You and I Alone (7 page)

              I enter through the back with my key and then immediately head to Josh's office for my schedule for the night. Each dancer has a rotation as to when she dances and when she is open to work the floor and/or do private dances.  Since I don't normally work on Friday, I have no idea what rotation he will need me in.

              I knock lightly on his office door and wait a good thirty seconds before peeking inside. It's evident that he is not here the moment I open the door. Pulling it shut again, I head back towards my dressing room but before I make it inside, Lo's voice grabs me from behind.

              “You made it.” She sings, bouncing towards me as I turn to face her.

              “Yeah. I was looking for Josh. I need my rotation for the night.” I say, confused by the devilish expression that crosses her face. “What?”

              “You aren't in the rotation tonight. You have been booked for a private party.” She says, her smile growing wider. “Didn't you get my text?” She asks, reminding me that my phone signaled a new message after I agreed to come in and I never checked it.

              Shaking my head no, she rolls her eyes at me and then grabs my arm and pushes me through my dressing room door. I spot my outfit for the night immediately and have to force down the hard knot that has formed at the base of my throat. A barely there red nighty is draped across the back of my chair with a pair of thongs, matching guarders and white stockings. It's a little more risque than I am used to wearing, that's for sure.

              “Why would Josh book me for a private without asking me?” I ask, turning to face her.

              “Because you were requested.” She says, knowing that I can't deny a party request anymore than I could deny getting on stage in the main room, it's part of my job. Though I will admit, while I don't really like dancing for parties, I also know I am being paid double, which means I get double of my normal private party rate. If my math is right, that equals out to be about two thousand dollars for this evening.

              “But I wasn't even supposed to be here tonight.” I interject.

              “It was just booked this afternoon. That's why Josh needed you to come in and offered to pay you double.” She says, picking up the red thin material and handing it to me.

              Private parties are usually two hours in length and take place in the party room near the entrance of the club. It's almost like a mini club inside the club. Members usually get a private party when they are hosting out of town business associates and clients that have been granted temporary access. It allows them to show their out of towners a good time, while still maintaining the secrecy of the clubs clientele, as the party room is cut off from the rest of the club.

              I have only done a couple of parties since I started working here. It's not that there's really that big of a difference between the party room and the main floor but something about being secluded from the rest of the club makes me squeamish.

              Once I am dressed and have my hair and make-up to damn near perfection, I take the back hall that leads to an entrance to the stage in the party room. Wishing I could talk to Josh before  I start, having no real idea of who I am dealing with, I take a deep breath and decide to just go ahead and find out myself.

              Walking out onto the stage, the room is dimly lit and contains, from what I can see, five men, all relaxing comfortably in the plush red chairs that sit in a line directly in front of the stage. The noise of my red heels vibrates off the walls around me and announces my arrival before I am really ready to.

              Making my way to the edge of the stage, I spot Josh at the private bar pouring drinks. We must be short tonight if Josh is tending bar. And while I am surprised to see him here, I am also relieved. Having him here makes me feel more comfortable.

              Or at least it did, until I turn my eyes back to the men in front of me and realize that the one sitting dead center to where I am standing is none other than Mr. Bentley Reed.

Chapter Seven

             
I'm frozen, paralyzed even. It's like time moves in slow motion around me and I can see every set of eyes as they turn my direction. Feel the heat from their gazes as they skirt across my skin and yet, only one person in attendance commands my focus.

              “Logan. I am so glad you could join us this evening.” Bentley smiles casually and stands, turning towards the other men. “Gentleman, may I introduce to you one of our finest dancers here at
Allure
. Logan will be able to give you an idea of what you can expect when visiting any of my clubs. They all operate the same way and have equally as talented dancers. Well, almost.” He says, turning his head just a fraction so that I can see him wink in my direction.

              “Josh.” Bentley turns his attention to the bar and immediately Josh is punching the music selection into the touch wall screen that controls the music in the room.

              Before I have time to react to anything going on around me, “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” by John Mayer floods from the speakers around me. I take a deep breath and one last look directly at Bentley before throwing my head back and slowly beginning to move with the beat of the music.

              It isn't long until my dance instinct takes over. While I don't have a specific routine for any song I dance to, I generally have an idea in my mind. Unfortunately, given how quickly this was all thrown on me and the fact that I have never danced to this song, I am having to improvise a lot more than I normally would. And while I thought that would be difficult, I am actually enjoying just losing myself in the music and not really thinking too much about the movements.

              On the last chorus of the song, I climb about five feet up the eight foot pole in the middle of the stage and hook both legs around it, laying my torso upside down along the cool metal and stretching my arms above my head. The action causes the red nighty to skirt up a little higher than I am used to considering I don't usually wear such loose fitting material, but it doesn't show too much and I capitalize on the exposure of my skin by reaching up and trailing my hands along my bare stomach and across the bottom of my breasts that are barely visible to the men in the audience.

              It isn't until the last beat of music sounds that I open my eyes and actually look around. Immediately my audience breaks into applause. Well, with the exception of one person that is. Bentley is staring back at me with an expression I can't quite wrap my head around. Anger maybe?

              Not sure what I could have possibly done wrong, I slide my body from the pole and step back behind the red screen that blocks the view of behind the stage to the people in the room. Taking deep breaths, I try to regain some sense of composure. I tend to lose myself in the music and the movements and very rarely second guess the choices I make on stage, but right now, second guessing is exactly what I am doing. But even still, I can't pinpoint what I possibly could have done to cause Bentley to look at me with so much fire behind his eyes. I know when I have turned a man on, and while I may have done just that for him, that is certainly not the only reason for that look.

              “Hey.” Josh says, startling me as he slips behind stage and hands me a bottle of water. “You were fantastic up there.” He says, giving me a sweet smile.

              “What's going on out there anyways?” I ask.

              “Potential new clients. The two on the left are owners of one of New York's top law firms.” He says, pulling back the screen just enough that we can see them but the likelihood is, they can't see us. “The one in the hat plays for the Cleveland Cavaliers.” He continues, gesturing towards the tall lanky man just to Bentley's left. “And then the plump one with the facial hair is none other than Jefferson Banks.”

              “Owner of Banks Financial, Jefferson Banks?” I ask, referring to one of the biggest financial firms in the country. Not that I know much about him or his company but you would have to live under a rock to have never heard his name before.

              “The one and only.” Josh says, gesturing for my water bottle after I take another long drink. “You better get back out there. I have specific instructions to have you do a three song rotation, three minutes between each song.” He says, surprising me.

              “But that's not even a half an hour.” I interject.

              “Bet you never dreamed you would make two grand for thirty minutes.” He smiles brightly at me like he somehow had something to do with it when I know, deep down, he hates that I am here right now, dancing for Bentley. This was one hundred percent Bentley's doing, I just haven't quite figured out why.

              “But why are they all here? Has he brought potential clients here before?” I ask, figuring I would have at least heard one of the girls talk about it if he had. Hell, even Lo had no idea who Bentley was, which tells me his appearance here is not frequent. Or at least it hasn’t been until more recently.

              “I don't know. He usually takes potentials to his New York club.” He shrugs. “Alright, enough chit chat. I have a schedule to keep.” He says, pulling the screen open to allow enough room for me to squeeze through.

              I am fully prepared to start my next dance but before Josh even has a chance to start the song, all the men stand and start shaking hands. I stand motionless in the middle of the stage, not sure what is going on or what I am supposed to do.

              I can hear their conversation for the most part, though Mr. Banks words are grumbled and run together. From what I can tell, it looks like they are all preparing to leave. Bentley shakes each man's hand and thanks them for coming. Given that he makes the general statement to be in touch first thing Monday morning to finalize membership contracts, I can only guess that things went well and he succeeded in bringing these men into his elite group of clients.

              I look to where Josh is standing behind the bar. He catches my eyes and shrugs, like he's just as confused as I am. I turn my attention back to Bentley who shakes the basketball player's hand last and claps him on the shoulder before saying something to him that I can't hear. The man nods and then follows the other gentleman to the door where Mike, one of the bouncers, proceeds to lead them out.

              Flipping my gaze back to Bentley, I am immediately a ball of nerves when I find him staring back at me intensely. He opens his mouth like he is going to say something but then immediately closes it when Josh begins to approach.

              “Everything okay?” Josh asks, as soon as he reaches where Bentley is standing.

              “Perfect.” Bentley says, reaching out to shake Josh's hand. “They were all so impressed with Logan here.” He says, throwing a nod in my direction before turning back to Josh. “That they were sold after just one dance.”

              “Well that was easy enough.” Josh says, laughing lightly.

              “Depends on how you look at it.” Bentley says, not losing his professional tone. “Now if you don't mind, I'd like a word.” He says, gesturing towards the bar.

              “Okay.” Josh stumbles out before turning and following Bentley just far enough away from the stage that they are out of my earshot and I can't hear what they are saying. It's strange, from where I am standing both of them seem completely normal and yet, not at all. I can feel the tension buzzing around them and it's impossible not to feel the weight even from across the room.

              After what feels like an eternity, Josh finally meets my gaze and I watch as the color leaves his face as he slowly turns and backs out of the room. He doesn't have to say a word to tell me that the last thing he wants to do is leave me alone with Bentley Reed.

              Bentley seems completely at ease as he turns and crosses the room towards me. I want to back away, make an excuse why I need to go but I can't do anything but stand like a statue on stage and watch as he closes the distance between us.

              Holding his hand out once he reaches the edge of the stage, he gestures for me to come to him. Like my body is operating on auto pilot, I slowly make my way to the end of the stage and down the small three step staircase that leads to the floor, my heels clicking loudly with every step I take.

              The moment I turn towards Bentley, he closes in on me. Pushing my back against the stage, he grinds his body roughly into mine and locks my face with his hands, securing it just inches from his. “What the fuck was that?” He growls, his eyes flicking towards the stage and then back to me.

              “What?” I ask, not able to keep up with what the hell is going on. My heart is beating so loudly, I swear it's all I can hear. That, and my labored breaths as I try to calm myself from what being so close to Bentley is doing to me.

              “That.” He growls again. “Were you trying to get a rise out of me?” He asks, turning his head to follow my eyes when I try to look away. “Look at me.” He commands and I find myself doing exactly as he says, which does not sit well with me and yet, I don't have it in me to fight against either.

              “I don't know what you are talking about.” I protest, honestly so confused by what is happening right now that I feel like I have been shuttled away from reality and am currently existing in some alternate universe.

              “Seriously Logan?” He gawks at me in disbelief, releasing my face but not backing away. His hard body is pressed so firmly against mine I swear I can feel every breath he takes, every beat of his heart in his chest, and what's worse, every ripple of muscle below the fabric of his clothing.

              “I was just dancing.” I stutter through my words, having trouble concentrating on anything but how good he feels against me and how badly I want to reach up and tangle my fingers in his dark hair.

              “You don't see it do you?” He says, his voice softening slightly.

              “See what?” I question, not trying to hide my confusion.

              “How unbelievably sexy you are and how completely undone I become watching you on that stage. When you turned upside down and I caught sight of your bare flesh, it took everything I had not to push every single person out of this room and take you right here. Tell me that wasn't intentional.” He says, his voice dropping low, his lips hovering just mere inches from mine.

              “I don't know what you think you saw Mr. Reed. But I was just doing my job.” I say, partially lying but also telling the truth at the same time. Of course I was aware of his eyes on me, and I would be lying if I said that knowing they were didn't drive my performance some. But at the same time, I didn't do anything that I wouldn't have done for anyone else either.

              “Don't play games with me Logan.” He warns, his eyes locking on mine. “I am a man who knows what he wants and I don't take lightly to being toyed with.” He inches closer to my face. “So I am going to ask you this only once. Do you want me?” His hot breath dances across my lips causing me to take a sharp inhale.

              “It's not that simple. I work for you. Then there's Josh.” I start rambling excuses just hoping to somehow talk some sense into myself. I know that I am caving. I can feel it. With each second that passes I am becoming weaker, more susceptible to his charms. I know it's only a matter of time before I give in and I am so terrified of that moment and honestly, I don't know why.

              Maybe it's because I have never met a man quite like Bentley. Raw sex and power and yet beneath it all, there is a softness to him. Something I can't quite put my finger on but at the same time, am dying to explore more. No one has ever haunted my thoughts the way he has since our first meeting just a few short days ago.

              “I don't care about any of those things Logan. And neither should you. I am asking about what
you
want.” He says, closing the gap between our mouths and trailing his tongue along my lower lip. I can't contain the quiver that rakes my body at the contact and I can feel his smile against my mouth. “That's what I thought.” He whispers, before closing his mouth down on mine.

              The moment the full contact of his lips settles over mine, I am lost to the feeling, the touch of his hands as they skirt up my sides under the thin material of my outfit, my skin prickling under his fingertips. When his tongue sweeps inside my mouth, instinct takes over. I am no longer thinking about all the reasons why this can't happen, only that I want it to.

              How long can I go on denying the one man I just can't seem to get out of my system? And why am I denying myself to begin with? I deserve to divulge in the pleasures that this world has to offer. He's only a man and I only need him once. Just once. One taste, one feeling, just one time.

              His hands explore the flesh of my abdomen, his fingertips tracing around my belly button before dipping lower and skirting across the thin material of my lace thong. I jump at the contact. Not because I don't like it but because I do. So much so that I wonder how in the world I am going to hold myself together. One touch of his flesh against mine and I am sure to fall to pieces below him.