Naked Angel

by Logan Belle

  “This will be better,” Violet said. Gemma felt nervous, but there was no turning back. Violet eased the massive object inside of her slowly, filling Gemma with a satisfying pain. With only a few strokes, she came with a violent shudder and an animalistic scream.

  “Yes, baby,” said Violet. When Gemma was finally still, Violet slid the dildo out and ran her tongue gently along Gemma’s pussy.

  “Just for the record,” Violet said. “You can’t expect this with clients.”

  “I don’t intend to do this professionally,” Gemma said.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Violet said. “I can’t let this talent go to waste.”

  29

  Nadia’s doorman, Francisco, announced that Max was in the lobby to see her.

  “Thanks—I’ll be right down,” she said into the intercom.

  She was relieved that he’d actually shown up. When she’d called to tell him they needed to talk, he’d balked. And then even after he’d agreed to meet her, it had taken him so long to arrive, she thought maybe he’d changed his mind. But apparently she would get the chance to have her say after all.

  She took one quick look in the mirror. Just the promise of seeing him had made her face come alive, her cheeks slightly flushed and her eyes bright. Yes, this was love, and the realization both terrified and thrilled her.

  He was waiting outside the building—a clear indication that he had no intention of going up to her apartment. She hadn’t planned to invite him up, and yet the not-so-subtle message stung.

  “Hey,” she said. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and madras plaid shorts. The casual clothes emphasized his deep tan, and he’d never looked more beautiful to her. She had to fight the urge to just throw her arms around him and tell him he was being crazy—that she loved him and they would work the other stuff out. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “No problem,” he said. “But I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Okay. We can just … do you want to walk over to Fifth Avenue and sit on a bench near the park?”

  “Whatever,” he said. Okay, not exactly making things easy on her.

  They crossed Park and walked silently to Madison, and then Fifth. The benches lining the cobbled promenade in front of Central Park were empty. Nadia sat in the first one they passed.

  Max sat on the bench, leaving such distance between them that anyone passing by would not have realized they were together.

  “First, I, um, wanted to thank you for helping out with the costumes. It means a lot to me—and Mallory, too.”

  “I appreciate the thanks, Nadia. But it’s not a big deal, and we could have, you know, had this conversation over the phone.”

  “That’s not why I called you,” she said, avoiding eye contact. She suddenly felt stupid for initiating this meeting. He said nothing, just waited for her to continue. How could she say what she wanted to say with the most sensitivity? “I know about your mother,” she blurted. Okay, that probably was not the most delicate approach.

  “What do you mean?” he said.

  “I was thinking about you when I got home tonight, and I Googled you, and I found the name Janine Jasper. I was thinking maybe you’d been married or something so I followed the links, and I read about your mom. She’s beautiful, by the way.”

  He shook his head. “Nadia, I don’t know what this has to do with …”

  “I couldn’t understand why you were being so judgmental about the burlesque thing, or why you were making it into a deal breaker for us. And now I get it.”

  “Oh really? What do you ‘get’?” he said, seeming more irritated than impressed by her cyber-sleuthing.

  “I’m guessing that your mom’s nude modeling upset your father, and maybe she stopped for a while but then resented having to give up her career and she went back to it, and then your dad left because they couldn’t agree on it. But I have to think, Max, that it wasn’t just her career that made him leave. There had to be other things that didn’t work between them. And so you’re thinking that because we don’t agree on the burlesque issue, our relationship will never work out. But I think that’s just an oversimplification—and now I understand why you think that way, but it doesn’t make it any more valid.”

  He shook his head, but less angry now, more wistful. “Nadia, I’m glad you were thinking about me and care enough about our relationship to try to understand why I believe it won’t work. And maybe there is some truth to what you are saying. But that doesn’t change the way I feel. If people are too different, the relationship won’t work. If every decision is a compromise, the constant negotiating will take its toll. And what we have between us is a major philosophical disagreement. I admit, I have no right to tell you how to live your life. But you can’t tell me that I’m crazy to not want my girlfriend getting naked onstage every week. Neither one of us is wrong, but that doesn’t solve the problem.”

  “I know. I get that. What I’m trying to say is that now I understand more of why you feel that way, and it makes me realize you’re not trying to control me or judge me—that this is something that really bothers you, and you don’t want to spend the next five years of your life fighting about it only to see us break up anyway. And what I’m realizing is that I’m still so angry about the way things went down with my ex-fiancé, I’m not willing to give an inch for a relationship. And it’s stupid, because I’m more upset at the thought of losing you than I am at the thought of not performing burlesque.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’d rather stop burlesque than lose the chance to see if this relationship can work.”

  “Nadia, now I feel like a total jerk.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel like a jerk. I just want to fix this. I want you to know that if burlesque is the only thing standing between us and our having a good relationship, I put the relationship first. And, honestly, if the relationship isn’t working, I can always go back to burlesque. But I want to give us a chance.”

  “Are you going to resent me for making you compromise like this?”

  She shook her head. “No. Now that I understand things better, I’m relieved to be able to compromise.”

  He pulled her to him, an embrace so fierce that she knew he had been as distraught about the impasse as she had been.

  “I can’t believe you would do that for me,” he said, still holding her.

  “I want to give it a try,” she said.

  “So do I.” He sat back and looked at her. She could see the happiness on his face, and she knew she’d made the right decision.

  “Will you do one thing for me?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you!”

  “The answer is still yes.”

  “Okay—good. Because I want you to come with me to Vegas in three weeks. I’m going to go with Mallory and the girls for moral support. And I want you there with me.”

  “I think I can manage that,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held his hand out to help her up.

  “You have to go?” she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.

  “How’s your lower back feeling?”

  “What? It’s … okay.”

  “Just okay? That sounds like you need a massage.” He smiled.

  “You’re coming over?”

  “I can’t let my girlfriend walk around with a backache,” he said, pulling her to him.

  “I love you,” she said. She surprised herself by saying it aloud, but she didn’t regret it.

  “I love you, too,” he said. “And I promise, even though you were the first to sacrifice and compromise for this relationship, I won’t let you be the only one.”

  “I barely feel like I sacrificed anything,” she said. And it was true.

  30

  Mallory stood in the center of a terrace suite at the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Las Vegas.

  They’d booked the rooms long before Martha had pulled the plug on the ca
sh. Now it was an extravagance that unnerved her, but at the same time one she couldn’t help enjoying.

  “Vegas is like LA on crack,” she said to Alec, sprawling out on the bed. The room had to be one thousand square feet, with sliding glass doors that opened to a private terrace with amazing views of the city skyline—including the faux Eiffel Tower.

  “That’s why they call it Disneyland for adults,” he said.

  “Is that what they call it?” she said. “Hmm. I wonder if what happens here really stays here.”

  “I can think of one thing I wouldn’t mind leaving with,” he said, climbing onto the bed next to her.

  They had an hour until it was time to register for the conference, and she had just one idea of how to spend it. She curled up against him, running her hand down his chest to the bulge in his shorts.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” she said.

  “A wife.”

  She pulled her hand away from his pants.

  “Very funny,” she said.

  “I’m serious. I know it stresses you out to think about planning a wedding. And I know you’ve been busy. But look—here we are … Vegas! Quickie wedding capital of the world. Problem solved.”

  He kissed her.

  “You’re serious?” she said slowly.

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “Alec, listen: I love you. And I’m sorry I’ve put all this other planning ahead of our wedding. I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m going to focus on setting a date and making some plans as soon as this competition is over and we know we have The Painted Lady on track. I’m really sorry—I want to marry you so much. But I do not want to go to some cheesy Vegas wedding chapel. I want to get married in a way we’ll always remember, surrounded by friends.”

  “You want a big, traditional wedding? Because I’ve been getting the distinct feeling you’re avoiding that. Or maybe you’re just trying to avoid marriage altogether.”

  “I’m not! As soon as this competition is over, it’s my top priority.”

  “Aren’t you at all curious what kind of wedding I want?” he asked, putting her hand back on his hard cock.

  “Does talking about marriage get you this excited?” she said.

  “Clearly, it does.”

  She knelt by his side and unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them down over his hips. She stroked his cock through his boxers for a moment, then pulled them off, too.

  “Okay, tell me what kind of wedding you want,” she said, untying the single strap of her sundress. With one motion, the yellow cotton fell from her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

  “You are going to be the hottest geisha ever.”

  “I’m not dressing as a geisha, silly. That’s Japanese. Our costumes are Chinese.”

  “I knew that,” he said, stroking her breasts. “But I don’t know a Chinese word for a sex maniac like you. What did they have in China if they didn’t have geishas?”

  “They had concubines,” Mallory said, taking off her underwear.

  “Concubines! Of course. Were the concubines, like, in sexual servitude?”

  “Basically,” Mallory said.

  “Men had it so easy back then,” he said. “They should only know what we put up with today.”

  “Shut up!” She smacked his hand playfully.

  “Hey—you’re my concubine. No back talk. Sit on my cock.”

  She smiled, more than willing to play along. With a knee on either side of him, she straddled his waist. He reached forward and stroked her clit with his thumb, then pressed his index finger deep inside her. She ground against his hand until she was slick with her own juice, then pulled his hand away and lowered herself onto his stiff cock.

  When he was fully inside her, he gripped her ass, holding her against him as the thrusts of his pelvis set the rhythm. He didn’t often come when she was on top, and she suspected it had something to do with her being dominant in that position. But even with her on top, he was clearly the one fucking her, each stroke deep and hard.

  “Oh, my God,” she gasped.

  “Turn around,” he said, smacking her ass. She climbed off him and got on all fours.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “Ignore it,” he said, fingering her pussy from behind. He replaced his finger with his cock, entering her roughly. His hands gripped her hips, and he slid his cock in and out with agonizing slowness.

  “You feel so good,” she said, and his movements became faster. She felt the swell of pleasure building, and then a sense that his cock was almost vibrating inside of her. His thrusting became more intense and rhythmic, and she came just as he cried out.

  When he finished, he pulled out slowly, and she collapsed onto her stomach. She rolled over into the crook of his arm, his chest damp with perspiration.

  “That felt unbelievable,” she said. And then her phone rang again. She reached for it.

  “Let it go to voice mail,” he said.

  “I can’t. All evidence to the contrary, this is a work trip, remember?” She kissed him and pressed the button to answer it. “Hello?” she said, still a little breathless.

  “Is this a bad time?” Bette said.

  “Sort of,” Mallory said.

  “Perfect—because I have bad news.”

  “Don’t joke around.”

  “I’m not joking, babe: I can’t make it to Vegas.”

  “What? You have to be here. You have to! The show is in two days. If you can’t make the rehearsals tomorrow, fine. But you have to be here by Saturday. We need three girls to qualify.”

  “I can’t leave the set—the schedule is all fucked up, and Saturday is a shooting day.”

  “Bette, if you don’t get your ass to Vegas, I am going to shoot you!”

  “No can do, babe. It’s killing me—seriously. But there is nothing I can do.”

  “I can’t fucking believe this,” Mallory said. Alec reached for her hand.

  “Chill out,” Bette said. “This is show business, baby. Sometimes you have to improvise. Remember when I had to bail on that show for Justin because I had to be in Vegas?”

  “You didn’t have to be in Vegas—you were choosing to run off with your superstar lover… .”

  “The point is, I didn’t panic. What did I do?”

  “You had me step in.”

  “That’s right—I trained your sorry ass. And Mallory, need I remind you, you didn’t know a tassel from your own tit… .”

  “Yeah, okay, I get it. Bette, you can’t even compare the two events. There was nothing at stake that night.”

  “That’s your whole problem with this thing, Mal. You’re putting too much weight on it. It’s just a show. Take a deep breath and tell yourself that over and over again until you get it through your head.”

  “I still need three performers to qualify, even if it is ‘just’ a show.”

  “Babe, I have to run. I wasn’t even supposed to leave the set for this call. You’ll figure something out. I have faith in you, Moxie.”

  Mallory hung up the phone.

  “Bette’s not coming,” she said. Even as she said the words, she could barely believe it.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “They rearranged the shooting schedule. She has to be in Toronto.”

  Alec pulled on his boxers and started pacing the room. Mallory sat still on the bed. She was furious at Bette, even though she knew it wasn’t really Bette’s fault. But she felt terribly let down.

  “I’m so mad at Bette! She never should have committed to doing this show. Or I should have known better. Either way, we’re just fucked.”

  “Calm down. Getting hysterical does not help.”

  She looked at him and tried to do as he said: She took a deep breath and then another. He sat next to her and took her hand.

  “Obviously, we need a replacement dancer.”

  “Who is going to fly out here in time to learn the routines, rehearse, and then perform the day after tomorrow? We don’t have one girl capable of that.”r />
  “We have someone here who knows Bette’s routine … who has watched it a dozen times and who stood in for a costume fitting when Bette didn’t have time.”

  Mallory realized where he was going.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said.

  “Do we have any other choice?”

  Nadia and Max stopped in front of the nine-foot tall, red, high-heeled shoe.

  “Something tells me that’s not just here for the burlesque convention,” she said.

  “I feel like the burlesque convention is just background to all this other art,” said Max.

  Everywhere they looked, there was art: on video screens, projected on walls, in the middle of the lobby. Even in vending machines: They had old cigarette machines converted into “Art-o-mats”—you put coins in and got an original sketch or painting.

  “I have to admit, this place is better than I thought it would be,” Max said, his arm around her.

  Everything was better than she’d thought it could be—and not just the hotel. The last three weeks with Max had been the purest joy she’d ever experienced off the stage. Without the burlesque issue between them, they were like two giddy lovers on a honeymoon. She felt him giving more of himself to her, not holding back. And she was able to be more herself with him; she spoke about the loss of ballet, and didn’t feel she had to act like she had it all figured out and replaced with burlesque. She felt, for the first time in a long time, a complete absence of pressure. She felt like herself, but an older, wiser, calmer version of herself.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I was here for a convention a few years ago, and it was just awful. The place we stayed was like a facsimile of someone’s idea of glamour. I don’t remember the name of it—I think I blocked it out for my own sanity. I never wanted to come back to Vegas. But I like this place. I read that we have to see the Chandelier bar.”

  “We’ll see it Saturday night—that’s where Alec and Mallory are having the party. Right now, I have to go upstairs and change into more comfortable shoes. Then I’m going to see if Mallory needs help arranging a practice space for tomorrow.”