the VIP section wince in sympathy. “For three months. Get out of here. Now.” Yasmin shifts her body and gestures for Aspen to step forward. “You make sure he leaves.”
“Three months?” Sammy’s voice cracks with panic as he states the length of time.
While this exchange happens, I continue to hold the kitten against my chest, scratching underneath its chin with a gentle finger. I love animals, cats especially. I had one when I was growing up. When Mr. Wiggles died, the pain was so intense I swore I’d never adopt another animal again. But now I am officially in love with this fur baby. If Sammy tries to take it away from me, I will throw down against him. Same goes for Yasmin. She can be mad at the guy and ban him all she wants, but this kitten is an innocent victim in this situation.
“Sorry, Sammy.” Aspen rumbles the words, even as he places a beefy hand on my customer’s shoulder and pulls him towards the door.
Sammy doesn’t put up a fight, but he does half turn, staring over his shoulder, eyes connecting with mine. His expression is so forlorn and baffled that I’m tempted to laugh.
He did this to himself.
And I don’t know what he’s looking for from me. Does he expect me to call out and say I’ll wait for you!
Not gonna happen.
Thanks for the cat,I silently think to him.
Because that’s the thing: I’ve never spoken to him before. Not a single word. And I don’t see a reason to start now.
He should be grateful. Yasmin is being lenient with him. She must like the guy. Someone else who pulled the same stunt would’ve been banned permanently from The Jewelry Box.
“I don’t know what we’re gonna do with that,” Yasmin says as she stares at the animal in my arms. “If you give it here, I’ll take it back out to him so it’s his problem.“
“No,” I say, cradling her close to my cleavage. “She’s mine now.”
Only when I get off stage and have time to truly look the kitten over do I realize she’s wearing a tiny collar with a golden tag.
And on that tag is a phone number.