Nothing. He just looked me up and down. I could actually feel his cool gaze like fingers along my body.
Okay.
This guy was very, very hot.
But scary, I reminded myself.
“Um,” I said, and I looked at the stage. It was best to just get on with it.
Which is when I saw myself: silver panties, glittering bra, thigh-high stockings, clear plastic heels I could barely walk in. All of it supposedly coming off soon.
I met my own eye in the mirror.
I’d always believed that if anything ever came to it, I’d draw a line. It was about my own ethics and whatnot. But when I saw his cool gaze behind me, I lost my nerve.
“I’m Katie,” I lied hopefully, forgetting that Andrej had already used my name.
He looked amused. My heart lifted a little.
“Al,” he said plainly.
For a second I didn’t understand.
He kept staring, and the amusement drained out of his face.
“You don’t look like an Al,” I said doubtfully, trying one last time to make a joke.
Al narrowed his eyes. I physically felt his diminished gaze squeeze me in the abdomen, as surely as if he’d reached forward and twisted his fingers right into my gut. Embarrassingly, I also got a little pang of lust.
I had an idea then, and it made me have two feelings at once: maybe this guy was FBI or something. That gave me a hopeful rush, because then I wouldn’t have to... it was too embarrassing to even think. And he wouldn’t kill me. But it was also terrifying, because if he was a Fed or a cop, then Andrej would probably kill me.
“You’re not a cop, are you?” I asked.
Nothing. A little flicker of amusement, and quick shake of his right wrist while he sort of cracked his neck. This unintentionally called attention to his tattoos.
Yeah, no. This guy was not Fed or cop, and I had just pissed him off making that suggestion.
“Okay,” I said, more for myself than him. “I’ll just... start dancing now, then.”
Why not? If a tree falls and embarrasses itself right before getting knocked off by a hot, scary guy in the back room of a trashy strip joint, does anyone care?
I climbed on the small stage, which was a sturdy circular table with a pole running through the middle and LED lights under a thick plastic top that served as the floor. When I stepped up the ladder, a staircase for pampered dogs to get into their owners’ beds, I tripped and nearly fell... the shoes I’d grabbed were too big. I had to steady myself on the pole and my ankle twisted almost all the way to the floor. I smiled, and struck a pretty lame pose.
I could do this. And if I did it long enough, maybe I would think of something to get myself out of this situation.
And then I realized I had no music playing.
My face was red, a curious mix of embarrassment and fear, and maybe attraction... I didn’t know. Just get it over with, I thought.
“I, uh... need to, uh... put the music on,” I stammered.
I looked around the room, locating what I thought was the stereo system. Clumsily, I climbed off the stage and wobbled over to the system, only to be mystified about how it worked when I got there.
Okay, I thought. This was actually perfect. I could just bang on the door, tell Andrej I needed some music, and then escape.
In these shoes. Yeah, right.
I spent a lot of time in the corner, ‘inspecting’ the stereo, thinking about how I could slip out of my shoes, and which way I would run, and what I would do after I did. My throat was getting choked up, my heart was throbbing in my throat, and my stomach was giving a series of wrenching twists.
