Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  “Sip it slowly. It’s Four Roses. Bourbon.”

  I do as he says, and take a tentative sip. It’s good, and sweet. It warms my throat as it slides down. I like it. He drapes his arm around me possessively and turns to watch the singer on the stage. I take the opportunity to study his profile. He is almost too good looking. I inhale deeply, capturing his attention. I blush, my cheeks heat with embarrassment and I take another sip and shift my eyes. I can feel him smiling. What I wouldn’t give to suspend time and gaze upon his lovely face without fear of discovery.

  How is it that I’ve turned into shy Lenore yet again? Especially after what I just did? My mind drifts back to the Red Room at The Speak Easy, and my insides twist. That was not something I thought I’d do on a first date. Hell, it’s not something I thought I’d do ever!

  Vincent looks so comfortable and at ease with himself, I envy him. I wish I had his confidence and his self-assuredness. I’m back to feeling awkward and anxious. What was I thinking? Was that a big mistake? What must he think of me now? That I’m a floosy? Whatever spell that was, it has clearly been broken. The clock has struck midnight and my confidence has leaked away. I’m back to being the self-conscious Lenore I know and can’t be rid of. I take another sip to calm myself, I let the liquid slide down and warm me from the inside out.

  He folds my small hand into his. I turn and meet his eyes again, why does he even want me? Why is he even interested in me? This handsome stranger could have anything or anyone he wants. How do I fit into the picture?

  “What are your plans for Halloween?” He asks out of the blue.

  His question throws me. I have no plans once I close shop, but I’m tempted to lie to him and say that I’m busy. I feel unsure and unsteady just now. I’m setting myself up for disappointment aren’t I? If I think this holds anything but heartbreak?

  As if sensing my apprehension, or sensing that I’m about to shoot him down, he quickly adds, “I can pick you up once you close up. I’d really like to have you over for dinner.”

  Come over to his house? My heart perks up and does a little happy dance.

  “I was just going to pass out candy to trick-or-treaters, and then—maybe tell the pre-teens a scary story if they stick around for a while. That’s what I did last year.”

  His lip quirks up into a half smile, “Okay, so can I pick you up after that?”

  I nod in stunned silence; my instincts tell me I need to put a stop to this before I get hurt. He smiles, apparently satisfied with my response. I have no idea what I’m doing, or what he even wants with me. I’m scared. Honestly, and truthfully scared.

  I close my eyes and try to regain my calm. I take another sip. I feel his thumb move across my knuckles, soft and reassuring. I open my eyes and he shifts in his seat so that he facing me. He cups my jaw in his hand and studies me. I inhale deeply. My lips part and he brings his mouth to mine. We melt into one another. I savor his unique taste and explore his tongue with my own. He takes and presses it against his chest. I can feel his heart thumping a strong and steady beat beneath my palm.

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Don’t be afraid, Lenore,” he breathes against my lips. I spread my fingers out and slide my hand across his muscled chest and up his neck. He runs his nose against my jaw and inhales. Chills spread across my skin and I bring his mouth back to mine. I let my fingers tangle into his hair and let myself get lost. He deepens our kiss and my body comes to life. This feels so good, he feels so good. I want him. I really want him. I pull back, panting and aroused. I need to stop now, before it’s too late.

  It’s getting late, and I’ve forgotten about Kazumi. She’s supposed to be giving me a ride home, but I don’t want to leave his arms. I force myself to stand. I need distance from him in order to think clearly. He watches me warily; I can sense his confusion.

  “I need to go. Kazumi, my friend, she’s supposed to be giving me a ride back home.” He looks at me questioningly; he might even be annoyed.

  “I can take you back home, Lenore. I really don’t mind,” he says sternly.

  I want him to, but I don’t know how much longer I can trust myself with him.

  “No, that’s okay. She’ll be worried.”

  He sighs deeply and runs his hands through his perfect hair. He stands and tilts my chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

  “I’ll walk you back then.” He takes my hand in his and drags his thumb across my knuckles gently, and we walk out of the bar together, neither of us in a hurry to get back to the throngs of people at The Speak Easy.

  The streets are dark, and quiet, too. There is nothing quite like the smell of Downtown Los Angeles. The concrete seems to absorb every odor. Urine, armpit, sewage, grilled onion, and I don’t even know what else. I know I should be repulsed, but I am trying to memorize every moment of tonight, smells included.

  I feel unsure of myself, but more alive than I ever have. I feel like this could be the start of the new Lenore. The version of me I always wished I could bring to life is slowly waking and stirring inside me.

  I didn’t grow up with a loving family, well at least not until I moved in with Maggie, but even she wasn’t affectionate with me. She sensed my unease and discomfort with it. She chose to tell me how she felt instead of physically displaying her love. It is not something I’ve known, affection that is. I tolerate it, at best, from Jordan once in a great while. Kazumi is like me, we know we care for one another, but we are not touchy feely.

  I will admit that it is something I’ve often coveted. Mothers and daughters laughing and hugging, lovers holding hands and kissing, it’s something I wish I knew more of. But when it’s finally actually happening, I feel...not quite right. I don’t like the lack of control I feel.

  I am completely at Vincent’s mercy when he holds me and kisses me. Why it scares me, I do not know. Maybe this is all too good, and I’m afraid of what will happen, and how I’ll feel when it all falls away. I crave it, want it, but when it’s there I feel like I should reject it. It puts that much fear into me. How did he know that I was afraid? Am I that much of an open book?

  When I was dancing with him, and things were on my terms, I didn’t feel any apprehension or fear. But when it’s him initiating things between us...it’s not that I don’t like it, I do, I really do—it’s just scary. He’s so tender and sweet.

  We’re both quiet on the short walk back, both lost in our own thoughts. I look up at him; he looks serious and far away.

  “What do you do for a living, Vincent?” I don’t know why I haven’t asked before.

  He snaps out of his reverie. Shaking his head a little to dispel his thoughts. He looks down at me thoughtfully before he responds.

  “I—I run and manage a few businesses, and sort out the finances for a few large companies, too.” He furrows his brow, as if the thought of what he does for a living is not something he likes.

  “I started by helping my grandfather sort thingsout,” he pauses and shakes his head; a slight edge has crept into his voice. I ask what type of business’s he helps run and manage.

  “Hmm,” he sighs, “My grandfather was an investor, and so he cast a wide net. I deal a little with surveillance, tech and software development, commercial real estate, hotels, garment factories; the list goes on. My bit is to meet with board members every so often and discuss boring details, and I go over numbers. Nothing exciting.” He doesn’t go into too much detail about the specifics of his job, which is fine, I probably wouldn’t understand anyway, but I gather that his job is important. I can’t help but be impressed even though I’m still not sure how far his level of involvement is.

  He’s obviously intelligent. That’s good to know. I would have no idea how to organize a company’s finances at all. I can’t even manage my own. Not that there’s much to manage, I make hardly anything at all at the shop. But Maggie takes care of all of the paperwork and the numbers. I make enough to live and get by, but I aspire to expand my shop so badly, to see my vision co
me to life. If I were to afford to do so, I’d have to be dancing burlesque, and saving every penny for at least 10 years. That’s a sad thought.

  “Do you enjoy it?” I ask. I can’t help but notice how tense he is now that I’ve asked about his job.

  He shrugs, “I don’t know. Not any more.” And suddenly he looks depressed.

  “What are your other options? If you could do anything, what would you do?” I inquire brightly.

  He smiles softly, as if the thought of what he would like to do truly brings him joy.

  “I would probably be a music teacher. Maybe even play my trumpet in a bar once in a while.” He shakes his head. “Sounds stupid.”

  “No it doesn’t! You’re a fantastic musician, so why don’t you? What’s stopping you?”

  He grows serious again, angry almost. A line forms above his brow and his jaw tightens infinitesimally.

  “Duty,” he mutters under his breath. “My family, I guess.”

  I want to question him further. I want him to tell his family to fuck off so that he could be happy. But I say nothing—and ask no further questions. I don’t like his despondence.

  “That’s actually what I was doing when we first met.” We are just outside of the club now, making our way toward the parking lot.

  “I was checking out the university in Uptown. I was thinking of applying. They have a position open, I have experience, and I went to a good music school. I’m thinking about it.” He’s quiet for a moment. There is a fire behind his eyes when he speaks of something he’s passionate about. It’s hypnotizing.

  “Do you have the credentials you need, or whatever, to teach?”

  He looks down at me as if he has just remembered I was there. He is clearly lost in his thoughts.

  “Yes, that’s what I was doing before...” His smile fades, and his eyes dim. “Come on, let’s find your friend.” He drapes his arm around me and we look for Kazumi’s car, the conversation forgotten for the time being.

  As we approach the lot, a security guard stops us by raising his arm and blocking our path. He grabs the wire that’s hanging from his ear and speaks into the small microphone.

  “She’s here,” he says.

  I give him a confused look, as does Vincent. Before we can question the security guard, Kazumi comes storming out of the rear entrance of The Speak Easy. Oops.

  I guess I should have let her know where I was going. The security discreetly departs before she reaches us. Kazumi looks from me to Vincent, and then softens a little.

  “Lenore, you seriously need to get a cell phone already. You have no idea...” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll wait for you in the car,” she snaps, trying to control her irritation with me. I chuckle softly as she walks away. I didn’t get a chance to introduce her to Vincent.

  “She’s right you know. You do need a cell phone, at least for emergencies. I can’t believe you don’t own a cell phone…”

  I scowl at him, no thanks.

  “I’ll see you on Halloween, Vincent,” I whisper timidly. I’m really looking forward to seeing him again. Suddenly, Halloween feels too far away.

  His eyes are twinkling, and I watch as his mood shifts and brightens again. I want to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him so very, very badly. He takes my hand and pulls me to him, planting a feather soft kiss on my lips. Not the kiss I was hoping for, but a nice kiss never the less.

  “I’ll be there at 6:30,” he whispers against my mouth.

  I turn to walk away, I can feel him standing there watching me, most likely waiting to make sure I make it to the car safely like the gentleman he is.

  I try to resist the urge to turn around and run back to him. I’m giving myself a mental pep talk of how that would make me appear infatuated, which I am NOT. Yeah, right.

  My treacherous body disobeys me and I turn around, walking back toward him at a furious pace. He doesn’t react, his feet are planted firmly, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. When I’m a foot away, his expression changes, to a look of such passion and agony that I’m completely overwhelmed. He pulls his hands out of his pockets just as I slam myself into him. I throw my hands around his neck, tug his hair and kiss him so hard I almost dissolve into him.

  His arms wrap tightly around my waist; his kiss, equally fervent. My feet are a foot off of the ground. Our kiss is feverish, delicious and completely possessive. I can hear a few club goers clapping and hooting at us, but I shut them out.

  Vincent gives the best kisses, not that I have anything to compare them to, but I know it’s true. We’re both breathless when I pull away. He puts me down gently. I shiver slightly as a chill spreads through me. I don’t know if it’s from the cold or from his kiss, but he takes the collar of my coat in his hands and proceeds to button me up. I’m completely transfixed by him. I hold his gaze for the longest time possible. He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. When he’s on the final button he pulls me in again, and kisses my lips in his feather soft way.

  “Goodnight, Lenore,” his voice is extravagantly deep and sultry. I know in that moment that I will never get over the sound of his voice and the thrill I experience hearing my name come from his mouth.

  Eventually, I turn and walk back to the car. I can’t control my violent heart. It is thudding out of control. My lips are tingling, and my skin is on fire. I have never been so excited for Halloween to come; it really can’t come fast enough. I brush my swollen lips with the tips of my fingers, savoring the feel of his lips on mine for a moment or two longer.

  Chapter 9

  I am on my 3rd cup of coffee, and am buzzing around my shop. I’ve had a steady flow of customers today. Every time I get a break and a chance to think, my heart rate accelerates and my thoughts drift to him. I can’t take it. The anticipation is killing me. I’m really not comfortable with my unrestrained wayward thoughts and how over-the-moon excited I am feeling.

  I wish I knew how to keep my cool. I try hard to keep myself busy. I’ve even cleaned the whole shop, organized, and moved my Halloween costume display around at least five times. I’ve helped quite a few women stitch up last years Halloween costume that just doesn’t seem to have the same fit, and have nearly pricked my finger half a dozen times while adding a Peter Pan collar to a plain fit and flair dress from the 60’s.

  I go to my register and take another drink of my cold coffee, place my head in my hands and try to steady myself. I need wine, not caffeine. I take a deep breath, and when I look up, Kazumi and Jordan are smiling down at me. They look as though they’ve been swapping information.

  “That’s a guilty look,” Jordan says, bemused, and he and Kazumi swap smiles.

  Kazumi didn’t say much Friday night when I got into the car with her. She just asked me to let her know the next time I have a date after work so that she’s not stuck waiting for me. She was surprised and caught off guard by Vincent, and I know she wanted to ask me more about him, but she remained tight lipped during the drive home. The weekend has been busy for all of us, so I haven’t had to suffer their questioning or chastisement.

  She asked if I wanted to go for drinks with her and Jordan today, and then go see The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t say why, I just said I couldn’t.

  It’s been an annual tradition for us, spending Halloween together. But I’m sure they have both forgone better plans in the past just to keep me company. I bet their alternate plans for tonight will be much better than staying in with me for yet another Halloween. I know Jordan is a big fan of dressing up and parading down Hollywood Boulevard, and the Rocky Horror Picture show does sound like fun, but—even if I didn’t have a date planned with Vincent, I probably would have ducked out anyway.

  “I’m guessing you’re seeing him tonight, and that’s why you’re not coming with us to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” Kazumi says, sarcastically.

  “Um...yes,” I answer timidly. My face is beet red, I can feel it getting hotter by the second. Shy Lenore has resurfaced, r
ed faced and pigeon toed. Jordan turns to Kazumi; “I say we hang out here tonight, Zumi. What do you think? We can have popcorn, and give candy out.”

  “That sounds like a really good idea, Jordan. We can wait up for our dear friend to come home,” Kazumi plays along. I roll my eyes and flip them both off.

  “You can hang out here, if you want to keep Bucky company.”

  They both stare at me, completely and totally shocked.

  “Why are you being so secretive, you brat?” Jordan snaps.

  “And volatile,” Kazumi adds flipping me off with a sweet smile on her face. I know Jordan is dying to know what Friday night, and I’m not talking about the performance with The Mercuries.

  “Just back up off me, you guys,” I say with mild irritation, they’re sweet so I can’t get mad at them. “I’m just having a little fun. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  They both sag with defeat. They know not to press me. They both know how far I’ll go to keep my privacy. I can be completely closed off when it comes to certain things. If they want to know about Vincent, they know they need to let me come around. Jordan throws himself onto the couch.

  “Fine, have it your way. Benny is going to meet up with Kazumi and me. You’re not invited.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I stick my tongue back out at him. I feel them both stealing glances at me for the remainder of their visit, trying to decipher a clue to my thoughts. I keep up my unaffected facade until they both leave the shop.

  I tack up a sign on my shop doors, Back in 30 Minutes, then rush upstairs to shower quickly and throw on my new lace panties and bra that I bought earlier today. The bra gives me some serious lift, and the panties are merely a scrap of material, but they’re cut just right and make my body look good.

  I pull on a tight, black turtleneck leotard. It’s made of a thin and comfortable material, and nearly see-through. I slide into some equally tight, black pleather leggings. It’s just after 5 o’clock now, and I’m sure I’ll have customers, and trick-or-treaters waiting. I quickly lace up my black oxfords, and pull my hair up into a high ponytail and create a more dramatic version of my cat-eye liner, adding a bit more smokiness around my eyes. I paint my lips red and add some whiskers to my face before sliding on my lace cat ears that I made earlier today. I grab an oversized bag and throw in some black, patent leather pumps, an eye mask, and a few other goodies, and rush back downstairs.