Black Burlesque Read online

  But my eyes continue to slide back to my stranger. I find his eyes locked on mine each time I chance a peak at him. A delicious fog fills my mind until I cannot look away from him. I am dancing for him and only him. The number comes to its close. We girls lock arms and take our bows, turn around and wiggle our bums at the audience. I am briefly brought back to the present, and begin to giggle along with the girls as applause erupts from below.

  The girls amble off stage, but I lingerand as the drummer taps away his final fanfare, I thrust out my chest, lean forward, and blow my stranger a kiss and give him a wink. His answering smile is enormous, and the crowd goes nuts for it! They’re catcalling and whooping as if I threw him my underwear. I rush offstage and meet the girls in the dressing room.

  “What was that? I thought you stripped your top off by the sound of the crowd!” Kazumi asks, narrowing her eyes. I blush again, and brush her off.

  “No, I just gave a final curtsey,” I pause, did she see me? Or was she off stage? “It was fun,” I add and blush again. She grabs my shoulders and looks at me carefully.

  “You were great, I think everyone out there was wondering who the new girl is. Those ballet slippers! They totally work for you. I’m so thankful that you agreed to do this, Lenore.”

  I am feeling just a tiny bit humiliated, but I return Kazumi’s smile because I’m still high from our performance.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you kitten, you’re a closet freak!” Ginger roars when I enter the dressing room. All the girls laugh and agree with her. A closet what? It was only a 30 second solo. Geez…I flush again. Really, my part is so small. Why are they making such a big deal? It must be because Kazumi told them how shy I am.

  “You better hurry and change before you get all kinds of requests to perform in the private rooms, Lenore,” Kazumi whispers. She says it with a smile, but I know she’s concerned.

  I smile back, she doesn’t know it, but I will be on my date in a matter of moments. I take off my kitten ears, and dab my face with powder. I surprise all of the girls by leaving my corset and garter belt on.

  I slip into my dress. The fit is amazing. With the corset on, my figure is exaggeratedly curvy. It hits just above my knee, and I have just the right amount of cleavage peeking out from the top of my dress. I take my ballet slippers off and put them into my locker. I slide on my leopard heels, and opt to leave my black gloves on too.

  It’s a bit much, but I have something up my sleeve. I release my hair from its pins and it falls alluringly down my back. I blot my lips just as there is a knock on the door. It opens slightly; and a security guard pokes his head in, obviously hoping to catch a glimpse of skin.

  “Excuse me ladies,” he says with a playful grin, “Lenore, there is a gentleman here, says you’re expecting him. He’s in the Red Room.”

  I beam a smile at the security, and my heart leaps into my mouth. He hasn’t run away! I’m actually going on a date!

  Kazumi looks from me to the security, and back again.

  “No, there must be some mistake, she’s not going to any of the private rooms. Right, Lenore?”

  I love her, always trying to protect me and keep me safe. I give her a nervous look, and glance back at the security guard.

  “Let him know I’ll be there in a moment.”

  He walks out and closes the door after him. A hush falls over the crowded dressing room. All eyes are literally on me right now. They glance nervously from Kazumi to me, their expressions interested and amused.

  “Lenore, are you sure about this?” Kazumi looks worried. I opt for silence, I really don’t want to lie, or explain myself. If I talk about him, then things will seem too real. I’m enjoying this dream state I’m living in right now.

  “I’m O.K. Um...where is the Red Room anyway?” I ask. I just realized I have never seen any other rooms other than the main room where the bar, tables and stage are. Kazumi cocks her head to one side.

  “Up the stairs, first door on the right. But waitLenore. I don’t want you to feel pressured. And I don’t like the idea of you going alone, especially your first time. We don’t normally do that, at least not for clients we don’t know very well. It’s always best to go in a group. If you must go, you can take Jill with you?” She says glancing in Jill’s direction. Jill grins wickedly. No way in hell is she coming with me.

  “No, I’m good on my own, thanks. It’s just the one guy. I’m um...expecting him. Kazumi, it’sit’s not for work,” I mutter. Her eyes widen, “And I’ll scream for security if I have to.”

  “Wait! Are you really expecting him? Lenore!”

  I rush out, grabbing my bag before anyone can ask me any more questions. I want to keep this to myself. That way, if things fail miserably, no one will know. No one will ask me any questions, or give me sympathetic looks. I feel guilty keeping things from Kazumi, but I’m sure in my own time I will tell her. I just want to see how tonight goes first.

  All this time, living in my little vintage throwback world, I’ve never experienced things first hand. I’ve craved romance and flowers, holding hands and soft touches. The stuff of poetry, the shit I’ve read about time and time again and watched in black and white. I didn’t think it would ever happen for me. I lack the courage for it, and now I just don’t think it’s for me.

  Right now, soft flowery romance is the last thing on my mind. Desire and lust are unfolding in my belly with each breath I take. Shy Lenore has gone and buried her head somewhere. I close the dressing room door, and just as I do, I hear all of the girls let out a giggle, and Ginger shout, “I told you! I know a closet freak when I see one!” They all erupt into laughter.

  Oh, she has no idea.

  Chapter 7

  I find the spiral staircase tucked behind the bar. There is a security guard at the foot of the stairs. He looks at me from head to toe, and back up again, and then nods his head once, giving me the go-ahead. My hands are shaking, and so are my legs, but with each step up the staircase I’m gaining more confidence. I want to see him. I really want to see him.

  I arrive, and look at the dark wooden door for a few seconds before I knock timidly, then open it a second later impatiently. There is a small table, with two red candles lit atop a black tablecloth. In the center of the table lies a basket of garlic bread. The aroma fills the room. Red and black Victorian style velvet wallpaper lines the walls, dark wood, beautiful vintage sconces strategically placed throughout, and a shiny, sleek black stage. A single chandelier hangs simply above the intimate platform, casting an alluring red glow. I can see why they call it the Red Room.

  There is soft music being played and I can’t seem to figure out where it’s coming from. It fills up the space. It sounds like Chet Baker, but I’m not sure.

  “Have a seat.” I hear him before I see him. His voice sends chills throughout my body. I walk further into the room, and there he is, sitting in a corner, perfectly relaxed, exuding calmness, confidence, and oh, yes, sexiness. He is wearing a black jacket, perfectly tailored to his delectable body; a grey hounds tooth tie, black slacks, and black oxfords. His hair is perfectly set. He has his glasses on and he’s like the R rated version of Clark Kent. Fuck...he’s so fine.

  “Where shall I sit?” I ask. My voice comes out husky, and a little tremulous. Shall I sit on your lap? The question lies unsaid on my lips. The thought is tempting.

  “At the table. Dinner will arrive any moment. Let me get your chair.”

  Just then, there is a knock at the door. It opens, and a very well dressed man with a rolling cart covered in a white tablecloth, and two silver covered dishes strolls in. He makes a grand display of taking the silver cover off of my plate. Steak, asparagus, and baby potatoes, it smells heavenly, and I’m starving. He places the plate onto our small table for two, and then does the same with Vincent’s plate.

  He pops open a bottle of wine, pours a small amount into my glass and hands it to me to taste. I take it, still standing awkwardly in the center of the room. I sip te
ntatively and find that it’s delicious. It’s crisp and has a hint of cinnamon. I nod my approval, and he continues to fill our glasses, leaving our chilled wine in a bucket on our table. He walks away, and quietly closes the door.

  My heart is pounding in my ears. Vincent stands quickly and quietly. Striding over to me, he pulls out my chair. I sit, and he places my napkin onto my lap, lingering for a far too brief moment. I peer up at him and offer him a crooked smile. He takes his seat across from me and grabs his glass from the table.

  “Cheers.” We clink glasses and sip, not taking our eyes off of one another. He looks devastatingly handsome tonight. “I didn’t expect to see you on stage. You were...exceptional,” he adds.

  Oh, the way he moves his mouth, and the way he says exceptional. Mmm… Everything below the equator clenches tightly.

  “Well, I was rather surprised myself. I had no idea you played the trumpet. You were...intoxicating.”

  His brows shoot up, I see what I think is humble surprise flash across his face.

  “Intoxicating? Thank you.” He clears his throat, “I’m only here for tonight, though. My friend, who plays here regularly, is ill. It’s too bad I can’t permanently take his place, I would love to watch you perform every week.” He returns to his food, cutting his steak, putting it into his mouth. Oh, that mouthwatering mouth of his. His jaw tenses each time he chews, and it’s mesmerizing. My body temperature rises as I think of where else I’d like his mouth to be.

  “I’m here temporarily as well,” I manage. “My friend, Kazumi, asked me to fill in for one of her girls while she’s on honeymoon. I reluctantly agreed. That was my first time performing on a stage. I’ll be here for just a month, I think.” I smile, feeling a little shy. “Anyway, I’m sure it was your music that made me dance so...exceptionally.” I smile at him confidently, even though my insides are tied up in knots. It feels especially difficult for both of us to keep up the pretense. The conversation feels forced, I know what he wants…and I’m sure he knows what I want. But he’s too much of a gentleman to act.

  “And Kazumi is?”

  “My friend, and the manager of the burlesque group, the Mercuries. She does all of their choreography and books the acts for the club, too. She’s amazing.”

  “So you and Kazumi have that in common then,” he says quietly.

  “What’s that?”

  He smiles, “You’re both amazing.”

  I smile and squirm in my seat, more bashful than ever. I cut into my steak and take a bite, it’s delicious, and it tastes as good as it smells. I am now beginning to see why The Speak Easy is so popular. I’m sure there is a line trailing out the door and down the street. It’s living up to its reputation. Good cocktails, great music, and even better entertainment, if I do say so myself.

  I take another drink to steady my nerves. Amy Winehouse’s voice suddenly fills the room. I love her; I love every single one of her songs, every note she sings. I smile, and close my eyes. He offers me an intimate smile in return. I’m so glad we have similar taste in music.

  “I think they’ll want to keep you. The club that is, and The Mercuries,” his voice takes on a hypnotic cadence. “You were everyone’s favorite thing to look at tonight,” he adds, his voice low and sultry.

  Really? I find that very hard to believe. I blush, and then resume eating my steak, eager to take the conversation elsewhere. I’m starting to feel more comfortable, but every time we lock eyes, bang! It’s like lightening strikes my core. All of those muscles, down there, twist and contract. I writhe in my seat.

  “It’s hard for you to take a compliment, isn’t it, Lenore?” He has a rueful and knowing smile playing on his lips.

  I bite my lip, and nod my head. “I think so,” I concede.

  “Why is that?”

  “Is this your playlist?” I ask in an effort to change the subject.

  He smirks and takes his phone from his pocket, “Yes. Is there anything you’d like to hear?”

  I shake my head, “No, this is perfect. How’d you get it to play on the speakers?” I’m not tech savvy, not in the least, and I don’t own a cell phone.

  “Bluetooth.”

  I stare at him blankly, and then shrug. He smiles.

  We finish our dinner and the bottle of wine in weighted silence. I can’t stop watching him, looking at his mouth and wanting...more. It feels as though there is so much being left unsaid, through all of our polite conversation, there is something lying, sleeping, and waiting to be woken.

  “How did you know my name, Vincent?” I catch him unaware, I watch his body stiffen slightly.

  He licks his lips before answering. “I asked around.”

  I blink at him, “You could’ve asked me.”

  He smiles, “You seemed...really eager to get away from me, the first time we met.”

  I smile at the memory. “Oh, well that’s because I was mortified.”

  “Why?” He asks, genuinely confused.

  I arch my brow, “Because I was covered in mud.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  No. I want to say. But all I can do is shake my head.

  “You know...even covered in mud, and soaking wet, you’re still the most naturally beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  The silence stretches between us, the atmosphere becomes...charged.

  There’s a knock at the door, we both turn in irritation, and a waiter ambles in, bringing us another bottle of chilled wine, and some chocolate mousse. It looks too good to eat, adorned with dark red cherries. He hurries out as he senses our annoyance with him. I want Vincent, all alone, all to myself. I can’t take it any more.

  As soon as the door closes, I’m all business. The champagne from earlier, and the wine from dinnerit pushes me to say what I’m thinking.

  “Vincent?” I peek up at him through my lashes, my eyes heavy with lust and longing. He looks at me, and I can sense the hunger in him. He’s holding back, restraining himself. “Yes, Lenore?” He draws in his breath.

  “Do you want me?” I’m not sure if it’s the wine, or just my frustrated unfolding desire. I can’t take any more of this. I want his lips pressed against mine, against my flesh...everywhere.

  He doesn’t appear shocked by my question. It’s frustrating, I can’t quite seem to gauge whether or not he is affected by me. His eyes darken, his gaze hooded, he looks intense. A small clue to how he feels and what he’s holding back. He places both of his arms on the armrests of his wooden chair.

  “Yes,” he answers pointedly. “Yes, I do.”

  “Then tell me. Tell me exactly what you want.” I surprise myself by how husky and promiscuous my voice sounds. It almost sounds like I’ve done this before, which of course I haven’t. But I can’t help it. I want him, now. I’m impatient for him. I want to do strange things to him. Things I’ve never even read about. It’s what he does to me. He makes me feel raw with need and crude unrelenting desire.

  He smiles a slow seductive smile and he takes his glasses off and places them in his jacket pocket.

  Yummy. His beautiful face is unobstructed.

  “You sure you really want to know?”

  “Yes,” I say too quickly, betraying myself.

  “I want to know you. I want to know—everything about you,” he says shaking his head lightly as though even he doesn’t believe it could be true. I feel his sincerity, but his eyes remain dark, mysterious. There’s more. But he’s too much of a gentleman to say it out loud.

  I understand. He wants to unravel the mystery. I’m sure by now, whomever he is asking about me, has told him that I keep to myself, that I am strange and closed off. I get it, truly. It’s interesting. But I can’t help but roll my eyes.

  “NO,” I say strongly. I sigh in exasperation. “Stop being a gentleman for one moment. What. Do. You. Want? Right now, from me.” My voice takes on an edge I’ve never heard before. It confounds even me.

  His eyes darken further; I think he is finally catching my drift. He looks
slightly apprehensive, and cocks his head to one side. I watch him swallow. He looks down, a smirk on his lips; he looks up at me again, and takes a long drink of his wine.

  Oh, come on already, out with it! I scream in my head.

  He sets down his glass, and draws in a deep, steadying breath. He smiles a slow smile that travels to his eyes and heats me from within. His smile is gone in an instant, replaced by a serious smoldering hot expression I’ve never seen him wear.

  “I want...to watch you dance, for me—and only me,” his eyes seep into me, and slowly undress me. It sparks a hunger in me, a hunger I didn’t know I had.

  I want to say, I was...When I saw him playing his trumpet with the band, I was dancing for him, and only him. I bite my lip and stand. He moves with me, put I stop him.

  “No. Stay there,” I sound commanding, strong—but I feel weak in the knees. I take my chair by the back and drag it so that it’s in front of the stage.” I turn back to him and watch his eyes dance and sparkle with excitement. I nod, and he slides gracefully out of his seat and saunters over to the chair I’ve prepared for him. He sits and watches me, I watch as his chest begins to rise and fall.

  I stutter for a moment, I need to change the music. I grab his phone from the table and manage to figure out how to get to his music without asking him to guide me. I scroll through his playlist until I find a song I like.

  Since I’ve Been Loving You, by Led Zeppelin begins. I put the volume up and I stand before him, my body humming with need. With the music on and the red lights filling the room, I feel empowered. I sway my hips and make a show of taking off my long, elbow length gloves, one finger at a time. My eyes playing with him while I slide the satin gloves off. He bites his lip and watches me with unblinking, hungry eyes. I take a step closer to him, and take one of the gloves between my teeth and stretch it and twirl it around in my hand. He smiles and I start to get into my performance.