Round the Clock

by Dara Girard

  He frowned. “Doing what?”

  She put gravy on his potatoes.

  “Oh, that stupid book club?” he said in disgust.

  Anna Marie handed him his dinner then began making her own plate. “Yes. That.”

  Bruno set his plate down on the counter and folded his arms. “You prefer those women to me?”

  “You can answer that question as you watch me drive away.” She cut off a piece of chicken and put it on her plate.

  He scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Anna Marie silently swore. She had to watch her mouth. It had gotten her in trouble before and she didn’t want to put Bruno in a bad mood. She lightened her voice and softened her face into a smile. “It means that’s why I’ve made your favorite dish. So that you won’t miss me. Come on, let’s eat.”

  He drew her close. “You’re sure you’re not mad at me?”

  “No, I’m not mad. Careful of my plate,” she warned, balancing it over his head.

  “I’m not hungry.” He kissed her neck. “Are you?”

  She was starving. Anna Marie looked at the kitchen clock and knew she had a few minutes to indulge him, but didn’t feel in the mood. She looked at him and a part of her wanted to say, “It’s not working, let’s break up,” but although she’d silently practiced the words many times, she never spoke them and doubted she ever would. The best way to deal with Bruno was distraction.

  “If you don’t eat your dinner, you can’t get dessert. I made your favorite.” She’d baked a peach cobbler two days earlier and had kept it hidden in the back of their refrigerator.

  Bruno stared at her and she could see his mind working—food or a quickie? There was no contest. “Let’s eat.”

  An hour later, Anna Marie sped down the road swearing. Bruno had enjoyed dinner and dessert and she hadn’t rushed him. She knew she had to keep him in a good mood so that he’d never suspect what she was really up to or who she really was.

  She parked in the back of The Palace of Sin, the adult entertainment club where she worked, and dashed to the employee entrance.

  “What’s the rush?” Fred, the manager, said.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Late? You’re early. Come on, you’ve got to see this crowd.” He gently tugged on her arm and took her into the executive lounge. She had no fear of being discovered because people usually didn’t notice her. The Palace of Sin was an upscale men’s club decorated in an Eastern décor. The stage resembled a sheikh’s palace with heavy velvet curtains, embroidered pillows with gold thread and rare stones, tall solid brass candlesticks and brightly colored silk scarves. Before the night was over, Anna Marie would use all four.

  She glanced up at the lighting to make sure it was in the right position. Then her gaze fell on the crowd. A large group of men in suits and some in casual wear sat at several round tables decorated with candles and plenty of food and drinks.

  “Do you like the arrangement?” Fred asked.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No.” She started to turn, then stopped as though someone had struck her. Two men had entered the room. The first was a regular. He always dressed in a tailored double-breasted suit as though he were visiting the president or some foreign dignitary. He kept his mustache trim and his shoes polished, which was in stark contrast to his companion. The other man wore jeans and a black leather jacket and looked like he could start a bar fight and win with little effort. The second man moved with casual, masculine elegance. He wasn’t a regular, but she knew him.

  A jolt of awareness seized her and for a few minutes she wasn’t sure she could breathe. Even at a distance she could see every angle of his face. She knew the look and color of his eyes, the shape of his mouth and his lips. Her mind whispered his name, Desmond Rockwell, and her eyes drank him up. Seeing him again was like one of her dreams and she didn’t want to wake. She watched him make his way through the crowd—a tall, dark, mysterious figure who caused Anna Marie to remember all the pain and pleasure of her past.

  “That man has never been here before,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral, although her heart raced.

  “No, he’s with Mr. Advent.”

  “Put them up front. I want them to have the best seat in the house.”

  Fred looked at her, startled. “Are you sure?”

  “Fred, this is my last night. I want it to be memorable.”

  He reluctantly motioned to the hostess. “If that’s what you think you want.”

  Anna Marie glanced at Desmond once more. “I know exactly what I want.”

  Chapter 2

  Desmond Rockwell glanced around the club with a critical look of boredom, wondering how he’d been convinced to come. Then he looked over at his friend and client Julius Advent and knew why. He’d do anything to keep Advent happy, even this.

  Julius unbuttoned his jacket. “You’re going to love this.”

  “This really isn’t my thing.”

  “It will be tonight. You don’t know how hard it was to get tickets. This is her last performance. The moment you see her dance, you’re going to thank me.”

  “Right,” he said, doubtful. Desmond wasn’t against exotic dancers, but he preferred a different type of entertainment. He and Julius started to walk toward a free table when a woman in a tight black dress stepped in front of them. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but you’ve been selected to sit in our special seats. Please follow me.”

  Desmond turned to his friend. Julius shoved him forward. “Just go.”

  They followed the woman to a table situated directly in front of the stage. Once they were seated, she draped a silk scarf around their necks. “Compliments of Malika. Enjoy.”

  Julius could barely contain his excitement. “Front-row seats. Can you believe this?”

  Desmond tugged on the scarf. “What’s this for?”

  “It’s Malika’s signature.” Julius raised his hand for two drinks. “Tonight’s going to change your life.”

  Anna Marie emerged from behind a screen in her dressing room as Malika—the best-known dancer at The Palace of Sin for the last ten years. She wore a long, wavy black wig, her body encased in a silken harem costume. She made some final adjustments, then looked at herself in the full-length mirror off to the side.

  Belinda, another dancer at the club, stared at her, impressed. “Those men are toast. When did you buy that?”

  “I didn’t,” Anna Marie said, feeling free to be honest with her. Belinda was the only other person besides Fred who knew who she really was. Anna Marie had helped her get the position at the club years ago when Belinda was forced to dance in a dingy bar. Since helping her, Belinda had become a trusted colleague. “I had it made to order. I found this quaint fabric store and the store manager picked out several pieces for me, took my measurements and had it custom-fitted.”

  “It’s more than custom-fitted. It looks like it’s your skin.”

  Anna Marie grinned. “Those were my instructions.” She stared at her image again. The store owner had helped her select a variety of exquisitely colorful silks and sheer fabrics and created a made-to-order, sexy, five-piece Arabian harem costume. It included a dark half-face veil revealing only her eyes, long detachable sleeves, a bejeweled bra top—that matched the exotic sandals she wore—sheer pants with silver coin trim and a thong.

  Her jewelry consisted of several toe rings, an ankle bracelet and a 24k-gold amulet with earrings, which were the last items she’d put on. Anna Marie draped a sexy, floor-length sheer cover-up over her shoulders then sat in front of the vanity mirror to put on her makeup. She began outlining her eyes with a dark pencil.

  “How was your evening?” Anna Marie asked, glancing at Belinda’s hot-pink three-piece outfit. “Once you’re finished, you should be ready to go home.” Anna Marie didn’t understand why Belinda always stayed after her shift to be with her.

  “And miss you dance? Never. I
’m still learning.”

  “You’re good.”

  Belinda glanced into her own mirror. “Maybe, but you’re the best. And you get the best crowds, too.” She turned to Anna Marie. “So, do you have a target tonight?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I know you gave your signature to a new man.”

  Anna Marie shrugged. “It’s fun.”

  Belinda stared at her for a moment, then said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She wished people would stop asking her that question. She knew it was the right thing. Tonight had to be her last performance. She’d had doubts about her decision before but knew it was time: Time to stop before she was caught. She’d managed to make a name for herself as Malika and a lot of money by dancing, but she didn’t want her true identity ever revealed. It was time to move on.

  She filled in her eyebrows. “Yes.”

  “We’re all going to miss you,” Belinda said in a teary voice. She grabbed her handbag and pulled out a tissue.

  Strangely, Anna Marie knew she’d miss them. Her career had started innocently enough. After leaving Mrs. Bell, she’d wandered until getting her first job as a waitress in a club by lying about her age. Then she lied about her experience and started getting small gigs as a dancer and soon those jobs grew and Malika became a star. And for the past ten years, Anna Marie got to be someone totally different at night.

  Belinda threw the tissue away and pulled a little black book out of her handbag. “Are you stopping ’cause of Bruno?”

  It was one of the reasons. Keeping him in the dark was getting tricky. Anna Marie applied a bright red lipstick. “No.”

  Belinda took out a pen and began scribbling something down in her book. “When are you going to tell him what you do?”

  “You mean did. And the answer is never. After tonight no one will ever know.”

  Belinda sent her a worried look. “Are you ashamed?”

  Anna Marie set down her lipstick.

  “We’re not strippers,” Belinda said. “We’re dancers and this is an upscale place. Plus, you’re one of the best.”

  “Thank you,” Anna Marie said humbly, although she knew it to be true. She’d been featured in discreet male magazines and had two bestselling dance videos to prove it, but she also knew it was time for this part of her life to end.

  “Even if you don’t want to tell him, I think you should dump him.”

  Anna Marie turned to her stunned. “What?”

  “From everything you’ve told me about him, he sounds like a real bore. Do you know how many men out there want you?”

  “They want Malika,” she said, smoothing out her wig. “Not Anna Marie. You know that.”

  Belinda shook her head. “But you’re both.”

  “No. I’m one person by day and someone different by night. That’s what has worked for me and it’s not going to change.”

  “Yes, it is. Malika’s quitting.”

  Anna Marie adjusted her veil. “Malika is retiring.” She stood and stretched. “You have a good man. I take what I can get.”

  Belinda scribbled more notes in her black book. “You can get better.”

  “Hmm.”

  She snapped the book closed. “And you deserve better.”

  Anna Marie stared at the book, curious. “What were you writing?”

  Belinda tucked the book back in her handbag. “Just ideas for my next performance.”

  Fred peeked his head in. “Two minutes. It’s a full house.”

  Anna Marie smiled. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Desmond sipped his drink and tapped a beat on the table while Julius flirted with a waitress. Suddenly, the lights dimmed, indicating the show was about to begin. Desmond took one large swallow of his drink and was about to signal for another one when the room went dark.

  The heavy curtains parted and on the stage a screen projected the image of desert sands and a twilight sky. Then a swirl of smoke filled the stage and a figure emerged: A beautiful woman in flowing, colorful silk. The music began to play and the woman moved her body to it as though she and the music were one. Desire and fire seemed to drive her movements. She captured the audience—mesmerizing them as though she were a snake charmer or a sorceress. She was a master of the light and smoke that surrounded her. She moved around the stage using the candles and curtains in erotic ways he didn’t know were possible. She was in control and he was one of her captives.

  Desmond felt a jolt of arousal he didn’t expect. And before he could dampen it, the woman began to speak in a whisper as though talking only to him, her voice soft like the silk around his neck. “Do you want me? Because I want you.”

  She moved to the edge of the stage, her eyes meeting his. “Do you feel me touching you?” Her gaze went down his body and he felt his chest tighten. “We are alone and I move only for you. Love me.” She moved away then danced as though being embraced by a lover. She moved as if she were the embodiment of sin, temptation and wanton desire. She moved her hips, her arms, her chest—each movement an invitation and a warning. The softness of her flesh moved with precision to the beat and rhythm of the music, undulating in a hypnotic manner that held him hostage.

  Desmond gripped his hands into fists, determined to meet her gaze. She again danced to the edge of the stage, then grabbed the end of his scarf and pulled it toward her, turning so it wrapped around her waist, but he grabbed the end before it completely left him.

  For a moment she looked startled then she spun out of the scarf and wrapped it again around his neck, her hand brushing against his face. It took all his control not to move. “My love, my master,” she whispered. “I am your slave.” She drew away and shimmered and spun, dancing as though she were the air—something he could feel, but never touch.

  Suddenly she stopped and the lights went dark. When they came back on, the stage was empty. Thunderous applause followed. Desmond barely heard it, his heart and his head pounding. Where was she? Who was she? What had just happened?

  “Malika! Malika!” the crowd shouted.

  The sultry figure came back onto the stage and bowed, then blew them a kiss. She looked directly at Desmond and winked, then turned and the curtains closed.

  Julius pounded the table. “Didn’t I tell you she was fantastic?”

  “Who is she?”

  “Malika.”

  “No, in real life.”

  “Nobody knows. Shame this is her last performance.”

  Desmond turned to him, startled. “What?”

  “I told you that this was her final performance. Why do you think I brought you?”

  “I have to find out who she is.”

  “Leave it alone, Rockwell. Trust me, most of us have tried.”

  “I can’t leave it,” Desmond said in a tight voice. “There’s something about her.”

  “Don’t fall for that ‘she danced for me’ stuff. That’s what she’s paid to do. It’s what she’s good at.” He picked up a candle. “These have speakers in them and she wears a tiny microphone so you can hear her talking. She makes you feel as though she’s talking to you. She’s made every man in this room think she’s danced for him alone.” Julius took off his scarf and laid it on the table. “It’s a nice fantasy.”

  Desmond lifted the end of his scarf and inhaled the scent of her perfume. “It wasn’t a fantasy. It was real.”

  Chapter 3

  Anna Marie sat in front of her vanity mirror, not knowing whether she wanted to laugh, cry or faint. She’d danced for Desmond Rockwell. She had captured his attention and felt his gaze cascading over her body. His gaze had been intimate, intense and smoldering with lust. His name whispered in her mind as though he’d called out to her. Desmond Rockwell: Her first love and her first heartbreak. He had watched her as though she belonged to him. As though her body was his alone—his possession. She had sought to seek his surrender as she had done with most men, but he was stronger than that. He was a sorcerer immune to her magic with a power that rivaled her o
wn.

  “Are you okay?” Belinda asked her as she entered the room.

  Anna Marie grabbed her bottled water. “I’m fine. It was just a bit hot in there.”

  “Hot? Honey, it was steaming. You made a lot of men very happy.”

  “Then I’ve done my job.”

  “Don’t let him rattle you.”

  Anna Marie turned to her. “Who?”

  “That man. Your target. I’ve never seen a man look at you like that.”

  “Like what?”

  Belinda rested a hand on her hip and flashed a sly grin. “As though he planned to own you.”

  Anna Marie laughed and twisted the cap back on her bottle. “That’s the whole idea. Let him think that.”

  “I’d be careful.”

  “Why?”

  “You danced as though you wanted him to own you.”

  “You’re imagining things. I’m with Bruno, remember?”

  “Yes, just be careful.”

  Anna Marie stood, uncomfortable with Belinda’s scrutiny. “I’m going to get some air.”

  She headed toward the employee entrance. Suddenly, a man stepped out from the shadows and called her name. She turned to him and gasped. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

  “I know,” Desmond said. “But I had to see you.”

  Anna Marie took a hasty step back.

  He held up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just had to see you.”

  “You did see me and that’s all you’re going to see.” She started to walk past him.

  “Please don’t be afraid. I don’t usually do this. What’s your name?”

  Anna Marie met his gaze, glad for the veil that concealed her face. “You know what my name is.”

  “No. What’s your real name?”

  She stopped a smile and said in a low, seductive voice, “Whatever you want it to be.”

  “You’re a wonderful dancer.”

  “I know.” She began to move around him but he blocked her.

  “It’s really out of character for me,” he said, “but when a man reaches a certain age, he starts thinking that maybe he should try something new.”