You and I Alone

by Melissa Toppen

  YOU AND I

  Alone

  You and I

  Book One

  Melissa Toppen

  Copyright © 2015 Melissa Toppen

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events

  are entirely coincidental.

  You and I,

  Alone

  You and I Book One

  Written by Melissa Toppen

  Table of CONTENTS

  Chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  chapter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  Chapter One

  I don't know how I ended up here exactly. I mean, I have always loved dancing. It was my escape after my parents died. I was four. We were in a car accident. I remember my brother crying, that's it. The next thing I knew, I was being shipped to Chicago to live with my grandma. My family was gone. A family photo that has been on my nightstand ever since, the only proof that any of them ever existed in the first place.

  So as I stand on stage, dressed in a black corset and matching black panties, with heels that take my normal five four height to damn near five eight, I try to remind myself what all this is for. Sure, years of ballet made this job a possibility, but it's not the long term goal. I lost my dream of dancing professionally five years ago when a knee injury squashed any hopes I had. I just need a way to pay for what my scholarship and loans don't cover and put food on the table.

  Don't get me wrong, Allure is not your typical strip club and I am extremely lucky to have found this place or rather, have it find me. But a part of me still feels ashamed. I was working at a coffee shop when the manager Josh approached me. At first, I thought he was joking when he told me about this place. It wasn't until I showed up two days later for an audition that I realized just how serious he was. And that was after making me sign a non-disclosure agreement.

  Looking around, I take a deep breath and grip the pole that sits in the center of the stage. Hooking my leg around the cool metal, I lean my head back and spin in time with the music pulsing around me. Tonight's song selection is one of my favorites to dance to. “Hell on Heels” by Pistol Annies.

  I can feel all the eyes on me. The heat of their stares hot against my flesh. I try to keep my focus on my movements, the music, the way it feels to dance. I haven't been at Allure long. About five months now. It's an underground club. Very secretive and only open to a couple hundred members, all part of Chicago's elite. Politicians, business moguls, the clientele screams wealth, as they should considering the cost of a membership runs in the high thousands per month.

  While the membership fee may seem a bit steep to most, especially considering it's not even a nude club, the establishment does much in the way of making sure the members get their monies worth. From lush surroundings to an open bar, Allure is the perfect escape for those wanting to slip out of the public eye for a little while and just kick back.

  The building doesn't look like much from the outside, purposely done to conceal the identity of the club. Residing in the basement of a two story brick building in the heart of downtown Chicago, to the blind eye you would never know that just below the ground is the most elaborate night club you could ever imagine.

  The interior is an open space with a long cat walk that extends from the stage out into the main part of the room. Small circular tables are scattered throughout the first level, while the second floor makes for a more comfortable sitting area, with large couches and a perfect view of the stage below. To the right of the stage is a bar that extends the length of the room and is usually manned by Malcolm or Sean.

  The club is pretty slow tonight, which is not unusual for a Sunday. I only work three days a week and I rarely work during the busiest times, which is Friday and Saturday. This is purposely done on my part as a smaller crowd suits me better. Allure pays a set wage to all dancers and a very good one at that. So tips and private dances are never an issue for me.

  While the club has five private rooms set up in the back, I have yet to agree to accompany anyone back there. Dancer's choice. That's what I like the most about this place. I don't have to do anything I am not comfortable with. Some of the girls do them frequently, and while I realize that it's not much different than what I am doing on stage right now, something about being in a small private room with just me and another person makes the situation feel wrongly intimate and as such, I can't bring myself to do it.

  Allure screams wealth, power and sex. Every dancer, bouncer and bartender is damn near perfection. I still doubt myself everyday being among such beautiful people. I have never been an overly confident person when it comes to my appearance, except when I'm on stage. On stage, I'm untouchable. I'm free. Even in this kind of establishment, I find it unsettling how comfortable I feel on stage.

  As the song winds down, I turn my attention to the few people in front of me, for the first time acknowledging that there is even an audience in the room. My eyes quickly scan the faces and immediately land on a very attractive man leaning against the far wall, arms crossed in front of his chest.

  I dart my gaze away from him the moment I realize that his eyes are locked firmly on my face. Something about the intensity of his stare makes it impossible not to look back in his direction again. The moment our eyes meet, a chill runs through my entire body. He's close enough that I can register the heat in his eyes and the beauty of his face, but far enough away that I doubt he can see the way my cheeks heat crimson under his glare.

  He's tall, maybe six two, with a body that looks like he lives in the gym and a face that I swear belongs on every modeling magazine in the world. The man is perfection. My stomach twists tighter when he runs his hand through his messy short brown hair and lets out a slow exhale, his lips forming around his breath.

  I barely notice the lights dull around me, until I am shrouded in near darkness. Slipping off the stage as the last note of the song dies off, I quickly duck into the back and try to shake the nervous energy suddenly rushing through my veins.

  Making my way towards my dressing room, I push my way inside of the small space, stopping in front of my vanity to check my make-up and run a quick brush through my long brown hair. Slipping out of my black corset, I immediately replace it with a red one with matching lace underwear. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, making sure everything looks okay before I have to head back out into the main room of the club.

  While the majority of my job is dancing, there is a required amount of mingling that must be done. And while I find most of the conversations I have dull, there is something to be said about getting to pick the brains of some of the smartest and wealthiest men around. You would be surprised by the amount of people that come here just simply for the social interaction. Rather than being the focal point, us dancers are more like background scenery, and that I am perfectly okay with.

  “Hey, you have a private dance request.” Lo says, pushing her way into my dressing room without making
sure I am decent first. Typical Lo.

  I look at her in the reflection of my mirror before spinning to face her. “You know I don't do privates.” I say, taking in her annoyed expression at my words.

  “Come on Anna.” She says, rolling her eyes when my nose crinkles. She is the only one here that can get away with using my real name. Everyone else knows me as Logan, and I prefer to keep it that way.

  “Sorry. Logan.” She says, correcting herself. “They aren't bad. You don't have to do anything but dance. I mean, if you don't want to.” She tacks on with a wink.

  I immediately burst into laughter. Lauren, or Lo as she goes by at the club, is my closest friend here and one of the most promiscuous dancers on staff. I often refer to her as my wing woman and while I love her dearly, we don't always see eye to eye on what is and is not acceptable during work hours.

  Not that the club allows anything like that to take place. And while most of the dancers are young and, believe it or not, innocent girls who would never dream of doing anything of the sort, there are a select few who I have no doubt will, and have, done certain things in the privacy of one of the private rooms.

  “He's super hot.” She says, taking a step towards me. “He must be a new member because I have never seen him before.” Lo has been here for over a year and a half and knows the clientele much better than I do. A good deal of our members only pop in a couple of times a year, which kills me considering the amount they pay monthly. But I guess when you have money to burn, it's worth the expense.

  “I don't care how hot he is Lo. I don't do privates. You know that.” I say, stepping past her and making my way out of the small room, Lo following directly behind me.

  “Fine. If you aren't going to entertain, then I would be happy to fill in for you.” She says, playfully pushing her way past me and practically skipping out into the club, her long blonde hair brushing against her near bare ass.

  It isn't until she stops in front of the man from earlier, that my heart skips a beat. He's the one who requested a private? She leans against his broad frame and whispers something in his ear causing a small grin to pull up the corners of his mouth revealing two identical dimples, one on each cheek. He shakes his head at her and then turns his gaze towards me, finding my eyes immediately.

  I instantly lose my breath and wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I am a dancer. This is a club full of men. It is so wrong on so many levels that I am allowing a member of the club to affect me so much, and with nothing more than a look at that.

  It isn't until he brushes off Lo and steps out of her grip that my heart kicks into overdrive and some sense of my sanity seems to return. As he starts walking towards me, I immediately slide into the nearest table, which just happens to be occupied by Brent. A forty something attorney that hides out in the club to escape his wife most nights.

  He smiles the moment he registers my face. “Logan. How are you?” He smiles even wider, leaning in to rest his elbows on the table.

  “I'm well. And you? How's Shari?” I ask, not missing the way his features tighten at his wife's name. I like to think that if that was my reaction to my spouse, that I would have the balls to just pack my stuff and walk away.

  “Doing well.” He tries not to show his dislike for his wife but I see right through his act. “How's school. Classes going well?” He asks, making small talk.

  “Really well.” I answer, knowing he doesn't really care one way or another. “Do you need a drink or anything?” I ask, gesturing to his nearly empty glass of scotch. While it is not my job to be a waitress, I find that most nights it gives me more to do.

  Before he has a chance to answer, someone clears their throat behind me and pulls my attention away. Turning my head to the side, my breath hitches when my eyes land on the handsome stranger that seems, for whatever reason, hell bent on talking to me. First he requests a private, then he interrupts my conversation with another member?

  “Sorry to interrupt Brent but do you mind?” He asks, gesturing for him to leave the table. Surprised that the two men seem to know each other, I can't do anything but stare blankly at Brent as he nods and throws me a small wave before standing and leaving the table, the mystery man slipping into the now vacant seat next to me.

  “I requested a private dance with you and yet, you deny me?” He says, turning his face to the side to study me, his lips curving into a slow smile, revealing a row of perfectly straight white teeth and those damn dimples. “I don't like being told no.” He says, almost playfully but still with a serious undertone.

  “And I don't do privates.” My response is quick and cold. He sits back, studying me for what feel likes forever, his muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest. I can't stop my eyes from dancing across his face, down his neck, across his torso and then back up to his face again.

  I am searching desperately for some type of imperfection, something to make this man a little less desirable and yet, I can find nothing. Quite the opposite actually. His jaw is cut and defined, his cheekbones perfectly accenting his blue eyes, which when I look close enough, I can see have tiny speckles of green and gold in them. His lips are full and when he drags the tip of his tongue across the lower one, it takes everything I have not to lean in for a taste. This man bleeds power, seduction, sex. He is the embodiment of everything I know I should avoid and yet, that doesn't stop my mind from wondering what it would be like to spend just one night with a man like this.

  His body is covered in a black, no doubt tailored made, suit. Nothing that I don't see almost every time I'm here. Though I must admit, there's something so powerful about the way he wears it. How it clings to his broad shoulders and shows off his lean waist.

  When my eyes finally make it back up to his face, I realize that he's one hundred percent aware of where my thoughts are going. And I can tell by the way his eyes dance that he's no stranger to getting this type of reaction from women. Determined not to be like every other women he's crossed paths with, I straighten my posture and clear my throat.

  “Was there anything else you needed? Because I really should get back to work.” I say, pushing away from the table in an attempt to stand. His hand darts out and sets gently on top of mine, halting my movements. Such a light, gentle touch and yet, it feels like a thousand pounds holding me in place.

  The music kicks on around us as another dancer takes the stage and yet, he doesn't even glance in that direction. His focus remains solely on me. “I want you to dance for me.” He says again, leaning in so close I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. Goosebumps erupt across my skin and my breathing falters.

  “Then you can come back tomorrow and watch me on stage.” I say, finding my strength from somewhere down deep and staring him straight in the eyes. Our faces are just inches apart and while the closeness of our proximity is dizzying, I still manage to hold eye contact without looking away. Hell, I'm not even sure if I have blinked. I am too busy focusing on keeping my breathing normal and my voice steady to think about anything else.

  “Interesting.” He says, once again sitting back in his chair, giving me the space I need to take a deep breath and gain some composure.

  “What's that?” I ask, mirroring his actions and pushing back in my chair, suddenly very aware of how very little clothing I am wearing and where we are. His eyes dart across my skin. I can feel the heat creep up my neck until his gaze finally meets mine again.

  “I don't recall a woman ever telling me no before.” He says, laughing lightly.

  “Well that's a problem then.” I say, shaking my head at him.

  “Is it now?” He questions, cocking his head to the side.

  “Well it certainly does not say much for the women you surround yourself with now does it?” I say, not sure if I have just offended him or if he is really considering my statement.

  “Perhaps.” He says, his voice trailing off.

  I open my mouth to say something else but immediately close it when I see the floor manager Josh approaching ou
r table. He stops directly next to the man, whose name I have yet to learn, his eyes not looking my direction even once.

  “Mr. Reed.” Josh says, sounding a little off kilter. “I have the information you requested.” He says, his eyes finally finding me for a fraction of a second before turning back to the man next to me.

  “Excellent. I will be there in a moment.” He says, waving his hand half haphazardly as if telling Josh to go the hell away. Turning his attention back to me, his seductive smile returns.

  Leaning in, he slides his hand under the table and firmly grips the top of my thigh, his face once again coming within inches of mine. “Next time then....” He pauses.

  “Logan.” I blurt, realizing that he's waiting for my name.

  “Logan.” He says, closing the distance between us to place a light kiss to my cheek. “It was a pleasure.” He says, standing so abruptly, it takes me a moment to register his movements.

  It seems like one minute he's in front of me, gripping my leg in a way that causes my stomach to clench in all sorts of ways that it shouldn't and then the next, I am watching his backside as he walks away.

  Chapter Two

  Shaking my head, I quickly stand and excuse myself to the back room. I have no idea who Mr. Reed is or where he comes from, but something tells me he is not a man I want to associate with. Men like him, the looks, the wealth, I know better than to become involved with.

  Besides, I have to keep my focus clear. School. That's where my concentration needs to be. Not off in the clouds because some hot guy showed up and knocked me off my game a bit. I can't afford to be distracted. I have to keep my grades up to keep my scholarship. While the club pays well, it does not pay enough to cover the cost of all of my classes or my dorm for that matter. And lord knows if I have one weakness in this world, it's an attractive man.

  Once I make it to my dressing room, I quickly strip out of my outfit and into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, throwing my hair in a messy bun before gathering up my things. Technically my shift doesn't end for another half an hour but I seriously doubt Josh will care if I head out early, considering how slow the club is tonight.