“Holy shit. Is there any tattoo ink left on Earth?” Hazel asks.
“Yeah, but only the color.”
“It is a shame you don’t want to work here,” Leah says. “There are plenty of big spenders who’d salivate at the idea ofhalfas many tattoos.”
“I’m good with who I have salivating over me, thank you very much.”
None of them mention the bruises.
I grab hold of the flying pole and consider it, but whisper, “next time,” to myself. It’s been awhile, so all they get today is my warm up routine.
“Do you need music?” Margot asks when I walk around the pole, getting a feel for its diameter and speed.
“Honestly?” I hop up onto the pole and get a better idea. “I usually work to the sound of whatever’s going on in the gym next door. So I’m not too worried about it.”
The warm up isn’t hard and it isn’t long, but it’s not simple, either.
I let their appreciative murmurs and soft questions to each other fade out, and focus on making sure my hand lands where I need it to and my leg catches the pole correctly.
Movement is the only thing that distracts me.
Arc steps inside quietly.
I’m probably the only one who notices. But I don’t stop the demonstration. I want him to watch too.
I always want him to watch.
Up and down and around and back and forth… the warm up is more cirque than seduction, but that’s okay.
And I end with a slow spiral down with my back to the pole.
I’m already tired and sore.
Maybe I should ask the guys to get me one of my own for home.
Maybe I’m still sluggish from the drugs.
The girls clap a little too hard, but I don’t think it’s sarcastic.
“Thank you, thank you.” I give them a deep bow, and when I pop upright again, I know that was a bad idea.
Black spots form at the edges of my vision and the last thing I think is… thank the saints there’s padding.
ARC
I hear the “oh no” in her thoughts with barely enough time, but I race across the room to catch her before she actually hits the mats.
Her eyes flicker open. “I just stood up too fast,” she assures me… or anyone else within hearing.
But she’s questioning the sedatives, and I don’t blame her. “We’ll check when we get home,” I say softly before the others have a chance to join us.
“Well,” Margot says with an unhappy sigh. “Looks like you lied. She wasn’t safe with me after all.”
Exhaling and wondering if she’ll be okay to stand, Chrys says, “How were you supposed to know that I’d stand up too fast and nearly black out?”
She did black out. It was for a half second, but that momentary silence from her thoughts was terrifying.
I’m okay. I promise.
