Stripped

by Allie Juliette Mousseau

  A spark of hope shoots through me that she actually heard me, but it’s quickly snuffed out.

  “I blew it so bad. I should’ve told her how I felt sooner.”

  “We all blow it, son,” he tells me. “It’s the high testosterone levels.”

  “But, Dad, she’s the one. My one!”

  “I know that’s how you feel, Stone.” He sets a loving hand on my shoulder.

  “I have to get her back. Is she—?”

  “Gone? At the hotel?” my dad guesses. “I don’t know. After everything happened, she disappeared with her folks, and that’s the last time I saw any of them.”

  All of the air in my lungs deflate.

  On our way out, an officer hands me a large manila envelope containing my belongings.

  I ask, “Hey, is that guy I was sharing the cell with going to be okay?”

  “Ol’ Hank?” The cop smiles. “He’s a celebrity here—world record holder for marrying the most couples in Vegas, ten years running. They say if he blesses the marriage you have a fifty-fifty shot of actually staying together.”

  My dad and I give each other a confused look.

  The cop continues, “He likes to celebrate with his champagne a little too much. He’ll be just fine.”

  My dad and I walk out front, and he hails a taxi while I dig out my mobile.

  “Shit!”

  “What is it?”

  “My battery’s dead.” I curse again.

  “It’s not far to the hotel. You can charge it and—”

  I grab his and dial her number. It goes straight to voicemail.

  “I’m a fool.” I’ve never felt so defeated. “She’s gone. She signed that contract. The end.”

  “What contract?”

  I explain everything in the taxi on the way back to the hotel.

  “I should’ve told you and Mum what I was doing. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, but out of respect I should’ve told you I’d be pursuing this.”

  “I’ll accept that apology, if you’ll accept mine.”

  “What do you have to be sorry for?”

  “You’re a grown man. This is your life, not ours. You’re too old to have mine or your mum’s fears holding you back. Choose your own path—even if it’s something we don’t agree with—’cause at the end of the day you’re going to be the one looking at the mirror wondering if you lived your life to the fullest. If that means dance for you, I support you one hundred percent.”

  He means it. My mum will probably be more headstrong, but my dad will talk her down. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot to me,” I say sincerely as we pull into the hotel parking lot.

  “Hey, look at the sign!” He points out the large banner over the hotel entrance archway welcoming dancers and ticketed spectators to the next round of auditions for Then Prove You Can Dance being held in the Tiki Ballroom until midnight. “It’s not over, Stone. You’ve still got a real shot of advancing. I’d love to stay and watch you dance.”

  “I don’t feel like dancing.” I don’t want to do it without her. Especially not right now.

  “Stone, you came all this way and have gone through all this shit! Crikey, son, will ya dance already?”

  I follow my dad into the auditorium, but I’m fucking stripped.

  Wrecked beyond repair.

  Before we came back down, I checked mine and Emelie’s room. All of her stuff was gone—all her clothes, her shampoo and perfume. Nothing left of her. Even room service had come and changed the bedding.

  It was as if she were never there.

  After I showered and changed, I checked my charged mobile for any messages and texts.

  Any hope I had was blown out, easy as a match.

  Nothing.

  I met my dad in the lobby. My mum and Glenda were waiting with him. I prepared for another onslaught from my mum, but instead she wrapped her arms around my neck and told me she loved me. My sister gave me a soft, sympathetic look that brought me right back to that night at Foreplay when I’d first seen Emelie and had chased her into the parking lot, only to find her already gone.

  Quietly, the four of us go in and find some seats in the back. The auditorium is packed wall to wall with dancers and spectators. I can’t help but scan my eyes through the crowd for her, but all I see are backs of heads. She wouldn’t be here anyway.

  My Emelie Cartier is long gone.

  There is a guy on the stage doing a jazz routine, and I wonder how long ago the auditions started. It’s possible they called my name and I wasn’t here—would they have crossed it out and moved on or would they have circled it and gone back? I think about trying to make my way up front to let them know I’m here and that I’m a contestant—I have my number—but they’re pretty guarded, and I’ve had enough confrontation for today. Maybe they’ll have an intermission.

  Two more dancers perform and I’m burning up inside, feeling like instead of sitting here, I should be doing something…

  I rub my forehead with my fingers, trying to get ahold of myself. That’s when I hear the extended song intro to “Shut Up and Dance”—Walk the Moon—that was our duet song!

  Fuck this! I’m out of here! I start to get up, but Glenda grabs my arm.

  “Stone, look!”

  “What?” I bite back gruffly, turning.

  She’s smiling. “The stage…”

  I look up, and there’s Emelie, dancing in the middle of the stage. Before I can process that fact, a bright white spotlight hits me from overhead and I hear Emelie’s voice sing out, “Shut up and dance with me,” while hooking her finger into a sexy little come hither gesture.

  I might have blown it once, but I’m not going to blow it twice.

  I run up through the aisle full force. When I get onto the stage she’s holding out her hand, waiting for me to take it.

  Stunned and over-fucking-joyed, I put my hand in hers.

  Boy, do we dance!

  I can hear the crowd going wild—roaring with applause, the flash of cameras, loud whistles—but it’s as if none of that’s even happening here, really, it’s somewhere in the distance. The only reality is her and me.

  I spin and wrap her up against my chest and the inside of my arm. She pecks my cheek with a kiss.

  Just like we practiced—we keep playful light moves throughout, even as we graduate into advanced street and hip hop maneuvers. To wow the judges with our expertise in differing styles, for this song, we incorporated elements of swing, Latin, and ballroom—I sweep her across the floor.

  I can’t let go of her gaze.

  I feel her body all over mine; I savor the weight of her when I hoist her above my head in a crowd pleasing lift; I feel her in my arms, but it’s like I’m in a dream and I can’t decide if she’s real or if I’m having a really amazing hallucination.

  As part of the performance, she wiggles her hips and arse to entice me to dance.

  I take both her hands and slide her between my legs on the floor, then pull her up to my waist dramatically before twirling her around my torso.

  When the bridge of the song comes, we show off the ballet skills she’s worked so tirelessly to help me get the hang of.

  Coming back together, we salsa. It’s a crazy mash-up and an absolutely fun, upbeat crowd pleaser.

  The music ends with her securely in my arms.

  We’re both smiling, our chests heaving in oxygen, and the only thing going through my head are the song’s words—the message that she is my destiny and we were born to be together—

  Born to dance together.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Emelie

  The Stripper and the Ballerina

  The audience and judges love the routine. I don’t even care, because Stone is looking at me like it’s Christmas and I’m wrapped in a big red bow.

  Each judge gives us their vote of approval, telling us how much they loved how we choreographed the dance and applauding our versatile abilities before announcing we’ve made it through this stage of
the competition, to dance another day.

  There is a big standing O, and I’m not sure if it was for the dance, the judges’ declarations, or the fact that Stone scoops me up in his arms and carries me off backstage.

  He says nothing, but when we get into the shadows he presses me against a nearby wall, cradles my face in his hands and kisses my mouth with everything inside him, his very soul.

  “I love you,” he finally breathes over my lips as he searches my eyes fiercely.

  “I know, you told me.”

  A small smile cracks his unbelieving demeanor. “You’re still here.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I love you too.”

  He gets all rugged and moody and serious at once. It’s very hot. “You love me?”

  “Oh yeah,” I confirm in a sexy, smoky voice.

  “But New York?”

  “I love you more than New York.”

  “The job with the company?”

  “I told Viktor to take a flying grand jeté off the Brooklyn Bridge.” I shrug.

  “Your dad?”

  “He’ll have to get new sports jerseys made that read ‘Team Cartier and Wright,’ or ‘TPYCD’ or, if he’s feeling extra frisky, ‘The Stripper and the Ballerina.’”

  Stone laughs at that and almost loosens up until he stops suddenly and gives me a confused look. “But you never answered your mobile, or called or texted me. Why?”

  “My dad and I had a tug of war with my cell phone and it landed in the goldfish pond in the hotel lobby,” I apologize. “I used the hotel house phone and called the police station several times and left messages, but I didn’t know if they’d actually get them to you. I don’t have a lot of experience dating convicts.”

  “Convicts,” he jeers with a smile and kisses me again. Then he stops again. “But wait! All your stuff was out of the room.”

  “I brought my stuff to my mom’s room so we could talk while I showered and got ready for the competition.”

  He sighs. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I went to see you at the jail, but they were still doing whatever it is they do, and I guess visitation isn’t even a thing while you’re being processed. Which was too bad; I thought a conjugal visit with my criminal-boyfriend would be pretty hot,” I explain with a playful tone.

  Stone bursts with laughter.

  “I was even thinking of ways to work a file into a hard salami,” I continue. “Which was pretty thoughtful, considering how handy a hard, long salami could be in the big house.”

  “Speaking of hard and long.” Stone puts my hand over his growing behemoth. “I’ve got to get you out of here before he hulks through the fabric! Hope you’re ready for some bed-shaking, wall-rattling make-up sex.” He carries me towards the back exit, bumping into stage props along the way.

  I giggle, giddily and uncontrollably, he’s so happy. “But we didn’t fight.”

  “Maybe not as far as you were concerned, but to me it felt like we broke the fuck up forever!”

  Oh. That’s terribly sad. “It never occurred to me that you thought I’d just up and leave.”

  He shrugs, finds the back service elevator, and gets us into it.

  “Without even saying goodbye?” I now realize how he was feeling, all day. “I would never have done that to you. In fact, I’ll do you one better, My-Big-Bad-Wolf-Prince-Charming, I will never do that to you.”

  He hides his face in the curve of my neck and trails his tongue, lips, and teeth up and down my throat. “Everything went all tits up—your dad was livid, and I couldn’t even blame him. Had you been my daughter…” he shudders a bit. “I really wanted to punch ED in the throat, and then my family appeared out of nowhere to get dumped into the mix—”

  “Then you went all Vin Diesel on that security guard, protecting me.” I smile. “That was so hot.”

  He still hasn’t put me down and is, in fact, rocking his hips into me so I can feel the fullness of his love while he sucks my earlobe in between his teeth.

  “Really? So you’re telling me that my resorting to violence in front of our families and being cuffed and arrested turned you on?”

  “Inferno hot.” I wiggle to make him look at me. “The Stripper Saves the Ballerina.” I stretch my arm up and use my hand to spread each word as if it were up on a cinema marquee in lights. “Stone, I would’ve come to get you, but I knew your dad would handle it, and Sir Alastair said as long as one of us was at the competition, the other would be safe from disqualification.”

  “Sounds like the ballerina saves the stripper,” he says.

  The elevator stops and the bell rings, indicating our floor. “You might want to put me down to save your strength.”

  “Oh, I have strength to spare,” he growls and shifts me so I’m over his shoulder while he digs the room key from his back pocket.

  We get into the room, and no sooner does the door close behind us than Stone has stripped off all my clothes and throws me onto the bed.

  A second later he’s on top of me.

  “Oh God!” His erection strains against my belly.

  Now, with him gazing at my naked body, it’s bigger and harder than it was in the elevator!

  “Tell me why.”

  “Why what?” I exhale a moan.

  “Why do you love me?”

  “Oh, Stone, there are so many reasons.” I smile, thinking of how incredible he makes me feel. “Being close to you makes my heart race. I’ve had butterflies in my belly since the moment I met you, and when I hear your voice I’m reduced to a puddle of melted ice cream.”

  He gets his cock in his hand, rolls on a condom, and holds my legs down and apart with his hand wide on my thigh as he rubs the kitten with the behemoth, slow and easy.

  I’m losing coherency.

  “Keep talking, Princess.”

  “You’re kind and generous, sexy and free spirited—you dare to dream and are even willing to share those dreams. I love that about you. When I’m with you, it feels like the wind is blowing through my hair and the sun is shining warm on my face. You always make me feel loved and desired and special and important.”

  “I can’t wait until I can get at this sweet little pussy of yours with no barrier,”

  In the midst of my muddled thoughts it almost sounds as if he says, “Even if I have to make you marry me to do it.”

  “Oh fuck, I can’t wait!” He slides into home hard, fast, and dirty.

  The sensation of him filling me with his length and girth so quickly catapults me into euphoria.

  He bucks until I’m a soaking wet mess—I’m making so much noise I really hope no one calls hotel security—I don’t want to go through what we did this morning all over again!

  In a blink, he slips out of me, flips me over so I’m on top, and wriggles his ass, whilst hoisting my ass over his face so he can have unfettered access to my vadge. But he’s already made me so wet I’m a waterfall!

  “Stone…”

  He rolls each of my nipples between his fingers and swipes my center with the soft tip of his tongue. “Mmm… I love the slow, deliberate flow across the palate,” he purrs as if sipping a fine wine.

  “Oh fuck!” I cry as he continues his very skilled plundering.

  “I like you like this,” he hums.

  I like to be like this, I think, but the actual words never form, because right then he grips the fleshy part of my hips and puts his big strong hands to work putting my core exactly where he wants it over his face.

  “Oh, baby, lose control.” Stone vibrates each of the words through me.

  Very soon I do just that, as the heat created from his endeavors shoots through my body, electrifying every wire in my nervous system.

  While my frame is still wracked with spasms, he lifts my hips over his cock, carefully adjusts us at our joining and plunges deep, ripping a scream from my lips. He groans and slides my hips—hitting everything inside of me just right.

  “Take the reins, gorgeous,” he commands. “I need thes
e under my palms.” With that, he plays with my breasts and nipples, watching everything intently.

  Stone’s breathing quickens, and he begins a series of rough erotic groans that send my every thought into orbit.

  We come together and I collapse over him—happy, satisfied, and exhausted.

  We hold each other close.

  “Why do you love me?” I ask.

  He plays tenderly with the loose strands of hair framing my face. “You’re my sunshine, Sunshine—you’re the star in the center of my universe; you give life to my world, light to my darkness, and warmth to my cold. When I thought I couldn’t grow any stronger you opened your arms to me and brought me into your rays. Before you, I was trying really hard to keep my life centered but could never seem to get it right. You came along, pulled me into your gravity, and set it all straight. I’ve never been in love before. But they say, ‘when you know, you’ll know,’ and Em, I know.”

  Epilogue—One Crazy Year Later

  Emelie

  Dreams do come true—

  Even if they’re not the ones you originally dreamed.

  (And if you’re all out of wishing stars, I’d totally recommend airplanes as an excellent and worthy substitute.)

  Then Prove You Can Dance had a banner year. It was the show’s most watched season yet, and was nominated and won more Emmy Awards than any of its previous seasons. In addition to walking away with Outstanding Reality-Competition Program, we won Outstanding Choreography for three routines, one of which was for my solo performance to Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “10,000 Miles.” Yes, the one I performed at my high school graduation—with some tweaks that Stone helped me work in. Whoever would’ve have guessed it?!

  That sweet golden beauty is displayed prominently in our home in The Valley.

  Yes, our home, together. It’s a nice place to raise children—considering we’re going to have one in about six months!

  Oh yeah, surprise!

  Let me get back on track.

  So, Stone and I made it into the show’s coveted Top 20 and toured 82 cities in six months. America loved The Stripper and the Ballerina so much they even voted us into the Top 5!