‘He’s your master, and he will spank your ass.’ Chanteuse gave the pole a firm slap and wrapped her fingers around it. ‘Treat him with respect, and you’ll get along fine.’
Alicia’s eyes went round and she looked anxiously at the audience. A few of the regulars had heard, including the baby-faced businessman who was swiftly becoming one of her biggest fans. He grinned at her and gave her a small salute.
She gave a little wave in return and lowered her voice. ‘Are you sure Bas is OK with us practising out here?’
‘Where else are you going to learn?’ the redhead asked. ‘It’s not like we have a pole back in the dressing room, and I’d bet good money that you haven’t had one installed in your bedroom.’
She seemed to think that was funny and gave a hearty laugh.
‘It’s fine,’ she said when she caught her breath. ‘It’s early and we’re not on the main stage.’
No, but more and more people were coming over to watch.
Alicia rubbed her hands together nervously. If the pole was a master, then Chanteuse was its mistress. She could do stunts and acrobatics on the thing like she was weightless. Alicia wanted to learn how to do that, but there was more to the contraption than just strength and flexibility.
She eyed the pole, her gaze following it from floor to ceiling. Something about the thing just transfixed her. It looked slick, long, immovable and dangerous. She let out a puff of air that stirred a strand of hair around her face. ‘I’m a bit afraid of it,’ she confessed.
‘That’s because you’re fighting it. If you want this hard rod to work with you, you have to show it a bit of affection.’ With a slow twirl, Chanteuse not only circled the pole, she somehow managed to climb up it. The gleaming brass stood firm between her tightly clenched thighs and she arched back, letting her hair swing gracefully. She grinned. ‘And a little bit of sass.’
Using her momentum, she swung around and did a wide split with the pole pressed hard against her crotch.
Another twirl, and she dismounted gracefully onto her five-inch heels. She gave a smooth grind of her hips that made the fans hoot. With a wink, the redhead tossed her hair back and stroked her hands down her taut stomach. ‘But most of all, you have to give in to it. You’ve got to submit.’
Alicia eyed the pole dubiously. She didn’t like to give up control, especially on the dance floor. But wasn’t that what she’d done last night? Turned off her internal dance critic and simply felt the music?
Of course, her brain hadn’t been functioning very well. She’d just been seriously shagged.
She rubbed her thighs together. She hadn’t seen either of her lovers since she’d stepped into the club. ‘Is Remy here?’
‘No, he’s on some kind of assignment.’ Chanteuse grinned. ‘But he’ll be pissed that he missed this.’
Leesha gave a quick shake of her head. She’d be having an even more difficult time if he was watching. ‘I’m glad he’s not here.’
No, she knew what could happen now if Remy watched her for long enough. As eye-opening as their lovemaking had been, it had also been intense and vigorous.
She wasn’t quite ready for another go-round.
She patted her hands together again. They felt so odd. Chanteuse had recommended a drying agent to help her keep a better grip. It was also on her thighs and she couldn’t help her uncomfortable gyrations. Her legs were clinging to her shorts and to each other. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She wanted to spread them apart to ease the tickling sensation.
‘Let me try again.’ She approached the pole, took a deep breath and caught it with one hand. It might have been her imagination, but in that instant, the brass winked at her. A play of light? Or a challenge?
Determination gelled inside her chest. She could do this.
Bracing her other hand lower on the pole, she jumped and wrapped herself around it.
And promptly began to slide down, skin squeaking with every inch. ‘Ow!’ She hopped off and pressed her palms against her inner thighs. ‘That hurts.’
‘Well, of course it does. You have too many clothes on,’ Chanteuse said.
‘What?’
‘It’s physics, Angel.’
Alicia spun her head to the audience. Bas had showed up, appearing silently and stealthily. He had a drink and was relaxing in one of the semi-circular booths that faced the pole. He looked sophisticated surrounded by all that red velvet, like a mob boss out of the 60s intent on looking high-class and respectable.
He gestured towards the pole with his tumbler of Scotch. ‘You need more friction,’ he said in that low voice that sent shivers down her spine. ‘Skin can provide that.’
She looked down at herself. Her shorts were skimpier than anything she wore out in public.
‘Strip them off. More skin, less pinching.’
She eyed him sceptically through her waterfall of dark hair.
He leaned back in his seat with his eyes glinting. ‘Off.’
She looked around hesitantly. She’d stripped in his club for several nights now, but it had always been part of an act. Taking off her shorts like this would essentially be dropping her drawers. There was a difference, and it made her awkward.
He cleared his throat. Sharply. She understood he wasn’t asking.
She hooked her thumbs in her waistband. Before she could let her inhibitions grab hold, she pushed her boy shorts down and stepped out of them.
Someone gave a sharp whistle.
Her boyish admirer was gesturing at her. She bit her lower lip, but dipped her toe into the material and flicked it at him. She was astonished when he caught it and promptly lifted the garment to his nose. He inhaled deeply, his pleasure clear.
More customers gathered round, and she stroked her thighs self-consciously. She was down to the purple thong that was part of her new matching set.
‘Pretty,’ Chanteuse commented. ‘Now hitch back on up here.’
That shimmering feeling was back on Alicia’s skin, sparking from nerve ending to nerve ending. She felt exposed in her own clothes – lingerie that had been meant to be private. Her bottom was bare, and the thong had no give. It wasn’t the spandex she was slowly adjusting to wearing while she danced.
Only this wasn’t dancing.
She approached the pole timidly. Submit to it. Trust it.
She clapped one hand around the stiff brass and then the other. It felt sturdy. Thick. With a surge of adrenalin, she jumped, the muscles in her thighs firing. She swung them up and around the pole, clenching them tight. Her ankles crossed, her patent-leather heels knocked and she stuck. Her skin clung to the pole. She clenched her thighs tight, holding the metal for all it was worth, and her body was suspended feet above the unforgiving ground.
Bas let one eyebrow lift.
Alicia felt the tension in her legs move up into her core as she fought to hold the position. See what happens when you follow orders? She could hear the words he wasn’t saying out loud.
Heat built up inside her. It took strength and determination to hold the position, but she wanted more. She wanted to push herself. Following the instructions Chanteuse had given her, she arched back. She found her centre of gravity and let go with her hands, trusting that her legs and the drying agent would hold her secure.
‘Damn,’ somebody in the crowd muttered.
‘Can you imagine having those gams wrapped around your hips?’ someone responded.
She closed her eyes and felt the power and confidence inside her surge. Tightening her abs, she sat back up. The friction between her legs was beginning to burn, so she dropped her feet gracefully to the ground. The desire to spread her legs was still there. It was as if the powder was puckering her skin and making her itch.
Twisting, she put the pole behind her. Holding it firmly, she bent over and reached for the opposite wall. She might not know a lot of aerial moves, but she knew dance positions. With her balance found, she lifted one leg behind her until it was pointed at the ceiling and resting comfortably against the pole. It was a not-so-classic arabesque penchée, but the crowd got off on it, all the same.
‘Da-yum,’ Chanteuse echoed. Actual applause rang from the audience. ‘Girl, you are flexible.’
Alicia finally dropped both feet to the floor and rested. Her body felt challenged, but capable. She could do this. She had the grace and the flexibility. She just needed to work on her strength and sexuality.
She peeked at Bas. He was helping her with both.
She reached back to pull at her panties, but realised there was nothing to adjust. She glanced at the young businessman. He wasn’t going to give up her shorts any time soon.
Bas crooked his finger at her and her pulse jumped.
She held up a finger in reply, asking for a moment to find a robe.
He frowned and snapped his fingers. He pointed abruptly at the seat beside him.
‘Uh oh.’ Chanteuse turned and whispered, ‘When he wants something, you need to jump.’
Alicia was beginning to understand that, but she was clad in a tank top and barely-there underwear. The glower on his face darkened and she moved quickly to the steps. Charlie was there to give her a helping hand. She slipped into the half-moon seat and felt the velvet brush against her reddened thighs. It was soft, but she was touchy after her acrobatic session.
Bas cocked his head.
Sucking in a tiny breath, she scooted around the table. The velvet stroked her bottom and the backs of her thighs in the most disturbing way. By the time she was seated next to him, she was all tingly. It felt odd to be sitting in the audience this way. Most of their clients were in suits, or at least shirts and ties. She was glad the table hid most of her bareness from view.
Until Bas spread his hand over her leg.
It was heavy and personal. He kept it high on her hip with his pinky finger dangerously close to the line of her underwear.
‘You’re here early today,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t stay away?’
It was early for her. She’d done her stint protesting, but once everyone else had left, she’d driven across the street and parked behind the diner. She’d wanted to see Chanteuse – or so she told herself. ‘I wanted some instruction on the pole.’
‘You’re a fast learner. In a lot of things.’
The soft invisible hairs on the side of her neck rose as his breaths brushed over her skin.
‘How are you feeling today?’ he asked.
His voice was hushed. Low and rumbly.
Alicia didn’t know what to do with her hands. She saw the glass of water on the table and caught it. ‘Fine.’
She took a quick drink, not stopping to think if it might be his.
His nose brushed against her temple as he leaned closer. ‘Don’t give me platitudes, sweetheart. Remy’s big and he rode you hard.’
That pinky took a slow, circular trip under the line of her panties. So close, yet still so far. ‘How are you? The truth.’
Her mouth went dry and she took another sip. Her hands shook, though, and she dribbled. The droplets of water fell on her chest, sliding under her tank top and between her breasts.
‘Aware,’ she said softly.
She didn’t know where the word came from, but it fit. It was as if all her nerve endings had been dialled to a different setting, inside and out.
‘Not tender?’ His gaze was on the splash of water on her chest. Reaching out with his free hand, he swiped up the moisture with his finger. Watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, he stuck the tip into his mouth.
Her nipples hardened, and he squeezed her leg. It made her jump in her seat. When she settled back down, she was aware that that insidious pinky was now firmly under the line of her panties. Right in that seam where her leg started. If he followed it downward at all –
She squirmed.
‘Not swollen or achy?’ he murmured.
She couldn’t answer, so she shook her head.
‘Good girl.’ He eased back in the seat beside her and took another casual drink of his Scotch. ‘I might have something new for you to try then, if you’re interested.’
She shot him a quick look.
‘Dancing,’ he said innocently. He slid his hand down her thigh, away from where she really wanted it. When it slid back up, his fingers delved deeper between her legs.
She gasped when they trailed fire over the spots where the pole had left friction burns.
‘Hm.’ He flicked his fingers at a waitress who rushed over. ‘Be a dear and find us some ointment.’
Alicia’s hair brushed against her shoulders as she looked around nervously. Nobody was watching. Everyone was studiously concentrating on the main stage now.
She swallowed hard. His fingers were just lying against her skin, but in such a sensitive place. ‘What … what kind of dancing?’ she asked.
‘Did you have a costume picked out for tonight?’
‘No.’ She’d only begun to get brave enough to look through the various schoolgirl, nurse and dominatrix selections.
‘Would you have time to make up a routine if I gave you some direction?’
Direction. Her pussy pulsed. She nodded around the knot in her throat.
‘Excellent, because you’ve had a special request.’ His gaze stroked over her face. ‘Ever played a cowgirl?’
‘As in ten-gallon hat?’
‘As in chaps.’
The waitress arrived with a tube of ointment on a tray.
‘Thank you, Christine. This should help.’ Instead of letting go of her leg, he passed the tube along. ‘Open that.’
Alicia’s fingers felt clumsy as she unscrewed the cap.
‘Chanteuse told you to use Dry Hand, didn’t she.’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought so,’ he murmured as he finally moved his hand away from that hot spot on her inner thigh. He didn’t move it far, simply rolled it over to accept a squirt from the tube.
Alicia felt another droplet of water slide down the back of her neck, only this time it was sweat. When had it got so hot in the place?
She peeked around again, sure they were going to get caught. He really hadn’t done anything improper, but her body was lighting up like it was on fire. Was anyone watching what he was doing to her?
She found his gaze steady on her. ‘Don’t be stingy.’
She squeezed more ointment onto his fingertips and waited, tension riding her whole body. She knew it was coming, but her jaw unhinged and her eyes fluttered closed when he rolled his hand again and began soothing the salve over her tender thigh.
He was thorough and not all that gentle. His fingertips stroked round and round, moistening her tender flesh. It was in such an intimate spot and she was wearing so very little down there.
‘Open wider.’
She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she followed instructions. The strictness in his voice unfurled something tight inside her. He didn’t use that tone very often, but when he did –
‘Oooo.’ He’d switched to her other leg and his hand was thrust firmly between her thighs under the table.
He was soothing skin and stroking taut muscles. The hesitancy in her snapped and her knees dropped open wider. On the floor, her heels toppled until they were pointing at each other. Her belly was tight, but her lungs were shrinking and expanding with deep, slow breaths. Her eyes got heavy, but then she caught the boyish businessman sneaking a peak at her.
Lust and curiosity were clear in his eyes.
Instead of bringing out her hang-ups, the shy glance excited her. She melted into the booth, her spine curling along the shape of the velvet cushions. Her neck relaxed back and her hair slithered around her shoulders.
‘That’s my Angel,’ Bas said with approval.
He lathered her up good until her legs were sticky and her muscles were mush. At last, he curled his hand around her mound. The hold was hot and firm. His fingers pressed harder, pushing the thin material of her thong into the crevices of her pussy.
Alicia groaned long and low.
More than just the young businessman were watching her openly now.
She turned her head towards Bas. His mouth was only centimetres away, and his green eyes were hot. Mysterious.
She licked her lips. ‘Bas?’
‘Yes?’
‘Last night. Why didn’t you …’
‘Fuck you?’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. She wanted to know. The questions were starting to consume her. Had she not performed well enough with Remy? She knew she was inexperienced, but the big operations man had seemed to enjoy her body … her responses … her taste …
Was she just not attractive to him? Other than her breasts?
They were aching now, remembering the tug of his mouth and the rasp of his teeth.
That green gaze was hard as jade as it stroked over her flushed face and her aroused body. His thumb brushed over her pubic bone. ‘You are a temptation.’
His hand squeezed tighter, almost harshly and her hips rose right off the seat.
He caught her yelp with a fast, explosive kiss, but then he was tugging her along the seat. ‘I believe it’s time to find those leathers.’
***
He found the chaps, but not much more.
For once, Alicia fought him. She put her foot down and said no, but in the end, that foot had been in a cowboy boot. The chaps were made of soft leather. They belted low on her hips and had ties going down her legs. Bas allowed her a cowboy hat and a gun belt, complete with silver toy guns. Underneath it all was a tiny brown bikini, but that was about to come off.
All of it.
The bottoms had Velcro that detached at her hips. It allowed her to strip them off and go completely bare while still wearing the leather. Alicia didn’t want to dance that way, but Bas had a way of cajoling her, rationalising and flat-out dominating her. She’d never dreamed she’d be required to dance completely naked. She hadn’t even known such things were allowed. It crossed yet another line she hadn’t known had been in the sand. Her body would be on display and the way the chaps outlined her crotch …
It was so wanton, she could hardly stand it.
When the lights went up, tension simmered in the air. The lights were hot and the music was grinding. Her legs were still sticky from the ointment Bas had applied.
But she loved the hat.
She pulled it down low over her eyes as her hair billowed down her back. She knew the role she was supposed to play and, this time, the music had her.
She strutted across the stage, twirling her six-shooters as she went. When she aimed them at the crowd and pulled the triggers, more than one fan dropped dramatically into his chair. She gave them all a saucy grin.
The gun belt was something she could take off and she started there. Her breasts came out to play next, but when she got to her thong, the entire place started to buzz. The noise was humming and surging as she played with the crowd. She started to rip apart the Velcro and then put it back together.
Inside, her heart was racing. Even she was looking down, watching herself. Her nipples felt tight and her pussy was shy. Eventually, there was no going back. She flicked one Velcro tab apart and felt the material sag between her legs. Her palms got sweaty and she realised the only way she could do it was to treat it like a Band-aid. She’d yanked on the piece of Velcro at her other hip and fisted the brown spandex in her hand.
Before she could turn from the crowd and frantically put everything back in place, she flung the thong at them. This time old Henry was awake and ready. He caught her panties and let out a holler.
In that moment, Alicia became Angel, a sexual being. There were no secrets here, and she was tired of being tied up with rules and mores.
Because she liked the eyes on her. She liked the nakedness. The freedom. The audacity of it all. The chaps added a special spark, emphasising what was showing rather than hiding what was covered. She did her solo that way and stayed on the stage for a second song.
They simply wouldn’t let her go.
She spent the entire hour under the lights, in the get-up. The leather became heavy and she felt perspiration coating her body. Every way she turned, men were staring at her and practically drooling. She danced, unafraid of what might show.
And then there was the pole.
She’d been afraid that the chaps might hinder her, but she gave it the old cowgirl try. The crowd went nuts when she clamped her thighs around that stiff brass pole and lay out flat, hanging suspended. The ointment had nearly been soaked up by her skin, but there was still too much to let her stay where she was. She slid slowly down the pole, the burn bearable until she was lying on her back on the floor, her hips twitching.
That nearly brought the place down.
Charlie the bouncer was certainly smiling as he held the curtain back for her when she left the stage. ‘Hot act.’
His gaze tried to slide down her body, but it got stuck on her breasts and then her naked pussy.
Alicia felt a bit of shyness return and she cupped her hands over herself. Bas had told her not to shave down there and her hair was starting to grow back in. She would have been more comfortable completely bare – or natural, with dark curls. This halfway stage was no-man’s-land and, somehow, even more personal.
‘Thanks,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. People didn’t realise what a workout exotic dancing was, especially with that pole. ‘I need something to drink.’
‘I’ll get it for you. Bas is waiting for you that way.’
Alicia blinked in surprise. The bouncer was pointing towards the hallway to the back rooms rather than towards the dressing room. She’d learned her lesson, though. She went to find Bas promptly.
He was waiting in the hallway, checking his smartphone. He tucked it away when he heard the swishing of her leather chaps. The costume was attention-grabbing for all the senses. Sight, touch, sound and smell.
She just wasn’t willing to taste it.
‘Complete nudity suits you,’ he murmured. ‘We might make it standard for you.’
‘No.’
He let one eyebrow lift and those lines around his mouth deepened. ‘No?’
She folded her arms under her naked breasts. She got the distinct impression that he didn’t hear the word often. ‘Too much of anything and it loses its appeal. I’ll call the costumes. I’ll decide when I dance naked.’
His lips actually curled upward in a smile. ‘When. OK, now you’re making sense.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I do have a degree in business.’
He nodded. ‘Supply and pent-up demand. I like it.’
There was approval in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen before. It made her breathe deeply as pride expanded inside her chest. Confidence. She was becoming addicted to the feeling.
Charlie appeared with a bottle of water. To take it, she had to uncover either her breasts or her crotch. She let him look at her nipples as she took a long, satisfying drink. She smiled at him in thanks and he nodded before turning and going into a room.
Alicia was tempted to pour the rest of the water over her head. She was warm from her session, but she knew she’d just get hot and sticky all over again. It was time to put her bikini back on so she could do her routine in the second set. She just hadn’t got much of a break.
‘You wanted to talk to me about something?’
Bas turned towards her, leaning his shoulder into the wall. ‘I did.’
He had that contemplative look about him again, and she instinctively moved closer. He was such an enigma to her. She never knew what he was thinking or what he wanted.
He stroked a finger down her arm and little shivers ran up to her shoulder and down to her wrist. ‘Remember that special request I mentioned?’
She pushed back the brim of her cowboy hat and nodded back towards the stage. ‘That wasn’t it?’
He chuckled. ‘No, but if I’d known you were going to do that, I wouldn’t have added this.’
A tingling started at the base of her throat. ‘This?’
He tilted his head towards the door on the other side of the hall. ‘A client requested a private dance from you.’
‘Oh. I didn’t realise … Now?’
‘Right now. Are you up for it?’
She looked up and down the hallway. It differed from the stage door entrance like they came from two different lands. The hallway where Remy had caught her was stark and utilitarian. This passageway looked like something you’d find in a swanky Victorian hotel. The plush burgundy carpeting continued from the main show room down this corridor. She was sinking to practically her ankles as she stood where she was. The lighting was set for mood and a vase of flowers decorated the skinny but expensive console table along the wall. The scene was elegant and top dollar. ‘I … don’t know.’
‘That’s honest. I can accept that.’
‘No.’ She set her water bottle on the table and rubbed her hands together. She felt embarrassed for the first time in hours. ‘I mean, I don’t know.’
She was standing in this beautiful hallway looking scandalously underdressed. She’d been in the cage on her first visit, and she was beginning to master pole dancing. But she literally didn’t know. ‘What goes on in a private dance?’
That got another small smile out of Bas, her second in one night.
‘In this case, the client has requested a lap dance.’
‘Oh. OK …’
He reached out and stroked his hand through her hair, draping it over her shoulder. ‘It’s a dance where he’ll be seated in a chair. You’ll be dancing for him alone, and you can be more … let’s say personal.’
Her mouth went dry and she caught her water again. She took another long drink, downing nearly half of the bottle.
Bas watched the way her throat worked. ‘You can touch him, and he can touch you. It’s a close contact dance. Think of it as a tango.’
He flicked the brim of her cowboy hat. ‘Maybe an Argentine one.’
Alicia worked her thumb over the opening of her plastic bottle of water. ‘How much touching? And where?’
She’d learned that details were important.
‘You control that. If you want penetration, I’ll allow it.’
She blanched. Even with everything she’d heard, seen and done, it still pushed her a little more outside her comfort zone. Her voice was raspy when she finally managed to speak. ‘I don’t think I can … Who is it?’
He caught her hand. ‘Come.’
He directed her to the door where Charlie had disappeared. He opened it and allowed her to step inside first. Charlie snapped to attention, getting up from the deep, over-stuffed chair where he’d been seated. His suit jacket was draped over the chair next to him and his tie was loosened. Alicia quickly set her water bottle aside and covered herself with her hands. Charlie had paid for a lap dance?
She didn’t know if she could work with him if she –
No. It wasn’t Charlie.
She turned to face the floor-to-ceiling window to her right. It opened onto the room next door, a room that was just a bit bigger with a larger, plush settee and pillows galore. A man was sitting with his back to her, apparently unaware that the three of them were watching him.
‘Two-way mirror,’ Bas said from close behind her. His hands were on her hips again, touching both skin and leather. It reminded her vividly of the first time she’d seen the Petting Zoo cage, and how he’d described it to her.
She pressed her knees together and the chaps creaked. She’d taken a lot of pleasure out of that experiment.
She tried to see the man’s face. He had brown hair and strong shoulders. They were bare. Was he going to be naked too?
She let out a yip when he suddenly stood up. He raked a hand through his hair and then began to pace around the small room. He wasn’t naked. He still had pants on and was only bare from the waist up. He looked young and nervous.
When he turned to go in the other direction, Alicia’s eyes rounded in surprise. And a bit of delight.
The young gun. The boyish businessman.
She melted a bit inside. For some reason, his crush on her just touched her as sweet. He was obviously as new to this as she was. She watched as he puffed out a breath of air and interlaced his fingers behind his head. It turned her attention to his chest.
And his rippled abs.
And muscled arms.
Oh, my. She hadn’t realised that a body like that was hiding underneath those business shirts and ties.
‘Yes.’
Bas’s hands tightened on her hips. ‘Yes, you’ll dance?’
She looked through the window and bit her lip. ‘Charlie will be watching?’
‘For your protection. There will also be cameras running.’ He stroked her with his thumbs. ‘Non-negotiable. They’re both for your protection – and our customers’ future enjoyment. If you get in trouble, you just signal to Charlie and he’ll stop it.’
Leesha reached out to touch the glass. She understood. Besides, she was finding she liked it when people watched – but that was a secret she wasn’t about to tell anyone.
‘Yes, I’ll give him a private dance.’
Bas pressed his face into her hair. ‘Then saddle up.’
He nodded to Charlie and caught her hand. They exited back into the hallway, which was hushed and empty. He led her to the door of the room where her client waited, but smiled as he looked over her. ‘Maybe you should have me hold onto that for you.’
She frowned, but then blushed. She still had tips stuck into her chaps. Walking around with dollar bills tucked into nooks and crannies had become normal for her. Together, they gathered her cache.
‘One more,’ Bas said, carefully working a five out from inside her knee. He rose up slowly before her, letting the paper money brush tantalisingly against her skin. He ordered it into a tidy pile and tucked it into a pocket inside his suit jacket. Finally, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her temple. ‘Have fun.’
‘Wait,’ she said as he started to leave. ‘What’s his name?’
‘You’ll have to ask him.’ His gaze was steady. ‘If you want to talk at all.’
With that, he turned his back and left her. The carpet soaked up the sound of his footsteps and, the way he walked, he was like a bored panther looking for trouble.
Alicia faced the closed door and took a deep breath. It seemed like she’d just found it.
Catching the knob, she gave it a twist. The sturdy wooden door swung open on silent hinges. Her groupie didn’t hear her until it clicked shut. When he did, he spun on a dime.
She wasn’t sure if she should cover herself or how this was supposed to work. Bas hadn’t let her put any more clothes on, so she cocked a hip and gave a sexy pose. Her breasts were bare and her crotch was framed. Her client saw it all in a long, slow sweep.
She felt her nipples stiffening. She wasn’t as nervous about this as she should be. This young man was so into her and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Unlike Remy’s rattling concentration, she found his undisguised interest refreshing.
‘Hi,’ she said, tucking her cowboy hat back down. ‘I’m Angel.’
‘Ben.’
She smiled slowly. She liked that name. It sounded gentle. ‘Hi, Ben. You wanted a private dance?’
He dove for the settee and draped himself over it. His legs were spread like only a man could do and he rested his arms over the back. It was a macho pose, but with that muscled body he could pull it off.
Leesha wandered deeper into the room, wondering what she was supposed to do. Was she just supposed to start? Should they talk a bit first? No, Bas had indicated that wasn’t necessary, but music was. How was she supposed to –
The beat started then, and she recognised the song immediately.
Pistol Pete’s gaze stroked over her, hot and excited, and a wide grin spread across his face. Reaching out, he grabbed a cowboy hat from a table she hadn’t noticed. ‘Save a horse,’ he said as he plopped it on his head. ‘Ride a cowboy.’