At the end of an hour I was exhausted. I led them out the door, allowing each one to hug me on her way out. I waved goodbye to the mothers. Each of them had been impressed with the way I’d handled the chaotic little girls, and they gave me smiles of approval. I only got paid once a month, of course, which meant that I would be receiving their checks at the end of the month. I would have to hold out.
I sighed, walking toward the office. I had stocked all of my financial reports there, and I looked at it beneath the lights, wondering how I was going to ever organize everything. The lights had begun to dissipate outside, and I knew I needed to walk home soon, before it got too cold. I looked at the calendar and realized, suddenly, that it was Halloween. I rushed to the window, where I could still see the little girls exiting the pub below. One of the mothers had begun placing silly costume hats on the girls; another one handed her daughter a small chocolate bar. I remembered how my own mother and I used to go trick-or-treating together, at least during the younger years. I’d been a princess or a ballerina during each one, and I hadn’t regretted it. Not once.
Suddenly, I heard movement behind me. I spun around to find Mel standing there, her face a bit pale. I placed my hand over my mouth, worried. “What is it, Mel?” I asked, rushing toward her. “Is Jackson all right?”
Mel tried to right her face. She shook her head several times, trying to smile. “I’m sorry, Molly. I’m sorry I missed rehearsal tonight. I just—I just felt I needed to go see someone. I needed to talk to someone.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Talk to someone? About what?”
“It’s complicated.” Mel lowered herself to the floor and I sat down next to her.
“All right. Well. You can tell me, you know.”
She brought her hand to my face and touched my ear. “Listen, darling Molly. You know you’re my best friend in the city.”
“You’re my only friend in the city,” I replied, laughing. It was true, of course. I had no one else.
She showed me all her teeth, grinning in such perfect order. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. In fact, I want everything to work out for you. You’ve worked harder than anyone I know to get this dance studio up and running.”
I nodded slowly, thinking back on all the tumultuous days of the past two years. It had all been too much, in so many ways. “I couldn’t have done it without my assistant.”
But Mel just waved her hand in front of her face, shaking her head. “No. This was all you, darling. This was all you. Remember that.” She stood, suddenly, and began pacing the floor. “I don’t know how to tell you this. In fact. Maybe I should just show you.”
I stood up as well. The curiosity of the moment was killing me. I placed my hands on my hips, beginning to feel worried. “What is it, Mel?”
She spun around, her eyes bright. “I think you should run over to the old dance studio. I think you should go there. Now.”
I flung my hands in the air, suddenly angry. “What the hell? I know that that bastard bought the place, and that he tore it down. I also know that he paid for my loans, like I was his fucking charity case. What is there for me to find out at the old dump? Has it opened? Can I buy a dumb book from the Femme Fatale bookstore?” I felt like I was ranting, and I was.
But Mel just shook her head. She lowered her chin, looking down at the ground. “If you don’t like what you see there tonight, you can blame me for everything.” She made eye contact with me with a sudden jolt. “You can blame me for him. For everything. And I’ll leave you alone forever.”
My heart sank into my stomach. Why was she threatening me? I stomped my foot like a child. “What do you—“
“Just go!” she cried.
I grabbed my coat, suddenly frightened. I rushed down the steps, wrapping my scarf around my neck. Outside, the rushing mentality of the last day of October coated every area of Wicker Park. I saw small children dressed in immaculate costumes; I saw nearly-naked women wearing nurse outfits and laughing with their breasts high in the air. I saw older men and women walking together, their hands linked in solidarity against all the terrors of youth.
I rushed on toward my old dance studio. What was Mel up to? And what had she meant when she said it was all her fault? What sort of meeting had she been at today that made her act like such a crazy person in the dance studio?
I didn’t know. The endorphins from the fast jog through Wicker Park were pulsing in my veins. I made a mad dash in the midst of a group of scary looking clowns, and they each reached out for my arms, pulling me back until I could get away. My heart beat faster.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I rounded the coffee shop where I’d met Drew for the first time, and I saw the very pimpled man who had sold us our coffees. What a guy; he hadn’t known what he was getting me into, I thought. Just a simple sandwich; a simple coffee. Nothing was simple.
Finally, I flung myself around the last corner, to Le Moyne Street. Gasping, I stood with my hands on my knees, gazing up at it: at my dance studio. My jaw dropped.
That’s right. The dance studio remained standing. It wasn’t crumbled; it was still so beautiful—that aged building from one hundred years before, with its haggard brick, with its gleaming, perfect windows. I walked toward it, finally, after I regained my strength. I brought my hands forward, wanting to touch it, to be a part of its daydream.
But suddenly, he was there. Drew flung open the door, meeting me at the window. He stood looking at me with those large, gleaming blue eyes. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Ta-da!”
I was shaking suddenly. I placed my hands on his extended forearms, not sure if I was going to fall over or not. I took a step forward, my eyes peering up at him. “What—what’s happened to your book store?”
Drew thought this was hilarious. He leaned his head back and started laughing chaotically. I could feel the vibrations of his laughter through my arms, through my veins. I shook him lightly, trying to get a sense for him.
“No, Molly. No. We didn’t destroy it. We wouldn’t destroy it. It’s yours.”
I tilted my head to the right and walked around him, back into the studio. I still felt like I was in a sort of daydream. I spun around in a circle into a poetic pirouette. He shut the door behind him, leaving us in a perfect haze of color, of light, even in the midst of the darkness outside.
“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Drew whispered, leaning against the wall. He watched as I twirled with such exhilaration, such joy.
“I didn’t make it.”
“You made it, Molly,” he murmured. “In my mind. You’re still dancing. You’re still living. This is what making it is. I don’t know what the other rules imply.”
I stopped spinning and turned to him, my eyes like puppy dog eyes: gleaming, sad. I walked toward him and brought my hands forward. “We should dance together,” I whispered playfully. “I know you were trained, after all.”
He tilted his head at me and removed the phone from his pocket, allowing illustrious classical music to emanate through the room. My eyes closed as I listened to it. “I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. This is my happy place.” But then, all at once, I blinked up at him, confused. “Why didn’t you destroy it, really? I know you had big plans for this lot. What’s to become of your bookshop? And doesn’t this still technically belong to you?” I demanded so many things of him. My voice was suddenly harsh. The classical music still buzzed around me, but I needed to know so many things. I had to know.
He took a step back, wiping at his brow. “Honestly. When I saw you that day, I knew how upset you were. I didn’t know this was your place. I really liked you, Molly. And I didn’t want to do anything to hurt you. But my business advisor told me we’d lose big if—if we gave up on this lot. So, to be honest, we were going to destroy it anyway.” He swallowed as I continued to glare at him. “Ultimately, there were a few safety concerns when we began inspecting it for destruction. Turns out this building—“ he tapped the brick walls—“isn’t coming down unless i
t wants to.”
“And it doesn’t,” I said, looking around me.
“No it’s not.” Drew looked at me with such steaming eyes. He reached into his pocket and found the keys. He dangled them in front of my eyes, allowing the light to catch on them.
I grinned and grasped them in my hands. “And the loan—?”
He waved his hand in front of his face. “It’s stupid. I just—I messed up the timing. I was thinking if I paid that loan, you wouldn’t be out any money. After all, you started leasing that new place that you really can’t afford. I just didn’t want you to be out any money because of me.”
I nodded, understanding. “So. I’ll pay you that money back. Over the course of a few years?”
He shrugged. “Only if you want to. If you want, you can put that money back in this place. It’s quite beautiful. And it’s so uniquely yours, you know?”
I nodded at him. I placed my hands on his chest and reached up to kiss him. Our lips were so soft against each other; I felt like I would melt.
“Now. If you don’t dance with me, I’ll never forgive you,” I whispered in his ear, making him shake. He grabbed my back and lifted me, twirling me in a tight circle. I laughed, bringing my body into its natural, ballerina position in the air. I stretched forth, lifting my arm to the sun.
The song wavered around us, forcing us to dance languidly, beautifully. After the song ended, Drew placed his finger over his mouth and rushed to the phone, changing the station. The beat quickened, forcing him to snap his fingers over and over. He spun toward me, “Ain’t Misbehaving,” playing from his phone speaker. I leaned down, laughing with such passion, such energy. I couldn’t believe this big-time businessman knew Louis Armstrong.
He swept me into his arms and we circled the dance studio, feeling the heat from each other’s bodies as we danced. I could feel the way his body formed into mine; we could sense what the other was going to do next. I bit my lip, laughing for a moment as we went. “My, you’re good!” I called as he spun me out and back in again.
After this song, it was many more. We danced until the sweat drizzled down our faces and our spines. And then, we were heaving, unable to catch our breath anymore. I touched his perfect face, feeling myself falling for him all over again.
“So. Do you think you can forgive me?” he asked.
I reached my head up toward him, bringing my lips into his. I wrapped my hand around his neck, gliding my tongue deeply into his mouth. I felt the heat of his body as he pulled me in close to him. I wrapped my legs around him as we kissed passionately for a few moments, memorizing the way our mouths moved, remembering the way the electricity seemed to jolt through us each time we adjusted, each time we touched.
Finally, the passion got too strong. He pushed me against the wall on the other side of the dance studio. With my legs still wrapped around his chest, he began to undo my shirt and bra. He threw my clothes into the side room, and I glittered before him with sweat, with passion. He placed his mouth around my nipple, and glided his tongue around the red, dribbling it back and forth, making me call out for him. “Oh, Drew. Oh, Drew.”
“You like that?” he whispered.
I nodded, feeling my face grow red. He kept my legs wrapped around his chest, and he ripped at my panties, allowing them to fall to the ground, revealing my dripping, hot pussy. He brought me higher up on his body, forcing me to wrap my legs around his neck. He placed his tongue in my dripping pussy and began to glide his tongue up and down my clit tenderly, making me begin to sweat. I grabbed my tits and placed my fingernails in my skin, nearly drawing blood.
“More, baby. More,” I sighed.
He continued to glide his tongue along my clit until he brought forth two fingers and pressed it into my steamy hot pussy. With his tongue still on my clit, and two fingers inside me, I felt like my mind was about to explode. My chest heaved as he did this, over and over, until I nearly came.
And then: he stopped.
I grabbed my head, nodding at him, pleading with him to keep going. But he removed his two fingers. He allowed me back on the ground gently and began removing his own clothes. He unbuttoned each of his buttons, continually eyeing me and my naked body as it gleamed from sweat, from near-cum in the middle of the room. Looking around, I couldn’t believe that I’d taught dance in that room; that this area of sexual passion had once been an area in which I’d taught over-fifty year olds how to plié.
He removed his pants, revealing his great, pulsing cock. It stood straight out beneath his stunning abs. I stood and walked toward him, placing my fingers on his abs, tracing them completely. “You’re so fucking hot,” I murmured.
And he pushed me up against the wall once more. He grabbed my tits and brought his dick into me, making me sigh with relief, with passion. I called out into the Halloween night like a wolf. I grabbed his ear with my teeth and yanked, tracing his ear with my tongue. He thrust over and over into my dripping pussy, and I gasped as he did it. “Come on. Harder, baby. Harder.”
“You want harder?”
He removed his cock from my pussy and forced me on the ground, on my stomach. He crawled over me and thrust his cock into me. I lifted my head off the ground with pleasure, feeling him deep inside me. “Oh, god,” I murmured as he began to ride me. I grabbed my tits and opened my mouth with each thrust. I couldn’t open my eyes. It was all too much; too much stimulation.
He nearly came then. He shuddered, trying to stop himself. He brought his cock from my pussy and breathed for a moment, taking a short walk around the room. He turned toward me, laying still on my stomach in the middle of the floor. “Turn over,” he ordered.
I did. I lay on my back, waiting. I didn’t dare say anything; I loved being a part of his game. I loved being a part of it all. I spread my legs wide, allowing the smell of his cock to emanate throughout the dance studio. Finally, he crawled toward me; he couldn’t take it anymore. He feasted on my pussy once more, this time forcing his tongue hard against my clit, against my pussy, until I felt like I was going to go crazy. I lifted my hips into the air, feeling like I was levitating.
And then, his cock was in me, thrusting in me once more. He looked at me passionately in the eye, saying my name over and over again. “Molly, I—“
He couldn’t finish it. He continued thrusting. I brought my arms around him, cupping his head, his butt. I longed, more than anything, to have that passion continue on into the night and early morning. I never wanted anything else. As I lay beneath him, feeling such immense pleasure, I wanted to keep him. I wanted him to be mine. But I didn’t know how. So I decided to live in this moment forever. I decided not to worry about what he thought about the future; I decided not to worry about if he wanted to be a couple or not. I decided not to worry that I wouldn’t have passionate sex like this again. After all, it was so much like what my mother had said. I wouldn’t regret this, not really. It was what I wanted all along. And I had it. If only for a moment.
I felt the pleasure rising; I felt like my head was going to explode. “I’m going to cum, baby,” I murmured to him. I felt the blood rising in my body. I was going to cum. I brought my hand around his head as he thrust into me once, twice. Again. Again.
“Me too, baby.” He kissed me passionately. “Let’s do it together. Come on. Cum with me baby. Come on. I love you. Cum with me.”
My heart felt like it was going to explode. I felt my body shudder alongside his as our organism lifted us, giving us solace from the pressure that was building, building in his cock, in my pussy. We gasped together in the immediate moments after, looking at each other in the eyes, wide-eyed and wondering. What had just happened between us? And why was it more wonderful than anything else?
He stripped himself off my body and laid next to me in the sweat, beneath the hazy lights of the dance studio. I leaned over on my elbow to look at him, at his fine profile. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted him to tell me everything he’d ever known; everything he’d ever said.
&
nbsp; He breathed out slowly, his lips large. “Wow. That was incredible.”
I nodded, playing with his nipple, with his chest. He grinned and smacked me away playfully. “It was okay,” I answered.
I lay my head on his chest, feeling the beat-beat-beat of his heart as he began to fall into a sort of in-between sleep. I rocked him lightly. “Baby. Don’t fall asleep on the wooden floor, okay? Just. Just don’t.”
He grinned, biting his lips. “I can die here, now.”
“No you can’t,” I laughed, rising up, allowing my breasts to bounce a little bit. I was such a perky blonde before him, making his eyes dance. “You have to stay alive so we can do that again.”
He smiled at me and rose up quickly, tackling me back, like a lion. He kissed my neck, my cheek, my forehead. His body felt so warm, so soft above mine. “You’re a little spit-fire, aren’t you?”
I snapped my fingers and thought for a moment. “I think I just remembered something!” I pushed him off of me and ran to the side hallway, where my old office had been. I rummaged through an old closet of things I’d forgotten during the move. Sure enough, deep in the back, I found the bottle of wine my mother had gotten me when I’d opened the place more than a year ago.
I showed it to him as I rushed back into the dance studio, still naked. He was leaning on his hand, lying on his side. He nodded as I entered. “Now, we’re in business.”
I opened the bottle with an opener I still had hidden away in the old desk. I poured the wine into two small coffee cups, purchased from a Goodwill in Indiana, I was certain. We clinked our glasses together, there on the floor of the beautiful dance studio. I sipped the wine, watching as he sipped his. Our naked bodies gleamed beneath the lights of the studio.
Hooked #4 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 4) Page 5