Ripped

by Lisa Edward

  “Yeah, no big deal,” Tiff agreed. “Just the biggest performance of my life, but hey, no pressure.”

  She stretched alongside me, and we were soon joined at the barre by the other three girls who would be performing. Pierre and James had chosen a dramatic heart-wrenching piece from the first act to get the wealthy digging their hands in their pockets for handkerchief, and coming out with hefty checks. The dance we would be performing picked up when the soldiers had gone to war, leaving their partners behind. We had waved goodbye and were now left with the loneliness and uncertainty of our loved one’s fates.

  Pierre burst through the door, announcing his arrival as he always did. “Ladies, I need a moment with Jasmine,” he told the others, dismissing them from the room.

  Tiff, knowing I never wanted to be left alone with Pierre, hesitated at the mirror, pinning what was already a perfectly executed bun.

  “Out, now,” Pierre told her. “That means you, too.”

  With a grimace at me and a small wave, she left the dressing room, pulling the door closed behind her.

  “Are we ready, mon amour?” Pierre’s movements were smooth as silk as he travelled across the floor until he was by my side, taking my hands in his. “You will be breathtaking, no?”

  I took a step back until my butt hit the barre behind me and I could go no farther. My heart raced. “I’ll do my best, Pierre. It’ll be great.”

  He stepped closer, bridging the little gap I had managed to make. “You will be great. I have such high hopes for you, mon etoile brillante, and all the things we will do together.” He was too close and my eyes darted from side to side, trying to formulate my escape. “I will make you a star and in return, you will make me very happy.” He pressed against me, the back of one finger stroking my cheek and making my skin crawl. I jerked my head from his touch, trying to bat his hand away from me. He grasped my chin between finger and thumb, jerking my head back to face him. “Or I will make sure you never dance in this city, or any other, ever again.” He grinned making my blood run cold. The hand that had been squeezing my chin ran down my neck to my cleavage as I stood frozen in shock, my shoulders pressed back against the plaster wall. “The choice is yours, mon amour.”

  A knock on the door and a call for five minutes allowed me to breathe again.

  Pierre stepped back. “Make no mistake, little Jasmine. You are mine to do with as I please. And I expect to be pleased often.”

  As soon as he had closed the door behind him, my weight slumped, and I had to catch myself on the barre to stop from hitting the floor as I tried to steady my breathing.

  Tiff slipped through the door, took one look at my stature, and rushed over. “What did the slime-ball do?”

  I looked at her, my heart still thumping heavily against my ribs. “Exactly what you said he would. Put out or get out.”

  It was time to go out to the performance area, which was at one end of the grand ballroom of a venue that was usually used for wedding receptions. We had been dressing in the room where the bride and bridesmaids would freshen up before being presented to the guests at the reception. But tonight there were no tables with place cards, only potential investors standing and sipping champagne while waiters were rushed off their feet serving canapes from silver trays.

  I dried my sweaty palms on my dress, the trembling from Pierre’s cornering still coursing through my body. I wasn’t at my best, and I cursed him not only for his proposition, but for its poor timing. I needed to be focused on the scene I was about to perform, not on the stomach-churning thought of having to face Pierre and tell him in no uncertain terms that hell would have to freeze over before I allowed him to lay one slimy paw on me ever again.

  “Oh my God, you’re shaking. If you’re nervous, you know I can do your part. Should have been mine to begin with,” Becca said, tongue in cheek. It had taken me a while to get used to her brand of humor, but I knew well enough now that she meant no malice.

  Tiff shook her head at Becca, telling her to drop it.

  Becca shrugged at her. “What? She knows I’m joking.”

  Tiff jerked her head toward Pierre who we could just see around the corner, schmoozing with an elderly couple, the old lady dripping in diamonds.

  “Argh,” Becca said, pulling a grossed out face. “He didn’t put the hard word on you right before a performance? What a douche.”

  “I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” I tried to reassure myself as much as anyone else.

  “He usually waits until after the show when you’re all high from performing. You’d be all”—she bounced up and down excitedly, acting out the scene she was painting—“that was so great. Then he’d be like”—she seamlessly slipped into an impersonation of Pierre—“mon cherie, that was extraordinary. Come suck my dick to celebrate. And you’d be like”—she held up her hand and waved her finger—“What kind of girl do you think I am, motherfucker?”

  I laughed, but the sound in my ears was as if it were coming from someone else. “How did you know?” I asked. “Has he done it to you too?”

  Becca slung one arm around my shoulders. “Oh, girl, he’s done it to all the newbies. The whole ‘you’ll never work again’ card has been played so many times.”

  “So what did you do?” Maybe I could pick up a few tips on how to get out of it.

  She shrugged. “I did it a couple of times. Made sure I was really bad at it and he left me alone, found someone else to bother.”

  I couldn’t help gaping at her. “You did it? You slept with him?” My heart sped up, again thumping rapidly in my chest.

  “Nah he’s mostly into oral. It’s like a toothpick, so no biggie … literally!”

  Tiff and Becca burst out laughing, but I didn’t join in. Regardless of how big or small he may be, the thought of being with anyone other than Bax hurt my heart.

  I couldn’t get out of the venue fast enough. Tiff and I had travelled there together, and we were supposed to change from our costumes into evening wear, and then mingle with the guests. Dancing a scene from the show was only one part of our role; we were also there to make the investors feel like a part of this wonderful adventure so they would want to throw money at us. But I couldn’t. My stomach had churned the entire time I’d been dancing, and it was only thanks to the fact I could dance the role in my sleep that I had made it through the performance. My feet had known where to go, my arms had been on autopilot, and for the first time in my dance career I hadn’t felt present. My heart and mind were somewhere else. They were at a bar on the wrong side of town, where the love of my life was serving drinks and being appreciated for the wonderful man he was, while I was being appreciated by people who didn’t know me and probably wouldn’t, on any other day, give me a sip of water if I was dying of thirst.

  With a quick wave to Tiff and Becca, I slipped through a side door and out into the cold night air. Usually I would pull my scarf up around my mouth and my beanie down low, but tonight I needed the icy chill to bite at my face and bring me back to myself.

  The apartment was dark when I arrived home, and I checked the time. I hadn’t expected to be back until much later, but it was only ten-thirty and Bax wasn’t due home until around one in the morning. I busied myself by making a fire to take the chill off the air, and then stood under the shower until the water ran cold. My mind raced so fast that I couldn’t grasp a single coherent thought. Intermittently, it would pause for a split second and Pierre’s menacing presence would wrap dread around me, but just as quickly it was gone again.

  I didn’t know what to do. Finding my warmest pajamas, I snuggled between the sheets and pulled the quilt up high around my chin. Bax had said I always slept so soundly, but not tonight. Not anymore. This was what it felt like to lie awake, staring at the ceiling. Shivering, I raised my head to check the fire was still lit. It blazed, but there no heat penetrated my numb body.

  The click of the door unlocking had me sitting bolt upright in bed. I must have finally dozed off, but only into a light sleep w
here the smallest of sounds had awoken me.

  “Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to wake you,” Bax whispered as he dumped a bag in the closet.

  “That’s okay. I was barely asleep.” The fire had died down so only the embers lit the room. Bax was merely a silhouette in the darkness and I strained my eyes, watching him slip his T-shirt off.

  He chuckled as his jeans fell to the floor. “Too excited from the fundraiser? How’d it go? Were you brilliant?” He turned toward the bathroom. “I’m just gonna take a quick shower, then you can tell me all about it.”

  The air was knocked from my lungs, and then a flood of tears tumbled down my cheeks.

  “Geez, Jaz, what’s wrong?” Bax was on the bed beside me, cradling my trembling body as the uncontrollable floodgate burst into more wracking sobs.

  I gasped for enough breath to speak, to explain why I’d suddenly turned into this crazy woman, but there was no air and no words, just tears.

  Bax held me until my body stilled and the wetness on my cheeks dried. “What happened?” he croaked. “You’re scaring me, Jaz.”

  “Pierre …” It was all I needed to say to make Bax’s body stiffen beside me.

  “What did he do?” His tone was low and controlled, but now his body was the one that trembled. “Tell me, Jaz. If he laid a hand on you, so help me I’ll fucking kill him.”

  “He …” I sat up and tried to steal a few deep breaths. “He pretty much said if I don’t do what he wants then I’ll never work again.”

  Strong hands grasped my shoulders, turning my body toward him. “So what happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said indignantly. “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t think you did anything; I know you better than that. But did you tell him where to go? Did you quit the show?”

  I shook my head. I knew that I should have told him that I wasn’t selling myself for a role in his show or any other. That I would work with or without his help, and if he tried to end my career I would expose him for the dirty rotten slime-bag he was. There were so many things I should have said and done. I should have slapped his hand away from me and stormed from the dressing room. But none of those things had happened.

  “I froze. Then we were interrupted and he left, and I danced and came home.”

  Bax was up and pacing the floor back and forth in front of the fireplace. “I’m going down there tomorrow to have a little talk to Pierre.” I could see even in this light that his body was a ball of tense muscle, his hands clenching and unclenching in rage. “He can’t get away with it, Jaz. You need to leave the show, and he needs to be exposed for the way he’s treated you. No one will work with him after this.”

  “It’s not the first time, Bax.”

  He stopped dead on the spot and turned to face me.

  “He’s been doing it to new girls for ages. Nearly all the girls in the cast, I think, have had some encounter with him.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.” Bax sat back on the bed and took my hands. “Someone has to speak up or it will keep happening.”

  “I can’t.” My voice sounded frail and pathetic in my ears. “He can ruin me. As much as I’d like to believe in my ability, he could make sure I never dance again.” My eyes misted over. “What would I do if I couldn’t dance? No.” I shook my head and sniffed back the tears. “I just have to toughen up and not let him get to me. I won’t be alone with him again and eventually he’ll find someone else, someone weaker than me to target.”

  “But, Jaz—”

  “No, Bax. This is my one chance to make a name for myself, and I won’t let him take that away from me.” I squeezed his hands. “Please let me handle it.”

  Bax curled up beside me, hugging me into his firm body. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jaz. Even if I have to quit all my jobs and be your personal bodyguard day and night. He won’t get near you again, I promise.”

  Snuggling in, I inhaled the faint remnants of cologne on Bax’s skin. “I would never … I couldn’t; you know that. You’re the only one I ever want to touch me.”

  “I love you, Jaz, more than anything in this world.” He sighed. “If I’d been there it wouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry …”

  “It’s not your fault. If not tonight, he would have found another opportunity to corner me. The main thing is I know his intentions and I can be prepared.”

  Soft butterfly kisses peppered my hair and down my cheek. “You’re mine.”

  I turned my face upward to meet his lips. “And you’re mine.”

  “Always.”

  Bax’s hand slid down my body and grasped my hip. “These are the woolliest pajamas I’ve ever seen,” he murmured against my lips.

  I giggled. “I was so cold before. I couldn’t get warm.”

  “And now?” His fingers edged beneath the waist band.

  “Now my body’s on fire. I wonder why?” My pants were guided down my legs until I could kick them off my feet. “Much better.” One dexterous hand flicked the buttons on my pajama top undone and that too was removed.

  “Now that’s more like it.” Bax’s mouth worked its way from my earlobe to my neck, his soft lips heating the skin of my chest until they found one nipple and leisurely played with it. Teasing fingertips ran over my stomach, slowly circling as they went farther down until they settled at the apex of my thighs. My back arched as the pressure on my breast increased, and Bax sucked harder. His fingers stroked my heat, spreading the wetness around my entrance.

  I loved the feel of his body, his soft skin stretched over the taut muscles of his torso. My hand ran down his stomach, feeling the contours of his rippled abdomen until it came to rest on his length. He was so hard. The heat radiating from him matched my own as I stroked up and down, spreading the liquid that had beaded on his tip.

  From his slow, measured movements, I knew he wanted to play, but the only thing I wanted was to feel him inside me. His fingers danced around my core. I took hold of his hand and pressed it hard against me, at the same time bucking against it.

  “Okay,” he said on a sigh. “I know what you want.” In one fluid movement he was above me, his breath on my cheek making every hair on my body stand to attention.

  “I want you.” I nipped his jaw, making him groan. “I always want you.” My nails scraped lightly down his back until my hands came to rest on his firm, round ass.

  He was lined up perfectly, pressing against me, then inch by inch filling me. With my legs wrapped around his hips, I lifted myself to meet him, holding him in place with my hands.

  “More,” was all I could murmur, but it was all I needed to say. With the slightest thrust of his hips, he was buried deep inside, the sudden movement taking the breath from my lungs so it expelled in a short, sharp moan.

  Our bodies became one, seamlessly joined by heart and soul as his lips once again found mine and breathed love back into me. This was what it should feel like to give yourself completely, and I would never have this feeling, or want this feeling with another. Bax rolled us over so I was in control, but I stayed lying on him, our bodies still connected from hip to chest. Bracing my hands under the pillow for traction, I moved my hips, my body rocking against his as he lifted his pelvis to match every stroke.

  I was so close. The pressure inside me built with every subtle rock of my hips, the fire in my core heating my entire body. My muscles were like coiled springs as my movements became jerky and a wave of release washed over me. Bax, not ready to stop, grabbed my hips and held them down. He bucked up into me harder and faster until he groaned and dug his fingers into my ass, before he shuddered and I felt him pulse inside me.

  We lay silently in the darkness, the fire long burned out, taking the last glimmer of light with it.

  “I love you, Bax,” I whispered, my face nuzzled into his neck.

  “I love you too, Jazzy, forever and always. Now that I’ve finally got you back, I’ll never let you go.”

  The pulse on Bax’s neck drummed against my c
heek, lulling me to sleep. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions, from excitement for the fundraiser, to the nausea-inducing thought of Pierre’s expectations of me. But this was the only feeling that mattered now, as we lay here in our little apartment cuddled together, because this was real. This was the only thing that I cared about right at this moment—that I had the man who I love beside me, the feel of him inside me still tingling through my body, and I knew that he loved me as much as I loved him. Whatever life would throw at us, we would face it together, and as long as we were together, we would triumph.

  BAX HAD already left for work by the time I arrived home, absolutely exhausted from a full day of dancing. Rehearsals still concerned me. Just because Mikhail had a Russian name didn’t mean he was the next Mikhail Baryshnikov. Bax had been right about him from the beginning. He wasn’t a strong dancer, either physically or metaphorically. His lifts were lackluster, and I quite often didn’t feel safe when he raised me above his head, unlike when Bax did it. Bax could lift me with one arm, his strength instilling such confidence in me that it allowed me to focus on my lines and positioning while in the air.

  Dumping my bag in the coat closet, I went in search of the note I knew Bax would have written me before he left. Tonight, I found it attached to the old retro refrigerator.

  Jazzy girl,

  Dinner is in the fridge for you. Make sure you eat before you go drinking. You know what a lightweight you are—especially when you’ve survived on an apple all day.

  Have a great time hitting the town, but remember to come home to me. I will always come home to you. You hold my heart.

  Bax xx

  Smiling, I opened the fridge to see what Bax had left for me. Surprise, surprise, it was pasta and calamari. He must have called in to see the Giancolis today and knowing Papa, he would have cooked the seafood especially for Bax.