Beyond Hunger_A Romantic Strip Club Encounter

by Ashley Logan

  There was no other description, but the name reminded him of something she’d said about her being the girl or the Kryptonite to his Clark Kent. She’d told him the third piece of their contribution had been giving her trouble.

  “The third dance,” he whispered to Gina, “It’ll hold my answers, I’m sure of it.”

  Gina relayed the information to Rick, who gave him an encouraging smile and two thumbs up. Steeling himself for the wait, Serge got comfortable and tried to enjoy the show, as Gina had suggested.

  As the curtains opened for the final time, Serge was more than ready. Chewing his lip, he ignored the tutting from the ladies next to him as he leaned slightly into their space to get the best line of sight.

  The stage was dark, and for a moment, he didn’t know where to look.

  A lone, pale spotlight appeared as the music quietly began. Trailing into the center, it lit the body of a man, who was presumably dead. Casually dressed, the other dancers started walking by, as if they didn’t notice him, until one girl - Scarlett, stopped to check him.

  Apparently he was not dead. As the other dancers cleared off, Scarlett proceeded to push and pull him until the ‘dead’ man finally rose and began dancing too. Serge recognized Bruno instantly and smiled at how multi-talented his new friend was.

  As the two of them danced, it became clear that Bruno’s character was falling in love with Scarlett’s. The two of them had an undeniable chemistry and Serge found himself annoyed when another man came to whisk Scarlett away.

  Bruno chased them through the crowd of dancers that had reappeared, trying to help Scarlett when she was left to her own devices by the other man. Serge was fairly sure the guy was named Smith.

  Bruno helped Scarlett traverse the stage, even using his own body as a staircase that she walked up only to be caught by Smith, as she fell from the top. The music began to fade and Smith whisked Scarlett off stage as the crowd came back.

  Looking wounded from the encounter, Bruno moved through the crowd with his head down, slowly regressing to his ‘dead’ state. The music changed slightly as a girl in a white sun-dress limped onstage from the opposite direction.

  Violet. Serge gripped the seat in front of him, his eyes trained on her.

  Stumbling about the stage with their heads down, Bruno and Violet collided, but managed to swing into a bizarre and beautiful partnership. Helping each other through the crowd, they almost played together as they leapt and spun in a teasing kind of way.

  The music intensified as they moved close. Bruno spun Violet away, but in doing so, stripped her of her pale dress to reveal a slinky, green satin number. Violet’s dancing turned seductive and it was as if Bruno fell under her spell. Joining together in what could only be taken as passionate sex, Serge felt a growl building inside him as he watched Bruno’s hands on Violet.

  As he watched, their movements turned from something urgent, raw and wanting, to something slow, gentle and tender.

  Suddenly, Smith and Scarlett were back on stage with a turbulent style that looked as if it would endanger the close bond now projected by Violet and Bruno. Pulling the sash from her middle, Smith sent Scarlett spinning before he disappeared. Her pale blue dress flared to reveal a deep green undercarriage as she danced around and around Violet and Bruno, threatening to bust them apart.

  Bruno’s attention was drawn to Scarlett. Taking a step toward her, he turned back to see Violet hurriedly trying to reclaim her rumpled white dress, covering her body with it in any way possible until finally she pulled it back on over her green number.

  Apparently torn, Bruno’s mind was made up when Violet turned her back on him. Catching up to Scarlett, he spun with her as Violet had to jump out of their way. Slowing, Bruno assisted Scarlett out of her spin and into his arms. The crowd of dancers reappeared and Violet hid behind them as Bruno and Scarlett danced as though in love. They all danced off stage and as Bruno left, a tinted spotlight hit his white shirt, turning it green. Violet was left on stage, toiling in her own mess of motion.

  Her white dress blew about her as she moved, her motion giving the distinct impression of wind toying with a piece of trash in the street. Eventually, she melted to the ground, inheriting the ‘dead’ position that had once been Bruno’s.

  The stage returned to black, the music faded to nothing and the curtain fell. Applause erupted around Serge as he shot to his feet.

  “That’s what she thinks?” he cried, looking to Gina and Rick in shock. “I have to find her,” he said, wading through their knees and apologizing to the others on their row as he bumped past, rushing to the aisle.

  Looking for the fastest way, he rushed down toward the stage. Vaguely registering Gina behind him, he plowed his way through the crowd that was forming in his way as everyone began leaving their seats.

  Moving against the flow, Serge battled on, his only thought was of getting to Violet and making her see the truth. Hopping a barrier he followed a side corridor backstage and found himself in a hallway of doors with an angry security guard standing in front of him as another stepped in behind.

  “Violet!” he yelled, hoping one of the doors led to her dressing room. “Violet!”

  “Serge?”

  Her face appeared and Serge shrank back on his heels in relief. “Violet I need to talk to you. May I please talk to you?” he asked, eying the wary security guard as he peered around him.

  Stepping into the hall, she closed the door behind her, tightened the ties of her robe and moved closer. Apologizing to security, she nodded for them to leave, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Her huge brown eyes looked up to him with uncertainty and Serge wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and stroke her glossy hair as he smelled her skin. He wanted to feel her pulse beneath his lips as he kissed her neck; feel her warmth against his skin, knowing it was real between them.

  “What did you want to say?” she asked quietly, as if scared of his response.

  Transfixed by all that was Violet, Serge was at a loss for words. Stepping toward her, he cupped her face and kissed her gently on the lips.

  Letting her arms drop to her sides, she leaned back, studying his face. “Keep talking,” she urged with a whisper.

  Kissing her again, Serge wrapped his arms around her waist as hers came around his neck, her fingers weaving into his hair. His chest rumbled happily as he pulled her closer, leaning against the wall. “Hot damn, you’re beautiful.”

  Snorting, she pushed him away. “That’s it?” she asked with an unimpressed tone as a cute half-smile teased her lips.

  Grinning, he shook his head. “Not even close,” he said, breathing hard.

  “Serge! There you are!” Gina called from the end of the hall. Gesturing to someone behind her, she continued toward them and Serge turned back to Violet.

  She was no longer smiling and he felt his own grin fade as Gina arrived beside him.

  “Oh good you found her! Beautiful show Violet. You’re truly an amazing dancer, I had no idea.”

  “Thanks. You look beautiful, Gina. I’m glad you two could make it.” Looking down at herself, Violet looked as though she wished the ground would swallow her. Giving Serge a look that was very similar to disgust, she backed away. Forcing a tight smile, Violet lowered her eyes and avoided him altogether, before scurrying back to the door she’d come from. “Excuse me. I have to change.”

  Serge blinked. What just happened?

  “Can I see you when you’re dressed?” he asked, following her.

  “I’ll be busy,” she said quickly, shutting the door in his face.

  “Violet? What’s happening?” he asked through the door, his forehead pressed against it. There was no reply.

  “Everything alright?” Gina asked, resting a comforting hand on his back.

  “I don’t know,” Serge replied, shaking his head. “I thought maybe..., but just now...” Looking between himself and Gina, he tried to see what Vi must have. Closing his eyes slowly, he released a pained sigh.
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  She thought he was with Gina.

  Hadn’t he told Violet that was impossible? That he’d been too crazy about her to even think about Gina?

  No. He hadn’t.

  He’d been too caught up in disappointment. Hurt and angry that she’d called their time together nothing more than a casual hook up, he’d taken too long to realize she was pushing him away on purpose. By the time he had, he’d assumed it was for the wrong reasons.

  “I’m such an idiot.”

  “If you say so,” Gina said slowly, waiting for more of an explanation.

  Serge ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “I screwed up, G. I could have solved this weeks ago if I wasn’t such a dumbass.”

  Gina raised her eyebrow and scrunched up her nose. “You sure? After that dance, I don’t know what to think. I can’t work out if she seduced you, or if she was depicting that you only loved the sexy version of her you’d seen at the club?”

  Shaking his head. “It was more than that, G. Neither of those things are what really happened. Didn’t you see the tenderness before the blond was spun back into the scene? It was real, but she thinks I threw her away. Or that I was going to, so she pushed me away before I could.”

  Gina’s head bobbed in understanding briefly before her face scrunched again and she looked sideways at him. “Well didn’t you tell her just now that isn’t what happened?”

  “Not with words,” he said, pounding on the door and yelling Violet’s name again to no avail. “She saw you, and ran away. She thinks I’m with you; that she was right and that I’m even more of an asshole, because I just kissed her. You saw the look on her face.”

  “That’s what that was?” Gina asked, growing more flustered. “But I’m here with Rick,” she added, knocking on the door herself.

  Serge looked behind her then met her eyes. “There’s no Rick here, Gina.”

  Sighing, Gina thumped the door and paced the hall. “That’s because he’s schmoozing his way into the cocktail after-party. Did you not see him greasing up Monopoly man?”

  Serge jumped. Grabbing Gina’s hand, he pulled her back down the corridor. Laughing, he shook his head. “He does look like the Monopoly guy.”

  “Now you’re happy?” Gina asked, trying to keep up in her high heels.

  “Violet will be at that party. I won’t mince words when I see her. I’ll tell her just what she needs to hear and hope she’ll forgive me for being too stupid to realize what she was doing.”

  “And then what? You’re positive she likes you?” Gina pressed, taking her hand back so she could hike up her gown to move faster.

  Nodding to himself more than anyone else, Serge forged ahead. “I think so. Fuck, I hope I can fix this as easily as I think I can.”

  “Me too,” Gina agreed, slowing down as her expression became worried. “What if Rick can’t get us in?”

  “Unless Vi blocks me, I have an invitation. If she does, we’ll pull our badges and say that Monopoly man and tiara lady need questioning,” he said, picking up the pace again. “Violet will hear what I have to say, whether she wants to, or not.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  VIOLET

  Kat finishes the elaborate braid in my hair and stands back to view her work. Tucking and loosening wisps here and there, she makes sure it hangs over my shoulder just right, gives me an approving nod and moves on to Natalia.

  “Thanks, Kat. It’s beautiful,” I say admiring her genius in the surrounding mirrors.

  “Welcome,” comes her muffled reply due to the comb handle in her mouth. Her hands are busy separating and twisting.

  Turning back to my reflection, I review the elegant mask I’ve given myself. If it’s not enough to manage the pompous banter I’m about to subject myself to, my dress will pick up the slack. Emerald green and backless, it clings in all the right places as it cascades to the floor. Splurging a little, I’ve made sure everyone is dressed to an acceptable standard. Although it grates against my principles immensely, appearances are important tonight. If we want to draw maximum funds out of the high rollers, we’re going to have to entice, not repel.

  My mother taught me that much.

  Checking my eye make up again, I feel satisfied it won’t run should I feel the need to cry again.

  What was I thinking? Dancing out my feelings for Serge, when I knew he’d be here with her?

  Fuck it.

  At least it was the truth.

  I can live with that. Even if it means living without those kisses that make my toes curl.

  Glaring at myself in the mirror, I suck a whimper back down my throat and warn myself to quit thinking about it. I have work to do.

  Tipping the rest of my champagne down my throat, I check my reflection again. Good enough.

  “I’m heading up,” I say to Kat and Natalia. They’re the only ones still left in the dressing room.

  Taking the comb from the counter to tame a curled section of Nat’s hair, Kat looks over at me. “We’ll be right behind you, Vi. You look stunning, by the way.”

  “Now I should fit in with the rest of you guys, and you made it happen.” Thanking her by kissing her cheek, I pull on my practiced smile and head out the door.

  As I arrive, I take a glass of bubbles from one of the waiters, dressed in his snazzy waistcoat. Taking a deep breath, I step further into the crowd, immersing myself in a world I have tried my best to escape from. I know just how to stand, when to laugh, when to smile, when to speak and when to shut up. All of it is a delicate dance, skirting around actual values and praising the sizable egos that accompany their more sizable wallets. Bracing myself, I transform into what my mother raised me to be.

  It’s for a good cause.

  Nina spots me and waves me over. Standing with two overly glamorous middle-aged ladies, Nina smiles and nods at their banter, clearly relieved when I arrived.

  “Marjorie Wilson and Estelle Swanson, this stunning creature is Violet Wheeler,” Nina says, gesturing to me as if I’m part of a TV showcase. “She is the genius who choreographed and danced in three of the numbers you witnessed tonight.”

  The ladies look me up and down in a measuring way. Wanting to feel like anything but a show pony right now, I distract myself by talking.

  “Actually I only choreographed one of those by myself,” I correct Nina with a gracious smile. “I couldn’t take all the credit.”

  “Ah yes,” Estelle, the one with the tiara, clucks to the other. “I remember you very well. You’re a very gifted young lady. Your dancing really drew the eye,” she says, nodding. “You made quite an impact on the gentleman seated next to us, you know.”

  Marjorie gushes too. “Oh you did! He could barely sit still. Every time your group came on stage, he was on the edge of his seat. At the end he rushed off before we could satisfy our curiosity as to why. You wouldn’t care to divulge the reason to two inquisitive gals, would you? We love a good intrigue.”

  Stunned, I feel my mouth opening and closing without sound and I clear my throat. “I’m sure I don’t know who you mean, so I couldn’t possibly say. But thank you for the lovely compliments. I was just glad to assist in helping such a worthy cause. Bringing assistance, support and education to children is one of the best ways to combat family violence. In the long term, prevention is much more cost-effective than trying to cure the situation at the other end, don’t you think?” Always better to bring things back to money with this crowd. Most of them couldn’t give a shit that reaching out to at-risk kids early could save their lives.

  “Yes, yes. Of course dear,” Marjorie says, patting my shoulder. “We’ve already written our checks for this lovely lady,” she adds, gesturing to Nina. “We’re much more interested in the drama behind the scenes tonight. It’s really got our juices flowing. Are you sure you don’t know who the mystery gentleman is?” she asked, grinning viciously as she exchanges her empty champagne flute for a full one from the waiter passing by my shoulder.

  Keeping my sigh inside, I smi
le back. “I’m sorry, but no. I have no idea who you could mean.”

  Sipping her champagne, Marjorie glances at Estelle and makes a little face. It takes all my strength not to roll my eyes and run away. I’m about to make a polite excuse to leave when Estelle’s words stop me.

  “Well you may not know who he is, but he looks to know who you are,” she says, making an excited squeak as she takes Marjorie’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

  My chest seizing in panic, I follow their eyes to find Serge walking with purpose across the grand room towards me.

  “Oh shit.”

  “So you do know him!” Marjorie says, practically bouncing. “Who is he? He’s very handsome. I think I would have noticed him if he’d been to any functions lately.”

  I would laugh at the thought of Serge mingling with them at some gathering of the elite, but I’m too busy searching for an escape route. Excusing myself, I turn to leave, but cut off by a waiter, I’m forced to re-evaluate. It gives Serge enough time to reach me. Taking my wrist in his large hand, he keeps me from going anywhere.

  “Vi, we need to talk. Now,” he says in a no-nonsense tone.

  Turning to face him, I stand tall and look at the two nosy snobs hanging on every juicy syllable.

  “I have nothing to say to you, Sergio Moretti.” Pulling my arm from his hand, I step back.

  “Well I have plenty to say to you,” he says, nodding at the two gawking ladies with some recognition. “Please excuse us ladies.”

  Forcing a plastic smile onto my face I shake my head and shove his hand away as he makes to guide me aside. “They needn’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t do this Violet.”

  “Do what? Express my free will?” I challenge, looking him up and down.

  Damn he’s fine. Scrubs up real nice.

  Returning my glare, he gives a small nod. “Fine. You leave me no choice.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his police badge.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”