by Sadie Grubor
The room goes dark once more and when the lights fade back up, the stage is clear.
The audience explodes in accolades.
"Damn, she's good," Redman says, breaking the silence at our table.
I can only nod in response.
She's captivating. Her stage presence commanding, charisma off the charts, and her heart shaped ass made my whole body rise to attention. Her voice is like a siren's call, a snake charmer's song. By the end of the performance, my chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, sweat dampening my forehead. I'm surprised I didn't blow in my pants like a teenage boy.
When the sounds of another song begin to play, I turn my whole body in anticipation. But this time, it's a brunette with short hair wearing a bunch of balloons. The audience near the stage is prepared and begins popping the balloons as she walks to a slinky beat at the edge of the stage. She playfully scolds them as they do and the crowd eats the shit up.
"This is a small performance, allowing time to set up the next. As I said, we had to do some last minute changes," Thom says in a rush.
"No, this is good for audience interaction." Redman nods to Thom.
Thom relaxes at the positive response.
Glancing to Redman, the smile he wears proves he meant it.
The moment the words, "Come here big boy," purr through the air, I know it's her. A spotlight casts a silvery glow around her. She sits backward in a chair, singing and moving provocatively. Slowly, she removes a military inspired short jacket and gloves. When the stage lights go up, I can't focus on the backups. Her voice is a spell casting over my mind and body.
Suddenly, she shoves the chair to the floor and walks off the stage, into the crowd. A bump and grind plays while she moves around the crowd, flirting with both men and women.
She sashays her gorgeous ass toward us and begins singing again. She removes more items of clothing until she stands in a camo bra-like top and high-waist camo underwear.
At our table, she puts her finger on the edge and drags it over before reaching out and taking my half-filled glass. She tosses it back and slams it on the table, growling about dirty boys. With that, she crawls onto the table, standing center before stepping over Redman's head onto a small black stage I hadn't noticed. Against the large gilded mirror, she slides up and down the surface asking…no, begging, for a spanking. In those damn pants leaving half her ass cheeks on display, my palm burns to comply. But the mirror flips and she disappears.
Swallowing hard, I reach for my glass to ease my dry mouth and cool my rising temperature. Then I remember she drained it. Reaching over, I take Xavier's beer and chug it.
"Hey, fucker! I was drinking that," he complains.
"Get another," I gasp, and close my eyes, trying to mentally will my dick to stand down.
The familiar sound of Jeff Beck's guitar riffs fill the air and the words "I put a spell on you" wrap around my neck, slide down my chest, and stroke my cock to life again.
Opening my eyes, I find her at the mirror behind Redman once more. This time, in a simple, slinky black dress with a hip-high slit and long, white gloves.
Slipping down, she sits on the small stage next to Redman and caresses his head. Turning his face to hers, she runs one satin covered finger across his face.
A fire roars to life inside me, wanting to rip her fucking hands off him. What the fuck?
The shock from the jealousy and possessiveness boiling inside of me replaces the lust. I sit, scowling, when she lies on the little stage and slips off to the floor behind me. Passing by me as if I'm not right here, she stops to kiss Thom on the forehead before moving to the big stage for her finish. The urge to slap the crimson lip stains from Thom's face sends another wave of shock through me.
Jesus, I'm acting like…like a…fuck, I'm acting like Christopher.
Back on stage, she unzips the back of her dress to the top of her ass. Jesus, I want to sink my teeth into her ass. I could spend days with that ass. And that voice. Christ, she hardens my dick and nipples in one note.
As she lets the dress drop, she pulls the corner of a velvet curtain around her body. Singing the final lust inducing note, she drops the curtain with her back to us and twists at the waist, only revealing her ass and a little side boob. Surprisingly, it’s more intoxicating than any full frontal nudity has ever been. This is a woman who holds power, enough to own me—cock, heart, and soul.
The thought clears my lust induced haze. There's no way another fucking woman is going to own my heart and soul. Not again. I'm not some fool who will let the same shit happen to me twice.
Grabbing my refreshed drink, I chug.
"Amazing, right?" Redman practically bounces in excitement. "This place is going to be a fucking gold mine. I'm right, right?" He looks to Xavier for reassurance.
"I wish I'd found the place first." Xavier chugs his replacement beer.
"I'm glad you liked the show." Thom stands from the booth. "Redman, we will talk later, yes?"
"Definitely," Redman puts his hand out and they shake. "I am one hundred percent in on this, my man." Satisfaction pours off him in waves.
"I'm relieved to hear it." Thom sighs in relief.
"Why relieved?" Red scrunches up his face.
"Well, when we had to change everything, I thought maybe you would be turned off—”
"Fuck no. Don't get me wrong, Thom, Jazzmin is great, but I doubt she’ll stay on very long after you sell. It's a relief to see the show will be just as amazing without her." Redman grins. "As a matter of fact, let's just get this worked out now."
"I should get going," Xavier says, sliding from the booth. "My mom is bringing the girls to my place tomorrow for a few days."
"Yeah, and I've got one hell of a day coming up with this singing show bullshit." I stand.
Redman slips out last and gives Xavier a one-armed hug.
"I'll talk to you later. Tell the girls Uncle Red says hello." Releasing Xavier, Redman pulls me in for a hug as well. "Don't be a stranger, man. Give me a call. We can hit this place again while you're in town. The show changes weekly, but I also have some ideas and I'd like to run them by you guys."
"Sure thing." I pat his back.
Stepping back from each other, I catch sight of some of the performers mingling with the crowd. My eyes suddenly have a mind of their own, scanning for her. Then I drop my gaze lower, looking for her ass. My heart and soul are off limits, but she can own my cock for a night.
Redman leaves us to see about his business and Xavier bumps me with his elbow.
"Yeah?" My eyes never stop searching.
"You ready or…what the fuck are you looking for?"
"Nothing." I shrug, but keep looking. "Just checking the place out."
"Yeah, okay. Well, I'm outta here."
I nod and mean to follow him, but I stay in my spot, searching instead. I shake off the weird need to search her out and looking around for Xavier. Realizing he’s nowhere to be found, I send a text to my driver and stop by the bar for one more drink before I head for the exit.
Outside, my car sits at the curb, the driver waiting as I sign some autographs. While taking some pictures with fans, two women walking by catch my attention.
"Did you even realize who was at that table?" The one with long, dark, wavy hair laughs. "I mean, let's just for a minute acknowledge that you just sang to two of the members from Corrosive Velocity and Jackson Shaw! Like, from The Forgotten, Jackson Shaw."
"Sid, keep it down." The other hisses so low, I'm almost unable to hear her.
Realizing this is my snake charmer, I slip into autopilot with the gathering fans: nod, smile, and sign.
"You've got to be more excited. I mean, the man is seven feet of lickable body graffiti. Whew! I'd climb his beanstalk any day."
I cover my laugh with a cough, not wanting to give away my eavesdropping. This Sid girl is fucking hilarious.
"You're awful." My snake charmer laughs.
"No, I'm horny. With the lack of horizontal act
ion in my life, I'm worked up from watching you and the girls. Then for the fates to put rock star hotness just a few feet away and not one of them attainable…it's just not fair," she sighs heavily. "I don’t know how you could slink around their table and not be a big, sloppy, wet mess."
"Eww, gross, Sid." Her voice rises and the musical quality of the laugh following her words stirs my body to life.
Deciding it's time to formally introduce myself, I try to step around the fans. But they cram in tight and a bus rolls to a stop in front of them.
Fuck!
"What I wouldn't give to have your body!" the brunette exclaims, stepping onto the bus.
The comment brings my attention to her figure. Huh, there's nothing wrong with her. She's got amazing curves. Hell, she's Xavier's wet dream. It would be pure testosterone driven desire.
The blonde steps up behind her, scolding her for the comment. I continue weaving through the crowd, but by the time I get close enough, the bus is already down the street.
Sam, my driver, appears, moving in next to me. He herds the crowd and gives me a questioning look before motioning toward the car. Nodding, I let him guide me into the anonymity of the dark backseat.
Tonight, I'd go back to the hotel, but his wasn't the end of things. My snake charmer needs a lesson on how to sing my name while on her back beneath me.
Liza
"I'm serious, Sid, stop being so self-deprecating. There is nothing wrong with your body."
Sid snorts. "Please, tell me another one."
"I'm not spending our last night arguing with you." Sighing, I put my head back against the bus window.
"Okay, okay." Sid raises her hands in surrender.
The apartment is dark when we arrive, as it should be at this time in the morning. While I check on Lucas and Kelvin, Sid gets ready for bed. She’s leaving in the morning for the airport, and all I want is for her stay.
"Goodbye, Aunt Sid!" Lucas calls out as the taxi pulls away from the curb. Kelvin and I stand behind him, waving until the car rounds a bend and out of sight.
"Alright, we need to get a move on the day." Placing my hand on Lucas' shoulder, he turns and looks up at me.
"Do I have to clean my room right now? Brandon and Sean are biking over to the park. Can't I go with them instead?" he pleads as we walk into the apartment building.
I grab yesterday's mail from our box before we climb the stairs to the second floor.
"You can go after you've cleaned up the disaster." I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. "Do you know I found what I think used to be pizza in your dirty laundry bag?"
"Did you leave it there?" he asks over his shoulder, entering our apartment.
"Of course not!" He really thinks I'd leave that nastiness in his room?
"Then it's cleaned up already. Can I go to the park?"
Kelvin laughs from behind me.
Turning toward Kelvin, who’s leaning against the breakfast bar, I glare. "Don't encourage him." Then I twist back to my too-smart-for-his-own-good son. "Lucas, get your butt in your room and clean it."
"Fine," he growls, stomping off.
"I want all the cups and plates out of there and washed," I call after him.
His door slams.
"I’m going to beat his ass." Grumbling, I walk into the small kitchen, toss the mail onto the counter, and begin washing the breakfast dishes.
"You always say that." Kelvin hops up onto the breakfast bar, watching me at the sink.
"I know, but one of these days I am going to let him have it."
"Leave him alone. He's a good kid, acting like a kid."
Sighing, I drop my shoulders and turn to look at my brother.
"I wish you would act like a kid instead of trying to grow up so fast."
"Don't start again." He slides from his seat on the counter. "I already have a couple interviews lined up for better jobs and I'm going to take the test required by the city to try to get a job with them."
"Kel—”
"Liza, that's enough!" He turns to me with hard eyes. "You've taken care of me, of everything, for long enough. I want to take care of myself. I want you to be able to worry less and get a job better than walking around a stage naked."
Though I know he didn't mean it to, that hurt. I don't hate what I do. Performing is something I enjoy—love, even. I hadn't planned to do burlesque or cabaret style performances.
Having seen me flinch from his comment, Kelvin closes the distance between us in two large steps. He wraps me up in his arms, holding me tight, his chin resting on my head. It’s hard to believe he's so much taller than me now that he's an adult.
"I didn't mean it like that, sis. I'm sorry." He rocks us. "You know I didn't mean it like that, don't you?" Pulling out of the embrace, he looks down, worry creasing his forehead.
I pat his side. "I know. I just get a little defensive about it. I don't hate what I do and it's better than a lot of other jobs I could be doing."
"Liza, you're so much better than that club. I wish you would realize it and do something about it." He gives another firm squeeze before ultimately releasing me. "I'm going to go clean up my room before you threaten to beat my ass next."
"Ha-ha." I shake my head.
“If you ever get the chance for more, just promise me you’ll take it.” He grins, retreating to his bedroom.
Shrugging, I go back to the sink, wash the dishes, wipe down counters, and fold the pullout bed back into a couch. Then, the real cleaning begins. I have a lot to get done before this afternoon.
With the apartment in better order and Lucas finally finished scrubbing some sticky brown substance from his bedroom carpet, he’s dressed for soccer practice and slipping on tennis shoes while he waits impatiently by the door.
"If I'm late again, Coach is going to make me run laps." Jesus, he's only nine and I want to slap the teen out of his mouth.
"Hey, you’re the reason you were late last week, not me," I remind him. "When I say go straight to practice, that doesn't mean stop by Sean's house and wait for him so you guys can be late together."
Lucas opens the door, we step into the hallway, and I lock the door behind us.
"We didn't plan on being late," he argues, his voice lowering. "He couldn't find any socks, so I ran back here and got him some of mine."
Before he could push the button for the elevator, I grab him and pull him into a hug. "You're amazing, you know that?"
Lucas’ best friend since Kindergarten, Sean, lives with his disabled grandmother, Mrs. Johnson. She tries her best, but can barely take care of herself. His father is just as MIA as Lucas', but Sean doesn’t have a mom. Well, he does, technically, but she only shows up to collect her monthly check, get Sean's hopes up that she is sticking around this time, and get whatever she can from her ill mother. So, when Lucas says Sean couldn't find clean socks, that probably means the only pairs he has are now lost or beyond dirty.
"I'm going to be late." He pulls away. "And don't hug and kiss me when we get to the field." His scowl would be more convincing if there wasn't a hint of a smile on his lips.
"We should invite Sean to stay over," I say as we step into the elevator.
"Cool." Lucas shrugs, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
We didn't exactly have a lot, but both Kelvin and I try to help Sean out as much as we can. And since it’s getting closer to the end of the month, I’m sure Mrs. Johnson is struggling. I'd have to make sure Lucas helps him pack most of his clothes—dirty and clean, so I can wash them while he’s distracted with video games.
Cutting it close, we run the final block to the park and make it just in time.
"See," I gasp for air, "just in time."
Before he can reply, I grab his head between both my hands and kiss his forehead. He swats at me.
"Mom," he whines. "What did I say about the kissing?!" Pulling away, he runs across the field, his green duffle bag bouncing against his back.
"Uncle Kelvin will be here by the end of practic
e," I shout after him.
Turning and jogging backward, he gives me two thumbs up.
His coach catches my attention with a wave, so I wave back. Coach Stan and his wife—the team mom—keep an excellent eye on the kids during practices. Knowing most of them come from this neighborhood of poor parenting and/or families who sometimes have two jobs just to cover expenses, they do their best to keep the boys all accounted for.
With a deep breath, I rush for the bus stop to run my afternoon errands and check in on Mrs. Johnson. When I finally arrive back home, I start dinner.
Chapter Four
Jackson
The ringing phone interrupts my velvety lace dreams of my snake charmer. Then comes voices combined with a knock on the bedroom door. I guess the day is starting whether I want it to or not.
"What?" Groaning, I sit up on the side of the bed.
"Jackson," Julia's voice is muffled by the closed door, "we need to get moving to the arena."
"What?" I mumble from the bed.
She begins talking through the door—again.
"Julia, open the damn door."
Julia enters the room. "Jacks—”
Having stood to stretch, I twist to see why she stopped speaking.
Julia's eyes travel up and down my body twice, her mouth hanging open.
I look down my body to make sure everything is in order. I'm wearing a pair of shorts, sans morning wood, so all is good. Turning back toward Julia, she holds a hand over her face, her cheeks flush.
"Christ, girl, I'm not naked." Chuckling, I shake my head.
"Sorry." She reddens further.
"No reason to be sorry." Scratching at the overgrown hair on my head, I walk toward her. "What's going on today?"
Julia doesn’t speak until I pass by and stand at a breakfast cart.
"Yes, today, the schedule." She finally collects herself. "You need to be at the arena this morning. The Morning Show will be there to interview the judges."
Nodding my acknowledgment, I sit down at the breakfast bar and start in on egg whites, pancakes, and hash browns covered in ketchup.
