She averts her gaze, focusing on her task, then lifts the pump to fill my glass with sparkling water, but glances my way again, getting distracted.
Water sprays out from the pump like a high jet sprinkler, coating her white shirt. She gasps, glancing down at her now see-through top. I stifle a laugh as she uses the bar towel to cover up and dry herself off.
“I didn’t know there was a wet t-shirt contest on tonight.”
She presses her lips together and points the water pump at me, threatening to pull the trigger. “You want to enter?”
“I doubt I’d stand a chance at winning next to you, Red.” My eyes settle on her beautiful tits. The white lace of her bra shows through her soaked cotton shirt, and I need to adjust my growing dick. I groan inwardly.Down, boy. This is not the time. Or the place.
“Here’s your water.” Her red cheeks burn hotter than the overhead spotlights. Heat pours from her in waves as she hands over my drink. Her other arm covers her assets. “Sasha, I’m just gonna sort myself out.” She scurries to the back through a staff only door, holding both arms over her chest.
It takes every ounce of strength I have to not follow her back there and give her a hand. That would make me no better than the guy groping her before. I need her to trust me. I also need her to want me, and she will, but I have to tread carefully. The last thing I want is to scare her off.
I bring the cool liquid to my lips, feeling thirstier than I have in a long time. There’s no going back now. Like an animal set free, I’ve stepped out of the shadows. But does my little red fox know she’s the one being hunted?
2
POPPY
“Your stalker’s here again,” Sasha shouts over the sultry music. She places a pint onto a round silver tray, then grabs the top shelf whiskey before pointing it over the bartop.
My breath catches in my throat as dark eyes bore into me. The same eyes that have been staring at me night after night for the past few weeks. More and more, he’s been making his presence known. Each day I get to know him a little better, yet I still haven’t figured him out. I wipe my clammy palms over my round stomach, covered in a tight black skirt.
“He’s not my stalker,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as I am her. I avert my gaze, fanning my face with a wine list as the temperature in here escalates to an inferno. When I glance down at my flushed chest, my white cotton blouse, embroidered with the Club Curve logo wafts open, revealing my white lace bra where a button popped.
Without hesitation, I button up my shirt, then watch his lips lift in the corner. He likes what he sees.
“Well, he ain’t here for any of the dancers, and he always sits in your area.” Sasha hands me the whiskey and a tumbler, knowing that’s his drink of choice before he moves onto a non-alcoholic beer or sparkling water.
The same piercing stare from before captures my gaze. A tattooed hand scratches the scruff on his jaw before curling his index finger towards me. His dominating presence demands my full attention.
“Better get over there. He means business tonight.” Sasha winks, handing me a tray. I place the whiskey and tumbler on it before filling the glass with ice.
Smoothing a hand over my black wig, I suck in a breath, then shimmy towards him with the silver tray in my hands. My foot wobbles in the ridiculous red heels I have to wear as part of my uniform. Although it could be worse. The Club Curve uniform is much classier than other burlesque clubs where I’ve worked. Another city. Another time.
A shiver runs the length of my spine, causing my body to break out in a cold sweat. I push away the memories of my ordeal at the casino, and set my sights on the hunter beckoning me towards him.
With my pounding heart, I check my buttons once again, making sure I’m not revealing anything. He’s already seen far too much, although the way he stares at me you’d think he could see my soul. Maybe he can. His demon eyes burn with desire the closer I get. My limbs tremble, causing the ice in the glass to rattle as I approach his small round table, but he doesn’t scare me. I’m no stranger to harassment. This isn’t it. Maybe I’m kidding myself because I’m attracted to him. That’s why he makes me so bloody nervous.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” I place his glass on the table and unscrew the cap of the whiskey.
“How about a dance?” His hand caresses my thigh like a whisper, barely noticeable, but it sends goosebumps running over my skin.
I pour the whiskey over the ice. “I’ll get one of the girls.”
He sits up, rolling the cuffs of his black shirt, revealing more of his inked skin. “I want you.” His hot breath skitters across my face as he leans in close. Tobacco mixed with his spiced aftershave clings to his skin, and I inhale the heady scent.
“I don’t dance, you know that.” I’m used to guys propositioning me. But with him, my body doesn’t know how to react. My brain can’t think straight when he’s close.
“You don’t think I see you tapping your feet to the music, and swaying these voluptuous hips when you think nobody is watching?”
I suck in a breath. A bunch of butterflies take flight in my stomach as his fingers dance over my hip. He isn’t like most of the customers that come in here, the stag and birthday parties, guys out for a good time, only interested in one thing. All he’s interested in is me, and asking me questions about myself. It’s actually refreshing.
“Everyone has a price. Something they want. What’s yours?” He lifts the tumbler in his hand, rattling the ice as he swirls the whiskey in the glass.
“You couldn’t give me what I want.” I smile, screwing the cap on the bottle, then lift the tray. Before I can take a step towards the bar, his hand grips my elbow, coaxing me back to him.
I stumble in my heels. My jaw drops with a strangled yelp, along with my full behind, right into his lap. He holds me in place, my back resting against his chest. Despite my knotted stomach and ragged breaths, a warm feeling of safety washes over me, believing he’ll catch me whenever I tumble.
