Thanks to my wonderful beta (and recent Captain Swan convert!) Ztofan!
The bright fluorescent bulbs that lined the mirror cast a harsh, bluish glow over her face as she applied a layer of deep crimson lipstick. Her eyes were heavy; sagging with tiredness as she moved into her sixteenth hour of consciousness - knowing that it would be at least another ten before she could crawl back into her bed.
Searching through her make up bag, she selected a metallic tube of concealor and began to apply it in short, quick strokes, masking the dark shadows beneath her eyes, until she was satisfied with the camouflage. She pulled the belt of her silk robe tighter around her waist, its soft fabric slipping over her bare skin, emphasising her lack of clothes beneath.
Tonight was going to be quiet, she already knew that. The weekends after New Year always were. The frivolity of the holiday season now being over meant the meagre handful of regulars that hung around the stage and slipped dollar bills into your thong weren't often supplemented by the more high rolling kind of client. But she needed money and wasn't about to put off her plans for yet another month, so here she was, trying her luck.
Tonight she had chosen her most successful outfit - a flame red thong bikini covered by a sheer black slip dress that barely touched her thighs. Simple, but effective. It complimented her soft golden skin and blonde hair. Combined with black thigh highs and towering red heels, it was her lucky outfit - had paid for itself a hundred times over. She crossed her fingers that she would land at least a few good tippers tonight. Enough to make the lack of sleep worth her while.
A few more weeks, she told herself, a month - tops. Then she would have saved enough. Then she'd be able to quit this job. All her jobs. Leave this damn city and all the painful memories behind.
"Hey Roxy."
She looked up then smiled when she saw Emilio, one of The Velvet Rope's security guys, grinning at her, "Hey Emilio. How's tricks?" She pushed her feet into her shoes as he approached, wincing slightly as her toes were squeezed together; mentally preparing herself for the cramp that would cripple the balls of her feet tomorrow.
"Okay," he shrugged, "Still waiting for this blonde babe to come to her senses and go on a date with me though."
Reaching up, she pinched his rounded cheek gently, "You know you're too good for me."
"You always say that Rox, but you seem pretty great to me."
She pursed her lips as she looked up at the tall, burly man, dressed in the obligatory black shirt and pants that let him melt into the background and easily eject the customers who got too handsy.
He was a good man. Kind. Reliable. Exactly the kind of guy she was bad news for.
Instead of replying, she just gave him a small wink and walked towards the black door that led into the bar, slipping off her robe and hanging it on the row of small silver hooks to the left of the entrance, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.
It was a slow night.
Tired, she gently swayed her hips to the music as she surveyed the room. She was standing at the bar, sipping on an iced Red Bull, willing the caffeine into her system as she waited. It was, as she expected, very quiet. Half a dozen drunks sat on the stools that lined the stage, heckling the dancers as they worked the pole. A scattered handful of other customers occupied the darkened booths around the edges: a few guys in suits who were clearly in town on business - nervously playing with their wedding bands, a small bachelor party - young looking - being entertained by a well endowed redhead and a petite brunette alongside the usual mix of loners and quiet ones who sat on their own, drowning their sorrows in liquor and keeping to themselves. Knocking back her drink, she was just about to give up and give in to her tiredness when she spotted him, sitting back in a large, circular booth in the furthest corner of the room.
The man was almost invisible against the leather seat, dressed as he was in head to toe black. He was barely illuminated by the down lighters that spread lazy beams of light down mottled purple walls. In his hand he held a heavy bottomed tumbler of something dark and dirty looking, the kind of drink that said I don't mess around. But he looked out of place. His dark hair was too carefully tousled as it slipped over his eye. His tailored shirt and vest too well cut; too carefully chosen.
He was looking at her. Staring actually. Even through the dark she could feel his steely gaze rake over her form unflinchingly. Almost as if he could see beneath all the layers and barriers she wrapped around herself. She shivered as she returned her glass to the bar.
"You gonna go over?" asked the woman behind the bar. Emma didn't didn't recognize her. It seemed like there was someone new around there every week. "He's been watching you for about twenty minutes."
Sighing, she rolled her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath - pulling in her stomach, straightening her back and relaxing her hips. "May as well," she muttered under her breath before she began to walk over to the booth, keeping her eyes locked on him as she walked. All the time conscious of the way he watched her hips sway and allowing her hair to fall over her shoulder and skim the exposed skin of her chest. Finally a few feet away from him, she bit her lip and sunk her hand onto her hip. "You looking for some company?"
He looked up but didn't say anything. Up close she could see he was handsome. Beautiful even - if you could apply that word to men. A strong jaw, pale blue eyes and the kind of lips that made you want to feel them against yours. The kind of guy who was trouble, in her experience.
"And what kind of company are you offering?" he asked, a glint to his eye as he spoke that made her hold back a smile.
Placing her hand on the table between them, she leaned forward, knowing he had a good view of her cleavage as she licked her lips. "That's up for negotiation," she replied, the pleasant caffeine buzz starting to thread through her as the peak of adrenaline of the chase kicked in at the same time.
"Hmm," he replied, pulling the glass to his lips as he watched her. Not blinking. Barely moving. Jutting out his chin a little as he slowly sank back the dark liquid, his Adam's apple dipping slowly.
She paused; her breathing slowing as she wondered what he was thinking. He was certainly not the usual kind of guy she dealt with. Most clients pretty straight up with what they wanted - brutally so. But he was something else altogether. Playing with her. Still waters run deep style. "Perhaps we could start with a drink?" he asked, gesturing to the seat beside him.
It was only then she noticed his accent. English. Soft. Pretty damn sexy.
He was definitely out of place in this joint, she thought.
She ran her finger over her lip, shrugging her shoulder to her ear as she leant forward,
"Champagne?" she asked.
"As you wish," he replied, raising his hand for a waitress as she slid into the booth beside him.
"So what's your name?" he asked as he poured two glasses of Verve Clicquot; the iced bottle covered in condensation that dripped lazily on the table before he returned it to the large, silver cooling bucket.
"Roxy," she replied, taking a sip - enjoying the way the bubbles danced on her tongue and fizzed down her throat.
He raised an eyebrow, "Roxy?" his voice disbelieving.
"Yeah."
"Well, 'Roxy', what's a girl like you doing working in a place like this?" He leaned back as he asked his question, stretching out his long legs under the table and folding his arms. She noticed the way his biceps strained against the cotton of his shirt and the hint of hair that his undone buttons exposed.
"And what would you know about me?" she replied, taking another sip as she allowed her flirtatious side to take over, trying to forget she was barely clothed in a semi-lit booth with a virtual stranger. Trying to forget this was how she lived her life, at least for a few days a week.
"Hmm," he muttered, running his thumb along his stubbled jaw. Her eyes flashed to his hand. No ring. Well, at least not one he was wearing. "You see this as a temporary thing - a means to an end. Yet you can't seem to get away. You live alone. Have for a long time. You like the kind of work that keeps people at arms length."
Her jaw dropped a little at his words. How had he read her like a book after a few minutes acquaintance and barely half a dozen sentences of conversation? Slightly flustered, she shifted in her seat - "Why do you say that?"
"I'm just someone who recognizes a kindred soul."
A few quiet seconds passed by. Quiet yet strangely comfortable. She ran her finger over the rim of her glass. It hummed quietly, the vibrations riding up her finger as she tried to work him out. The music shifted from an mid tempo dance number into something slower and more sensual. She felt her mood change; the need to alter the nature of their discourse consuming her as his words touched a raw nerve.
"So what's the deal with the accent then?"
A wave of cool relief sank over her as she saw a smirk appear on his face. Damn it was annoying. But hell it was sexy. She mentally chastised herself. No wonder you never meet the right guy, always finding these cocky shits attractive.
"I'm from England originally. But now I'm more a man of the world, as they say."
"Oh do they?" she asked, more confused now by his cryptic answer. "Well, 'man of the world', how about a dance?" she suggested, combing her hair back behind her ear and lowering her lids to give him her best seductive look.
His eyes dipped over her again. She felt incredibly conscious of the way they skimmed over her bare flesh. Normally she didn't care about they way the customers leered over her - she could take the gawking and groping of any guy. But something was different with him. It was like he looked beneath her skin, through the flesh to something inside. It unnerved her.
"Here?" he asked, titling his head a little, a hint of challenge in his voice.
"$20 here. $50 somewhere more… Private." Her lips caressed each syllable of the word, rolling her tongue around them.
She watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded note and placing it between his fingers and passing it to her.
Glancing down, she smiled. Tucking the bill into the hip of her thong she smiled, "Private it is."
In the velvet lined room the music was much softer; absorbed into the soft furnishings, cultivating it into a dull, mellow tone.
Hand on his shoulder, she pressed him into the couch. He sank down obediently, eyes still dancing with unspoken thoughts. With her leg, she nudged his knees apart and stepped between them; lazily starting to roll her hips from side to side whilst sliding her palms down the curve of her waist to her thighs.
She glanced over his body as she peeled away her skimpy dress, registering his slim yet strong build; noticing his large hands that would feel so good sinking into her skin and the scruff that covered his lower face, tainting him with a dangerous, sexy edge that appealed to attraction to the kind of men who wore that look like a badge of honor.
"So you in town for long, 'man of the world'?" she asked as sank closer to the ground, pulsing her pelvis forward as she let her knees become lose.
"A few days."
His answer was brief and perfunctory. His eyes occupied by the taught skin of her waist as her hips snaked from side to side in time with the lazy beat.
Shifting so one knee was resting on the seat beside him, she leant forward, her hand pressing into the soft upholstery to his right until her face was inches from his. Slowly, she began to roll her body towards him. She could see his eyes dilating, the dim light no match for his clear blue eyes, the dark navy edge of his iris making his gaze all the more piercing. Pushing up, she lifted her chest higher.
"Business or pleasure?"
And he looked up and met her eyes. In a moment so serious and cool - so seemingly unaffected.
"Both," he replied before hesitating and adding, "Perhaps."
Twisting around, she flipped her head over one shoulder, giving him a view of her almost naked back, bucking her hips back into him. She could hear his breath tighten - straining in and out as she writhed into him, rocking herself until their thighs almost touched before spinning around and returning her knee to its previous position. Allowing herself a small smile of triumph as she saw the way his eyes had narrowed and his hand was resting on his hip as it rocked slightly to the beat.
The music began to thicken, the bass sinking into her skin, making it buzz. Rolling back her head, she combed her fingers through her hair, allowing him full view of her body - the curve of her hip and the taught stomach she had sweated in the gym for - before swinging her other leg over his so she was now straddling him, hovering six inches above his hips. Close enough to feel the heat his body broadcast.
She looked again into his soft blue eyes; almost finding herself drowning in them - so hypnotic was their expression. It was unreadable. Enigmatic. Addictive.
Feeling the beat sway through her, she began to grind down into his lap, circling her hips and pushing up her hair with her hands - her eyes slipping closed as she lost herself in the bass whilst trying to forget the handsome client who so intrigued her. Trying to focus on why she was doing this - the end game.
Then something brushed her lip and she started. It was his thumb. Whipping her head backwards she whispered, "No touching." In response, he lay back - his body slipping down a little. His mouth was slightly open. She could see a glint of white teeth and a flash of moist, pink tongue as it ran over them. Her mind flickered - imagining what that tongue could do…
Her hands began to wander over her skin. Caressing her breasts, dipping into the thin material of her panties, slipping into her mouth and sliding over her lip. He kept his gaze steadfast. Face unflinching. Eyes speaking a thousand words that the rest of his visage did not.
She reached up to her neck and twisted the clasp at her nape that held up the front of her bikini top. The material instantly sagged at the release, peeling down over her chest, stopping just short of the pink skin of her nipples.
"Hm," he laughed, his lips curving.
"Something funny?" she asked as she arched her back closer to his face. She could feel his soft breathing on her skin now. It was warm but laced with something more - something slightly electric that made her catch her breath.
"Not at all love."
Choosing to ignore his curious behaviour, she released the last clasp that held up the thin scrap of material covering her modesty.
Tuning into the music, she sighed - she knew the track only had a minute or so. The air seemed to sink from him when her breasts slipped free - pooling in soft, firm curves that jutted forward - so close to his face. She smiled wryly - they're all the same. A show of flesh and they are putty in your hands. But she couldn't deny the way his jaw squared and his teeth clenched didn't affect her. Indeed she felt powerful, desirable. Her core throbbed a little as she felt herself become a little pent up in the heat of the moment.
She was a dirty, pretty thing they told her. But that was how she liked it. It drew them in long enough to be of use before she would push them away with a look or a word.
That's what made her so good at her job.
A ghost of a smile lit up his face, his eyes narrowed. As she started to grind harder into him, she could feel the hardness in his pants pressing up against her. Beginning to roll her hips, she let herself enjoy the friction for a second, eyes flicking closed as he hit the bundle of nerves that made her bite her lip and suck in a deep breath.
No, that wasn't strictly speaking professional. But hell, the lines of what her job was, were continually blurred to the point where 'Roxy' and herself sometimes became one.
"Mmmm," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He tilted his head back - almost as if he was in pain. His hands, she noticed, were sunk at his sides, fists clenched and digging into the seat.
The final bars began to play. She felt a loss. She didn't want it to end.
Harder she pushed her hips, stretching her torso so there was only a hairs breadth of air between them. Rolling into him, again and again and again-
Then silence. Chest jutting forward, hips pressed into his, the music stopped, fading away abruptly and rousing her from her thoughts. His eyes flashed open - dropping to her breasts. She saw his lips part. She knew he wanted to take her in his mouth, wrap his tongue around her nipples, suckle on her skin. She recognized that look. His hips twitched beneath her. She shuddered a little at the hardness he had achieved - stilling the urge to press herself against him again. Instead awkwardly tumbling back and reaching down for her discarded clothing.
She looked away for a second as she redressed. The thud in her heart made her feel a little breathless. Shaking her head, she willed herself back into reality.
Pivoting back to face her client, she pushed her hair back, giving him an almost coy look as she watched him pull at the crotch of his pants - failing to hide his clearly, very visible erection that made her swallow deeply at the memory.
"Um…"
She didn't know what to say. This never happened. She always had a seductive line, a joke, a compliment… Something to ease the awkwardness. Instead she let his eyes draw her in again. Then she let herself follow the sharp curve of his jaw juxtaposed with the softness of mouth and cheek - noticing the soft scar on it and wondering how it came to be.
"So, 'Roxy', what if I want to see you again."
She wrapped her arm around her waist, anxiously chewing on her clip a little. "Well, you know where I work," she replied quietly.
A faint smile curved the edges of his mouth. He shifted forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"What if I couldn't wait."
She felt the breath ease out of her, her chest compressing slightly and sinking into her waist. "What did you have in mind?"
He tilted his head to one side, those expressive eyes widening. "How about after hours. Tonight."
Pausing, she rand a hand across her collar bone - noticing how his eyes followed her every move She knew what he wanted. Hell - it wasn't the first time she'd been asked. And it wasn't like she hadn't said yes before. This woman could easily separate sex from feelings and if someone wanted to pay her occasionally…
"You can't afford me." She shook her head a little as she spoke.
"Try me," he countered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black small notebook and pen and passing it to her.
Taking it from him, she narrowed her eyes, slipping the tip of the pen between her lips as she wondered what his deal was. Had this been his plan all along? Too shy to get an escort? Or was it her? Was it her he craved?
After scribbling down a number, she passed the book back to him, expecting him to laugh and walk out at her audacious request. His eyes glanced over the page, closing the book and then with a hint of a smile he looked. up at her.
"Fine."
Her heart dropped. She hadn't expected…
"And I'll round it up to ten. If you agree to the whole weekend."
Her mind began to race. Ten grand. Ten thousand dollars. It would take her months to earn that. It would be enough to make her plans a reality. Enough to move back East - start afresh.
But she had to admit this man scared her. She wasn't really sure why. Maybe she didn't trust him. Maybe she didn't trust herself.
But ten thousand dollars…
"Okay." His features began to soften, relaxing almost at her words. He looked almost sweet - innocent even. Though she knew that was a fallacy.
"One thing, what's your name. Your real name?"
"Emma."
He reached out his large, warm hand and she reciprocated in kind, "Nice to meet you Emma. I'm Killian."
And his hand enveloped hers softly, squeezing it gently. So tender, so unexpected.
Who was this man, she wondered as she led him from the room back into the club.
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