His hands grip the armrests of the wooden chair and I take advantage of that as an idea springs forward in my mind. I take one glove and tie his wrist to the chair. I look at him and watch his eyes widen in surprise, he swallows past a lump in his throat, and arches a brow playfully. I grin at him as I take the other glove and twirl it around and take it in both hands, stretching it while I dance to the music and magic of Jimmy Page’s guitar. I tie his other wrist to the chair.
I wink at him, feeling bolder by the moment. I saunter and sashay onto the small and dimly lit stage. I close my eyes and run my hands from my hips up to shoulders, moving my body to the rhythm and allowing the song to take hold of me, and possess me. I turn around and slowly slide my zipper all the way down. I hesitate, for breath of a moment, and then slide the lace dress all the way down my legs until it pools on the floor. I brush it away with my foot. I will not overthink this. I close my eyes and free my mind of its inhibitions.
I roll and rock my hips to a crescendo in the music and roll my head and whip my hair. I rotate my body until I’m facing him; his eyelids look heavy, weighed down. He looks as though he’s holding his breath, his eyes are unwavering as they drink me in. I let my hand slide all over my body and I drop down to my knees and spread my knees apart and rolling my head in time to the steady baseline and I begin to undo my corset, until its off and I fling it away. I crawl to the edge of the stage and whip my hair again while the best part of the song bellows out from the speakers. Jimmy Page’s guitar solo seems to be coming from somewhere deep inside of me.
I’m in nothing but a tiny strapless, lace bra and matching tiny black lace panties...a garter belt and stockings. I lie on my back at the edge of the stage and make a grand display of slowly and playfully unclipping my stockings from my garter belt. I kick off my leopard stilettoes and roll my stockings halfway down my legs. Rolling back onto my tummy, I arch one leg back until my foot is practically touching my head and slide the silk stocking the rest of the way down. My body bent at an extreme angle. I’ve seen my reflection in the mirror while I do this stretch in ballet. I know how it looks, and I know Vincent finds it agreeable to. I remove my other stocking the same way, and I watch his jaw flex and clench tightly.
I dance provocatively until I can no longer bear the distance between us and I slide off of the stage and bring myself within inches from him. His eyes are dark, his jaw, clenched...I watch his body grow rigid with tension. His hands are balled into fists. I grip the back of his chair and slide myself over him. I drag my lips across his brow, the bridge of his nose and then his jaw. He turns his head towards me, his lips gently graze my own, but I pull back, and turn around.
I lean back against him, and grind my hips into him. My hands reach back and I run my fingers through his hair, tugging softly as I dance on top of him. I slide my hands down against my torso and onto his knees. I grip him tightly and bend and over exaggeratedly, giving him a good view of my backside. I whip my hair around once more, in perfect time with the music, and turn back to face him just as the song draws to an end. My chest rises and falls, I’m breathless, and the longing inside me seems to have taken root and is blossoming inside me.
I reach down, my eyes glued to his, and gently untie one of his hands. I’m in nothing but a black, lace strapless bra, breasts overflowing, with matching skimpy underwear, but I feel more confident and comfortable than I did when I first walked through the door a few minutes ago, completely dressed. I’m about to reach down to untie his other hand when he abruptly stands and surprises me by rubbing his wrist, both of his hands free.
I blink at him. How did he untie himself so easily? I thought I’d tied him down pretty well. He takes a step into me, our bodies almost touching. Wild Horses begins to play from the speakers, instantly changing the charged atmosphere. It soothes and calms me, and I take a breath and look into his eyes. He reaches an arm around my waist and pulls me into him. His takes my other hand in his and to my complete and utter shock he begins to lead me around the room. Slowly at first, his cheek pressed against the side of the top of my head. And then he breaks out into a waltz. I bite back a smile, and follow him.
I haven’t danced like this since I was a little girl, my tiny feet resting atop my mother’s shoes. When the song slows, so does he. He twirls me around and then brings me back to him; my body feels so divine pressed up against his. He’s so much bigger than I am. I can’t help but feel safe in his strong arms. He moves exquisitely. Aside from Jordan, I’ve never been in such close proximity to a man. I have to say it feels ridiculously good to be pressed against him. His body is strong and hard, but his eyes are soft. I gaze at his face, and I melt from the inside out. He is truly beautiful. I cannot peel my eyes away from him. I want to run my nose against his jaw line, up to his soft earlobe. His skin is fair, flawless and smooth. My eyes travel down to his neck. I have the urge to press my nose against his warm flesh, breathe him in and let his scent fill me, intoxicate me. Who am I kidding? He already intoxicates me. I feel so wanton.
My heart is rioting inside of my chest; I know he can feel it. We’re so close; I know he can feel it thudding against him. I rest my head on his shoulder and take a deep cleansing breath and close my eyes in an effort to calm the upheaval my body is experiencing. When I open my eyes again, I realize we’ve stopped dancing, and he is looking at me with such intensity...my entire body stills.
I pull back, realizing for the first time since he pulled me into his arms, that I’m still undressed. He watches me warily, until he understands my apprehension and my hesitation with the situation. He reaches down and picks up my dress. He kneels down and looks up at me with dark, brooding eyes. He opens my dress so that I can step into it. I do, reluctantly. He slides it up, slowly. His fingers gently graze my skin from my ankles up to my thighs. He brings my dress up and over my breasts and twirls me so that my back faces his front. I scoop my hair over my shoulder, baring my back.
He slides his pinky nail up my spine before he unhurriedly zips up my dress. It’s quiet in the room. The music has stopped and all that I can hear is the rushing of my blood as my heart pumps frantically. He gets my heels, and kneels before me; his eyes fixated on my own while slide my feet into them. I can feel his energy growing and humming—vibrating with a strong yearning...for me. How did I get so lucky?
He stands slowly and elegantly until he’s looming over me. I lift my chin tentatively, and looking into his eyes, I take a step into him. Our bodies are pressed together...our lips just half an inch apart. His eyes are fixed on mine. But I’m not afraid. Not this time. He slowly brings himself to meet me. I’m grateful that I’m in heels because they bring us closer together in height. Even still, I push up on my toes to reach him. Our lips are only just not touching.
He moves in, just a few fractions of a centimeter, and at first, our lips are merely touching. His soft warm lips lightly brush against mine. My hands slide up his torso and I grip the lapels of his crisp jacket. Our breath mingles. I inhale his warm, sweet scent. His hooded eyes remain fixed on my face, searching for a clue perhaps, or a cue as to whether or not he may continue until finally, he presses his lips against mine and he kisses me, so softly at first it doesn’t feel real. I close my eyes and savor the moment. My heart is frozen in time. It feels as though I’m soaring, floating on the ceiling, looking down at myself. He moves tenderly, gently...savoring the feel of my mouth against his.
Then, out of nowhere, there is an explosion between us and our kiss turns into something all consuming, savage and feral. My right hand tangles into his dark hair, gripping it tightly, claiming his mouth against mine.
He wraps his arms around my small frame and crushes me against his firm, taught body. He scoops me up and my feet are no longer touching the ground. We are all hands, and tongues, and lips, and violent heart beats. I relish the taste of his kiss, the unique flavor that is all him. All Vincent. Mmm…nothing ever tasted so fine. He gently sucks at my bottom lip and my tongue teases his top lip.
I’m the first to pull back. My body has never in a million years felt this alive. I’m breathless as I stare into his perfectly carved face. I exhale and my body sags against him. He twists his fingers into my hair and gently cradles me against his chest. I can feel, and hear, his heart hammering inside his chest. He tucks his fingers under my chin and forces me to meet his eyes again. I want to look away, but he doesn’t let me.
“Don’t look away from me,” his voice commands. The look in his eyes makes me feel so many things at once; it’s hard not to look away. I fear he can read my thoughts by looking into my eyes like this. He searches my face and runs his thumb across my swollen mouth. “I like you—very much, Lenore. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
I swallow nervously and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He kisses me on the lips again. His mouth is awe-inspiring. The joy it can elicit. His kiss, it’s feverish and tender at the same time. But I just don’t know if I am capable of intimacy. It’s foreign, and frightening to me. It seems so much easier in paperback. I’m afraid—no, I’m fucking terrified of it. I just shared my first kiss with this god-of-a-man. My first real kiss, and damn—was it a good one. But now I’m just left with this fear growing inside me, fear and need and hunger, all tangled together, fighting one another to the death.
“Come, let’s go get a real drink,” he says, cutting the tension that was ballooning inside of me. I hesitate, and draw back.
“No, I better get going,” I say without conviction. I’m sure Kazumi is wondering about me, but I do want to stay with him—and then I don’t at the same time. This feels like its too good, and if I stay with him, something is bound to go wrong, or things will get awkward. I’d like to leave on a high note, while I’m still high from his kiss. Then again, I know that as soon as I walk away, the anxiety that is just taking root will reach its fingers into my heart and completely consume me.
“No. You’re coming with me,” he says sternly, but he adds a devastatingly charming smile to soften his words. He opens the door and takes my hand in his.
“I’m not letting you brush me off. I’ll carry you over my shoulder if I have to,” he adds with a wicked gleam in his eye. And I believe him.
I shake my head at him and widen my eyes playfully. “Okay, just one drink,” I whisper quietly.
I follow him out the door and try to suppress the face-splitting grin taking over my face. I glance around the room before closing the door after us. I cannot believe what I just did...but most of all; I can’t believe I finally just had my first real kiss. I press my fingers against my lips as the memory of his kiss wraps itself around me. Mmm...I can still taste him.
Chapter 8
He grips my hand firmly in his, as though he fears I will make a run for it, and leads us out of the room and back down the staircase and onto the main floor. It is packed! This must be why Jordan, Kazumi and me decided to leave the last time we were here. Though, the details of that night are still a bit fuzzy.
I make a quick trip into the dressing room, which is now empty, and grab my coat; I place my corset and gloves back into my locker. He waits next to a bored security guard until I return. He looks yummy with his hair tousled and his tie loosened. I smile up at him and he takes my hand once more, pressing my knuckles against his lips as he leads the way out into the crowd. My heart skips a beat.
To my surprise he doesn’t stop at the bar here at The Speak Easy. Instead we continue walking until we are outside again. The cool air bites my skin and he insists on helping me with my coat. Always a gentleman, well, maybe not always. I grin, thinking of his request in the Red Room. He turns around to look at me, he bites his lip and I can’t help but smile up at him. He slides his arm around my waist and draws me close to his side.
He has a positive and jovial energy about him, it’s contagious, and soon it spreads to me. I can’t contain my glee as my grin stretches freely across my face. I follow him as quickly as my leopard heels will allow. Every so often his hand will grip and rub my hip tightly, and I swear my body literally vibrates in response. We walk in silence for a few blocks before stopping in front of a tranquil and discreet bar. Quite the contrast to the noisy, bustling Speak Easy we just left, but perfect for us to sit down and converse. I don’t think I would have been able to stay in the Red Room after what I just did. Something about the red lighting and the dark walls…I wouldn’t have been able to stop things from moving forward. A change of scenery is a good call.
We walk in and I’m completely taken aback. I had no idea that bars like this one existed. The walls are lined with bookcases that reach up to the ceiling, and there is an enormous fireplace with a bearskin rug sprawled before it. Two large wingback chairs are placed in front of it, and there are two couples mingling and drinking, enjoying the warmth of the flames.
There is a huge bar to our right; it’s a massive mahogany beast, and a small stage to the left of the big square building. It’s like a bookstore and lodge combined. Large leather couches; coffee tables and wingback chairs are placed throughout the bar. The furniture is big and old and chunky looking. It’s like walking into a giant, comfortable living room. The lighting is soft and inviting. I look up at Vincent, and he is watching my reaction with a soft smile on his face.
He leaves me to absorb my surroundings, and goes in search of a couple of drinks. I take it all in. It’s wonderful here! I immediately begin to browse the rows of books. They are used, most of them classic literature, books of poetry, there’s even some books on psychology, anthropology, and astronomy. They don’t appear to be arranged or organized in any particular way. I choose a book at random and plop down at an empty love seat and slide my hand across the cover of a golden book titled American Ballet Theater. I drink in the beautiful black and white pictures.
My seat is worn in, and comfortable, so I sink right in. I pull out my small mirror from my bag and double check my makeup. Miraculously my lipstick has survived, in tact! I guess it really does do what it says on the package…Kiss proof. I smile inwardly as I tuck my mirror away and turn my attention back to my book.
A cute guy with a scruffy beard interrupts me and takes the book from my hand and sets it down beside him. He sits at the edge of the coffee table in front of me, staring.
“Hi. I’m Jack,” he says, extending his arm for me to shake. He looks cocky, and pretty buzzed. I take his hand with just the tips of my fingers.
“Hello,” I say, and squirm uncomfortably. He is looking at me as if I were meat on a platter. It’s unnerving.
“You should come home with me,” he blurts out blatantly and unashamed.
I stare at him and try not to let the shock and disgust I’m feeling show.
Ugh, who says things like that?
I wait for a moment, expecting him to say he’s kidding, but he doesn’t. He continues to stare at me. I glance nervously toward the bar, but I don’t see Vincent.
“No, thank you,” I say as dryly as I can. He laughs, and throws his head back. Then he leans in close, his eyes glued to my chest. I feel terribly self-conscious now.
“Why not? You won’t regret it, I assure you,” his eyes sparkle dangerously. He’s attractive, I’ll give him that, but I see something sinister in him. Not to mention his approach is offending.
“I said, not thank you,” I say, barely keeping the disdain from my voice.
“That’s what they all say at first, but then…” he grins at me salaciously. Anger rises through me, heating my chest and face. I wish Jordan were here; this guy would have never gotten within a foot of me if he were. I lean in, mimicking him, forcing him to meet my eyes again. He eventually peels them off of my chest.
“Then they’re all fucking stupid,” I retort. I am once again surprised at myself. I don’t normally say things like that out loud. But, this guy is getting on my nerves, and I don’t want to pussyfoot around with him. He needs to know I am not playing hard to get, and go away. I don’t want anything to ruin my night.
He is about to say something rude, I’m sure, by the look on his face, when he suddenly stops and straightens up. He looks over my shoulder. His expression molds from arrogant and snide, to nervous and anxious. I turn around to see my stranger glaring at him. His eyes are glacial. He sets down the two drinks he’s holding on the side table next to me. He stands to full height. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jack Ass when he asks me:
“Is this guy bothering you, Lenore?” his voice takes on a severe edge.
I turn back to look at a now cowering, Jack. “No. He was just leaving,” I say smiling at Jack sarcastically.
The look on Vincent’s face speaks volumes. Jack knows better than to fuck with him. His 6’3” frame towers over him, his broad shoulders and strong stance say he isn’t to be challenged. Jack gets up nervously and walks away with his tail between his legs.
A big security guard appears from a dark corner of the bar, Vincent nods at him, and Jack is escorted out. I turn to question Vincent, but he shakes his head at me. Don’t ask. So I don’t. I’ll assume he knows security?
The atmosphere of this bar is so calming it doesn’t take long to recover from that slight hiccup. He takes the seat next to me and hands me my glass. It’s a dark amber liquid. It smells sweet, but lethal at the same time. I peer up at him apprehensively.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He kisses my temple softly in apology. I stare up at him, dumbstruck and spellbound…again. I want to say, no need to apologize. That was HOT! But I don’t, I simply stare at him and allow the tingle of his tender kiss to seep into my bones. I bring the drink to my lips.
Black Burlesque Page 9
