Fuck.
“Duuuude,” Ghost whispers, smacking my arm.
I know. Fuck, do I know.
Cashmere twists around, climbing the pole again, and as the song ends, he falls back, swinging around the pole, supported by only one leg. The crowd loses it as the lights go down, and I have to adjust my cock to sit comfortably.
“I’m going backstage.” I’m on my feet before I finish getting the words out.
No one stops me as I pass into the employee-only area. I intercept Cashmere as he casually walks to the dressing room, placing my hand gently on his arm. He doesn’t flinch, just slowly turns to face me. His expression is peaceful, serene.
“Did you enjoy the performance?”
“You can’t be real. You’re a… I don’t know, an angel or something.”
He smiles, putting his hand flat on my chest. “I’m real.”
“You’re spectacular.”
“Thank you.”
I take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. “I’m glad I made it back in time to see you.”
“Your work is finished?”
I nod.
“Did you…” He glances over his shoulder. I know what he wants to ask, so I offer it.
“I did, yes. I showed up right on time to prevent something worse happening.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Something worse?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Cashmere.” A man approaches us holding a clipboard. He isn’t looking at first, but then he notices me. “Who are you?”
“My guest,” Cashmere says quickly. “What’s up, Jimmy? Why are you here tonight?”
“Got something special next week and I wanted to make sure I could get you on the schedule.”
“I’m here almost every night.”
“It’s on Sunday. We’re opening the club for a private party.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. Anything out of the ordinary is cause for concern.
“Hmm. Some fancy rich kid?”
“A rock band,” Jimmy says. I happen to know he’s the owner of this club. I researched everything about it as soon as I fell under Cashmere’s spell. “Can’t say more about it yet. They don’t want it leaked.”
“I’m sure I could be in.”
“Good. They specifically requested my sexiest dancer.” Jimmy’s eyes move to me. The look he gives me is cynical, but I notice a hint of protectiveness that calms my nerves a little. He’s an older man, probably in his sixties, but he’s fit and handsome if you like a silver fox.
“Cool,” Cashmere says. “I have an idea for a new routine that would go well with some harder rock music.”
