A hush descends upon the room, the lights nearly snuffing out as the ones surrounding the stage shift and alter to form a sultry haze of light in the centre of the platform. Two dancers slowly parade around the room, making ashow of looking over the patrons getting caught in their enthralling snares. Never exchanging a word, they convey only with body language when they’ve found a couple to bring up onto the stage.
The male dancer slides up behind the woman sitting at the table they’ve stopped at, wrapping one hand around her waist and bringing the other hand up, slowly dragging his fingertips along her shoulder in a taunting caress. Her chest rises, falling faster and faster, before her breath fully hitches as the man brings his hand to her throat, squeezing until she looks up at him. He leans down, inching closer to her mouth, before he stops a hair's breadth away, veering off course and whispering something in her ear that has her nodding enthusiastically. When I look over at their counterparts, it’s to find the female dancer in the lap of the woman’s date, his hand clasping her bottom as she, too, whispers something in his ear.
The dancers share a brief glance, pulling the patrons out of their seats and bringing them onto the stage, where they each settle into a chair facing each other.
Apprehension churns in my gut as I flick a glance over at Jade, whose gaze never drifts from the scene. I break my one drink rule, tossing my tumbler of whisky back; if she can handle whatever’s about to take place, then surely, so can I.
The male dancer settles in front of the woman, running his palms over her thighs before he grips her knees, ripping them open. She gasps, and he smirks, leaning forward to brush a kiss to the inside of her leg. From my peripheral, Jade shifts in her seat. The dancer reaches forward, building anticipation before reaching under the chair seat, pulling out a lead of rope and handing one of two bundles to his partner.
The female performer sensually parades around her subject, touching and teasing before she grabs his wrists, tying them in place behind the chair. She makes quick work of his ankles, securing them to the legs of his seat beforeshe stands and straddles his lap, rolling her hips against his groin, forcing his head to drop back.
From three feet away, their counterparts stare at them with lust glazing their eyes. The male performer now stands behind his subject after tying her to the seat, running his hands down the front of her blouse, slipping beneath the chiffon and grasping her breast. Her mouth parts on a gasp as her spine bows slightly off the back of the chair.
The entire room is enraptured with the scene playing out on the stage, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Jade’s chest heaving slowly, though her face remains impassive. It makes me a little perplexed and a lot curious that she hasn’t gotten up and left.
I risk fully glancing her way, a compulsive need to look at her turning my head. The red lighting around the room casts a haze on the left side of her face, illuminating her otherworldly beauty, making the blue spot in her eye glow brighter with the contrast. The beading on her dress glows like fallen embers all over her body.
Hellfire incarnate.
She lookssinfulin that tiny scrap of black silk being held up by gravity defying skinny straps, chest threatening to spill and her soft thigh peeking out from the slit crawling dangerously high up her leg. Jade’s hands rest in her lap, where she fidgets with one of the delicate rings on her hand, the only sign she’s even remotely affected—until she shifts slightly in her chair.
My body becomes hyper aware of that subtle movement. Surely, she’s not—no, I’m reading too much into it. But then my eyes crawl further up her body, settling on her full mouth, where she’s lightly biting the corner of her lip. She must sense me staring, because she looks over, sitting up straight and releasing her lip.
I can’t help but grin before I bring my drink to my mouth, never letting go of her stare, hoping to rile her up. Only, she doesn’t look away like I think she will. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, leaning closer to me as she reachesforward, and grabs her cocktail, downing the rest of her martini. My body tenses in anticipation when she holds eye contact, seductively curling her tongue around the speared olives before closing her mouth and slowly pulling the short skewer out from between her full lips.
Shite, now I’m hard.
“I—” I stumble on my words when a loud gasp from the stage pulls our attention, finally forcing us to break eye contact.
Based on the show, this is no longer a performance, and the dancers appear to be getting just as aroused as their subjects. All around us, patrons shift—hands slip under tables, lips find necks, and some couples get up to find somewhere more private.
On the stage, hands roam south, pinching and caressing as lips find skin. The man is very clearly turned on, indicated by the tenting in his pants as his dancer grinds against him, and his date looks like she’s about to combust as the male dancer settles in front of her, inching his hand higher up her skirt. Their faces are screwed up in pleasure, begging for more—begging for the performers to take them to the brink. Gasps turn to outright moans as hands find their marks and?—
Black silk curtains the length of a rugby pitch drop from the ceiling, carrying with them aerialists wearing nothing but leather body harnesses. The floor length fabric completely obstructs our view before we see too much—though that doesn’t stop us from hearing it. Sex permeates the room around us, and that, in combination with the woman sitting next to me in the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen, makes my skin pull taut.
Soft murmurs devolve around the room as everyone is released from our trances, now watching the aerialists climbing the silks and putting on their own, less erotic show.
A moment later, a man in black dress pants and white button up approaches our table, offering his hand to Jade ininvitation, angling his head toward the back hall. My hackles rise.
“Wanna go have some fun?” he asks, like I’m not sitting right fucking here.
I white knuckle my glass, pushing the whisky in my mouth through my teeth like a sieve before I swallow. “Remove your hand from her airspace before you leave here without one.”
The man arches a brow at Jade, as if to ask,does he own you,before she shakes her head, and he walks away rejected.
The air around us grows taut with tension. “What the fuck was that?”
My jaw aches from clenching it so tightly, to keep myself from saying what’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Answer me.” Her voice is firm, authoritative.
“You’re not my boss here,” I bite back.
Jade looks long at me before abruptly standing, striding away from the table.
Fuck.
I race after her through the cavernous room, weaving past servers, dancers, and at least two people wedged into a dark corner, bringing each other pleasure.
