LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance

by Glenna Sinclair

  I expelled my breath in a haughty laugh. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  “I should introduce myself, Beauty,” he said, raking his hand through his dark hair before holding it out. “You’re going by Beauty Hart these days, aren’t you? Do you prefer Amanda?”

  “Beauty is fine,” I said, eyeing that proffered hand before fitting my own into it. “And you still haven’t introduced yourself.”

  “Daniel Shepard,” he said, gripping my hand in his. “But Dan’s fine.”

  I waited for some kind of explanation, some sort of insight as to why he knew my name before I gave it, how he knew I’d left college in Texas and wound up here in Washington state, but he only held my hand overly long before releasing it to swirl his drink—a dark alcohol over ice.

  “What are you doing here, Dan?” I finally asked, curiosity overcoming my mistrust. I took great pains not to know anyone—wherever I went. It made it that much easier to pull the car out of park and leave anytime I wanted.

  “I’m here to see if you want to flash your tits at strangers for cash for the rest of your life,” he said, rattling the ice cubes around in his glass. It was something of a shock to hear such a word come out of the mouth of someone who I’d thought was so refined.

  “Excuse me?”

  “This is a career that can’t last forever, you know,” he reasoned. “You peak in your late twenties, get pity tips in your thirties, and are something of a novelty in your forties. I know that seems like a long time away. When I was twenty-one like you, I thought thirty-two was a long way away, and yet here I am.”

  Dan held his glass aloft in an ironic cheer, but I ignored it and took a sip from my cocktail. How did he know my age? I fought to keep some kind of poker face in place. It was obvious that this man knew much more about me than I did about him. I didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction than he probably already had.

  “All I’m saying is that opportunities await you, if you’re willing to seize them,” he finished, draining his drink dry and signaling the bartender for another.

  “I don’t fuck customers, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said, disappointed when he didn’t flinch at my language. I realized that I was still nearly naked and hustled to retie my bikini top and secure the coin-dotted wrap around my hips. It wasn’t much armor against the man who apparently knew me better than he should, but it would have to do.

  “I’m implying no such thing,” he said, smoothly. “I’m talking about something else entirely. An opportunity far from this place of employment. Well, not too far, physically. The far I meant was more along the lines of culturally.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, shaking my head in consternation. I was tired of this verbal assault of banter I didn’t fully understand. It was past time for this fancy fellow to make his point.

  “I mean I’m here to offer you a job on behalf of my family’s company—Shepard Shipments,” Dan said, retrieving a business card from his suit jacket pocket and flicking it toward me. The paper Dan’s business card was printed on was thick and subtly textured, but besides his position—vice president—it told me nothing.

  “Never heard of it,” I said, flicking the card back at him.

  “Keep it,” he insisted, pushing it back in front of me. “In case you need to contact me in the future.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t have a phone at my disposal but closed it again, thinking better of it. He didn’t need to know any more about me than he already did. A sudden rush of irritation swept over me. Why was this guy wasting my time in the first place? Why was he being so creepy?

  “I think I’ve been a pretty good sport, don’t you?” I asked, keeping my voice sweet as my eyes narrowed. “But if you’re here to blow wind up my ass about shit that sounds too good to be true, you can fuck right off. I’m not gullible. I know when someone’s making fun of me.”

  “I’m not—” Dan cut himself off and sighed. “I’m sorry. Maybe I am going about this all wrong.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” he agreed. “All right. I know that you attended the University of Texas.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you didn’t finish,” he continued, casual, as if not finishing a college education wasn’t a big deal. If my parents had still been…if they could still…they would’ve killed me for leaving early, for not completing the degree they wanted for me.

  “That’s right,” I said, sticking my chin out. “Is there a problem with that? College isn’t for everyone, you know.”

  “I know,” he said, smiling. “I had to transfer no less than four times before I found the right fit for myself. So. At the University of Texas you took a business course. It was lower level—a general degree requirement—but you did quite well in it. Your professor—I don’t imagine you’d remember his name—took note.”

  I scoured my brain. It seemed like a million years had passed between college and now, even though, in reality, it had been just over a year. My time on the road, the various scrapes I’d gotten myself into and out of, and all the ways I’d had to figure out how to get money took precedence over any book education. Still, I could vaguely remember taking a business class—and actually enjoying the things I was learning.

  Well, as much as I could enjoy things anymore.

  “That professor is close to my brother, the President of Shepard Shipments,” Dan said, after I’d obviously gone too long without saying anything. “And he recommended to my brother that you’d make, at the very least, an excellent intern at the company.”

  I blinked several times. “Wait a minute,” I said, my nose for bullshit smelling something foul. “I left college more than a year ago. Surely there wouldn’t still be an internship available to me. You’ve had to have found someone else—maybe even multiple others. There’s no way that position would have been kept open for me.”

  “You’re correct,” Dan said. “That position is no longer open. However, another is opening up. One of our employees is retiring, and my brother, being my brother…”—a frown creased the space between Dan’s dark eyebrows—“… has still kept you in his mind, even after all this time.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to take that information. Why would a president of a big company still consider me for a position after I’d left school and done all I could to vanish from the face of the earth? Hadn’t there been other promising students who could be recommended for internships?

  “The thing is, this position that I’m offering you today isn’t going to be like the internship you would’ve been offered a year ago,” Dan said. “This position isn’t anything glamorous, but at least it’s a foot in the door. And maybe a step up from, oh, I don’t know, taking your clothes off for money and living in your car.”

  I pressed my lips together and looked down, embarrassed. I thought I was discreet about my living situation, always parking my car in different lots around town, protecting my privacy with sunshields and blankets. I never showed up to work dirty, finding different places to bathe. Yet, here was Dan Shepard, eagerly exposing my secrets as if they meant nothing at all. I could’ve maybe afforded a room somewhere, but I’d always felt more at home in my car. It was my one remaining physical tie to Texas, and it had gotten me through many things. I didn’t mind living in it.

  “The position comes with an advance,” Dan was saying, reaching into his suit jacket and withdrawing an envelope. “You’d obviously have to make an initial investment into your appearance, your living situation, your physical location. The company’s located in Seattle proper, and I can’t say the dress code is bikini friendly.”

  For not the first time, I squirmed, uncomfortable in my own skin in front of this man. This was my work uniform when I was at this bar, and it earned me my cash. Why did I feel self-conscious all of a sudden?

  “There’s plenty of money in here for a new start,” he said, sliding the envelope in front of me. “Like I said. This current
gig of yours isn’t going to last forever. You need to think about what you’re going to do when you’re ready to get over this bohemian blip of your life and get serious again.”

  The tone of Dan’s voice reeked of condescension, and it more than ruffled my feathers. Who was he that he could just waltz in here and tell me all about my life? He didn’t have a single clue about anything.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, standing up from the bar, eager to get myself away from whatever craziness had found its way to this establishment.

  “Keep the cash,” he urged. “You’re going to need it to get started at Shepard Shipments. You’ll need to buy business clothes. Shoes. Everything.”

  “I don't know who you think I am, but I don't take handouts,” I said, pushing the envelope back at Dan. “And I told you I'd think about your offer—not that I was accepting it.”

  Dan gave a low whistle. “A wise businesswoman already. Looks before she leaps. How’s this? If you won’t take what's in the envelope because I’m telling you to take it, how about I use it to pay for your services? You’re a good dancer, after all, and I have to say very attractive. Besides, I won’t be able to ask you for something like this once you start working for the company.”

  “If I start working for the company,” I corrected, as my face got hot. What was wrong with me? On a regular night, I would’ve done anything to dance for a customer like Dan. If he dressed nice, took care with his appearance and hygiene and the like, chances were that he would be willing to take care of me, too. He’d have the cash to spend on my inflated drinks or on tips if he decided to purchase a special dance from me. I’d be at his side the entire night, a leech with makeup, looking to see whether I could bleed him dry before he swerved his way home.

  So why was I so hesitant now? I didn’t know exactly what was in the envelope, but I knew it was cash. However, how much cash remained to be seen.

  “You’re taking the envelope,” Dan informed me, smirking. “But it’s up to you to decide if it’s a handout or if it’s for something you’ve earned.”

  I set my jaw and signaled to the bartender. “A dance,” I barked, and he went to go adjust the music.

  Dan raised an eyebrow. “Just one dance?” he asked.

  “One dance is all I need,” I shot back, whirling him in his chair until his back was against the bar and I was mere inches away from him, standing between his knees.

  The song started up, and I worked my way slowly into movement, grasping each of his knees with my hands, pushing them apart so I could wriggle between his thighs, pressing a knee against his crotch to remind him just who was in control.

  Both of Dan’s eyebrows were raised now, and some part of me was glad that he was paying attention, that I had command of the floor. All of the other customers sitting around the dinky little bar were watching my every move. I was the one in control.

  I untied my bikini with one hand and looped it around his neck while his eyes were preoccupied with the sudden sight of my breasts. Then I used it to drag his face down, a hair’s breadth away from my skin, before pushing him away again. The coins on my wrap rattled in time to the quick movements of my hips, and it wasn’t long until I untied that, as well, swinging the jingling fabric above my head to the cheers of other customers.

  Dan didn’t cheer. He just watched, a slight smile curving his mouth upward.

  I realized that I wanted to shock him out of that cool demeanor; I wanted to do something to give him a taste of the turmoil he’d introduced in my life tonight. I had no idea that, coming to work at the bar, I’d be offered a real job out of the blue—a real job and an envelope of money. It sounded too good to be true, and it probably was. Dan had said the job wasn’t glamorous, whatever that meant, but he’d ignited some dangerous flame of hope inside of me.

  Hope that, after all that I had wreaked ruin upon, after all the lives I’d affected, that maybe I’d someday have a happy life again.

  It was something I didn’t want. Something I hated to think about. I deserved this, shedding my clothes for strangers, letting them gaze upon the relative beauty of my outer appearance while I was the only one who understood just how ugly I was within.

  As the beat in the song swelled in a crescendo, I leaped into Dan’s lap, rocking his chair back against the bar and looping my arms around his neck for stability. I straddled his lap and squeezed my thighs around his waist, gyrating my hips, aware that I was only in my thong.

  Dan’s hands had initially grabbed my hips to make sure I didn’t fall off him in my sudden and acrobatic move, but now they traveled to my bare ass, his fingers slipping experimentally beneath the straps of my thong, seeing just what he could get away with before I slapped him away.

  For the right price, I’d let a man get away with far more than he thought he was going to.

  Something about the man between my thighs lit me on fire. Dan didn’t care that I was actually trying to make him uncomfortable. He seemed exceedingly at ease with me in his arms, his fingers trailing over my back, making me shudder and press my breasts into his chest.

  Of course, one part of him wasn’t at ease at all.

  A growing bulge in those nice trousers of his let me know that, in spite of his cool demeanor, I really was having a strong effect on him.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said into my ear so I could hear it over the music. “It has a mind of its own.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” I countered. “Happens to customers here all the time.”

  “I assure you, I’m feeling the opposite of bad right now,” he said, his hands finding my ass again and squeezing it. “I feel like I have to be breaking some rules right now.”

  “I’m the one who decides the rules,” I said, grinding against him in time to the music. “And you’ll know when you break one.”

  I got close to him—close enough to tell he’d recently brushed his teeth and to enjoy his taste in fine cologne—to make him lower his eyelids to half-mast, letting my lips graze ever so lightly against his.

  Then, the song finished.

  I hopped off, all business, and got dressed again as if nothing had transpired between us. I noticed, with some small amount of satisfaction, that Dan’s erection didn’t diminish in the slightest.

  “I’d advise you to swing by the trucker’s road stop on your way out of town,” I said, looking pointedly between his legs. “You can take a cold shower and wash off my perfume, if you’re going home to anything special.”

  “I’m not washing off a single thing,” Dan said, leering a bit. “And the special something I’m going home to tonight is the sweet memory of you. Hope you don’t mind that I’ll be thinking of you later.” He made a suggestive hand gesture and laughed at my blush.

  How had he turned this entire power dynamic back around to make me feel like the silly one? I thought that I’d had everything well in hand, but this man seemed not to mind that he was sporting a boner in a dump of a bar after just propositioning me to work for his company.

  “Well, Beauty,” he said, getting up and discreetly adjusting his pants, “you have my number. Keep the envelope. You’ve more than earned it. I look forward to seeing you in Seattle.”

  One last searing gaze and smirk and Dan walked out of the bar without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

  What arrogance. He’d gotten a lap dance from me, a person he wanted to hire, and then assumed that my mind was already made up as to whether I’d even work for him. He didn’t know the first thing about what was going through my head right now. I could take that money and move on, go someplace else, maybe even to Canada.

  Somewhere I wouldn’t be found.

  I’d drift away, out of the memory of the president and vice president of Shepard Shipments, and disappear, just as I’d aimed to do when I left Texas.

  And how long would I be able to live like that before I couldn’t rely on my outward beauty to feed me anymore? How long would it take for my inner ugliness to seep through my skin, mar my
face, and show the world exactly who I was? Something inside me knew that it would be much sooner than my forties.

  I took the envelope, cracked it open, and my eyes bugged out. It was more money than I’d made since I left college. More than a year of crawling along, degrading myself, and in a single dance, I’d made the most money I’d ever seen.

  Why did Shepard Shipments want me so badly—to track me in my ramblings across the country? Surely I couldn’t have stood out that much in my business class.

  In a rush of memory, I remembered a lecture I’d attended while I was still at school. It had been hard to concentrate. The desperation inside of me was reaching a fever point, and it had to have been only weeks or months until I decided I couldn’t do it anymore; I couldn’t go to my classes and pretend everything was all right any longer.

  But one thing stuck out in my mind, as clear as day. The professor for my business class had been a woman, not a man, as Dan had implied.

  Had there been some kind of mistake? Could I have misunderstood when Dan was talking about the professor being a friend of his brother?

  Had there been a connection at all?

  “You’re up on the stage again, Beauty,” the bartender said, jerking his chin at me. “Everyone’s waiting on you.”

  There was a gaggle of eager men around the stage, thirsty for a taste of what I’d given Dan.

  “They’re just going to have to wait,” I said, grabbing the envelope and business card and walking out the door.

  Dan had been right. My mind was already made up. I was going to Seattle—if only to unravel this mystery.

  Chapter 3

  Going without wearing normal clothes—namely, pantyhose—for more than a year meant the biggest adjustment for me, when I stood in downtown Seattle, eyeing the façade of the Shepard Shipments building, was trying to figure out the most ladylike way to pull my pantyhose out of my ass. I was early and uncertain of myself.

  The reflection of the girl in the glass doors was someone I didn’t really recognize anymore.

  Part of it was that I hadn’t really gotten a gander at myself in a while. It was tough to get a full-length view of yourself when you lived in a car.