After Hours (24 page)

“L
adies, we should arrive in another twenty minutes,” came the driver's voice on the other side of the partition in the luxury limousine. It was their cue to get into their costumes. Fortunately no one from outside the vehicle could see into the blackened rear windows.

Dina had told Lance that she had to work an out-of-state party for a group of athletes and wouldn't return to New Jersey until early Sunday morning. What she'd neglected to tell him was that Sparkle the green Fairy was making her debut.

He'd dropped her off at CJS earlier that evening, where she worked a party. Afterward, she used Sybil's private bath to shower and put on eye makeup. By the time the catering staff had left for the night, she, using a comb attachment to her blow-dryer, had straightened out her wavy hair until it hung stick-straight down to her waist. Her dance instructor's reminder that she had to use her hair, tits and ass to make the most of her performance had stayed with her.

Karla's suggestion that she accept nothing less than fifty dollars was branded into her head. What Karla had hinted at was think small, stay small. And what she owed Payne Jefferson was anything but chump change. She'd fled Brooklyn with twenty-two thousand in cash, and after paying Karla and Dr. Howe, she was left with a little more than eight thousand dollars. She needed to come up with twelve thousand dollars in seven weeks. Right now she didn't have a plan B if she failed to make the Labor Day deadline. If she didn't, then she would contact Payne and give him what she had and owe him the balance. Asking Lance for money was not an option for Dina.

A smile parted her lips as she took off her T-shirt and bra, folding them neatly and placing them on the leather seat, when she thought about how her relationship with Lance had changed since they'd begun sharing a bed.

After he'd taken her
virginity
Lance had waited several days before making love to her again. Each time he penetrated her there was some resistance, but nothing like the first time, and what surprised Dina was that she was able to experience an orgasm each and every time. It was she, not Lance, who made the first overture to make love, and this pleased him immensely. What he didn't know was that she had to make up for all the years when she'd believed herself frigid or incapable of achieving sexual fulfillment.

“The next time you should leave off the bra and put it on only after we perform.”

Sybil's voice broke into her musings. She'd noticed that Sybil hadn't bothered to wear a bra because she just would have to take it off to put on her costume. When she saw Sybil's costume for the first time, she couldn't conceal her shock. The black latex cat suit, thigh-high stiletto boots, whip and leather bag filled with a variety of gadgets blatantly shouted that the chef's alter ego was a dominatrix.

“Do you have a stage name?” she asked Sybil.

“It's Delectable.”

“Delectable the dominatrix,” she said, smiling broadly. “I like that.”

“So do the men,” Sybil said as she rubbed a small amount of scented oil over her body before she slipped into the latex fabric. “I use the oil under my costume because whenever I perspire it keeps the latex from sticking to my skin,” she explained when she saw Dina staring at her.

“How long have you been Delectable?”

“Longer than I care to remember. The aunt of my college roommate tutored us when we told her that we were thinking of getting a part-time job but didn't want to wait tables or apply for work-study at the college. I took to it like a duck to water because it permitted me to let out a lot of repressed rage I had toward my father, who'd abused my mother.”

Dina halted slipping into her glittering costume when she met Sybil's gaze across the small space in the back of the limo. “Did he abuse you?”

“No. Somehow my sisters and I were exempt, but it still affected us in the long run. My two sisters refuse to marry, and I married Cory because he's the complete opposite of my father. He'll go out of his way to avoid confrontation.”

“Do you have any children?”

“No. Not yet. How are you doing with Lance Haynes?” Sybil asked Dina, directing the topic of conversation away from herself. She didn't like talking about herself because invariably she would have to talk about her traumatic childhood.

An attractive blush darkened Dina's face. “We're good.”

“Do you know that you've managed to snag one of the most successful black businessmen in the country?”

“I didn't know what he did when I met him. He told me he played around with computers, but little did I know that playing with computers had made him a wealthy man.”

“Does he know about Sparkle?”

Dina shook her head. “No. And I don't intend to tell him.”

Sybil emitted a soft chuckle. “How long do you think you'll be able to hide it from him?”

“I only plan to dance for a few months.”

“Surely you jest,” Sybil said facetiously.

“I'm serious.”

Sybil sobered. “So am I, Dina. I'd planned to work as Delectable to make a little spare change, but there's something about having men cower and submit to being punished that gives me a rush.”

“But you don't need the money—or do you?” Dina asked Sybil.

“You're right. I don't need the money. But what I need is somewhere to displace my frustrations, and Delectable provides the perfect solution. By the way, Karla's going to join us in two weeks. She would've come along tonight, but Patrice is designing her costume.”

“You're not pissed that I told her about your private parties?”

Sybil waved a hand. “No. Karla's the only woman aside from my sisters that I think of as a friend. I help her out because she helps me whenever I have a legal problem.”

Dina breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't thought that Karla would divulge what she'd told her about moonlighting as an exotic dancer; but, then again, she realized the two women had known each other longer than she had known either of them. And, although Sybil didn't relate to her as an employee, she never forgot that Mrs. Cumberland signed her paycheck.

As the limo traveled southward, she listened to Sybil talk about some of her quirkier clients. They were laughing like two schoolgirls when the driver pulled up in front of a set of iron gates to a sprawling property with waterfront views of Chesapeake Bay.

“Put on your mask,” Sybil instructed Dina as the electronic gates opened.

“How do we make our entrance?”

“We never come in through the front door, where the guests can see us. It's either a side or rear entrance. The host is responsible for providing the music and lighting. Just to let you know, I'm always paid in advance. I had to learn that the hard way when a client stiffed me when he said he'd pay me after my performance. If they want to be entertained, then it's always up front. I'll give you your fee when we get back to Jersey. And don't forget to remove your makeup and shower before going home,” Sybil lectured quietly. “It alleviates having to explain where you've been or what you've been doing.”

“I don't have that problem because Lance doesn't clock me.”

Sybil lifted an eyebrow at Dina's cocky response. “Neither does Cory, but I'm only saying it as a precaution, Dina. Things done in the dark have a way of coming out in the light.”

Dina nodded. “Point taken.”

Sybil had to admit that Dina looked ethereal as Sparkle. Patrice had outdone herself when she'd glued Swarovski crystals onto the high-cut lace bodysuit. Sheer lime-green tights and detachable wings, also covered in crystals and feathers, had transformed her into a lifelike fairy. With the orange-red lip color and the iridescent green eye makeup, she was certain to cause more than a stir.

D
ina slipped the clear plastic straps to her wings over her shoulders, adjusting them until they were virtually invisible over the crystal-studded straps of her revealing bodysuit. The lace garment was lined with a fabric matching her skin, making it appear as if she were nude when under the lights. She'd pinned up her hair in a bun with the intent of removing the pins during her routine, much like a stripper, to tease and entice those watching her.

She and Sybil waited in a room down the hall from a ballroom where the ballplayers had gathered to celebrate a popular pitcher's birthday. The noise and music reverberating throughout the first floor added to her anxiety. Dina's only comfort was that no one could see her face.

She paced the floor, her gaze fixed on the toes of the ballet slippers Patrice had dyed green to match the rest of her costume. Turning, she stared at her reflection in a large mirror in a gilt frame. What she saw rendered was mesmerizing. Her eyes looked like a cat's—the green mask picking up pinpoints of the same hue in the hazel orbs.

She took a deep breath and her breasts rose and fell above the revealing décolletage. Even without trying, her tits were definitely on display. What she had to admit was that Carlos's intense workout had improved her upper arms and her legs.

“Nervous?” Sybil asked, watching Dina pace back and forth like a caged cat.

“A little,” she admitted.

“You're as stiff as a board. Try shaking out your arms and shoulders.”

Dina shook out her shoulders, arms, hands and legs, then rolled her head on her shoulders. Within minutes she felt better, more relaxed. Now she knew why people were into yoga and tai chi. Suddenly she remembered the warm-up exercises and cool-down exercises Carlos put her through before and after each lesson. Within seconds she began stretching and was completely relaxed when a tall, masculine-looking woman in a tuxedo walked into the room. Her hair was completely white, appearing incongruent to her deeply tanned face.

She stared at Sybil, then Dina. “Are you Sparkle?”

Dina took in a deep breath, nodding. “Yes.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the woman. With Sybil dressed completely in black, there was no way she could be Sparkle.

“Follow me,” she announced in a no-nonsense tone.

Sybil gave her protégée the thumbs-up sign when she followed the taciturn party planner. If Karla had joined them, she would've had her go on first to warm up the partygoers because of her prior experience. Dina would follow, then she would end it with her dominatrix routine.

“Good luck, Dina,” she whispered aloud even though she doubted whether Dina Gordon needed luck. After all, she was dating and probably sleeping with a man who could afford to buy her anything she wanted. What she suspected was that Dina had yet to realize her power over the opposite sex.

Women who looked like Dina could pull any man—eight to eighty, blind, crippled or crazy.

 

Dina walked into the room and the babble of voices came to an abrupt halt. The only sound was that of heavy breathing over the strains of a soft jazz number. Her vermilion-colored lips parted when she felt what could be interpreted as lust radiating off the casually dressed athletes. She'd attended several baseball games but hadn't paid much attention to the players. These men, however, looked different out of uniform. Short-sleeved shirts, tees and casual slacks blatantly displayed the power in their toned, muscular bodies.

Slowing her pace to give them an up-close-and-personal look as she strolled casually toward the portable stage, she blew a kiss at the man wearing a black plastic Stetson with the words
Birthday Boy
stamped on the crown. He rushed up to her, grinning from ear to ear. His young, wholesome looks reminded her of a Midwest farm boy. Standing on the stage gave her a distinct height advantage as she leaned down and kissed his cheek while giving a generous view of her breasts.

“Aren't you a special birthday boy,” she crooned, the low register of her voice shocking the pitcher. The others roared when he turned beet-red.

A shorter, stocky black player put up his hand. “I'll take one of those, Miss Sparkle.”

“But it's not your birthday,” Dina teased. She winked at him.

“It's next week.”

“Bullshit, Levon,” said a deep voice from the back of the room. “Your birthday ain't until the end of the year.”

Levon laughed while ducking an onslaught of napkins, chips and popcorn launched at him by his teammates.

Dina strutted across the stage amid whistles and wolf calls, giving all a good look at her costume. She felt her heart rate kick into gear when the music changed. Hands on hips, she leaned forward, seducing her audience, before turning around to give them a good look at the gossamer wings.

Sybil had told her that the clients always selected the music, so she could either perform to country, hip-hop or R & B. She raised her arms over her head and lip-synched with the lyrics of a popular hip-hop song floating through a powerful sound system. Track lights over the stage flashed a kaleidoscope of color off the crystals, turning them into precious jewels.

Someone extinguished the lights, leaving the room in near darkness with the exception of the overhead track lights, while all gazes were focused on Dina as she used her body to seduce grown men who'd reverted to little boys. She was dancing for the man in whose honor they'd gathered, but in reality she danced for all of them, becoming their fantasy whether real or imaginary.

Turning her back, she executed a full split and bounced her hips off the floor like a dribbling basketball. The noise escalated as hands reached into pockets to emerge with fistfuls of cash.

She rose gracefully to her feet, bent over slowly and grabbed her ankles and shook her ass the way she'd demonstrated for Carlos. Dina gave them ass, turned and then gave them a generous display of cleavage. Bills littered the stage like confetti as she became a nasty girl. Once or twice she saw several clutch their crotches while groaning as if in pain.

“Oh, fuck!” someone moaned, eliciting guffaws from the others.

Dina wanted to tell them not to laugh because he probably wasn't the only one with a hard-on. She slid her palms down her belly, then held her crotch, moaning and licking her lips as she'd seen actresses perfect in pornographic videos. Pandemonium ensued when she removed the pins from her hair, one by one, letting it tumble sensuously down around her face and shoulders. She shook it out, bent her head forward, then flipped it back as a curtain of ebony rained down to her waist.

The pitcher removed his hat and passed it around the room while hooting at the top of his lungs. He returned to the stage and placed it in front of Sybil as she took her final bow. Leaning over, she kissed the top of his head before gracefully plucking the bills off the stage and putting them into the hat. Blowing kisses, she skipped out of the room amid thunderous applause. Her face was flushed with high color when she rejoined Sybil, who couldn't stop the grin crinkling her slanting eyes.

Sybil looked at the hat filled with fifty-and one-hundred-dollar bills. “Not bad for less than twenty-eight minutes of work.”

Dina sank down to the floor as she tried catching her breath. “Is that all it was?”

Sybil nodded. “I timed it.”

“It felt like an hour.”

“That's because you're working too hard, Sparkle. You have to learn to pace yourself.”

“I think it was the music.” They'd favored party music from artists from the Dirty South along with a montage of hits from dance classics from back in the day.

Sybil reached into her bag filled with devices she used to employ pain and pleasure, handing Dina a canvas bag. “Put your money in that because I'll need the hat.” She waited until the small sack bulged with Dina's tips. “I'll be back,” she crooned, perching the Stetson at a jaunty angle on her head. Reaching for the whip, she flicked it with a flick of her wrist. The snap of leather echoed in the room like a crack of lightning.

“Oh, shit!” Dina gasped audibly. She smiled. “I'm impressed.”

Sybil returned her smile. “Let's see if I'm going to impress or scare the shit out of these manly men.”

Strutting in her high-heel boots, Sybil walked out, mentally prepared to punish a few men.