CHAPTER 52 #2
A wave of silence ripples through the room. A single spotlight flares to life, illuminating a lone woman standing center stage. A woman with curves I’d recognize anywhere. Her head’s bowed, and her hands are held as if in prayer.
It’s the costume, though, that takes the cake. It’s not anything I could have predicted—a white nun’s habit, a black and white sultry dress underneath with wide slits, revealing the very tip of her thighs down to her black heeled boots.
Then the music hits and sends a pitching sound around the room, her head slowly lifts. The song is Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode, and the minute the opening lyrics sound off, the audience goes fucking wild.
Because damn, this is going to be insane.
The crowd is feeling it too.
Rapid thumping beats fill the room, quickly followed by the strumming of an electric guitar. Lily strides forward in a saucy runway walk, heels stomping on the floor to the beat in a calculated, sensual march.
A white headpiece drapes over her shoulders, framing her face that’s pure perfection.
But it’s the sultry, defiant look in her eyes that kills me.
They’re sharp and piercing as they land on me and carry a world of holy rebellion.
The effect is sacred and profane in equal measure.
A thick white collar circles her throat, unattached to her dress, which is cut low and covers little.
A large black cross just under her cleavage above a black belt.
It’s deliciously sinful. My cock agrees based on the way it tries to jump to attention.
This woman… she fucking knows precisely what’s been on my mind. Knows she’s putting me in quite the state, and by the look on her face, she’s just as hungry for what’s coming her way. Which God’s honest truth, must be the point.
The sin I plan to commit with her is going to be downright sacrilegious. Where time loses meaning and boundaries disappear along with our sanity.
Because yeah, fuck, I plan to devour her and not come up for air anytime soon.
The other dancers are lined up behind her. It’s hard to tell how many there are, they walk forward as one, moving with eerie synchronicity.
From the front, at first, all you can see are their boots tapping against the floor, their arms extended, the line of their legs as they kick out in perfect unison.
Then they spread out across the floor in a pattern, some in similarly sensual nun habits, others in short black or white dresses that barely graze their thighs, the hem swaying as they step forward.
They wear the same high-heeled black boots that click with authority against the stage floor.
Their red lips are curved into the faintest of smirks.
Dark eyeliner and smoky makeup gives them an edge of danger.
Large silver crosses swing from their necks with each movement.
Pausing for effect, they drop to their knees, pressing their hands against their thighs, and spread their legs open, revealing white panties along with acres of skin.
The choreography is sharp and sultry, bodies undulating in perfect harmony.
The lights flicker, casting shadows and beams across their bodies, highlighting every curve.
The group flows as one as they rise to their feet, circling one another, their movements now more suggestive, more fluid.
The high-heeled boots clack in unison, sharp staccato sounds cut through the pulsing beat of the music.
Lily leads the dance, her movements powerful, her body commanding the stage. The other girls fan out beside her.
When the dancers drop again, their bodies slide across the stage, pushing off with one foot as their hips thrust up to the beat.
They move like soldiers and fuck yeah, she’s trained them well. Their skills are unlike anything I’ve seen, and their sharp lines hold the precision of military-like training. But it’s Lily—always Lily—that sets my blood on fire. Every flick of her wrist, every turn of her hips is flawless.
She owns each movement, her body more sensual, and her talent shining above the rest. Her gaze keeps coming back to mine.
I feel it deep in my chest, like a jolt straight to the heart.
It’s a silent communication between two people who crave one another in a way no one here could possibly understand.
The audience and other dancers practically fade into the background.
It feels as if she’s performing for me alone.
And I’m pinned under a stare full of promise and a fuck ton of heat.
She’s mine. That’s what she’s saying. That and soon.
Then, mid-song, the stage transforms. Water begins trickling down from above.
It grows into a downpour, soon every girl on stage is wet as the dancers spin seduction and work up the crowd into a frenzy.
They stomp and slap the water, creating waves of splashes that look more dramatic under the spotlights.
They swipe and kick at it, sending it flying which adds to the visual effect.
Their white dresses become translucent, turning what was already hot into something outrageously sexy.
It’s fucking mesmerizing.
Lily’s soaked—her legs, her curves—all of it magnified by the slickness of her olive skin under the neon.
She’s not just dancing anymore; she’s commanding respect and showing who the queen of this show is, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
My fingers dig into my jean-clad thighs likeI’m holding myself back from yanking her off the stage.
She struts toward the center of the stage, hips swaying, the dress clinging to her, until she grabs the long ends of her skirt and rips them away.
Then comes the top. The other girls do the same.
What remains is the embodiment of a fantasy every man here will never be able to forget.
Sheer white triangle panties with a cross over their mounds and nipples, everything mostly sheer, because they are soaked.
Sexiest motherfucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Lily strolls to center stage as the music winds down.
On the final note, she raises her arms, and the rest of the dancers follow, striking a pose so sharp and powerful it feels like a declaration.
A prayer to the heavens, hands clasped above their heads, then they drop to their knees in perfect unison.
The expansion of their chests as they fill their lungs with air is the only sound, the only movement in the entire club, until the crowd goes absolutely insane and in a wave of exhilaration.
Lily’s forget-me-not eyes stay locked on me. They burn straight into me as the lights dim. Daring me, taunting me, promising me. Telling me that this is for me.
Her last dance on stage is dedicated to me.
Because with Lily… there’s always a message for me in each song, I just have to pay attention to discover the underlying meaning.
If I’d known this from the beginning, could I have realized who she was to me sooner?
I have no goddamn idea, but I know now, and I know she declared her devotion and love for me in that song.
The question is… what the fuck am I going to do about it?
Raven wasn’t kidding. Lily’s going out with a bang.
The crowd roars, but I can’t tear my eyes off her. Everyone’s standing and hollering as Bodie leans in, muttering, “I’d sell my soul to see that every fucking night.”
You and me both, but only to see her. The other girls could take the night off.
I shoot him a look in total agreement. I’m hard as fuck right now and dying to get my woman alone, to finally touch all that skin she just displayed.
To say there might be a minor punishment involved isn’t an exaggeration.
I’m jealous as fuck that anyone else got to see this, her like this.
Knowing it’s the last time is the only thing that eases the burn.
I stand, and the guys give me shit—Bodie hollering something about never seeing me get a boner in public—but I don’t care. I make my way toward the hallway, towards my office, where I’ll wait for her. Because I have plans… big plans, and I’m dying to see them through.