Nothing.
He was gone.
5
Chapter Five
"Well that wasn't totally fucking humiliating!" I muttered to myself as I stalked backstage. I was mortified. I'd taken a risk, I'd danced my heart out, just for him, and he'd left, rather than watch any more of it. Talk about a blow to the ego.
"That..." said Sasha as she entered the dressing room, "was amazing. A truly lovely performance Jane."
"Hardly," I shook my head as I wiped at my face, anxious to remove at least two of the three pounds of makeup I was wearing. "It was pretty much the definition of pathetic."
"Well," Sasha moved to join me at the mirror, her kind eyes searching mine. "I don't think the customer would agree with your assessment. I'd say he was quite taken with you."
"He left Sasha," I rolled my eyes. "He's not taken with me. At least not enough to do anything about it. He's made that quite clear."
"He has? What am I missing? Do you know him outside of the club?"
“He's a Professor at my school," I confessed. "There was an attraction between us, that turned into a flirtation, and then things started to escalate. But then yesterday he basically told me to forget it. Totally. No chance. "
"Ah, I see. So he didn't know you dance here?"
"No! Not at all. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him."
"Mmm-hmmm."
"When he didn't leave right away I thought well maybe he changed his mind again. Maybe there was still a chance after all. So I danced. This is going to sound so cheesy, but I really poured my heart into that routine. I felt like we were connecting. I really thought I was getting to him."
"It certainly appeared that way to me," Sasha nodded.
"But then he left before the dance was even over. I gave it everything and he left. So that's it. Rejected. Again."
"Fascinating," said Sasha, her cheeks dimpling with a sly smile.
"Glad you find my humiliation so amusing Sash," I scowled at her.
"It sounds to me like he's was conflicted," she said, pushing on my shoulders gently to guide me into the makeup chair.
"That's putting it mildly."
"Maybe he's not anymore." She picked up a brush from the counter and began stroking my hair.
"Well, I think that's clear, since he got up and left," I sneered, dabbing at my eyelids with a cotton pad.
"He didn't leave. He's in the damask suite."
"What?" my mouth fell open and I turned to face her.
"He wants a private dance. From you. So go easy on the war paint or you'll have to reapply."
"I don't understand."
"What's to understand, Jane? You're gorgeous and sexy as hell, and he wants to see more of you. In private. It seems pretty straight forward to me," she said arching an eyebrow.
"You think?"
"Only one way to find out," she smiled at me.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I hung my head in my hands. "Sash he probably wants to see me privately just so he can lecture me about my moral failings. Stripping my way through college and all that. I'm telling you he's been hot and cold since we met. Why should tonight be any different?"
"Because tonight I had Jane Claremont on my stage. And Jane Claremont is a thousand times the woman that Lizzy Bendit ever was."
I reached up and squeezed her hand at my shoulder. "Thank you," I mouthed.
She winked at me. "Get dressed," she narrowed her eyes, thoughtful. "Something sweet I think, romantic."
I stood, walked to my costume rack and selected a sheer, embroidered empire waist nightie with an ultra-short hem. I paired it with a pair of lace-frilled panties, stockings, garters and demi-bra.
When I had dressed, Sasha handed me a pair of elegant cream lace pumps and led me back to the makeup chair. She arranged my hair into a messy side bun at the nape of my neck and clipped it with a pale pink silk rose.
"And the final touch," she said, tying a deep pink velvet choker around my neck. A single crystal hung from its center, glinting in the light from the makeup mirror.
"You were right to remove most of the makeup, I think," she said. "Now I can see you. You look soft, ethereal. Lovely."
"Thank you." I said, admiring myself in the mirror.
"You're welcome."
Sasha walked to the intercom at the far wall of the dressing room, picked up the handset, hit a button and spoke into the phone. "Parker? Did Dr. Grayson get his tea? Good. Listen, send the rest of the staff home, we're closing for the night. You can go too, I've got some paperwork, so I'll close up later," she paused and glanced at me. "Parker, before you go, turn off the monitoring in the private rooms. No, no it's okay. Jane won't be needing it. Thank you. Goodnight." Sasha hung up the receiver and walked back to me. She took my hands in hers and smiled.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"Let's just call it peace of mind. Now, you and your Professor needn't worry about prying eyes, or recorded indiscretions. Whatever does, or doesn't, happen in that room is no one's business."
* * *
"Jane Claremont." The Professor sat on the crescent shaped black velvet lounge that took up nearly the entire floor space of the damask suite, so named because of the damask pattern wallpaper that covered the room. His blue eyes were liquid, spiked with drink and lust and mirth. His arms were stretched across the back of the seat, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows, those strange tattoos on his forearms clearly visible. A beer in hand and a smile on his face, he rose as I stepped through the door, and set the beer on the coffee table in front of him. It held a china tea service. I didn't even know we had a china tea service at Clouds but, since Sasha is Anglo-Indian, I suppose it wasn't surprising.
"You have a coat," I said, trying to break the tension. I pointed to the dark wool coat that was draped over one of the lounge cushions. "You've been holding out on me." I smirked at him.
"As have you," he said, his expression wry.
My face flushed at his words. He was calling me out about my job. I wondered what he thought of it. Of me. He'd only known me as a student, a flirty one, but a student just the same. How had his assessment of me changed now that we were here together, alone? Me, barely dressed, my body exposed, available to be commanded according to his whims, his pleasure. The thought of what might happen next had me quivering in my heels. Was he going to lecture me? Or ravish me? Oh god, please let it be the latter. I stood in the doorway for a moment, gazing at him, willing myself not to faint. What the hell was wrong with me? All this week I'd flirted and seduced with the confidence of a lioness on the prowl. Now I felt like a pile of goo. A horny, drooling, gelatinous pile of goo. I panicked and was tempted to fall back on my crutch.
What would Lizzy do? I thought. No wait! Don't! Just stop, Jane! I stared at the floor, shook myself mentally and then met his gaze.
"Please, have a seat," he gestured to the lounge.
I smiled at him, not a stripper smile, not a naughty co-ed smile. Just a Jane smile.
"What? No new name?" I asked. "I'd think that if this afternoon I was calamitous - after tonight, I should surely be considered cataclysmic."
"No," the laughter dimmed in his eyes and they grew serious and heated. God he was gorgeous. "No, not at all. Definitely not cataclysmic."
He held my gaze in his own and I felt my feet carry me towards the lounge, drawing me closer, an irresistible magnetic pull. I sat down.
"Then what am I?" I asked.
He sat across from me, his eyes raking my form, drinking me in. I felt the color rise in my cheeks, that telltale blush that always reveals my feelings no matter how much I wish to hide them. I crossed one ankle over the other and straightened my back, my fingers playing with the lace edge of my lingerie.
"You are...Resplendent," he said, and the word sounded like a prayer on his lips.
"Resplendent?" I whispered.
"Yes. Resplendent," he said again. "A favorite word of mine. It means: incomparable beauty, radiance and splendor
."
"Oh, is that all?" I bit my lip, to hide my smile. "Thank you."
He nodded and sat back in his seat, his legs spread wide. He tapped his fingers on his knee as he studied me.
"Can I pour you tea?" I asked, anxious to fill the silence.
"Yes. Just a splash of milk please."
I stood and bent to retrieve the pot, poured milk into the base of the teacup and then added Earl Grey. I breathed deeply as the aromatic steam scented the air. The fragrance was divine, and tempting, so after serving the Professor I poured a cup for myself, and returned to my seat.
"You surprised me today, Jane. Three times," he said holding up three fingers to emphasize his words. He sipped his tea, then set both cup and saucer on the table with a clink.
"Three times?" I prompted. I was sure I knew what one of the surprises was. No teacher expects to walk into a strip club and find a student on the pole. But two other times? What on earth was he referring to?
"The first time was in my office when you turned my own arguments on me and then handed me my ass."
"You deserved it," I said, smiling as I took a sip of tea. The liquid warmed down my throat and across my chest, awakening my nerves. My skin was hypersensitive, and the thin fabric of my lingerie began to feel restrictive.
"I did." He picked up his beer and took a sip, eyeing me over the mouth of the bottle.
"So we're doing tea and beer tonight?" I teased. "What's that taste like?"
"Disgusting," he said grimacing, and I laughed at his expression.
"You said three times," I prompted. "What were the others?"
"The second occasion was in class."
I raised my eyebrows in query, and set my tea on the coffee table, giving him my full attention.
"You had the most entertaining argument with that horrible person that sits in the fourth row, what is her name again?"
"Claire Frank," I answered.
"Yes. Ms. Frank," he rolled his eyes and I laughed.
"How did that argument surprise you? I don't understand," I replied.
"I was both surprised and impressed actually. Not only with your erudite defense of Ms. Austen in the face of Ms. Frank's brutal Brontien attack, but with the scope of your knowledge regarding female fiction writers of the 18th and 19th centuries. Your assertion that if Ms. Austen were writing today she'd be practicing her craft in the romance genre was well argued. Your observation that an artist is not only a product of their upbringing and their environment, but of their era was absolutely correct. And your skillful rebuttal of Ms. Frank's clumsy attempt to shame the entire romantic genre was brilliant. I think you left her quite speechless, and hopefully enlightened. I know I was." He leveled his eyes on me, intent.
"You were?" I asked, shivering under his gaze.
"Yes, and I wanted you more in that moment than I have since we met."
"More than the pool?" I asked.
He nodded.
"More than the Laundromat?" I smirked.
"Yes and that's saying quite a lot. Because in the Laundromat I nearly spread you wide and bent you over those dryers."
My body thrilled at his words. I felt goose bumps erupt across my arms and thighs, my nipples hardening against the sheer fabric of my dress. A pool of heat collected low in my core and the smirk fell from my face.
"As I watched you this afternoon I realized that I had not yet glimpsed, not until that moment, the real Jane Claremont. I was fascinated, and I wanted more. Tonight you showed me more."
No, I tried to! But you left! My head shouted. But I didn't say the words aloud. I sensed, I hoped, this speech was going somewhere, and I didn't want to stop him now.
"This evening, as I watched you on stage, my tendency to casually fetishize your name suddenly made sense to me."
It did? Good because I've been wondering about that, too. I smiled at him, inviting him to continue.
"I believe my constant invocation of your name has been part exorcism part mantra." He laughed. "I was inexorably drawn to you since the first I saw you. And I didn't want to be. I wanted you out of my head Jane, and I haven't managed it." His eyes were thoughtful now, shadowed.
"I don't understand," I murmured.
"As you bore witness this afternoon, my life is, at the moment, complicated. It's been complicated for me by others, and by my own hand. It's been complicated by secrets, by hidden agendas, and by lies."
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"No. no, don't be, we all have our stuff as you so effectively reminded me."
I laughed and was pleased to see the warmth return to his eyes.
"I've recently taken steps," he continued and his fingers tapping idly on one knee, "to rid myself of these complications. But the consequence of this ordeal has been that I am now rather jaded, suspicious, and quite good at detecting these deceits in other people."
I frowned at him, no longer sure I liked the trajectory of this conversation. So it was to be a lecture after all?
"The Jane Claremont I met this week had a secret, a hidden agenda, and a reason to lie. Did you not?"
"I won't deny it," I said, unable to keep the sneer out of my voice. I felt my defenses rising. From turn-on to turn-off in less than thirty seconds. God, that must be a record.
"I'm glad," he said, leaning back in his seat, he rested an ankle on the opposite knee and leveled his gaze. "You should know, I force this confession from you, not to chastise you. God, I hope to avoid that mistake again," he laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "You have every right to your agendas, your secrets and your lies. We all do," he murmured. "I only bring it up now by way of explanation."
"And what does it explain?" I asked and watched as a lazy curl flopped onto his forehead. Its presence softened him and suddenly he was a little less Professor, and a little more just an extremely hot guy I was sitting across from in my underwear.
"That the nature of our acquaintance," he continued, "has been colored from the onset by my prejudices..."
"And my pride?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
He groaned, "Oh, let us not be too dear. Such blatant analogies would have poor Aunt Jane tossing in her grave."
I laughed unabashedly. All defenses were dropped now, and it felt good. I settled against the back of my seat, smiled and waved my hand for him to continue.
"I thought you one dimensional," he said. "Sexy as hell. But one dimensional all the same."
"And?"
"And I was wrong. Now I see you are multi-faceted. You have shown me a glimpse of who you are. And I am keen to see all. You are lovely, sweet Jane. You shine." He uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward, his knees inches from my own. "I want no more barriers, no more uncertainty between us." His eyes caught mine and held. "I will have you. On that I am resolved."
An electric shock of lust shot up my spine and my breath caught in my throat. I drew my arms around my chest in comfort, defense, arousal? I wasn't sure.
"Dear god, you have a way with words," my voice shook with laughter and with nerves. "I swear the entire dictionary must queue up for you, just waiting to be used by that dirty mouth of yours."
"I'm also a cunning linguist," he smiled wryly and I was undone.
"Oh Jesus," I hugged my arms to my chest.
"Will you dance for me again Jane? Now?"
"But you left..." I stammered. "You left my dance." What the fuck was I doing? I had wanted to dance for him, now I was arguing about it? Trying to get out of it? I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared, titillated, turned on more than I'd ever been in my life, but with a case of stage fright to match.
"I wanted us to be alone the first time I beheld your," he smirked playfully, "Resplendence."
"There's no music," I stuttered. "Sasha turned off the systems for the rooms, so there's no music."
"Oh, she did?" his eyes narrowed. "Why did she do that?"
"So we wouldn't be recorded," I replied. Oh shit. That didn't sound at all suggestive.
"Ah, how considera
te of her." He took my hand, guiding me to stand in front of him, then sat back in his seat, gazing up at me. "So everything that happens here tonight..."
"It's just us, it's just private," I confirmed.
"Lovely. I'll ask again. Will you dance for me Jane?" he stretched his arms across the back of the lounge, a lazy smug smile curling at the corners of his lips. "If it helps, I can hum a few bars. But I'm afraid I know only hymns, and premier league songs, neither of which would do your considerable talent any justice."
"I..." I searched for something more to say, anything to stall.
"I'll confess, you needn't dance. But I'd love to see the other aspects of your performance. As becoming as that negligee is on your delectable form, I'm anxious to see it off." His smile softened, no longer smug, it was heated and dangerous, it washed over me and turned my panic to lust. "Show me?" he asked again.
Another electric shock, shot up my spine over my shoulders and down to the tips of my breasts. What was this man doing to me? My lips trembled and I licked them, biting them softly to steady myself. I slid my hands to the drawstring at the front of my nightie and tugged it loose. It slipped from my shoulders and I let it slide down the length of my arms to my hands. Then I held it up, and offered it to him.
"Thank you," he said as he took it, pressing the filmy fabric to his nose. He breathed deeply and sighed, before laying it over the back of the seat. "Beautiful. Please, go on."
The Professor (Becoming Jane) Page 6
