Chapter Four

Seduction

I rolled my eyes as the crowd laughed, since they knew that was far from the truth.

Robin flounced off the stage as I marched up onto it in his place and clapped my hands together.

“Right then, what do you gents want this evening? A striptease?”

There was applause and a cacophony of hoots all around.

I frowned and put a finger to my chin. “Hmm, can’t do that,” I said, looking at Sebastian, who shook his head. I gazed back at the audience. “A poem?”

“Not unless it’s got the words cunt or cock in it!” someone yelled.

“Hmm, let me see…” I said, tapping the finger on my chin and pretending to think. “What about a song?”

“Yes, a song, Toby!”

“Give us a song!”

“Do the bow-wow song, Toby!” Mr. Youngblood begged. His husband tilted his head back and howled, then howled like a dog, as everyone laughed.

“Oh, you like that one?” I asked, as they clapped and whistled.

I found Alastair in the crowd. He was watching the men in the parlor going gaga for me, and I puffed up a bit. I walked over and grabbed the straight chair that we used as a prop and set it in the center of the stage facing backward. Then I straddled it with my hands on my knees, perched on the toes of my leather shoes and gazed out at my adoring audience.

“Here!” Robin said, and I looked over. He pulled a stuffed gray elephant from the prop basket and threw it to me. I caught it in my hand and quipped to the audience, “You’ll have to pretend this is a kitty cat, all right?”

“What’s the elephant prop for, I’d like to know,” someone muttered.

“Is there a song about a giant-sized—?”

“Never mind,” I said promptly, cuddling the stuffed elephant to my chest, where it nudged my chemise apart to bare a nipple.

“Oh, fuck me,” someone commented, so I knew I was on the right track.

This particular ditty required me to assume the character of a young child. What that said about the men who demanded it, well, I mean, I know what it said about them. The gay Daddy/boy thing was something I enjoyed messing around with, although I tended more to the feminine in my performance.

Sebastian started playing the jaunty music hall tune.

“I love my little cat, I do, with long black silky hair,” I purred in a most childlike way, batting my lashes and smiling with as much innocence as I could muster. “It comes each day with me to school and sits upon the chair. When teacher says ‘Why do you bring that little pet of yours?’, I tell her that I bring my cat along with me because…”

I held up the stuffed elephant and looked at it, then dropped it to the floor, folded my arms on the back of the chair, and rested my chin on them as I sang with a pout. “Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow. Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow.” I made a big show of sighing. “I’ve got a little cat, and I guess I’m fond of that,” I said, nudging the stuffy with the toe of my boot. Then I gazed at my audience with a young girl’s misery. “But I’d rather have a bow-wow, wow-wow, wow-wow.”

There was much clapping as I launched into the second verse, this time leaning back on my hands and swinging my feet forward to plant my heels apart on the rug.

“We used to have two tiny dogs, such pretty little dears. But Daddy sold ’em ’cause they used to bite each other’s ears. I cried all day. At eight each night Papa sent me to bed. When Ma came home and wiped my eyes, I cried again and said.”

I leaned forward again with my chin on my arms and gazed directly at Alastair this time, pretending to be a sad little boy. “Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow, Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow.” I blinked my eyes at him, slowly, like a cat. “I have a little cat, and I guess I’m fond of that, but I’d rather have a bow-wow, wow-wow, wow-wow.”

The current flowing between us was white hot. Alastair parted his lips, and I sat up slowly, getting off the chair to much applause. I picked the stuffed elephant off the floor and launched it into the audience, where Dr. Agabwe plucked it out of the air as I descended from the stage.

I met Mr. Kenney’s gaze again but then looked away. I had to play it cool, to prove I wasn’t completely desperate for what he could offer me, even though I was.

As I brushed by him, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. I looked at it in shock, and he immediately dropped it, then glanced at Jacob, who hadn’t seen.

“Sorry. Only, that was…quite a performance,” he said, meeting my gaze sheepishly.

His cheeks were flushed, and I could tell he had a boner.

“Yes, well it’s all a part of the job,” I said, smiling with pleasure.

“You’re very good at what you do, Toby. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. Would you like another drink?” I asked, gesturing to his empty glass. “You enjoyed that one.”

“Yes, I did,” he said in a subdued voice, as if he wasn’t just referring to his drink. “That would be great. Thank you.”

By the time eleven rolled around, the crowd in the parlor had thinned. It was Wednesday, and most of these people had jobs to get to in the morning. The Youngbloods were enjoying themselves in the Bordello.

Sebastian and Jacob had shown it to me back when I’d been hired, but other than peeking in that one time, I’d given it a wide berth. I had no issues with kink or with kinky folks, and I had had my share of kinky fantasies, but in terms of using actual implements or furniture, I was a neophyte. I hadn’t even been spanked properly. It all seemed a little out of my depth.

I sprawled on the green velvet settee in the corner under the window, with one leg hooked over the broad arm. My foot in its sweet leather shoe dangled as I stared at the ceiling and dozed, listening to the crackling of the low fire and the murmured hum of dwindling conversation. My other foot was braced against the floor, so I didn’t fall off my narrow perch.

I worked hard, and Jacob didn’t begrudge me the occasional downtime. In fact, lying in such a scintillating position tied right into the atmosphere we were attempting to recreate. Even if Patrick, Robin and I weren’t actual trollops—the verdict was still out on Robin—we were encouraged to convey the air of pretty young things on display.

A ragged sigh above me caused me to open my eyes. There was Alastair Kenney, holding his third Sazerac, a rosy glow to his skin and a satisfying warmth to his gaze. I hadn’t heard his footsteps. He’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal shapely forearms dusted with dark hair.

His smile held notes of melancholy and hope. “Hello, Toby.”

I laced my fingers together over my corset, and gazed up at him, blinking my eyes with exaggerated innocence.

“Mr. Kenney,” I purred, “what can I do for you?”

He ran his gaze over me and lingered on the puffy white bloomers with the lace at the edge and the pink ribbon running through, then paused on my calf in its midnight black stocking and finally fixed on my soft leather shoe.

“Your shoe is undone,” he said, gesturing with a finger.

I glanced at the lace in question. It wasn’t completely untied, but it had loosened and looked on the verge of coming loose. I met his gaze, about to say it was fine and that I’d fix it in a minute. But his smile widened, lost its sadness and took my breath away.

“May I?” he asked, with a gentleness I’d not expected.

I glanced at the bar. Jacob wasn’t there, probably sorting things in the kitchen for closing. Technically, it wasn’t allowed. But there was nobody close enough to care, and I certainly didn’t mind. And he had asked for my consent.

“You’re not really supposed to touch me,” I said, blinking up at him with exaggerated naiveté. “But yes, you may.”

I smiled, then, to let him know I appreciated the kind gesture.

Mr. Kenney glanced behind him to see if anyone was looking. He angled his body so that it blocked me and my shoe from Patrick and Robin, who were talking animatedly about something by the fire, Patrick nodding and giggling as Robin gestured wildly.

He tugged the end of the lace to pull it fully free, his fingers trembling ever-so-slightly. I don’t know why that was so hot, but it felt like he’d untied the back of my corset instead of my shoelace.

He stood there, gazing at my shoe, breaths audible as he licked his lips. He didn’t look up from the laces as he whispered, “I want to do much more than this, Toby.”

Then he glanced up, and his eyes burned black into mine.

My cock had already started getting hard while he’d looked me over so self-indulgently. Now I wanted him to pull my shoe off and kiss the arch of my foot, as if I were a fancy prostitute and he was trying to convince me to lower my fee.

“Well, Mr. Kenney, I’m afraid you can’t possibly go that far,” I said, bracing my hands against the cushion of the settee as Alastair stroked the tips of his fingers along the arch of my shoe, his gaze following.

“When do you get off, Toby?” he said, his words quick.

I watched as he tied the black laces into a delicate bow, his fingers deft and sure now.

“Uh…” I gulped as the double entendre landed in the horny part of my brain, which was all of it, at the moment. “M-my shift is over at midnight.”

Mr. Kenney smiled, that dimple reappearing as he kept his gaze attentively on the laces he tied into a double knot.

“Do you need to help close the place?” he asked, glancing up.

God, why are his eyes so beautiful? Why does he have this power over me? Why do the deep tones of his voice feel like feathers gliding along my skin?

“Not tonight,” I breathed, my gaze fixed on those long, agile fingers.

“Lucky me,” he said, patting my securely tied shoe and straightening. “There.”

Somehow, I reined in my desire and reasserted some control.

“You have no idea how lucky you are, Mr. Kenney,” I murmured, taking my hands and running them up the front of my corset so I could tug the edges of my chemise farther apart.

“Jesus,” he cursed. “Shit. Maybe a hotel? I can—?”

I held up my hand. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

“I can’t talk about this here,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside at twelve fifteen, because I need to change. Wait for me at the bottom of the steps, and we can figure things out from there. All right?”

He couldn’t stop staring at my exposed nipples.

“All right,” he said, finally, and I curled the edges of my lips into a satisfied smile.

“You know I can’t wear this outfit once I’m off my shift, right?”

He sighed. “Such a damn shame. You look so good in it.”

At least the lace panties were my own. They would be a nice surprise for him.

I waved my fingers. “Off you go then. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He laughed and wandered away, collecting his jacket from the back of a chair as I tried and failed to ignore how good those suit pants hung on his narrow hips. I put a hand to my forehead, trying to get my heart to slow down. Holy shit. What the hell was that about?

I only had a few more things to do before my shift ended. When the clock struck twelve, I hastened into the changing room and got out of my tarty things, reverting back to my jeans and black T-shirt with a twinge of regret. Normally I was glad to get out of my costume, because the corset started to pinch after a while. But tonight, all I could think about was how naughty and illicit I’d felt watching Mr. Alastair Kenney untie the lace of my leather shoe, and how much fun it would be to get dolled up again in the privacy of a hotel room or, even maybe his place, and have him undress me.

I stared at the pieces of my uniform, wondering if Jacob would mind if I borrowed it for one night…Would he even notice?

Fuck it.

I was a valued employee. I’d never done anything against the rules—so far—and I’d bring the outfit back tomorrow. They’d never even know it was gone. I glanced around guiltily then stuffed the different pieces into my backpack, including the corset and shoes. Patrick and Robin had to close tonight, so they were still out on the floor and didn’t witness my transgression. Mr. Alastair Kenney was going to get the whole Maverick Molly’s experience tonight, let me tell you. But I’d have to get him to swear that he’d not seen me in anything but my twenty-first-century clothes, or I’d hear it from Jacob and Sebastian.

I suddenly remembered that one of the things I’d sworn off of this year was hasty casual hookups. But honestly, I was doing so well on the cutting down on cigarettes thing, and I was totally committed to moving out of my mom’s place, so I figured I could toss one of my New Year’s resolutions into the gutter where it belonged.

I’d had such a crap day until Mr. Alastair Kenney had walked up to me and asked for a puff on my cigarette. I was going to have fun tonight—sex with no strings, with a hot-as-fuck virtual stranger who seemed as into me as I was into him. Maybe a casual hookup was exactly what I needed.

Robin came into the change room, and I swept by him with a raised hand.

“See ya.”

“Are you on tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yep. I’ll be here,” I promised.

“On time?”

“Yes! For fuck’s sake.” I was a bit terse because I didn’t want him to notice how stuffed full my bag was, and I needed to meet Alastair before he got fed up and left without me.

“Bye, bitch,” he sneered, somehow sounding amused and pissed at the same time.

“Whatever.”

And I was out of there. No one paid me any mind as I strode down the hall, put on my boots, grabbed my coat and headed outside.

Alastair—I could think of him as something other than Mr. Kenney now—stood at the bottom of the steps, exactly where I’d told him to wait for me.

“Hey,” he said, with a smile. “All done?”

I skipped down the steps. “All done.”

“So, where do you want to go, Toby?”

I shrugged. “I don’t care, except we can’t go to my place.”

“Roommates?” he asked.

I huffed a laugh. If only. “No. My mom.”

“Oh. Oh! How old are you?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, relax. It’s just”—I waved my hand in the air—“rent’s expensive.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything.” It was the first time I’d seen him flustered. It looked kinda good on him. “Obviously, you’re working in a bar, so you must be at least nineteen…”

I gave him a look. “I’m twenty. Would you calm down?”

“Oh, wow. That’s…that’s young.” He said it as if it meant he was concerned, but his gaze swept over me like I was a smorgasbord that had just upped its appeal.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “But legal. Maybe you’re too old.”

“Ouch.” He put a hand to his heart.

“Want me to call nine-one-one? Are you having a coronary?”

Alastair stared at me, shocked, then burst into laughter.

“I’ll be thirty-six in two months.”

I pretended to be shocked. “Shit. That’s old.”

“Thanks. That’s instilling a lot of confidence. Are you even attracted to me?”

“Am I even— Oh my God. Pretty sure we’ve got a mutual thing going on.” I eyed him. “Isn’t that what this is about?”

“Okay. Good. Because I really want to fuck you.”

He’d been keeping up with me as we trudged down the sidewalk, but I stopped abruptly and we almost collided.

“Hold on there, Romeo. I don’t know if we’re gonna get that far.” I looked him up and down. “I mean, maybe? Let’s just see where this goes.”

“That’s fine. Of course,” he said.

We started walking again.

“Do you want to get a hotel room?” he asked. “I’ll pay…”

“Sure, I guess. But a nice one.”

“What about the Chateau?”

I stopped again and this time, Alastair did bump me, but he quickly backed off as I practically went ballistic.

“The Chateau Laurier? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Alastair frowned. “No, I… It’s a nice hotel.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was for real. “You don’t have to spend that much on me.”

The Chateau Laurier was the most renowned hotel in Ottawa. Not the most modern, or even the most expensive, maybe, but it was a classy spot. It was where all the important visitors to our city stayed—MPs, dignitaries, royalty.

“Wait. Are you some kind of prince or, shit, a member of Parliament?”

“God no. I work in tech. But I am friends with the manager. She can get me a room there at a good rate.”

“But we’ll only need it for a handful of hours…” I said, throwing out my arms.

He took out his phone, tapping it with his finger. “It’s fine, Toby. Let me do this. The rooms are spacious, and the place is swanky. It’s a beautiful hotel.” He tapped some more. “I’m getting an Uber.”

Of course, it was a gorgeous hotel. Fuck, yeah, I knew that—or, I’d heard that. But I’d never stayed there or even gone inside the imposing stone building that served as a backdrop for millions of tourist photos.

“God, now I’m feeling pressure…” I said, putting a hand to my forehead.

“What? No, come on. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’m happy to just hang out. I swear. It’s totally up to you.”

I eyed him up and down, going over my options. I could insist we go somewhere less expensive, but now that he’d mentioned the Chateau, I kind of wanted to go there. I could say goodnight and give up on this adventure entirely, go home to where my mom was probably in a drunken stupor and wank off in my bed to fantasies of fucking Alastair. Or I could smile and say “Sure, that sounds great.”

I smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Fantastic! Car’s on its way.” He tapped his finger on the screen of his phone and waited, holding my gaze.

“Fairmont Chateau Laurier, Delphine speaking.” The voice on speaker sounded slightly bored but unfailing in its professionalism.

“Delphi! How’s the hotel business?”

“Alastair Kenney. Jesus. You can’t possibly be calling for a room this late. For tonight?”

“You’ve never failed me before, Delphi. There must be something I can have.”

Wow. Way to be confronted with Alastair’s man-whore status in a very crucial moment. But I suppose if it got me a room at the Chateau and a night of unrestrained passion, I could deal with it.

“Fine,” Delphine muttered. There was a pause. “There’s a king with a city view. Will that do?”

“Which floor?”

Wow. Picky much?

“It’s on the sixth floor. Is that good enough?” Now she sounded annoyed. I was kind of on her side.

“Sure, sure. Can you send up a bottle of champagne and two glasses, please.”

Hold-up. I raised my finger. “I don’t drink.”

Alastair blinked, staring at me in confusion. But he recovered. “Hold on. Never mind. What about some chocolates?”

He raised his eyebrows at me, and I gave him a thumbs-up. Okay, now I was definitely on board.

“Of course, Alastair. Would you like a bouquet of flowers?” The question was dripping with sarcasm, but Alastair raised his eyebrows at me.

I gave him an incredulous, disappointed look, and he frowned.

“No, that’s it. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“It’ll be ready for you. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Delphi. You’re the best,” Alastair said, but she’d already ended the call.

He tapped the screen with his thumb and lowered his phone.

“You don’t drink?” he said.

“I’m not sure why that’s so surprising.”

“Well…the Sazerac… You sounded so sure. I assumed you’d had one.”

“Well, I work there, so I know all the good cocktails without having to sample any. Sorry to disappoint you?”

“Fuck, Toby. I’m not disappointed. I have all respect for people who don’t drink, as long as they don’t stop me from doing it.”

“No worries there. You obviously enjoyed the Sazerac, since you had three.”

“You kept count?” He smiled.

“Maybe. It was fun seeing you get tipsier as the evening went on.”

Alastair ran his fingers through his hair and pulled his coat tighter, looking shy and adorable, the slick bastard.

“Kiss me,” I said. I don’t know why that came out. It was supposed to be in my head. But we were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the Uber, and I guess I panicked.

But it worked out, because Alastair tugged on my coat sleeve and pulled me close, finding my lips with his as if he’d only been waiting for permission. And I got the whole butterflies in my stomach thing and the jolt of lightning as our mouths connected—and the kiss got deeper and more urgent before either of us could stop it.

A car horn honked.

“Shit,” Alastair muttered and pulled away, turning his head. “That’s our Uber.”

I stared at him, wondering what he’d done with my brain.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go.”