“I’m not a kitty cat, wolf.”
“How’d you know I was a wolf Shifter?” Dylan asked, shutting her door before sliding into the driver seat and pulling out of the apartment parking lot. “I don’t remember my wolf meeting you. I was conscious when that other wolf Shifter attacked you. My wolf only saw you…”
“I was only assuming since I know Jackson’s a wolf, but you just confirmed it for me,” Flora winked. It was only fair she knew his animal, she figured, since he knew hers. While she’d always thought he was a wolf, she wasn’t 100% positive. Shifters could be anything. While the personality of Shifters’ animals could leak over into their human interactions, no one could ever be absolutely sure.
“The 80s called: they want their leg warmers back,” Dylan joked. Flora rolled her eyes, scrunching the off-white leg warmers to achieve her desired look. Inspired by social media, she thought to try the trend out and she thought it was cute.
“You’re just mad I make them look cute. Like slouch socks.”
“Slouch socks,” Dylan questioned. “I’ve never heard of slouch socks. Are you for real right now?”
“Serious as hell Dylan, look it up,” Flora said laughing again.
Once they got to their destination, Dylan opened Flora's door for her, holding a hand out to aid her out of the car.
“How incredibly caring of you, Prince Charming,” Flora teased, taking the smooth hand he offered. Interlocking their fingers, she wanted to be closer to him. Physically, mentally, it didn’t matter; she’d take anything at that point. The little chivalrous things that Dylan did always made her heart flutter faster, making her blush. Men just didn’t do those types of things anymore.
“Anything for the demanding princess of Rainfall Avenue,” Dylan played along, moving his hand to guide Flora to the doors of Lust Lane.
13
DYLAN
“Do you think that being here is safe?” Flora asked, taking a seat at a little round table stationed towards the back of the audience. He didn’t like to intertwine his two jobs but in his line of work, it is what it is. Today’s shift was short: a cover for a buddy who was running late. It was only the beginning of the night when ladies got their solo time on stage. Not giving them a thought beyond safety, he pushed Flora’s chair in. Surveying the main floor, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary tonight, but that was the point, right? Whoever was taking these girls took them because it wouldn’t look out of the ordinary here. Strippers come and go, whether they find better opportunities, quit, or take a break and that made the job of protecting everyone here more difficult.
Grabbing a nearby chair, Dylan pushed it to their own table and took a seat. Today his shift at the club was to sit in the audience and look for suspicious activity.
“Yes, besides the Packhouse, Lust Lane is an incredibly safe place to be. Considering all the guards around, problems rarely happen within the club. It's what happens outside the club that’s dangerous,” Dylan explained, taking a sip of water from a plastic bottle. Leaning back, his broad shoulders crowded the space between him and Flora.
“Makes sense.” Flora lightly wrapped her fingers around his water bottle, silently asking permission to have some. He let go and stared as she tilted the water bottle up, taking a sip before handing it back to him. Heat filled Dylan’s cheeks; the dark lighting and gentleness of Flora’s action stirred a whirlwind of hot emotion through him. Smiling slightly, Dylan tilted his head, gazing at the long braids flowing down her back, and her bright pink lower lip, begging to be kissed. His eyes scurried away. The thought of dropping everything and pulling her in for a kiss had come to Dylan’s mind multiple times since he’d started working for Flora, and every time it did, he got embarrassed. Even if an opportunity opened for him to act out such a fantasy, he didn’t think he would take it. Could two people like them make it? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he didn’t like to play games when it came to his romantic relationships. That was probably why he hadn’t had very many.
“Yeah, today's shift is short; I only need an hour of your time,” Dylan informed her, resting one of his arms on the back of her chair. He was searching for a sign that his action made her uncomfortable, but instead found her relaxing more into his arm. Scooting her chair closer, she leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. It being midnight, it was no surprise she was tired. This businesswoman was usually off to bed around ten.
He stared at her. All he could do was stare at her. She looked peaceful amidst the loud music and strobing colorful lighting. Flora dressed in one of those kid-sized tops, what she liked to call a crop top. She’d taken off the jacket once they’d entered the club. She was beautiful, graceful, and he could only hope he’d meet a mate who was half the person she was.
“Enjoying the show?” Flora asked, rolling her eyes up to his. Dylan wasn’t watching the show — he was watching her and now she knew it. He saw a smirk form on her face, and he could practically hear the chug of wheels in her mind. The hard-on he’d grown just from watching her wasn't hidden under the dark atmosphere of the club, and unfortunately, she noticed that too. Purring, she trailed her hand up his thigh. He choked, sitting up straight and shyly looking around the room. No one noticed, but if they did, they turned away.
“Flora, you’re making it worse,” Dylan admitted, shifting in his seat. Looking away, heat blazed on his face.
“Aww, Dylan, don’t be shy now,” Flora continued, crawling into his lap.
Straddling him, she dragged her nails up and down his chest leaving a tingling feeling behind. Rounding her hands around his big shoulders, she looked down at him, his eyes glittering under the lights of the club. Naturally, his rough hands landed on her hips, trying to keep her still. He kept his hands steady, not moving a muscle. Until her glowing eyes meet his. She was as turned on as he was and with a breath of relief, he started moving his hands, massaging her ass.
“Flora, don’t play with me.” Dylan's eyes began to glow too.
Running her tongue across her teeth, she curled her hands into his dark brown hair, massaging his scalp. Dylan’s head fell back as she started to slowly rock her hips against him. Heat was all he could feel. The heat from her skin, heat from his, heat from the room. His heart pounded like it would explode only imagining what it would be like to kiss her. Just as the overwhelming feelings came to a peak, Dylan tightened his grip on Flora’s hip before swinging her up and behind him. He stood before a stranger's hand could land on Flora.
“Can I help you?” Dylan growled, his arms flexing, reaching behind him and pulling her closer.
“Nah, man, I’m helping you. The boss is about to check on everyone and seeing you getting action in the middle of the room is asking to be fired.” The slightly shorter, muscle-covered, bald man laughed. He pointed to the door labeled BOSS.
With a shake of Dylan’s head in thanks, the man walked away. The realization of what they did fell hard on both of them. Dylan didn’t mind being fired, not in the moment anyways. Flora’s eyes whizzed back and forth in the club, trying to look anywhere but at Dylan. Dylan turned around, facing her, once again re-adjusting his dark-wash jeans. “Look at what you do to me, kitty cat.”
“We need a new nickname. Kitty cat isn’t going to work.” Flora glared at him, but she couldn't hide a small smile. Dylan grabbed Flora’s hand, checking the time and seeing his hour was finally up. Writing in the logbook, he marked down the single hour he worked and left with Flora by his side.
Through that intense moment they shared, he knew it wasn't the time to take the jump and kiss her. As badly as he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if she really meant to rile them up like that or if the emotions from everything else going on affected her. Confused, he didn’t want to make it awkward and ask. He kept quiet about his own questions and feelings as he drove them home.
Flora went straight to her room when they walked through the door. Dylan took that as a sign she was exhausted. Feeling deflated in more ways than one, Dylan took a shower and decided to go to bed. Laying on the couch, he stared at the ceiling. Falling in love wasn’t part of his job and was extremely unprofessional. Taking out his sketchbook from the backpack he kept at her place, he began to draw aimlessly. He needed to let go; to relax and stop thinking of what could’ve been.
