by Anne Conley
“Have you ever thought about going back to it, seriously?” He asked her after a while.
She shook her head. “No. I’m too old, now. I’m twenty-six, and I haven’t trained seriously since I was eighteen. I wouldn’t be able to get into any good troupes or conservatories. I wouldn’t be able to afford it.”
“There’s got to be something else you could do.”
She turned to look at him. “Why?”
He looked at her earnestly. “You can’t expect to do this much longer. What about your soul?”
Heather bristled at the judgment coming from yet another complete stranger, who assumed he knew more about her than she did. “What about it? Are you here to tell me that I’m going to Hell for propagating the sins of the flesh?” It was an argument she had heard many times, and sadly, she hadn't seen it coming from this guy. Granted, he didn't seem to be into this scene…but he didn't seem like a Bible-thumper, either. Anger flared in her cheeks, while indignation snuffed the heat Uri kindled in her belly.
He shrugged. “Well, not in those words, no. But there’s got to be something else you’re destined to do.”
She pulled the money out of her g-string and handed it back to him. “Thank you for your interest, but I think we’re done here.”
“Keep it.” He said, looking at Heather and not the money. There was something in his eyes still, some kindness that Heather appreciated but didn't feel the need to explore.
Stuffing the money back into her g-string, she grabbed her shoes and walked out the doorway only to be immediately assaulted by the odor of burnt matches.
Chapter 4
Caught up in her fury at Uri in room two, she barely registered the smell before she ran straight into a rock hard chest. Massive hands came up to her upper arms to hold her steady, preventing her from falling backwards. Heather looked up into the cold black eyes of the Mediterranean client who had showered her earlier with twenty dollar bills.
She managed a smile. “Hello there, Mister tall, dark, and handsome.”
He grinned at her, but his eyes remained cold, sending a chill down her spine. “Fancy a room?” He steered her back into room two, which she had just vacated.
“But there’s…” She stopped, stunned, when they entered the empty room. Uri had gone already, and she hadn’t seen him leave.
The black-haired man sat in the recently vacated chair. “I’m not going to hum Tchaikovsky to you. I just want to see what you do so well.”
She was taken aback. He'd obviously been listening at the curtain that separated room two from the hallway, but she managed to keep her wits about her. Somebody usually escorted the men back here. They weren't allowed to just wander, listening at the curtains. Something about this whole night was managing to completely disturb her.
“Um…Sure. It’s twenty-five dollars a dance.” He eyeballed the three one-hundred dollar bills in her g-string before reaching into his wallet and pulling out five one-hundred dollar bills. She tried not to roll her eyes at the obvious pissing contest between these guys as she took the money. She wondered if they knew each other.
“I won’t lecture you, either. I just need to know the rules. What am I not allowed to do to you?” He leered at her as he spoke.
This was something she could handle. She was relieved at the normalcy of the man, even if he was giving off disturbing vibes. “No touching the coochie area and no kissing on the lips.”
He tossed her a charming smile, and Heather wondered what this guy was doing here. Surely he didn't have to spend so much money picking up women in regular bars. “Do you take everything off?”
“If you would like me to.” She started moving as she spoke, anxious to get the songs started. It looked like she was going to be in this room all night long.
“I would definitely like you to.” A lecherous smile graced his lips, sending a chill through her. She found herself missing the warmth of the blond one.
Heather shrugged off her clothes and began dancing. She writhed on his lap, as his hands slowly roamed over her body, not straying into forbidden territory. His fingers and palms were cold, but the shivers that they sent through her body weren’t entirely unpleasant. When she turned around and danced with her back to him, his hands came around to tweak her nipples, eliciting an involuntary gasp from her.
“You are good with your hands.” She knew that the clients liked the compliments. It made them tip better, usually, not that she needed to worry about that with this guy.
Her hands were on the sides of the chair he was sitting in, holding herself up, while she gyrated above him, when he laid a kiss on her shoulder. His mouth was cold even.
“Mmm…you taste good.”
“Thanks.”
She continued her undulations around him, before spreading his legs and going to her knees. She lowered her mouth to his lap and did a fluttering thing with her lips that she had learned from Dusty. Judging from the man’s reaction, he enjoyed it.
“You are very good at your job, Heaven.”
The sound of his voice made goosebumps break out across Heather's skin. She looked up at him, before rising to continue writhing in his lap. “Thanks.”
“I have a different proposition for you.” He said, pulling her into his lap, so he could fondle her breasts and kiss her shoulders. She playfully ran her fingers through his silky hair.
Flashing a killer smile, she said, “Nothing illegal, I hope.” She really did hope so. Heather couldn’t stand the propositions of prostitution. Men were men, but it still pissed her off.
“Nothing illegal. I am in need of a personal assistant.”
She froze briefly, before continuing to twirl his hair in her fingertips. “Personal assistant?”
“Someone to keep track of appointments, make travel arrangements, answer my phone, things like that. Nothing too taxing.” His mouth continued to meander across her shoulders, while his hands continued to stroke her breasts, and Heather's body was reacting to his touch in a way that completely belied her discomfort at his words.
“No, thank you. I love my job.” She said, finally.
“It pays better than this job, even on a good night.” He had stopped kissing her shoulders, but was running his tongue down her collarbone, planting open-mouthed kisses along the way. “You taste like Heaven. Did you know that?”
“No. I didn’t,” she breathed huskily. As good at her job as she was, Heather was only half-acting here. Moisture pooled between her legs, and her nipples were standing at attention under his manipulations. This man was taking her breath away, and she was honestly tempted to hear more about this ‘job,’ even if it probably was a not-so-discreet moniker for a mistress.
Thinking she needed to change the subject, Heather asked him, “What’s your name?”
“You can call me Damien.”
“I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?”
“Just the one time, Heaven.” He breathed her stage name, as if it were an elixir to taste on his tongue. His fingertips brushed her bare shoulders, sending the goosebumps popping over her skin again. "You are a good girl, aren't you, Heaven?"
She wasn't sure what to say to that. His voice, hoarse with desire, made her legs tremble in its intensity. "But you obviously have a naughty side, too, don't you?" His hands, which had trailed feather light caresses down her sides, were stroking her thighs, and Heather's breaths came in ragged gasps.
Abruptly, Damian stopped his ministrations on Heather, and gently moved her off his lap.
“I’m afraid I must leave, for tonight. May I call you?” He asked politely.
Not sure what had just happened, Heather shook her head slowly, as if in a daze. “I’m afraid not. It’s against policy. No outside contact with clients. I’m sorry.”
“Pity.” He looked into her eyes, with his cold black orbs, and Heather shivered slightly. “I’ll be back. Give my proposition some thought, would you?”
“No, Damian. I don’t want to be your personal assistant.” Hea
ther found herself having to force the words out of her mouth, almost against her will. What in the world was wrong with her tonight?
He smirked at her. “Just think about it.” And he walked through the curtain.
Heather breathed a sigh of relief and went back to the dressing room to freshen up for her next stage dance.
Once there, she collapsed in her chair, and rested her head in her hands, sighing loudly.
“That bad? I thought you did pretty well tonight.” Mama’s voice came from behind her.
Heather looked up to see the gray-headed matron looking at her with one eyebrow raised in question. She looked more like a kind granny than the strip-club owner she was.
“Just weird. Two gorgeous men, shoveling money at me. One with absolutely no reaction to my dancing whatsoever, and the other practically wants me to move in with him.”
“Neither of them tried anything kinky?” Mama asked.
“Nope. Just a verbal proposition to become a ‘personal assistant.’ The other one kept hinting at the sinful nature of my work.”
Mama laughed. “Better you than me. I’d probably have slugged one or both of them. Now, get yourself rested, lock up your money, and get your ass back on stage and make me some money.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Chapter 5
He was uncomfortable with this strange feeling of guilt he was experiencing. Uri couldn't shake the belief that he'd made Heather mad last night, and he felt bad about it. He actually wanted to apologize to her, and that was definitely a foreign emotion for him. Running his hand through his hair, he told himself to be patient. His task would be harder this time, for a multitude of reasons, the greatest of which was he still had no idea what he was doing with her.
Except he knew that something was different about this one. He'd felt something foreign stirring last night when she danced for him. It was as if the Boss had laid his hand over both of them and cast them together somehow. But that wasn't what the Boss did, and he'd never experienced the stirring that he'd felt last night. He didn't know anything, anymore, except that he was weary of all this. He hated to admit it, but he was tired. Uri had been doing this for so long, that he could almost predict each target's reaction to him. Now that he had something different to deal with, he didn't like it.
Uri knew Heather would be at the park to walk the thing that was known as a dog these days, so he was waiting for her in the rose garden when she strolled by. The tiny rat ran up to him, shaking spastically and wagging its entire body. He bent over and stroked his fur.
“Taco!” Heather walked over to the dog, but stopped short when she realized who was petting him. “Oh! Hi there.” Uri watched her guard go up at the recognition of him.
“Hello, Heaven.” He said to her, emphasizing the name, hoping she would give him her real name, even though he already knew it. He could smell her here, without all the other competing odors, and his nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled deeply of her aroma. Surprisingly, the odors of the night before didn't cling to her like they did to him. She smelled fresh and astonishingly pure, considering her profession. Uri had learned to trust his senses and tried to tell himself to not judge her.
“You live around here?” Her body was tense. She hadn’t come any closer, but he had felt her coming, and he could feel her still. His body buzzed with an intense awareness. The awareness was so powerful, his body felt as if it were almost aflame with the heat of her being near.
“Yes.” He answered vaguely. “Do you?”
“Yes.” She answered equally as noncommittally.
They stood there, awkwardly together, for a minute or two, when finally Heather said, “You aren’t going to preach to me any more, are you? Because if you are, I’m not going to invite you to walk with us.”
He laughed, “No more lectures. I promise. In fact, I want to apologize for last night. I didn't mean to anger you." He was hopeful, another strange emotion. He wondered what was going on with him. He suddenly felt so human around this woman, and he knew from experience that everything happened for a reason. He just hated being left in the dark.
“Okay. Apology accepted. Come on. This is the only exercise Taco gets, and he’s starting to put on a spare doughnut.” She started walking, and Uri walked next to her, inhaling her scent again. She smelled like clouds after a spring rain.
Looking around him, Uri said, “This park is beautiful. It’s the only really pretty thing I’ve found about this city.”
“There’s other pretty stuff here, but it’s all man made. Sculpture gardens, stuff like that. I like it here, because it seems more natural, even though it’s all man-made, too.”
“I agree. This is the closest to nature you’re going to get here, I’d imagine.”
“Well, there’s the bayou, but most of it is filled with garbage. Not very pretty. The closest to nature you’re liable to get is Clear Lake, and that’s almost an hour away.”
“I’ll have to check that out.” Uri mused. He would check it out. This place was depressing, with all of the highways and tall buildings.
“So, Uri. Where are you from?”
He shrugged, unwilling to answer her question yet. “I’ve lived all over. Sort of a rambling man. How about you?”
“I’ve lived here my whole life." As if she didn't want to talk about herself, she turned the topic back to him. "What’s your favorite place that you’ve lived?”
He thought for a while, walking next to her. “Have you read much Emerson?”
“As in Ralph Waldo?” She teased him.
“Yes. I lived for a brief time in Concord. Walden Pond is beautiful. It was probably my favorite.”
She looked at him, surprise registering in her exquisite green eyes, that looked like pools of molten jade, Uri decided. “You lived there?”
He looked at her squarely, hoping to draw out her trust. It would make this so much easier “Yes. It was lovely. Simple. Close to God.”
“So, you buy into the whole transcendental theory? I didn’t get that impression last night.”
“I don’t buy into the whole theory of transcendentalism, but Emerson had the right idea. I know that the closer to nature you are, the closer to God you are.”
Heather harrumphed at him.
“What?” he asked, innocently.
She stopped walking and turned to face him, her clear green eyes suddenly serious. “Look, Uri. You seem like a really nice guy. But I don’t date clients. So, I’m going to go home.”
For some reason, Uri felt disappointed. He could tell that she was leery of him, nervous around him, but he had thought that he was breaking through the veneer.
“I don’t want to date you. I just wanted to talk to you.” He said, instead of all that he was supposed to say. Not that he knew what he was supposed to say.
“Well, I’m sorry. We can’t do that either. It’s a club policy that we don’t have outside contact with clients, and it’s a good policy.” She said it with finality.
“Yes, it is, I suppose.” At least he knew now that she probably wouldn’t be seeing him outside of the club either.
Inside his head, he was screaming, “But I’m Uriel! I’m supposed to lead you to your destiny!”
Instead, he watched her walk away, a strange sadness gripping his heart.
Chapter 6
Uri asked to meet with the Boss today, so here he was at downtown diner of the Boss’s choosing. He was sitting in a back booth, waiting, as the waitress came up to bring him a menu.
“You waiting on someone, Hon?” She asked around a mouthful of gum.
“Yes. Thank you.”
As soon as she left, the Boss appeared in the booth across from Uri, wearing a canary yellow zoot suit with a skinny red tie, startling Uri, who stifled a smirk at His appearance. The Boss didn’t go out in human form very often, but when He did, He liked to think He was making an impression. Although in this part of town, people tended to embrace individuality, so He didn't stand out too much. Uri preferred H
is natural state.
“How are you Uriel?”
“I’m blessed, as usual. And you?”
“Couldn’t be better. How’s your assignment coming?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Uri fidgeted with the napkin dispenser sitting on the table. “Women these days don’t trust strange men. There’s no faith. I don’t know how to get her to talk to me, and I'm not sure what to say to her.”
“This isn’t your first rodeo, Uriel.” Colloquialisms made The Boss happy, and Uri caught himself smiling indulgently.
“I know, but for some reason, this one’s really hard. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with her. She’s a stripper, for goodness’ sake! What is her destiny? She’s a superb classical dancer, but she doesn’t think she can do that, and frankly, I think I’m barking up the wrong tree there, anyway.”
The Boss studied him, silently. The waitress came to take their order, and Uri ordered a short stack of blueberry pancakes, while the Boss declined anything to eat.
After the waitress left, He looked at Uri. "She's different from the others, you'll agree?"
Uri nodded, as he ignored the flash of heat at the memory of Heather dancing. He felt something around her that was so totally foreign to him. Uri wasn't supposed to feel, he just followed orders.
The Boss's eyes roamed the diner before resting on Uri. "You've sacrificed for me, Uriel."
"No, I haven't. It's the nature of the job. I've only done what you've created me to do, Father."
"Yet, you haven't really lived your life, you've only done my will. That takes sacrifice." Uri was silent, studying Him, looking for some sort of clue to the answers he was seeking. “You’ve been working for me a long time.”
Swallowing hard, Uri nodded again, a slight trepidation tingeing his limbs.
“I appreciate the job you have done for all of us, but aren’t you tired?”
Shocked at the question, Uri replied defensively, “Aren’t you?”
The Boss laughed, a deep belly-laugh filled with mirth.
