A wince, “I don’t have a plus one, it isn’t required since my agent is there.”
Savannah cocks her head as she looks at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands down her all black ensemble. A pair of leather tight pants clings to her legs,molding to the shape of her thighs and hips and she has a lace top tucked in, the area beneath her breasts entirely sheer and only the cups that shield her breasts made of solid material. She’s got on a large, oversized blazer that covers a lot of her and her platinum hair is down, falling down her back in a silky curtain.
The opposite to the ballerina you see on stage, her slippers now replaced with six inch heeled boots.
Her reluctance to go to this party is evident with the crease between her brows and the tension in her shoulders and I hate that I can’t go in with her. This is her job, and I refuse to put that at risk so I’ll wait until it’s over and I can take her home.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I guess,” She rolls her shoulders and picks up her purse, tucking her cell inside. “It’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you’re ready.” I assure her.
A soft smile touches her lips, “I know.”
Giving her a quick kiss, I place my hand on the base of her spine and guide her from the house and toward my car parked on the street before I open her door. She climbs inside and once she’s secure, I make my way around to the driver’s side. As soon as the engine is on, she begins to fiddle with the dash, hitting a couple of buttons to connect her phone and her music begins to play.
Parachuteby Chris Stapleton fills the car and she sinks back into her chair.
I leave her to listen to her music as I drive us across the city and toward the bar the event is being held at, the streets quiet for a Tuesday night and after I pull up outside, I turn down her playlist, glancing toward the lot across the road.
“I’ll be back as soon as I’m done at the house.” I assure her.
“Okay,” She breathes, eyes searching the crowd gathered outside the door for the bar. “My agent is there.”
Grasping her chin, I turn her face to me and press my lips to hers, “I am one call away.”
Her breath fans across my lips, “I know.”
With a final kiss, she climbs out of the car, and I watch her jog across the road, steady on her feet despite the sky-high heels and meet up with who I assume is her agent, a dark haired but greying woman who has glasses and a severe expression. When I see she’s safe, I pull my car into the lot and park in a spot that has the bar in clear view. Her eyes find mine once before she slips through the door and disappears inside.
Not a moment later my phone dings.
Tiny dancer: Are you sure this is okay? Do you mind coming back?
Me: I’ll always be here.
Tiny dancer: Are you sure?
Me: Never been surer of anything, Savannah.
Tiny dancer: I’ll make it quick.
Me: Take your time. I’ll be here.
Tiny dancer: I don’t want to take my time. I want to go home and have you inside me.
My cock immediately jerks at the message. Fucking tease.
Me: Careful, sweetheart, we both know what happens when you push me too far.
Tiny dancer: Maybe I like it.
Me: There’s no maybe, you do like it. And I like it when you submit to me and scream my name.
I wait for a response, but it never comes though the message shows that it has been read. I pull back onto the street when I see her dip inside and head back to my place to pack up some clothes. I’ve been staying at Savannah’s so much that it makes sense to have spare clothes at her house. I check my cell again when I park up and when I see she hasn’t replied, I text her.
Me: Check in.
