My Soul to Play (Games People Play Book 2)

by Robin Roseau

  I growled at her. She only laughed again.

  "Or I suppose you could ask Evaline if there's another way to bribe her for your favor."

  I stared at the little woman for a good thirty seconds then swore. "I hate you," I added. She laughed again and pointed at the pole.

  * * * *

  Karen worked me hard, and I was sweating long before she declared me, "Ready as you're going to be."

  I didn't think I was very ready. I knew I was going to make a fool out of myself tonight. The thought filled me with dread. I only hoped this never got back to the guys at the station. I'd never, ever live it down.

  But then I thought of Rachel, sweet, innocent, naïve Rachel. And I thought of Beth. Inwardly, I swore at the demon. But I'd do what I had to do.

  "We should clean up before dinner," Karen said.

  "I didn't bring anything to change into."

  "We have robes," she said. "Come on."

  The downstairs ladies room was more than a pub bathroom. There were showers and lockers, just like at a health club. Karen helped me grab a couple of towels and a fresh, white, fluffy robe. When we got to the lockers, I saw they had names on them. What surprised me was one that said, "Lacey" on it.

  "That must be yours," Karen said. "You're the only Lacey we have."

  "Are you sure?"

  "And there's no lock," she added.

  I opened the locker and discovered it wasn't empty. I stared at the contents. Oh, it wasn't much. But there was a lock waiting for me, a little tag attached to the hasp with the combination.

  That wasn't the real surprise. I found a pair of black dance tights, a lacey bra -- not at all my style -- and a warm up jacket. Underneath was a pair of dance slippers. Everything looked new. There was an envelope propped up in front of all of it with my name, hand written but in an elegant script. Karen stepped up to my side while I was staring at everything, leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment, then reached in and grabbed the envelope. She handed it to me and stepped away.

  Hello, Teigan,

  I noticed you didn't bring a change. These should do. I believe you will find they are in your size.

  Evaline

  * * * *

  I couldn't recall the last time I'd dressed in such feminine clothing. I finally turned around to see Karen watching me. "You've got great legs," she said.

  "Oh, please," I snorted. "I'm a total tomboy."

  "You're a tomboy with great legs," she said with a grin. "You look good."

  "This-" and I gestured at myself, "-isn't at all me."

  "It is tonight," she countered. "If you relax, the clothes will help you get into character. Maybe yesterday you were a cop. And maybe tomorrow you're a cop. But tonight you're a dancer. Think of it as an acting role."

  "I can't act."

  "Think of it as undercover."

  "If my captain tried to get me to go undercover like this-" I started to say.

  "Are you a good cop?" Karen interrupted. "I bet you are." I shrugged. "And I bet if they needed someone to go undercover as a dancer to catch a murderer or something, you'd do what you needed to do."

  I stared. "Undercover."

  Karen smiled and nodded.

  "As a dancer."

  Her smile turned into a grin, and she nodded again. "A beginning dancer. Or maybe you're not a beginning dancer. Maybe you're someone who had this as a fantasy, and for one night you're living out your fantasy. Maybe that's your cover story."

  I stared a moment longer then offered my own nod. "Undercover," I declared.

  "Right," she agreed. "Undercover."

  * * * *

  Upstairs there was a small dining room for the dancers and staff. It was there I met some of the other dancers tonight, the ones who came to dinner. Some of the guys flirted with Karen, calling her Naomi. Some of the guys flirted with some of the other guys. And a couple made an effort to chat me up.

  I acted shy.

  Karen disappeared for a few minutes then returned without explanation. At the time I thought it was a simple call of nature.

  As it grew closer to show time, I actually grew calmer. Assuming that the demon decided I had done my best, even if my best was as pitiful as I was sure it would be, the only real damage would be to my pride. I could set my pride aside if it meant I'd be allowed to speak with Rachel.

  She needed me, after all. To protect her.

  I met a mousy-looking woman who went by the name of Poppy. It turned out she was the stage manager for the club. At 7:30, she gathered everyone's attention and read her notes, managed by an overstuffed clipboard. She read the dance order for the first set; she didn't mention my name. I didn't ask. If they forgot about me, I was more than happy with that.

  They didn't forget about me. She looked directly at me. "Lacey, Evaline wants you to join her in the main room. You'll watch the first set from out there."

  * * * *

  The room was filled with woman and a very small number of men. I went unnoticed for only a few seconds as I scanned the room, wondering where to find the demon. But then a few heads turned in my direction. Those heads were attached to bodies, and some of those bodies nudged nearby companions before gesturing in my direction.

  Why was I suddenly the center of attention?

  I made my way around the room, aware there were eyes following my progress. But rather than me finding the demon, she found me, appearing in my path. She smiled, and she looked awfully pleased with herself.

  "I hate you, you know," I said. She shouldn't have been able to hear my words over the noise, but her smile broadened, and she mouthed the words, "I know." But she took my arm and drew me to a table right in front of the stage. I imagined it was the best seat in the house.

  Once we had our seats, she gestured. A moment later, a coke appeared in front of me, the delivering waitress disappearing before I could thank her. Evaline had something frothier in front of her. I took a gulp before leaning close to the demon.

  "Why are people looking at me?"

  "You're wearing dance tights and slippers. They logically arrive at a conclusion as to your role here tonight."

  "So?"

  She shrugged, not explaining further. I paused then leaned closer.

  "Please don't make me do this."

  "I thought you would be interested," she said. "You can see the other performances."

  "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

  She appeared to ignore my request. Instead she asked, "Did you like Naomi?"

  "She's very sweet," I replied.

  "If I told you I was going to introduce you to one of my dancers, would you have envisioned her?"

  "No. Well, physically yes. But no." I paused. "Two meals. Two feasts. One on Friday as promised and another next month at the start of my next long weekend."

  She cocked her head as she looked at me, carrying a gentle smile the entire time. "Can you guess why I will decline your offer?"

  "Because you want me to abase myself."

  Her smile faded slightly. She drank from her drink then very precisely set it back onto the table. "Is that what you think I ask my dancers to do? Abase themselves? Is that what you expect to watch Naomi do?"

  The way she looked at me, I thought I had failed some test. Furthermore, I was embarrassed I had failed her test. I looked down at my hands, cradling my coke.

  "Why are you making me do this?"

  "Are you going to do your best to impress me?"

  "You won't be remotely impressed," I replied. "We both know that."

  "All right. Are you going to give it your best to please me?"

  "I don't know what you want," I said. "But I'm pretty sure I'm not capable of giving it to you."

  "I've told you, Lacey," she said, using the stage name she'd given me. "I want you to dress in the costumes I have chosen for you. I want you to walk onto this stage, and I want you to do your best to please me."

  "But I don't know how to do that," I said. "Anything I do up there is going
to look ridiculous. You said you would teach me."

  "You would have preferred me instead of Naomi?"

  I turned away. No one was outright staring at me anymore, but I caught a few of the women checking me out. Or maybe it was the demon; she was far more interesting to look at than I was, anyway. I gulped from my coke and tried to think of something to offer her. I drew a complete blank.

  Finally I turned back to her. She was watching me. "Please tell me what you really want."

  She sighed. "Why do you insist on believing I have lied to you? I've told you what I want."

  "Will you at least tell me why? That seems like the sort of favor you owe me."

  She laughed lightly. "I suppose it is. There are a number of reasons. First, it amuses me. It amuses me to watch you struggle when you know the result is inevitable." She leaned closer. "Before the night is out, you will be an exotic dancer."

  I turned away, angry. Evaline simply leaned closer and spoke into my ear. "You think I am doing this to embarrass you or to make you less than you are. I am not, although I wouldn't mind if you learned something from it."

  "What?" I asked, not looking at her.

  "Compassion, perhaps."

  I turned back to look at her. "I don't have a problem with compassion."

  "You are judgmental. You come to conclusions about people based on labels, labels that don't really tell you what kind of person they are."

  "So you're putting me in my place?"

  "Why must you think the worst of me?" she countered. "I have done nothing to hurt you."

  "You know the answer to that."

  "So, as I said, you are judgmental without getting to know the people you are judging."

  I didn't have a response to that.

  "It's not entirely your fault," she continued. "I imagine it's an occupational hazard. And you've had other experiences that contribute to it, especially your reaction to me."

  I didn't have a response for that, either. When I didn't respond, she changed the subject, or it felt like a subject change at least.

  "You must know you're not the first member of law enforcement I've dealt with."

  "I suppose not."

  "Some have been good cops; some have not."

  "Like people everywhere."

  "Quite so," she agreed. "Few have been friends."

  "We're not friends."

  "Perhaps that will change," she replied.

  "I find that unlikely."

  "Why?" she asked. "We're two intelligent, curious women, with a great deal in common."

  "We have nothing in common."

  "That's not true at all. We both know there is a dark side to the world."

  "And one of us walks on the dark side," I immediately countered.

  "Perhaps, but I have hope for you."

  "I didn't mean me," I growled. She only laughed lightly.

  "Nothing in common," I muttered.

  "We could be dear friends, if you could get past certain labels." She brushed my arm with the back of her fingers. "Very close friends."

  "Not interested."

  She laughed again. "Yes, you are."

  We didn't talk after that, sitting quietly at our table. I stared at my Coke for a while before my natural curiosity got the better of me. I found myself looking about the room, wondering about the women around me. I pointedly avoided looking in Evaline's direction, but every time she appeared in the corner of my eye, she was watching me intently.

  Some of the women were still sneaking glances at us. I couldn't tell if they were watching me or Evaline, but a few caught my eye and smiled. A few saluted me with their glasses, although I didn't necessarily get the vibe they were sisters. Oh, statistically speaking, I couldn't be the only lesbian in the room, and there were a few I wondered about, but I didn't think I could count on statistics with this crowd.

  I wondered what was going on in their heads. A few looked uncomfortable to be here, perhaps victims of peer pressure or just embarrassed to be giving in to their baser instincts. Others looked quite comfortable, laughing with their friends, eyes alert and heads up.

  Given the tone of the room already, I imagined it was going to be quite boisterous by the time the evening was over.

  But then the lights dimmed. A moment later a spotlight cut through the nightclub, lighting the black curtain at the far end of the room. Around me, the women began to go a little crazy.

  That went on for a good thirty seconds before the curtain parted only sufficiently for a woman to appear in the spotlight. She was still, looking straight ahead, framed by the curtain and brightly illuminated by the spotlight. She was dressed in a tuxedo, but it was like no tuxedo I'd ever seen. She wore heels, dance tights, a frilly white shirt, and the tuxedo jacket. Perched on the back of her head was a top hat.

  She was stunning. I found myself staring.

  When she began moving, it was slowly at first. She looked around the club before stepping forward. The curtain closed behind her as she moved up the catwalk, turning this way and that as she walked towards us.

  Or should I have called it a prance? Strut? I'm not sure.

  Oh, she didn't walk at all like Karen had. But watching this woman walk the catwalk, I knew what Karen had meant when she told me to walk like I owned the room. This woman owned the room, and I was sure every pair of eyes in the room were riveted on her.

  Mine certainly were.

  She came to a stop immediately in front of Evaline and me. She looked straight at me and winked then looked around the room again, her gaze settling on this woman or that one as she did so. She nodded to one or two, blew a kiss to another, and waved her fingers at a couple.

  Around me, the women were making no end of noise. Some were clapping. Some whistled. A bunch were yelling, most of it wordless.

  But then the woman raised her hand. It took a few seconds for the women to quiet down.

  "Good evening, ladies," she called out, her voice amplified.

  "Good evening, Poppy!" the crowd called back.

  My eyes popped out. This was Poppy, the mousy-looking stage manager I'd met an hour ago?

  Holy shit.

  Evaline leaned over to speak into my ear, her voice playful. "Quite the transformation, isn't it?"

  "It's good to see all of you," Poppy said. "I love Thursdays at The Vixen Club!"

  "So do we!" a few women called out. Someone else yelled, "We love you, Poppy!"

  Poppy put her hand to her chest as she turned towards that woman. She smiled and offered a small bow, not saying anything. Then she recovered and looked around again.

  "We have a great show for you tonight," she said. "We've got Derek and Gavin tonight, Charlie and Dominic."

  "How about Jake?" someone yelled.

  Poppy laughed. "You ask that every Thursday. Yes, Jake is here. And before anyone can asked, Griffin and Jebediah."

  Jebediah? Seriously?

  There were a few catcalls at that. Poppy let them go on for a moment before speaking over them. "For a few of you, we also have Naomi and Hyacinth, as well as a few special surprises."

  "Are you dancing tonight, Poppy?" a woman yelled. The other women in the room took up a chant yelling, "Poppy! Poppy!" over and over.

  Poppy let that go on, and it was clear she was both embarrassed and pleased with the attention. Finally she held up her hand, but the women kept yelling her name.

  "All right!" she yelled. "Settle down!" The chant went on for a few more seconds, perhaps just to prove they could, but then the women quieted. Then Poppy looked down at Evaline, and I caught the fraction of a nod.

  "Maybe," Poppy said slowly, looking around the room. "Maybe, if y'all are especially appreciative of all our dancers tonight, just maybe I'll dance for you. And perhaps we'll lure our charming hostess to join me."

  "Evaline!" someone screamed, and then the women were chanting her name rather than Poppy's. But then it changed to "Evaline and Poppy! Evaline and Poppy!"

  Poppy tried holding her hand up, but t
he women didn't quiet down. She tried speaking over them, but that didn't help, either. But then Evaline stood up, let the chanting go on for another ten or fifteen seconds, then she held up her hand. The crowd quieted immediately.

  "What do you say, Evaline?" Poppy asked.

  "As you said," the demon replied. She wasn't wearing a microphone, and her voice went unamplified, but she projected, and I was sure everyone could hear her. "Make sure all the dancers feel appreciated, and then we'll see." She looked around, her eyes settling on someone I couldn't quite see. "Ms. Baxter. I presume we won't have to pull you off the stage tonight."

  "Once!" the woman yelled. "It happened once!"

  The women laughed.

  Evaline sat back down, but she leaned over to me and whispered into my ear, "What was that about objectifying women? You seem to appreciate Poppy's legs."

  I felt myself coloring immediately. She was right. I'd been staring at Poppy's legs. Well, not just her legs. But I'd definitely been staring.

  I was a fucking hypocrite.

  I had never said that about myself before. But right then, it was staring me in the face, to go along with the way I'd been staring at Poppy.

  "This is a role she puts on," Evaline continued. "The woman you met earlier is the real Marley. She wishes she could bring a little of Poppy into her life off the stage, but so far, behind the curtain, she's all Marley and no Poppy."

  In the meantime, Poppy was telling the crowd to have a good time, drink heartily, tip generously, but to drive responsibly. "First up to get us all going-" Poppy's voice grew excited, and she began clapping, the women in the room joining in after a moment. "The Vixen Boys!"

  Loud, rhythmic music filled the club. Poppy turned on her heel and began striding towards the curtain, which was parting. The women in the room went wild -- although as of yet, none of them needed to be pulled from the stage -- as two rows of men made their way onto the catwalk. Poppy passed between them, caressing each of them as she past them. None of them touched her in return, but they smiled at her, many of them following her with their eyes as they passed, and I thought I detected honest warmth.

  Or perhaps it was all part of the act.

  The men were pretty much what I expected. They were, by and large, bare above the waist save for various bits of decoration. Some wore ties. Some wore fancy cuffs on their wrists. Two wore something that looked suspiciously like bondage collars, and I would discover during a later routine that's exactly what they were.