G-Men: The Series (19 page)

“Sure,” I said with a smile.

Emerald and I both caught the bus after our shift. I led her to believe I lived close to the Park and Drive. She got a transfer to a different bus once she got downtown.

She had liked her first day at Sharkey’s, though she too, voiced reservations about those private-viewing dances behind glass.

“I mean, I just don’t like not
knowing
who’s on the other side,” she complained, as she brushed mascara onto her lashes.

“I just try not to think about it, Emerald. By the way, do you care if I call you by your real first name?” I asked, putting my earrings in.

She laughed. “I can’t believe we never got around to that, though the other girls said you were extremely private, so I never wanted to cross that line with you. My name’s Jackie.”

“Hi, Jackie. I’m Sunny.”

^{chapter 21}

It was Tuesday and it was Valentine’s Day.

Jackie had asked if I would take her Tuesday shift for her. Ivan had gotten the evening off, and wanted to do something special with her for Valentine’s Day. I told her that, since I had no life outside of the club, I’d be happy to do this.

I’d bought a new costume special for Valentine’s Day. It was a red sequined pair of boy shorts with a black sequined, low cut camisole top. The top had a big red heart in the middle of it, outlined in gold. It was festive.

I’d asked one of the other dancers to help with my hair. She’d arranged it up in a high ponytail, with red glitter sprinkled generously over it.

“My God, I never knew that was a wig,” she said, as I’d pressed my fingertips into the area near the hairline as she brushed it up into a ponytail to keep it in place. “It looks totally real, especially with the fine little wisps of hair cut all around the hairline.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “It certainly cost enough.”

I’d replaced the one I had worn at Jewels. I’d spent about two grand on it. It was worth it. I loved the look.

I was first out on the stage for second shift. It wasn’t really crowded yet, but there were some special events planned for Valentine’s Days to draw men in who would typically be taking a wife or girlfriend out for the evening.

One of the promotions offered the private booth dancing at half price, meaning the dancer would get forty bucks, the club zip, in an effort to make sure the girls scheduled for tonight were taken care of financially. Juanita was pretty cool that way.

The club had three separate private dancing booths, and from around six o’clock until near the end of my shift, they were in constant use. I’d already earned close to five hundred dollars, between dances and tips. I’d performed six private dances so far this evening.

It was close to 9:30 p.m. when Juanita approached me to let me know that I had a private dance request in booth one.

“Damn, I’m almost off the clock,” I halfway whined. “Can’t Lauren take it?”

“Dude wants you,” she said. “Suck it up.”

I was really tired. I’d danced more tonight than any night before at either Sharkey’s or Jewels. One more dance, then I could hit the road to home.

I went to the back door of the private, glass-enclosed booth and waited for the music to start, which would move the curtain aside. I always pretended that no one was sitting on the other side of the one-way glass, so that I didn’t have to imagine what they might be doing to themselves as I moved sensually and seductively on the pole to the music.

My heart dropped to my stomach as soon as I heard the first few chords of “Bad Girlfriend” blast from the speakers.

Good God, it’s got to be a coincidence. It can’t be…

I forced myself to focus on the music and not who was on the other side of the glass. I took the pole, moving and spiraling to the beat of this song. The song that Slate had picked for me before; the song he used to punish me.

The words and the melody were now familiar to me. It was if they were ingrained in my mind.

‘She likes to shake her ass; she grinds it to the beat;

She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth;

She’s a bad, bad girlfriend… . . .’

Somehow, through the grace of God, I made it through the song without fainting or falling on my ass. I convinced myself that it wasn’t Slate. It was someone else that liked this hot song. It was a great song for pole-dancing, if you liked it fast. I liked it slower.

As the song ended with the final chords, the curtain closed and the automatic drawer was sent in with my tip. It was a one-dollar bill.

Oh, holy shit!

My pulse quickened. I felt faint. I sat down on the floor and buried my face into my hands. He couldn’t hurt me if I didn’t leave this booth. Within several minutes, Juanita was pounding on the door to the booth.

“You alive in there, Diamond?”

I got to my feet and unlocked the door. She was standing there looking confused and concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“Juanita, can you find out if whoever paid for my last dance is still in the club?”

“You know the rules on that, sweetie. The identity of our customers who make these private requests and pay good money is protected.”

“I don’t want to meet him for Chrissake! I’m afraid of him. I need to know he’s left the building, you know? To make sure he’s not lingering around.”

“Calm down, sweetie,” she said, taking me by the arm. “Come with me.”

Juanita led me to her office and unlocked the door. She flipped the light on and told me to take a seat.

“You sit tight here. I’ll check with Damon to see if the customer’s left. I’ll have him check out in the parking lot too, okay?”

I nodded.

She came back twenty minutes later with my street clothes and a cold bottle of water.

“Here you go, sweetie. You relax and drink some water. Get dressed at your leisure. Damon will walk you to the bus stop when you’re ready, okay? There was so sign of him inside the club or out in the lot.”

I nodded, taking the water from her and downing it.

I took my time getting dressed. I knew the bus schedule and I’d already missed my normal bus. The next one around would be the last one for the night. I didn’t want to make Damon have to stand outside in the February cold, waiting with me any longer than necessary.

I was dressed and ready twenty minutes later. Damon walked me to the corner and waited until the bus picked me up. I found a seat near a window and relaxed back against it. The gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach had subsided.

I’d practically dozed off when I realized we were nearing my stop. I hurriedly scooted out of my seat. The driver knew me well enough to pull over.

“Nite,” I said, stepping down onto the curb.

“Take care,” he answered, as always.

The bus pulled away, and as I stepped forward to hit the button for the crosswalk light, I was suddenly snatched up from behind. I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand was immediately clamped over it as I was lifted and pulled backwards to the dark and sinister confines of an alley.

My fight or flight reflex was in full force, as my muddled mind finally registered danger. I quickly thought back to what I’d learned in self-defense training, and not sure of what possible disease I might contract, made the decision to clamp by teeth down as hard as I could on the flesh of the hand that covered my mouth.

Immediately, I heard a loud curse, and the hand that had been restricting my ability to scream, left my face. I took this opportunity to launch a scream, until I was whirled around. My face was within inches of Slate’s.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed.

^{chapter 22}

I’d been slammed not-so-gently against the side of a building that bordered the alley Slate had ducked into. I could feel the rough edges of the uneven bricks against my back. His face was in front of me.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see his blue eyes were blazing into me with something I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t really total anger. It wasn’t really total lust. It was a combination of the two.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sunny?” he asked in a low, controlled voice. His arms were on either side of my head, trapping me.

“What I’m
not
doing, Slate, is holding someone against their will.”

He brought his lips to where they were centimeters from mine. “Seriously? That’s all you fucking have to say for yourself?”

“What the hell do you want me to say? You don’t own me.” I raised my chin, defiantly.

“I believe I told you before that I’d be the one to decide when it’s over. I’ve never once told you that I’d come to that decision. Why haven’t you returned my text messages or voicemails?”

He had me stumped there. I hadn’t checked my cell phone in a few weeks. I’d presumed it was all a done deal for us. This took me by surprise.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, blinking cluelessly.

“I’m talking about the numerous text messages and voicemails I’ve fucking left for your ass that have been ignored. That’s unacceptable, babe.”

“I haven’t checked my phone. I assumed we were over.”

“Oh, yeah? Well as I said before, I’m the person to make that decision and it’s not been made,” he said, nuzzling my jaw line. I had to let in a quick breath when I felt his tongue graze over the soft skin beneath it.

His closeness was melting my reserve. God, I so wanted the feel of him again; his nakedness, his passion, his body entwined with mine.

Stop it - I can’t do this again…

Before I had a chance to shove him away or to try and escape, he brought his lips down to mine. He sucked hard on my lower lip, owning it. I relaxed my mouth, not responding; not giving in.

When he caught on to my tactic, he swiftly changed his. He gently bit down on my lip, rolling it with his tongue. I let out a gasp at the feel of it; and he used that as an opening to steal inside, licking deeper into my mouth. Slate brought down one of his arms to cradle the side of my face, his thumb resting below my ear as his other fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of my neck.

He worked my lips and mouth in the way that only he could. And it was splintering my self-control, because he would alternate between sucking hard on my tongue and kissing my lips gently. He’d finish by pulling back slightly, to see if I would finally take the initiative and kiss him back. The first strand of times, I wouldn’t. He’d then just start over, never getting frustrated. He would just continue slowly fucking my mouth with his.

“Give in,” he said, pulling back once again. He faintly brushed his upper lip over my bottom one. My hands were shaking. My body was fighting the silent battle that my mind was trying to win.

Slate brushed my hair behind my ear, and leaned in again. His teeth nipped my sensitive earlobe, “Just one, Sunny.” He soothed the bite with his tongue, “Kiss me once, and
then
try to tell me you’re done.”

He pulled back. Softly resting his forehead against mine, he waited for my next move.

Before I had the chance or the opportunity to reinforce my resolve my body, the traitor that it was, defied my better judgment. My arms laced up and around his neck. My body melted into his. My lips parted and accepted his tongue; my tongue explored him. I felt his body pressed into mine now. I felt the rock-hardness of his erection against me. My body was aching for the fulfillment that I knew he could provide.

I fisted my hands into his thick mane, sighing audibly as I capitulated to his touch. I pulled him even closer, making no secret of the fact that I wanted him right here, right now, no matter what. I had to find some strength against this man. My self-preservation depended upon it.

“Slate, no,” I pleaded, breaking off from our passionate kiss.

“Baby, your lips are sayin’ no, but the rest of you is screaming hell yes,” he said, stepping back.

“I don’t want you to hurt me,” I said, bowing my head in shame.

“Sunny, I’d never do anything that you didn’t like,” he replied, totally clueless.

“I’m talking about my
heart
. I’m talking about what I feel for you that you don’t feel for me. Please?” My eyes were imploring him to understand, to get a clue.