After cloaking me in a black veil, she instructed me down a dark hall where two shirtless men awaited me. As part of the performance, they guided me into the main hall where the room parted. The music grew louder as the voices dimmed. No introduction was needed.
I glided through the crowd and was lifted by the men onto the circular platform bedecked in black-painted rose petals and candlelight. Their touches lingered along my bare skin, a part of the alluring act.
Never before had so many eyes laid upon me at once. My heart roared in my ears. A familiar tune I’d practiced to began. I let the sheer barrier slip from my body, rolling my hips in a way that the matron had chastised. I didn’t care that I veered from the rigid routine. The music beckoned me to heed its melody the only way I knew how—with abandon.
The matron’s shrill voice blared in my mind. I could see in the eyes of my onlookers that my movements were new and unfamiliar. Jaws dropped. Heads leaned forward, curious as to where this would go.
I swayed and dipped to the lyricless song: a story of a woman who longed for a man who wanted nothing more than the promise of her body. I twirled and bent so sharply, so desperately, reaching to prove him and everyone else wrong. There was power in dancing, power in owning my body.
In this moment, I had purpose.
The matron emerged from the crowd, ready to intervene. A man I did not recognize stopped her. The dark room spun intoxicatingly until nearly four more songs had gone by and the musicians finally stopped, at a loss for what to play next.
I panted, my chest rising and falling like an endless tide. Music still played distantly from the other alcoves, but a hushed stillness greeted me before the crowd erupted in pleased cheers. Before I could exalt in the moment, the two men whisked me off stage as the crowd grew rowdy and restless, hungry for more.
Back in the security of the dressing room, I caught my breath with a grin. My pride was extinguished when the matron stormed in shortly after.
She advanced on me and gripped my chin. “You smug little bitch.”
“I thought that went rather well, actually.”
“Went well? Are you—” She broke off with a laugh. “You only did half of the routine. The rest you made up on your own. You were sloppy. There was no poise, no elegance?—”
Three knocks came from behind her. We both turned to find a man looming in the doorframe. He was broad-framed and fit despite the gray peppering his hair shaved close to his scalp.
He was the man who had stopped the matron from intervening. Uneven scar tissue puckered the left side of his face. Like the aftermath of burns from years ago. I dropped my gaze when he caught me staring.
“I’d like a private audience with you,” he declared.
“Oh, I don’t—” I started.
“Of course,” the matron cut me off briskly. When she faced me, there was no room for disagreement. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If you don’t dance for him and do whatever else he asks, you will never work as a dancer here or anywhere else ever again.”
I gaped at her as my heart picked up speed for an entirely different reason. I found myself clinging to the matron’s hands before she ripped herself from me—leaving me alone with this man.
He strode closer. My stomach churned.Whatever else he asks.
He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle the matron opened before the show. Then, surprisingly, he offered me one. I took it skeptically, studying every expression and movement he made.
“Dance,” he commanded.
I swallowed once before responding, “Any style in particular?”
He walked around me to settle into the pile of plush pillows beside the mirror. “The kind that will make me hard with want.” Lust coated his words, but his tone and face were filled with boredom.
I forced myself to breathe. After swallowing more wine, I maintained the guise of confidence and approached him. I’d never danced to seduce anyone before. My hips undulated as I replayed one of the songs from earlier in my mind.
“Closer,” he commanded, eyes flicking downward.
I hesitated before dropping to my knees. Stars, I was doing this.
“Closer,” he repeated with a crooked finger.
I crawled. He brought his legs together then, gesturing he wanted me to straddle him. My eyes closed for the briefest of seconds before I did.
“Now, dance.”
I writhed against him, fighting back the rising bile. I wanted nothing more than to throw up on this man who demanded such intimacy from me. But I would not let the matron ruin my chances of becoming a dancer if this was what it took.
