Directing You

by Katana Collins

  I wasn’t sure what made me so emboldened around him. But I liked this feeling. And if he was friends with Noah, he couldn’t be a bad person, right? Noah wouldn’t be friends with someone untrustworthy. I pushed onto my knees, straddling his lap. “Why don’t you get it for me?”

  His hands scooped into my hair and he tugged my mouth to his in a bruising kiss that left me moaning against his tongue. There wasn’t much in terms of clothing between us—a small triangular scrap of silk between my legs and a low push-up bra that made what little cleavage I had stand out. I wasn’t the curviest dancer, but what I didn’t have in assets, I made up for in dance moves. I was the most trained dancer this burlesque club had ever seen, I knew that. Anyone with half a brain and a set of eyes knew that.

  He moved his strong hands over the lace covering my breasts, teasing my pebbled nipples with his thumbs before continuing down my taut stomach to the edge of my panties. His fingers skimmed the edge of my panties and he paused, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “Is this okay?” he asked.

  I nodded and on a breathless whisper, answered, “Yes.”

  I barely got the word out before he slid his fingers beneath the slim elastic, grazing them across my heated flesh, and I moaned, throwing my head back. It wasn’t even a performance moan. His touch was firm yet delicate. The perfect combination of strength and tenderness to cause the ache between my legs to deepen.

  Even though his touch was nearly perfect, it was still those eyes that captured me. His intense gaze had followed his hands, exploring my body—nearly permeating my flesh, it was so searingly hot. As his fingers continued their descent, his eyes darted back up to hold mine once more. Like those eyes could slice me open and reveal all my innermost thoughts. Those eyes could tear every secret I’d ever had from my locked lips.

  I begged him for more without saying a word.

  He gently kissed my mouth and slid his finger deep inside my wet heat. A low groan slipped from my parted lips, and I blinked as my head fell back, my palms resting against the sinew of his tight shoulders. “We should stop,” I whispered.

  “You’re right, we should,” he said. “Do you want me to stop? Say the word and I will.”

  God, no. I reached between his legs, gripping his length and gasping at its feel in my palm. I placed him against me and rocked my hips, rubbing myself against him, and my nerves were on fire as pleasure spiraled up my core. My chest heaved with his heady groan as he lifted his hips, pressing his cock harder against my clit.

  “Fuck,” he hissed. “You feel so good.”

  I leaned down, nibbling his ear, sucking at his earlobe before whispering, “I taste even better.”

  An alarm blared, jolting me out of the sex haze, and Reid gave a frustrated groan as we split apart. I launched off his lap, backing away, breathing heavily. “What’s that?” I asked.

  With a grunt, he lifted his hips and pulled his phone from his pocket, hitting a button and shutting it off. “My alarm. It’s midnight.”

  He swallowed as though this fact—the time—meant something, and I cocked my head, shrugging. “And?”

  “And it’s time for me to go.” He didn’t seem to want to go, despite the words. Standing, he slid the phone into his pocket, pressing his lips together, his eyes slowly raking my body as if he was trying to scan every inch of me into his memory. “Do I owe you anything for the…” He paused, swallowing.

  “Dance?” I offered, since he seemed at a loss for words. Then, I shook my head. “No, it’s been taken care of.”

  “By Noah?”

  I nodded, my mind going to the envelope of cash sitting on my dressing room mirror. I’d have to return some of that to him. It was way too much. “Something like that.”

  He started toward the door and stopped, his hand hovering at the handle before he spun back to face me. In a swift motion, he rushed toward me, scooping his hand back into my hair, squeezing the strands, and tugging my head back as he took my mouth in a demanding kiss.

  He pulled back, his breath heavy, chest rising and falling with each labored inhalation. “Come home with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  My pussy pulsed between my legs and I ached to feel his touch there once more. I wanted to say yes. For the first time in months, I wanted to go home with a man. Would it be so bad? Going home with a client? I’d heard about other dancers here at the club doing that. Hell, some of them did it for money. But I wasn’t a whore. If I was going home with him, it was solely for the pleasure of his mouth…his touch…his cock. And holy hell, what a cock it was. I’d only had a glimpse of it through his pants as I wrapped my hand around it, but it wasn’t small. And he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

  I wanted to blow off my second dance tonight. Desperately. But I needed the money. I needed to get on that stage and shake my ass at least one more time in order to make rent this month.

  I stepped back, putting an arm’s length between us, and shook my head. “I-I can’t. I have another dance tonight.”

  The liquid heat in his green eyes cooled immediately, but he nodded politely. “Of course.” He walked backwards toward the door, not turning away from me this time.

  “And… I don’t get off work until after two—”

  He put up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Really. This is a job to you… I should have realized.”

  My jaw nearly hit the floor. Did he think that what we’d just done in here was something I did regularly with clients? That I kissed them, let them finger me—that I grinded on their cocks? That this…what happened here was just matter-of-course for one of my private dances?

  “Excuse me?” I said, my voice a harsh whisper and sounding just as incredulous as I felt.

  He didn’t answer me. He was already out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

  Chapter 3

  Reid

  The next morning, I arrived at my empty classroom forty minutes early. Or should I say, Faith’s classroom. It reeked of her in every corner. I opened the top drawer and found a set of her favorite pens. The micron felt-tipped kind—damn, she loved those pens. It was such a weird thing to be so passionate about, but she was. Every Christmas, she asked for them in her stocking.

  I felt the smile twitch at the corner of my mouth as I pulled out a red pen and placed it on the desk. Beside it was a small sample of perfume—the kind that comes for free with purchase at the makeup counter of Macy’s. I popped the top off and held it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled lightly floral and that scent launched me into years of memories with her.

  “Professor Bradley?” a voice called from the doorway. I jumped, the small bottle tipping and pouring out over my dress shirt. I hissed a curse, gritting my teeth to stop myself from saying the explosive language I was thinking. Not that I couldn’t afford another damn Hugo Boss shirt, but I really liked this one. And now it was going to be stained and smell like I’d just rolled out of bed with a woman.

  Not just any woman… my ex-fiancée.

  I cleared my throat, looking up to find a woman a little older than me standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “I’m Laura Dercy, the musical theater department head here.”

  “I’m Reid—”

  “Bradley,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a vigorous shake. “I know. We’re really excited to have you subbing for Faith.”

  I gave her a polite smile, but it felt tight, stretching unnaturally across my face. “Well, uh, it’s good to be here.” I wasn’t sure quite what it was about Ms. Dercy, but she rubbed me the wrong way, leaving me shifting and itchy in her presence. Which was not exactly a feeling I was accustomed to.

  “Anyway, I’m going to sit in on this morning’s class if that’s okay by you. We’re very fortunate to have you filling in for Faith this semester, and I would love to observe your brilliance at work.”

  Aha. There it was. That’s why I felt so weird. She was kissing my ass. I guess it wasn’t every day they had a Broadway director subbing
for a semester of classes, even if Faith only taught two classes per week. “Okay,” I said. “Faith had told me that you are very flexible with teaching styles here. I hope that it’s okay the way I’ve chosen to handle the semester.”

  She waved her hand into the air as she slid into a seat in the back row. “Oh, we are. I’m sure whatever you choose to do will be great.”

  A few students shuffled in, and I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until we started.

  More and more students came in. One girl stopped at my desk, her nearly platinum hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail that had the ends curling under in a way that would put Sandy from Grease to shame. “Professor Bradley?” she asked, smiling.

  “Yes.”

  Her grin widened. “I’m Jenna Duncan. It’s so exciting to meet you. I’m a huge fan of your work.”

  I gave her a smile, not quite as tight as it was with Ms. Dercy, yet she still made me feel uneasy. Maybe it was this whole teaching thing that made me uncomfortable, not the people in the class. So far, everyone had been friendly, which led me to believe it was me, not them that was the problem. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Duncan. I’m excited to be teaching you as well.”

  Her smile was so large I wondered if her cheeks hurt. “Have a seat,” I said, glancing at the clock. “We’ll get started.”

  She scurried away, clutching her books to her chest as she slid into the front row. All in all, there were about fourteen people in the room.

  I held up the clipboard that held all of the names enrolled in the course. “Is everyone here?” I asked. “You’re all adults. You’ve paid to be in this class. I assume it’s because you want to be here and want to learn what it takes to be a professional actor in New York City. So, I feel like attendance is probably not something we necessarily have to do every day, right? Be here, don’t be here…it’s your dollars you’re wasting. Then again, I suppose I’m preaching to the choir for those of you who are sitting here on time.” I looked down at my list, where there were fifteen names, but only fourteen heads seated in front of me, not including Laura. Damn. We were missing someone.

  “Here’s the thing, though,” I said, moving toward the door. “In the professional world, you can call if you’re going to be late or miss a rehearsal, but those rehearsal doors usually lock as soon as warm-ups begin.” My eyes met Jenna’s, and she glanced around the room, her grin turning somewhat mischievous in a way that left me curious. I strolled toward the door, ready to lock it, as it flung open, and standing there, panting heavily, her laptop clutched to her chest—a chest I had gotten up close and personal with last night—was Ms. Hazel Moon.

  Chapter 4

  Hazel

  My morning was a nightmare. More than a nightmare. I had my cell phone pressed against my ear and was on the phone with my best friend. “I’m telling you, she wasn’t in her office like she usually is,” I hissed into the phone, talking with Rosa, who was a full-time psychology student here. “Any idea where she could be?” Laura Dercy, the head of our department and my boss here at the school, required a venti Frappuccino daily—otherwise known as a bucket of sugar. And yet she still managed to maintain her lithe dancer body despite that daily sugar intake.

  Rosa snorted in my ear. “Just leave it on her desk. Who the fuck cares if it melts? If she’s not there to claim her coffee, then she misses out on her coffee.” Rosa paused, clicking her tongue. “Better yet, drink the damn frappe and tell her someone must have stolen it.”

  I groaned. “I’m serious. She could literally fire me, and you want me to drink her damn coffee?”

  I’d barely just rolled out of bed after my late night at the club. The crowd had gotten even rowdier after Noah’s friend left, and I didn’t manage to get home until after two thirty.

  So, it made sense that in my still-half-asleep haze, I’d tugged on the first pair of jeans from off my floor that didn’t smell bad before I rushed out the door and grabbed the two iced Americanos, one macchiato, one flat white latte, and of course, Ms. Dercy’s venti Frappuccino. I could barely handle my class load along with my two jobs, and I was just taking the minimum credits per semester. I don’t know how the hell Rosa kept up with her class-load that was twice my size, not to mention her internship. At this point, me being in this undergrad program felt like a waste of time. If I was being honest with myself, I had long since given up the musical theater dream. And if the school ever discovered the reality of my night job, I had no doubt that I’d be kicked out and never invited back. Even as a part-time, minimum-wage employee of the school, I still had to sign that insane integrity clause of theirs. Like this was the fucking Renaissance age and I was going to be branded with a scarlet A if caught dancing in my pasties.

  “Do the professors even reimburse you for those coffees you get every day?”

  “Yes.” Well, usually. “But that’s not the point, Rosa. I’m on freaking probation right now. They don’t let you stay in the program below a 2.5 GPA.”

  I loved Rosa, but she didn’t understand how badly I needed this job. It wasn’t even necessarily about the pay (because my hourly rate was laughable), but I also got faculty rates on classes, which meant they were almost affordable on my dancer’s income. That discount was the real reason I kept this job. I was the assistant to the department, and one of my most “important” duties was bringing coffee to the professors before their classes at the beginning of my shift. Ms. Dercy was only one of several coffee deliveries I had before my classes, of course, yet she was also always the hardest to track down.

  Rosa snorted. “That probation is a whole lot of bullshit.”

  I sighed, rushing down the hall and peeking into a couple of the other offices and classrooms to see if I could find her. “It’s not bullshit. My GPA dropped to 2.6 when Professor Lewis gave me that F in History.”

  “Yeah,” Rosa sneered. “He gave you an F because you wouldn’t fuck him after your oral exam.”

  I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning and sweat pushing through my pores. I wasn’t sure if it was our conversation or the running around, but either way, I was greasy and sweaty and not cute at all. As much as I wanted to blame Professor Lewis—and yeah, he was a dick—I had to take ownership, too. “No, he failed me because I fell asleep in class while everyone else gave their oral exams and slept right through my own turn when he called my name to go.”

  “Yeah. And you kept that failing grade because you have integrity and wouldn’t take his ultimatum to fuck him to give you a makeup day,” Rosa said, and I could almost picture the way her dark brown eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared when she got mad. “You are one of the few students here who has two jobs…plus a full class load. And one of those jobs keeps you out until three in the morning. You’ve got to cut yourself a break.” She paused. “You should have reported him.”

  I stopped in the middle of the hallway, taking a deep breath and letting it out on a sigh. “Maybe. But it’s too late now.” I had started to tell Dercy about what happened with Professor Lewis. But before I could get very far, she launched into a thirty-minute lecture about how she stuck her neck out for me to get into Professor Lewis’s class and how disappointed in me she was. How I was so talented, but I don’t apply myself, blah, blah, blah. Frankly, after being spoken down to for half an hour, I didn’t think Dercy would even listen to what I had to say about Professor Lewis.

  But Rosa wasn’t wrong. To this day, I wish I had spoken up. However, it didn’t change the fact that I’d failed that class all on my own. It didn’t matter that Jenna had missed her finals day and was granted a makeup in the same class. It didn’t matter that Professor Lewis was a raging asshole. He’d left after last semester anyway, going with his wife on some national tour, so hopefully I never had to see him again.

  “The new professor is starting today, right? Taking over for Professor Lewis’s wife, teaching your musical theater class?” Rosa said. “Maybe Professor Dercy is in there? Didn’t you say she likes to observe classes?”

  I
squeezed my eyes shut, pulling the phone from my ear to glance at the time. “Shit. Class already started,” I hissed. “Gotta go, Ro.” I hung up and sprinted for the door at the end of the hall, clutching my laptop to my chest, and grasping my cell phone in one hand while holding the Frappuccino in the other.

  I shoved through the door, nearly plowing into a man just on the other side.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m so sorry…” I froze as my eyes lifted to the professor’s, and my words caught in my throat as I stood there wordlessly. Choked. Panicked.

  “You.” The word brushed through my lips on a whisper, and I definitely didn’t intend for it to sound as accusatory as it did.

  The man from last night—Noah’s friend—was standing in front of me at the head of my classroom. Was this a joke? Was I on some sort of hidden camera show that Noah had orchestrated? I immediately glanced around the room for some semblance of evidence…cameras or a microphone…

  He took a beat, looking just as shocked and horrified as I did before his mouth snapped closed. He moved around me, shut the door, and locked it.

  “You,” he repeated me, seeming to pause for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, “are late. You made it by the skin of your teeth. Normally the door would be locked by now.”

  I swallowed, and his eyes dipped to the venti frozen beverage in my hand, his brows jolting up. “Good to know your priorities are in order, though, and you got your coffee.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. My gaze combed the room—and there, sitting in the back, was Ms. Dercy. I paused, waiting for her to come to my rescue…to tell him I wasn’t late because I had to buy a venti cup of pure sugar for myself, but that it was actually for her. That she was the reason I was late. Because if she had just returned one of my numerous text messages asking where she was, I wouldn’t have had to traipse around the goddamn building looking to get her the stupid coffee she ordered this morning.