Operation Burlesque BBW Romance (3 page)

BOOK: Operation Burlesque BBW Romance
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Or blinded him,
I thought ruefully looking down at my costume. Normally I wore all black like the rest of the crew backstage, but now Lilli’s sequin spackled outfit squeezed me tight. With all the bling, I probably reflected light like a mirror.

He blinked and produced another rose, seamlessly moving forward with his act. Every now and then he snuck a peek at me as if trying to sort out why I was there. Not wanting to disturb him, I stepped further back into the shadows.

Someone patted me on the shoulder then and whispered, “Break a leg, Ruby.”

When I turned to see who it was, they were gone. I knew it was just theater slang, but breaking a bone sounded like a great idea. My stomach roiled and I felt hot, like I had a fever. It was a bad case of stage fright flu. I wanted to cut and run, but held my ground through sheer will.

Why do I have to be such a good friend?

Because she’s hurt, duh.

I’d called the hospital and posed as her sister in order to see how she was doing. Her head CT scan had been clear, but she had a serious concussion and would be in the hospital for a few days. The knee would require surgery, but they weren’t sure yet if they would do it asap or schedule it for a later date.

Loud applause drew my attention back to the stage where Blake had finished his last trick. It was an impressive illusion where he acted the part of a painter painting a rose still life. As he painted, the petals dropped from the real rose and the painting morphed from rose to heart to a silhouette of a lovers’ embrace. Audiences loved it and he often sold the canvas after the show for upwards of five hundred dollars.

To close his act, Blake gave one last sweeping gesture of his arms and a shower of rose petals rained down on the audience and they erupted into breathy ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’.

The house lights then went dark to allow him time to exit the stage. They came back up to reveal our Master of Ceremonies. A rotund bald man, he always did his spiel with a cigar at his lips. He even puffed out smoke rings between words.

“Ladies and Gentleman that was Blake Cannon and the magic of desire. Now, I’d like to present to you the tease of desire, Miss Lilli Lush. She’s in her first season with the Cirque D’Amour and watch out, she’s pure sin.” He blew out a heart shaped smoke ring, and, as it dissolved, it seemed to take on the hourglass shape of a woman.

The lights went down again, the audience clapped politely, unsure of what to expect. Music came to life in a blare of sultry saxophone. I adjusted my costume one last time and made for the stage.

Here goes nothing.

Just as I was about to step out of the wings, a warm hand reached out and latched onto my forearm. “Ruby,” came the soft masculine voice I recognized as Blake’s.

I pulled myself free, annoyed. “Not the time, magician.”

He flipped his hand over and presented me with a rose, smiling when I jumped. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little magic.” He tucked the rose behind my ear and then gave me a little shove toward the stage. “Break a leg.”

The words followed me out onto the stage as I rushed to make my mark before the lights came on. My mind was a jumble of nerves and confusion at what had just happened. Blake had been an anti-social piece of eye candy for the last six months. So why was he suddenly not only saving me from the road crew, but also talking to me and putting conjured roses in my hair? I shivered at the question, the potential answers tempting me to dream.

The lights came on in a nova burst that only stage illumination can produce. Momentarily blinded, I struck my starting pose and showed off my costume. The number had me in a fancy ball gown the color of midnight. Sequins and jewels lined the whole thing, capturing the light and fracturing it into an eye dazzling glamour.

The music was all sass and strumpet, easy to move to. I tried not to look at the audience and concentrated on the thump of the bass, letting my hips bump with its beat. Strutting up to the footlights, I motioned a man from the audience forward. He’d been selected by the ticketing staff before the show started and coached on what to do, but no one else knew that. To outsiders, it all looked very titillating and raised the idea that they, too may be called forth to participate in my striptease. The threat or promise of that heightened the tension in the room nicely. I’d seen Lilli do it a hundred times.

I held out my hand, extending each finger in turn. The man smiled with glee as he leaned forward to grab the tip of my glove in his teeth. We pulled against each other in time with the music. With my other hand I jerked the glove off my elbow and toward my wrist, doing my best to evoke the double entendre of a hand job.

“Every movement has to be sexual,” Lilli had said time and time again. She had to say it  a lot because my performance lacked in that arena. I wasn’t a sex kitten like Lilli. I had to work at it. She wore her sexuality like an accessory, whereas mine had to be excavated like the most ancient of archeological digs. God only knew how I was going to get through this performance.

My glove came free and the man took it back to his seat, grinning ear-to-ear in triumph. I saw it off with a forward pelvic thrust. The other glove I removed myself. First, I caressed my arm, rubbing and circling my flesh with my hand, inviting the audience to wonder what it would feel like if they touched me or if I touched them. Then I used my teeth to pull each finger free. The long trumpet note was my cue to arch back, arm held overhead as I pulled the glove off, miming the trumpet player the whole time.

Standing upright, I twirled the glove and then, taking the other end, pulled it taut to rub between my breasts. This made the audience hoot, although I saw more than one woman cover their mouths in embarrassment.

“You’re never as naked as the audience,” was another thing Lilli liked to say. She talked about psychology a lot. “Burlesque is all about confronting the pictures in people’s heads with reality. They think they know what to expect, especially with a big, lush girl like me, but I always surprise.”

I tossed the glove aside. Turning my back to the audience I bent over and raised my skirts a little past my knees. They couldn’t see much through my dress, but imagination was a powerful thing. Just the hint of the roundness of my ass was enough to make their minds spin. Sashaying with the music, I worked the stage as I pulled off my dress. The audience held its collective breath in anticipation and I felt a surge of power from the attention. All eyes were on me, waiting to see what I would do next.

I’m doing it. I’m really doing it. No one has even booed me yet.

A little drunk with power, I toyed with them, pulling my sleeve down to reveal the curve of my breast and then back up again. I did it over and over until the audience began to shout and grow restless. Finally I let the silk dress drop. Underneath I wore a corset and a little fringe skirt. Thigh highs gripped my legs. I felt exposed, but nowhere near as nervous as I expected. I was channeling Lilli, my burlesque fairy godmother.

The stage had worked its magic on me, and I sensed, once I stepped off, I would never be the same. Lilli had been right. For someone who used glitter like she wanted to become a second sun, she had an undeniable wisdom.

I kicked the dress to the stagehand waiting to catch it in the wings. Then, I strutted across the stage pausing every so many beats to circle my hips, my body’s way of saying
‘you know you want this’
. My breathing quickened as I pulled the ribbons of my corset loose. With a start, I realized a wet warmth pulsed between my legs. I was turned on.

I stopped breathing all together as something in the wings caught my attention.

Blake was there, standing in my hiding spot. The one I’d stood in for months to watch his act. Now he was there and I was in his place. The look on his face was one of intense interest. His eyes burned over my body. We stared at each other, and I was so lost in his gaze I almost forgot to keep dancing. He raised his hands and applauded me silently.

His approval washed over me in a flush of heat. Somehow I kept going with the act, moving to center stage and pulling the remaining ribbons on my corset loose. What I really wanted to do was rush backstage...whether into his arms or to hide, I couldn’t decide.

Swallowing hard, I faced the audience and did a shimmy as I cast off the corset. The music was faster now. I had to concentrate to stay on beat. The fringe skirt came off next, leaving me in my bra and a sequined thong. I twirled the fringe skirt around my shoulders like a boa, rubbing and caressing my skin with it. Pulling it up and around, I covered my eyes and face.

“Now the audience can see your body but they can’t see your soul. You’re still hidden from them,” Lilli had explained to me. She’d made me watch YouTube clips of other burlesque dancers using this technique. It effectively maintained suspense even though the dancer was practically naked.

“Covering the eyes means you’re holding back, that
you’re
still in control, not them. Never give them all of you. Always hold something back.”

I peeked out between the fringe, flirting. The audience was really worked up now, whistling and cat calling in response to my striptease. Their adulation was a heady rush. Between the crowd and Blake, I was alive with frenetic energy that seemed to thump through me in time with the music. Desire tightened my belly as I thought of the darkly handsome magician.

Did my act make me desirable? Was he standing back there filled with lust watching me? At the thought, I cast my attention backstage and thrust my hips at him as if to ask ‘
you want this?’
I was no skinny Minnie. I was a full-bodied woman with hips and breasts that threatened to spill out of any bra I tried to contain them in. Nothing could hold me back. Once unleashed, I would be a force to be reckoned with, my curves unstoppable. Blake’s eyes locked with mine and he gave a slow nod in acknowledgement.

In response, I bit my lip, a small flirtation that only he could see given that my back was to the audience. Boldly holding his gaze, I unhooked my bra, releasing my breasts. As I spun back toward the front of the stage, I paused to spin the tassels of the pasties covering my nipples at Blake. His eyes widened. I’d surprised him again, but then he smiled at me.

I was smiling too, a big silly grin of satisfaction. My tassels spun round and round with the last few bars of the music. I played with them, raising my hands over my head to reverse the tassels’ spin and then lowering my hands to make them switch directions again. The audience roared so loud, I couldn’t tell the music had stopped.

I stood there, basking in the exhilaration. I’d done it. The spotlight had shined on me and chased away all the shadows cast by my doubts. Yes, I was a quiet, retiring seamstress, but I could claim the role of strumpet temptress too.

And own it like a rock star.

Boo-freaking-yah.

Unable to hide a broad grin, I lifted a breast in each hand to the delight of the audience and swung the tassels one last time before strutting off stage.

Someone handed me Lilli’s robe and I shrugged it on as I worked to catch my breath, thankful that Stan had reduced Lilli’s act to just one number. I didn’t know if he was hedging his bets or taking it easy on me, but I was glad either way. She normally did three different stripteases and made it look easy. I’d done one number and felt like I’d run a marathon.

The MC took the stage again to introduce the final act; a showgirl revue with even fewer clothes on than me. The number had a pretty art nouveau aesthetic. I liked to watch it when I could, but tonight a hand reached out and spun me into a dark out-of-the-way corner. A hungry mouth pressed into mine.

I pushed against whoever it was, squealing against their lips, but they just captured both my hands and pinned them at my sides.

“Ruby,” whispered Blake, the rasp of his deep voice unmistakable.

“Blake?” I drew back my head. “What are you doing?”

“You promised me something, did you not?” His hand moved to briefly cup my breast, thumb grazing the pastie over one nipple.

My body responded instantly. My nipples tightened and pulled on my core. I sighed and leaned into him. Had I promised him anything? No. I didn’t know what I was doing enough to make such a specific promise. Teasing? Yes. Taunting? Sure. But a promise? No. Still, the man I had lusted over for months, who’d been my knight in shining armor just that morning was now kissing me and saying my name. I wasn’t going to complain. Other than to wish this had happened sooner.

He kissed me again and this time I opened my mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep inside. Still kissing me, he pulled me through the stage and the hallway to a door leading outside.

“Come on.” He tugged my hand.

Another hand unexpectedly grabbed my free hand and pulled me back. I stumbled, which caused Blake to lose his grip on me. We both turned around to see what had happened.

“You owe me a kiss, Ruby,” came the familiar voice of Clark.

I groaned. “This again?” I faced the crewman with a glare. “Let it go, man. It’s not going to happen.”

“I won’t let it happen,” Blake said, his voice low with anger. “Did you forget this morning’s lesson?”

“No. I think you’ll find I did some studying.” Clark’s lips twisted in a malicious grin and he brandished a small gun. “She comes with me, magic man, and you’ll let her go unless you want to see what Swiss cheese feels like.”

BOOK: Operation Burlesque BBW Romance
2.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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