Chapter 9 #2
But before I pull on the shiny black boots, I sit on the floor and stretch my feet, then my legs and back.
It’s been a while since I’ve danced, and my shoulder and back muscles are going to be hella sore.
It’s like riding a bike, though. Once I’m on stage with the pole and the music pumping through me, my mind shuts off and my body just knows what to do.
It’s freeing, intoxicating and I’ve loved it since the first class I took when I was seventeen.
Once I turned twenty-one and got hired at The Showroom, the only thing that changed was I began performing in just a thong.
It didn’t bother me, unless a customer got out of control.
I’ve always loved the human body, male and female.
Humans are an elegant design with our curves and muscles, and dancing nude is a beautiful way to showcase that.
I stick my earbuds in and play the song I’ve chosen on my phone as I stretch, imagining one of the routines I came up with in New York. It was a crowd favorite. Not one of my most technical, but definitely one of my most sensual.
When I’m the last person left in the changing room, I slip on the mask and check myself in the mirror.
The outfit is doing its job. My cleavage is spilling out of the tightly bound crisscross top, my ass exposed in the backless black Sorte shorts.
I’ve pinned my hair into a tight bun and the light pink wig hides it, brushing my shoulders.
With the mask covering my cheeks and bright red lips, there’s no way Killian will recognize me.
This is my onstage persona Freya. I chose the stage name after the Norse Goddess associated with love and freedom and she moves, walks and talks much differently than Dr. Sam. I close my eyes and get into character.
When the soldier returns to get me, he does a double take, his eyes falling to my now-exposed body.
A low whistle comes from him as he stares at my tits.
“Last but not least, sweetheart.” He holds his hand out to indicate I should exit.
“I’d say good luck, but I don’t think you’re going to need it. Just head to the elevator, main deck.”
I step past him, careful not to slip on his drool, pull my shoulders back and get in the elevator. While climbing the steps to the stage, I add a seductive sway to my hips, then I lock eyes with Killian.
He and Sully are sitting on a black leather sofa in front of the stage, paperwork strewn between them. Killian has his elbow perched on the arm of the sofa, his cheek resting on his fist. He looks bored. But when he sees me, he sits up slowly.
So far so good. I have his attention.
I smile as the song starts playing, the beat hitting my body like adrenaline, and I press my backside against the pole, pushing my chest out and wrapping my right hand around the pole above my head.
Then I arch my back like a cat, spin and give him a nice view of my bare ass before I kick my leg high in a twirling spin and slide to the floor in a split.
I gracefully roll onto my stomach, perform a few undulating floor moves to the beat before I rise to my knees.
Sliding to the edge of the stage, I make eye contact with Killian.
Sully is leaning into him, talking, but Killian’s eyes are glued to me, taking in everything my body is doing.
That gives me an idea. But for now, I do a few head circles, bite my lip and seductively make my way back to the pole.
On beat, I pull myself up into a high kick and then spread my legs in a scissor sit.
Slowly, with perfect control, I begin to spin.
Matching the music’s pace, my flow is impeccable.
I mix in sharp staccato accents as I hold the trick poses and showcase the beauty of the shape before spinning into one pose after another.
Thank God for muscle memory. I’m breathless and I feel like I’m flying.
My arms are trembling a bit from nerves and lack of practice but the adrenaline and high of dancing is keeping me going.
When the chorus hits, I tilt my hips back and invert, hanging upside down in a Spider Man. Then slowing to hold a Bow and Arrow, I smile before my legs flip around and I’m spinning into Pegasus. I forgot how much fun this is.
The only thing I can feel is the burn of my muscles and the euphoria of my body moving with the music. It’s an escape. A reprieve. But I know I only have about a minute left. I need to make my final move, so I transition back to the ground.
Kicking my legs over the edge of the stage, I slide down slowly as the beat pauses, until I’m on my knees in front of the two men.
I lean back on my palms, arching my back, spreading my knees to give them a peek at the tiny scrap of material barely covering my waxed center.
Then I flip forward and begin to crawl, my hips swaying, my tits hanging heavy and my eyes locked on Killian.
“Holy fuck,” Sully barks.
I ignore him and continue until I’m in front of Killian. He’s got one forearm stretched across the back of the couch, the other draped over the couch arm. The pose is casual, but the predatory look in his eyes, and the large bulge in the front of his slacks is not.
My lips stretch in a slow, seductive smile as I rest a palm on each of his knees and slide my body between his legs. I push forward, my mouth skimming the material of his pants straining against his erection so closely, I know he can feel my hot breath.
And this is when I make my mistake. When I raise my head our eyes meet, and he sees me. Really sees me. The recognition flares in his gaze. His jaw locks.
“Sully, feck off,” he growls.
Sully grunts as he pushes himself up. “Just make sure you hire this one after you’ve had your fun.” He chuckles as he gives me one more appreciative glance.
I keep my gaze locked on Killian as I sit back until my bare ass hits my heels. My palms rest on my thighs. My chest is rising and falling rapidly from the exertion and now the fear of what he’ll do. I blew it. But I keep my chin up and my back straight.
His full mouth tips up at the corners, but his eyes are a bright green furious fire. “Take off the mask.”
As much as I want to look away, I don’t as I remove the mask and toss it to the side.
His gaze flicks over my face, his fists clenching. “Now the wig.”
My stomach drops and I feel the heat crawling up my neck.
He’s stripping me bare of my onstage persona, and it’s more unsettling than being physically naked in front of him.
I close my eyes and remove the wig, the vulnerability threatening to break me.
I manage to swallow the urge to flee and open my eyes to meet his once again.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s still sitting in the same position, still sporting a hard on.
His nostrils flare briefly, and his voice is an unmistakable gruff command. “Take your hair down.”
I could refuse. I could walk out. And I probably should, but I need this too much.
This time I hold eye contact as I release my hair from the tight bun and let it tumble past my shoulders.
A tiny spark of anger ignites in my chest. I promised myself I’d never let another man control me.
Yet here I am, obeying this asshole’s every command.
I hold onto the anger for courage. It’s more powerful than the humiliation.
His gaze roams over me and he still doesn’t move, but something flares in his eyes as he whispers, “Now continue.”
“What?” The word leaves me on a breath.
One eyebrow rises. “You went through a lot of trouble to sneak into this audition today. So, I’m givin’ you the chance to continue.”
“My song is over,” I say lamely.
He lifts his gaze and nods to someone behind me. Another song starts.
I rub my palms on my thighs. Okay, he didn’t kick me out for deceiving him. He’s giving me a chance.
You can do this.
I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders, trying to get back into character.
I move my attention to the song, to the beat, once again placing my palms on his muscular thighs.
But this time is different, this time he knows it’s me touching him.
Now it feels personal. I dare to look at him as I once again slide between his legs.
He’s still as a stone, except for his eyes.
They are taking in everything, pupils blown.
The fact that I’m affecting him gives me the courage to keep going. I roll my hips forward as I stand between his legs, lifting my arms and twisting to turn my back to him. Then I lower my bare ass onto his lap and grind on his thick, steel cock. Might as well go all in. Pull out all my tricks.
A low, primal moan climbs up his throat and I fight a smile, knowing I’m the one in control here.
It feels good, and a little like payback.
As I lean my back against his chest and bring my arms up to wrap around his neck, I continue to roll my hips, massaging his hard-on with my bare ass.
Heat is radiating off him, and his chest is rapidly rising and falling against my back.
The way I’m teasing him mercilessly, I fully expect him to grab my hips at any moment and grind me harder on his lap for relief. There’s nothing stopping him, this is his show. In fact, I’m brazenly daring him to lose control.
But he doesn’t. His hand is clutching the sofa arm, knuckles white.
The sudden urge to see his expression makes me turn my head to the side.
Big mistake. Our eyes meet and for a split second I catch the desire, the need burning there and it’s intoxicating.
He quickly masks it. My gaze falls to his full mouth that is only a breath away from mine.
My lips part and his gaze drops to my mouth.
Time seems to stop. My body stills and I feel his cock jerk beneath my ass.
God help me, I want him to touch me. To wrap his hand around my throat, close that hair’s breadth gap and claim my mouth.
I want him to palm my center, which I can feel dripping, pull the material aside and push his fingers deep inside me.
The relief would be worth the surrender.
An unbidden whimper slips past my lips. It’s enough to snap me out of whatever dangerous spell this is. I scramble off his lap, grab my wig and hold it in front of my breasts. “Am I done?”
His eyes harden as he reaches down and adjusts himself in his slacks. It should be a vulgar move, but a gush of wetness between my legs has me questioning who the fuck I’ve just turned into.
A slow nod from him releases me, and I rush back down to the dressing room. Ripping off the outfit, I shove everything into my bag, my heart racing, my lungs constricted. I dress quickly with shaking hands.
What the hell was that?
I have no idea why I’m panicking, why I feel the need to flee. But I don’t have time to question it, I just fling the door open and hurry back the way I came until I emerge outside. Only when I’m back on the warm walkway in the presence of other people do I stop to take a deep, shuddering breath.
How much more danger did I just put myself in?