Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

  I smile. These are not words I think most people would use to describe Dominick Angeline.

  Maybe cold, indifferent, ruthless? And while I’m sure they’re true in some sense, they’re definitely a part of his work. You don’t get to be The Boss by being polite and sweet. You get them by being a motherfucker.

  But Dom’s not that with me.

  Not at all. And after our impromptu dinner and last night, whatever that was, I think we’re . . . something?

  Maybe dating isn’t the word, but it’s something more than this distant dance we’ve been doing, where all my attention is drawn to him the instant he enters a room. Where I search the shadows around me, hoping for a glimpse of him in some weird form of ‘gotcha’ like it’s a game he doesn’t know we’re playing. Where he owns me without even truly acknowledging that he wants me.

  I pause at that last thought, thinking it through.

  That’s not really true.

  He may not acknowledge whatever we’ve had with grand gestures, but he’s always had this way of looking at me like I’m his everything.

  Until last night, I didn’t realize the depth of emotion behind his protective measures. I didn’t realize just how much of his everything I’ve been. He crossed the line, but still, that level of commitment makes me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.

  I’ve had men caught up in my stage persona beg to worship the ground I walk on, and others in my real life who started out normal but ultimately treated me like shit mentally. They didn’t want the woman inside. They just wanted the package– my face, my tits, my ass. I can definitely put those to good advantage, as evidenced by my job, but it’s left me more than a bit doubtful that any man would care what was underneath the pretty packaging.

  But Dom is something else entirely. Dominick took control, unafraid to send lightning through my body, but in every motion, every word, every look, he truly does worship me, but it’s balanced with the way he respects me. The real me, not some image he’s created. He’s actually taken the time to learn about me, albeit in an odd way.

  But he sees me in a way no one else ever has. And that is the most powerful aphrodisiac, one that puts me under his spell, hungry for every morsel of his attention. His words. His touch.

  He makes me feel beautiful on the inside. And outside of family, that’s not something I’ve had.

  With a smile, I scribble on a sticky note, You are beautiful . . . on the inside. I slap it on the floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of me, adding it to the mix of choreo notes and self-affirmations already in place there.

  I continue practicing the routine I’ve created for this week’s Diva Dance class. That’s what I’ve decided to call my non-pole studio class, figuring that every woman wants to tap into her inner Sasha Fierce-slash-Beyoncé for a seductive performance now and again.

  With a swish of my hips, I trace my curves, following the movements in the reflection, but the disarray of pillows on the couch behind me catches my eye, and I turn in place, my chest rising and falling as my heart continues to hammer in my chest.

  Usually, having a dance space in my apartment is a good thing, even if it is my teeny-tiny dining room that’s been converted with a full wall of mirrors and a ballet barre. The carpet’s been covered with plywood and laminate until it’s as smooth as a stage.

  Yeah, I’m never getting the security deposit back, but it’d been a small price to pay for the comfort and release a 24/7 dance space allows.

  Usually, I can tune everything else out when I practice, not seeing the dishes in the sink or the floor that needs to be vacuumed. But the disarrayed pillows draw me in like a moth to a flame, a visible reminder of what happened last night.

  And specifically, what didn’t happen.

  After that spanking, I guess I’d expected him to press for more. Fuck, I wanted him to press me. I wanted him to tug my panties the rest of the way to the side, to mark me inside as well as out.

  We’ve both been patient, but these months of prolonged foreplay have built an inferno inside me that’s already on the edge of explosion. Even a small step like last night has me wanting to rush into his fire, arms wide open and eyes squeezed shut, leaping blindly into whatever may come.

  Like that thick dick I felt pressed against my thigh last night. I can definitely see that coming for me.

  Terrible puns aside, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. I was waiting for him, and it seems the time for waiting has finally come to fruition, if I can use his words last night as any indicator.

  I’m not a shy woman, never been one to hem and haw about what I want, but I am a rule follower. There’s a method to the madness in my mind, a progression from one step to the next that creates that beautiful flow of movement, and I’ve followed those steps precisely.

  I’ve respected that Dominick wanted to keep me at arm’s length while I was an employee. I’ve honored that he held himself back from me with an unspoken demand that I hold myself back from anyone but him, knowing that it sometimes left me lonely. And horny.

  But the time for rules and games is over. He showed me his heart last night, with his words more than his body, but that’s the true barometer of a man. And that’s why after class tonight, I’m going to Petals.

  I haven’t been in over a week, and my first showcase feature isn’t for another week and a half. I miss the other girls there, my friends and sisters in the sorority of skin, so a visit seems in order.

  But the main reason is still to see Dominick.

  I’m more than ready when I park in the back lot at Petals and wait for Gavin to park next to me.

  After our chat last night, Dom had texted me this morning, saying that perhaps some openness was warranted, and then he gave me the schedule for my assigned detail for the week. It’d been a weirdly kind gift, like he was letting me in and dropping the curtain a bit more. Gavin’s on ‘Allie Patrol’ tonight and followed me from the studio.

  I’d asked if he would not tell Dom I’m on my way, wanting to surprise him, but he’d just laughed and said Dom knows where I am at all times anyway.

  Cryptic, but I think he had already told Dom we were leaving the studio. Whatever. I’m just ready to see him, and if it’s not quite a surprise, so be it.

  The back door opens, and I rush inside, greeting Thomas. He’s been here at Petals longer than I have, and I recognize he’s someone within Dom’s hierarchy now, but still, he’s just a good guy to me, sometimes a bit off-color with his humor, but overall, a good guy.

  Mostly, I beeline straight for the backstage dressing room. “Hey!” I call out as I burst through the door.

  There’s a chorus of high-pitched squeals from the girls, and then Tina, one of the other experienced girls, says, “Where the hell have you been, girl? I was gettin’ ready to send you a thank-you card for the extra work!”

  Her eyes are playful and teasing, belying her question and saying that she really just wants the details of what’s been going on.

  “Oh, you know, around. Been putting in a lot of hours at the studio. Amelia did fantastic today, by the way.”

  Tina smiles at the compliment about her little girl, who is the light of her existence. Tina supports both her daughter and her mother with her job at Petals, and her mother helps take care of Amelia in return, bringing her to Encore for weekly lessons.

  “Yeah, well, guess she got something from me. Long as she don’t have to do this shit too. I want my baby to put that brain she has to good use.” She taps the side of her head.

  I nod, giving Tina a warm look. “She’s smart as a whip, Tina. You know that.”

  Tina smiles, then clears her throat. “I heard you added some sexy classes and are starting up some pole gig too. I plan on booking a private session to learn some of those tricks you’ve got. Time for you to teach us padawans.”

  We laugh at our jokes. She’s an inner nerd at heart. “Seriously, though, good for you. As long as you keep teaching the babies, we’re solid, because Amelia only goes to bal
let for you.”

  Her words touch me. Maybe it’s in the way Dom runs this place or maybe it’s in how he hires us, but there’s a real feeling of family. We really are a supportive group of girls, and I know they’d have my back in an instant if needed, the same way I would for them.

  “Thanks, honey. I’m teaching the kids, but I’m still around here too,” I assure Tina. “Actually, I’ve got a feature soon, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the finances work out on that idea. It’s a bit counterintuitive to the usual give them what they want, more only give them what they want every once in a while and hope they pay extra for the rarity.”

  One of the other girls, a newbie named Sarah, chimes in. “Well, if they don’t, I’m sure Boss Man will make up the difference for you.”

  She says it in a good-humored teasing way, but it stings a bit anyway. I try to laugh it off, not sounding all that convincing.

  “Not really how that works.” But at the five sets of eyes boring into me, I falter some more. “Uhm, so does everyone know?”

  Tina laughs loudly. “Does everybody know?”

  She looks at the other girls, her face telegraphing Do you believe this shit? When she turns back to me, she grins, but seeing my face, she gets up and talks to me in that mom voice that tells me she’s going to make sure this is the last time anyone says anything about me and Dom.

  “Hon, we’ve known there was something between the two of you for months. We knew you weren’t breaking the rules. I woulda called your ass on that. But we could get high on the fumes of your chemistry just by walking by. What do you call those? Phera . . . phomo . . . pheromones?” She snaps her fingers. “Yeah, pheromones in spades. We had a pool going on for a while, betting on when you two would finally combust. Too bad Logan put a stop to that after his dates were all past. Sore loser, I think.” She winks like that’s funny, but I’m aghast.

  “Whoa, I’m not really sure what to say to all that,” I say quietly. “Tina, you—”

  Tina pats my shoulder, ever the momma of the group, “Baby, nobody here is judging you for falling for Dominick. He’s a good man, even with who he is, and it’s not like any of us are jealous because we thought we had a chance with him. We’ve always known you’ve had that man on a string, for a lot longer than you’ve known it, and it’s about damn time you yanked on that line.”

  She mimes jacking off, her hand pumping an invisible cock.

  I laugh at her outrageous action as much as the thought that I have Dominick on a string. If anything, it’s the exact opposite. I feel like he’s not teasing me to him. He’s just inserted himself into my life and expected that I’ll accept that.

  Funny thing is, I really want to. He’s different than I’d thought, kinder and more respectful, and definitely hotter than the ice-cold image he projects. In fact, I can’t believe I ever thought he was cold.

  “Thanks, Tina,” I reply, not hugging her simply because I don’t want body glitter all over my black T-shirt. “All right, ladies, I think I’m gonna head upstairs to my man.”

  Claiming Dominick, even lightly to my friends, feels big, really big, but I think I like it.

  It feels right.

  There’s a round of catcalls, but Tina’s words are the most heartfelt. “Allie, go be happy. Go on, girl.”

  I swear she’s looking at me with a hint of motherly pride as I leave the dressing room, which is extra-odd because Tina, for all her wisdom and life advice, isn’t that much older than me. But the hand life dealt her made her pretty perceptive, and I’ll keep her advice in mind.

  Upstairs, I knock and go in at Dominick’s called-out invitation.

  I’ve gotta give him credit. He does a good job of pretending he hasn’t known I’ve been downstairs for the past ten minutes as he crosses the room and kisses my cheek.

  “A pleasant surprise. You couldn’t wait to see me until later?”

  I smirk at his cocky arrogance and assumptions, teasing back. “Maybe I came to see the girls, not you. I just wanted to toss you a bone before going and seeing how Sarah’s new routine is working out.”

  His smile falls in increments, his eyes darkening at my insolence. If he were looking at anyone else this way, I’m sure they’d be shaking in terror. I’m shaking, but there’s not a drop of fear in my blood.

  No, for me, it’s all adrenaline and arousal.

  He smiles, calling my bluff. “Well then, by all means, let’s get you a seat for the show.” He takes my hand, leading me to the wall of glass windows.

  He grabs his desk chair, a big black leather throne fit for a king.

  No . . . fit for a Boss.

  He sits down and pulls me into his lap. We face the windows, which are transparent right now, though I know that from the floor, they’re blacked out.

  I don’t know what kind of one-way glass magic Dom invested in for this wall, but it’s worth it. I feel like I’m floating above the crowd, with an unrestricted view of Sarah on stage as she twirls around the pole, one leg bent and one leg stretched long, her hair hanging down her back in a blonde sheet.

  “Do you like what you see?” he whispers, his voice hot against my ear.

  I squirm, trying to relieve the building pressure as my body responds to the warmth he’s creating inside me already.

  “She’s good . . . knows how to play up her features and be sexy without being sleazy,” I say, my eyes evaluating Sarah’s technique. “You know, Tina said something about a private lesson to work on a trick or two. I hadn’t thought of doing that too. I’m feeling a little like the Pied Piper of Stripperdom . . . women of all ages, stages, shapes, and sizes following me along to find their inner goddesses.”

  My voice is hushed, excitement tinged with the responsibility of helping these women grow in their own self-confidence and power. I gasp when Dominick’s finger teases just above the waistband of my jeans, finding the sensitive skin of my back.

  “I’d certainly follow you.”

  I smirk at the promise, glancing back to see him watching me, not looking at Sarah at all. “Dom, do you ever watch any of the dancers?”

  “Of course,” he says, still watching me. “Mostly the try-outs, and I try to catch each girl’s performance every once in a while, strictly professionally to make sure they’re fitting in well with the clientele. But I always watch your dances.” He leans into me and teases my ear with hot breath. “Unprofessionally. I watch you just for myself.”

  His deep voice sends a thrill to me, and I turn back to watch Sarah just to keep myself under control. Still, Dom questions me. “Do you miss it? It’s been a bit since you’ve been on stage.”

  I take my time before answering. I don’t want to sound needy, but also, I want Dom to understand the nuance of what I want to say. I don’t have the same skill with words that I do with my body. I can’t express myself quite so clearly.

  “Yes and no. I’ve always been on stage, performing in one way or another, and I enjoy that rush of connecting with the audience. But really, it’s about me connecting with myself, with the shy insecurities, with the bold brashness, with the hopeful innocence and whatever else the piece requires of me. I get to experience and explore every facet of myself on stage.”

  The truth feels exposing, making me vulnerable, and I work to retreat to safer ground. “Plus, the applause is pretty sweet,” I add with a grin, looking back over my shoulder. “I always thought you were clapping too.”

  Dominick doesn’t smile back. Instead, he looks at me, looks into me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve, taking every word I say as a clue to some solution that ultimately explains me.

  But I’m the simple one. He’s the enigma blanketed in layers of questions. I feel like I’m just beginning to get to know him, and it’s on his terms as he doles out tidbits of information like clues leading me deeper and deeper into his web.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, demand that he share a story with me, something, anything, just to learn about him. But before the words leave
my tongue, he lifts me off his lap.

  “Dance for me.”

  That is certainly not what I expected. “What?”

  Dom pushes back and rolls himself back to his desk. “You miss the stage, miss exploring who you are. Do that for me, with me. Let me see who you are, right now, in this moment.”

  There’s no request in any of his words, merely orders, soft as they may be. I walk to the center of his office, and he presses a button on the console on his desk, letting the speakers in his office come to life with the music from downstairs.

  “I’m not dressed for this,” I say awkwardly as I get a feel for the music.

  Dominick’s grin is feral but supportive. “I know. That’s why this is sweeter. I don’t want your stage persona, Allie. I just want to see you. I want to see you express yourself, how you feel, how you . . . exist. Tell me with your body what you want me to know.”

  I bend down, slipping my shoes off and setting them to the side, not in a sexy way, but just in a casual movement. Dom lifts an eyebrow but nods in encouragement.

  “Good girl. Now dance . . . for me.”

  The music fills me, throbbing bass and drums that click inside me. I open my eyes, watching Dominick as I feel the tigress inside me begin to stalk her prey, the man she wants.

  His gaze travels up and down my body, pausing at my tits and hips but also taking the time to appreciate every inch as I begin to move, sashaying across the floor before kicking my left leg up and coming up onto my right toes, thanking whatever genius came up with spandex denim. Dom’s eyes widen as I hold the pose, bending my leg at the knee before lowering it while unbuttoning my jeans.

  I tease them down my thighs, trying to accomplish the impossible . . . taking off fitted jeans without looking like a total doofus.

  I do my best, a genuine smile crossing my face at the absurdity of wiggling the denim down and off.

  I twirl, letting Dom see the curves of my ass peeking out from beneath my top before I slip it off too, turning to face him as I drop it to the floor. My curls flutter around my shoulders, and I shake my head, letting the length fall behind my shoulders so nothing is hidden. I reach behind my back and unhook my bra, pulsing my body to the beat slowly as I inch the lacy straps down my arms but hold the cups to my breasts.