You and I Alone

by Melissa Toppen

  I exit into the dim hallway and turn right heading for the back entrance, when Lo's voice pulls me to a halt. Turning slowly, I see her jogging towards me, her blonde waves bouncing perfectly with each step she takes, for some reason reminding me of an episode of Baywatch.

  “Hey.” I say, when she finally reaches me.

  “Josh is looking for you.” She says, attempting to catch her breath.

  I groan out, looking towards the exit and then back to Lo, before deciding there is no way I can just leave without seeing what he wants. “Where is he?” I ask, trying my best not to let my aggravation show through.

  “He said he will meet you in the back office.” She says, gesturing to the door that sits just a couple down from my dressing room.

  “Did he say what it's about?” I ask.

  “Nope. But it probably has something to do with Bentley.” She says, causing my eyebrows to shoot up in question. “The man that wanted the private from you.” She says in explanation. I try my best to seem completely unaffected by learning Mr. Reed's first name. Bentley. Just thinking it makes me squirm.

  “How did you find out his name?” I ask without really thinking.

  “I asked, duh.” She says, rolling her eyes at me. “Honestly, Anna.... Shit, Logan. I can't believe you wouldn't give him a private. That man is F. I. N. E.! Fine, fine, fine.” She laughs, fanning herself. “Maybe Josh wants in too. You know, a little sandwich action.” She pretends to hump someone from behind, her hand swiping through the air as she fake smacks the imaginary ass in front of her.

  “You're ridiculous.” I say, laughing as I push my way past her and head towards Josh's office.

  “That's why you love me.” She sings from behind me, disappearing inside her dressing room before I have a chance to say anything else.

  Knocking lightly on the office door, I wait for Josh to tell me to come in before turning the handle and pushing my way inside. I spot him immediately, sitting behind a desk entirely too large for the space, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose like he's a ninety year old man instead of the attractive thirty-eight year old that he is.

  Josh is one of those manly men. Broad and commanding and yet so very sweet at the same time. His dark hair is short and rarely styled and he has the softest brown eyes I have ever seen. Throw in a crooked smile and a sense of humor that will have you buckled over in laughter, he really is an awesome guy. And I would be lying if I said that I didn't know just how awesome he is up close and personal.

  He honestly does not strike me as the type to run a business such as Allure. I see him more as a construction manager or doing something where manual labor is involved. He just has that roughness about him.

  “Sit.” He says, meeting my eyes the moment I walk inside.

  “What's up?” I ask, as I take a seat in one of the office chairs across the desk from him.

  “I need to know what's going on with you and Mr. Reed and why he requested to see your personnel file within ten minutes of arriving here this evening?” He says, clearly trying to make it sound like this has nothing to do with anything but business though I doubt that's the case.

  “I'm sorry... What?” I ask, completely confused. Why would a client think he would be privileged to such information? Not only does that file contain everything about me, my address, my school information, it also includes a very extensive back ground check, per the club requirements. We deal with some very high end clientele and as such, will not employ anyone with even a blemish on their record.

  “Why would he ask for that? Clients aren't privileged to that type of information.” I say, my words running into one another.

  “Client?” Josh questions, his expression clouded with confusion. Slipping off his glasses, he tosses them on the desk before continuing. “Logan, Mr. Reed is not a client. He owns Allure and five other clubs like it across the east coast.” He says, his words dripping with disbelief. “You were sitting with him, surely you knew that.”

  “I didn't.” I insist, shaking my head back and forth. “Oh God.” I say, holding my hand over my mouth. “Are you going to fire me?” I ask, the thought causing panic to grip tight in my chest.

  “Why would I fire you?” The question seems to catch him off guard as he stands and crosses the small space, taking a seat in the chair next to me.

  “He requested a private and I told him no.” My words flow so quickly from my mouth they come out a jumbled mess. He reaches out and rests his hand on my leg just above my knee, immediately halting my nervous leg bounce that I have no idea I am even doing until someone points it out.

  “It is your right to say no to a private. You know that. I just wanted to see if you knew why he requested your file.” He says, his voice coming out soft and reassuring, his hand skirting gently across my knee.

  “I have no clue.” I say, meeting his eyes again. “Honestly. I didn't even know who he was.” I say, still in shock.

  He owns Allure, and other clubs too? He can't be any older than late twenties, early thirties. I had him pegged for someone that came from money, rich parents or something. Finding out he owns the very place I work, kind of explains our interaction a little better. No wonder no one tells him no. Because he owns the damn club and several others like it. Only someone who doesn't care for her job, or in my case didn't know who he was, would have the balls to say no to the man who holds their employment in his hands.

  “Is that what you were talking about? When you came to the table? My file?” I ask, finally connecting the dots.

  “Yes.” He says, scratching his forehead. “He left just moments after I gave it to him, which is why I wanted to speak to you personally. I was hoping maybe you could tell me why.” He says.

  “I wish I knew.” I say, completely dumbfounded by the entire situation.

  “Maybe he's just curious about who you are since he's never seen you before. He likes to know about the women working for him.” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Maybe.” I say, wishing that idea would make me feel a little better about the situation.

  “Anyways.” He says, clearing his throat. “Are you busy tonight?” He asks, dropping the boss routine completely and morphing into the man that I have grown very fond of over the past couple of months.

  It's nothing serious. I'm not in love with Josh or anything. But he's stable and confident and not to mention, pretty damn good in the bedroom as well. We keep things pretty casual and never venture from behind closed doors together. It's a situation that works nicely for me, though I know Josh wants more. He's brought it up a couple of times but I think ultimately he knows that it's not what I'm looking for. Not to mention the seventeen year age difference between us.

  “I have a huge test to cram for tonight.” I say, standing and making my way to the door like I plan to leave. Clicking the lock in place, I turn back to see his warm smile beaming back at me. “But I think I can squeeze you in.” I say, making my way to stand in front of him, peeling off my shirt before straddling my legs across his lap.

  “I mean, if you're not too busy.” I whisper against his lips as I press my mouth firmly to his. He grips my hips with his large hands and grinds his groin upwards, his erection erasing any question as to whether or not he has anywhere else he wants to be.

  ****

  “Hey, how was class?” My roommate Andrea asks, the moment I push my way through the bedroom of our dorm, dropping half of my stuff in an attempt to get inside without having to set anything down.

  “I wish I knew.” I say, tossing my bag on my bed and then going back to the door to retrieve the papers that I dropped. “I could barely focus.” I say, returning to my bed and sitting down, trying to sort through my papers. “I'm pretty sure I did not retain one piece of information that the professor covered today.”

  Andrea throws her long legs over the side of her bed and swivels to face me. “Spill.” She says, her eyes dancing across my face.

  “Spill?” I question, throwing her
a confused look.

  “You tossed and turned all night last night. You look a mess today. Did something happen at work?” She asks, reminding me how well she knows me.

  We've been rooming together since freshman year so I don't know why I am so surprised. Three years in the same small square space with someone, you get to know just about everything about them. Me and Andrea are very similar in a lot of ways but so very different in others. She's all about the boys, while I prefer to focus on school.

  I can't say I blame her. She is a gorgeous girl. Tall, thin, long brown hair, olive skin and eyes so dark, sometimes I swear they are black. Men practically follow her around campus drooling most days. While I know she hates being judged by how she looks, as most people do, I don't miss how much she uses it to her advantage as well.

  She has this way of manipulating people, mainly men, to get exactly what she wants. I envy her in a lot of ways. Hell, in a lot of ways I am the same way, only on a much quieter scale. I think that's why we get along so well. Deep down we are both a little crazy.

  Hoping maybe it will help to talk to someone outside of the situation, I spend the next twenty minutes filling her in on my encounter with Mr. Reed and how my little romp with Josh afterward did nothing to squash my thoughts of the man. By the time I'm finished, she seems as flushed as I feel.

  “Wow.” She says, shaking her head side to side. “Just wow.”

  “What? Wow what?” I ask, confused by her words.

  “Oh my God. You don't even see it.” She says, laughing lightly. “Isn't it obvious Anna? He totally has a thing for you.” She says, throwing one of her pillows across the small space and nearly hitting me in the face.

  “He doesn't even know me.” I say, picking up the pillow and throwing it back in her direction.

  “He doesn't need to know you to want to fuck you.” She says, laughing at the shocked look that crosses my face. “Oh don't give me that innocent girl routine. I know you Anna Blake. You are a bad girl wrapped in a pretty package.”

  “I am not a bad girl.” I fake innocence. While I may not be completely innocent, I would hardly classify myself as a bad girl, being able to count my sexual partners on one hand. But while my number is low, my experience is not. I know exactly what Andrea is referring to. I like to experiment, so to speak.

  “You know what I mean.” She laughs. “Besides, there are worse things than having a hot, wealthy man, interested in you. Even if it is only for one thing.” She raises her eyebrows at me suggestively and I can't help but laugh.

  “I am not going to sleep with him.” I gap at her.

  “Why the hell not?” She asks, pinning her dark eyes on me.

  “Well for one..... Josh.” I say, speaking the obvious.

  “Josh is your fuck buddy Anna, nothing more. Don't act like that would stop you from sleeping with someone else if the opportunity presented itself.”

  “Whatever.” I say, swiping my hand at her dismissively. “I have a strict must know you before I sleep with you policy. I hardly classify working for him, knowing him. Therefore, he will be getting no where near any of this.” I say, gesturing to my body.

  “Uh huh. You say that now.” She says, shaking her head back and forth at me. Pulling her laptop onto her lap, she peers back up at me. “What did you say his name was again?” She asks.

  “Bentley Reed.” I say, unable to contain my smile as his name falls off my lips. Quickly trying to recover, I shake my head and turn my focus back to Andrea. “Why?”

  “Because....” She says, typing something into her computer before looking back up at me. “He has information on you. Which puts him at an unfair advantage. We need to find out more about him. Even the playing field if you will.” She laughs.

  “There is no playing field. I've worked there for five months and never seen the man, I hardly doubt his presence is going to become a regular occurrence. Hell, he's probably already long gone.”

  “Well. Well. Well.” She says, tisking as she shakes her head back and forth. “Is this our dear Mr. Reed?” She asks, turning the screen just enough so that I can see the photo displayed across it.

  I don't even have to look hard to know immediately that it's him. “That's him.” I say, surprised that she was able to find him at all. Allure is such a secretive place. I doubt you could find anything about it on the internet even if you tried.

  “Bentley Reed, 32. Professional soccer player turned business mogul.” She says, peeking my curiosity to the point that I have to get up and join her on her bed so that I can see what she's looking at.

  There are several articles about his time with the U.S. Open Cup winning soccer team, Chicago Fire, but very little that I can see after the fact. And there is no mention of Allure, only that following his soccer career, he became a successful business owner of a chain of private clubs, yet there's no additional information. Clicking on one of the links, Andrea begins to read aloud an article written seven years ago.

  “Bentley Reed, key player for the Chicago Fire, sustained a career ending injury during last months game against Columbus Crew. A collision with a member of the opposing team, broke Reed's leg so severely that members of the team reported you could see the bone sticking through his skin as medical workers carried him from the field. A team spokesperson confirmed today that Reed, 25, will not be returning to the field after medical professionals confirmed that he will not be able to return to the game of soccer. Reed has yet to comment publicly, however many of his teammates have reported that he seems to be optimistic about his diagnosis. Going as far as to say that he will be back next season if he has anything to say about it. While this is a huge loss for Chicago Fire, they are still hopeful that they will be taking home their fourth U.S. Cup win this season.”

  Before she is even finished with the article, I can feel nothing but sadness for this man. My heart breaks for anyone who has ever had their dream ripped away from them in the blink of an eye. It's exactly what happened to me after I blew out my knee. I remember feeling like my reason for existing was gone.

  Dance was all I ever knew. My grandma signed me up for classes shortly after I arrived in Chicago. I know it was her way of trying to distract me, give me something to focus on. She probably never expected for me to fall in love with it the way I did.

  “That's awful.” I say, shaking my head as I stand.

  “Yeah. But look at him now.” Andrea says, snapping her laptop closed and tossing it to the side. “Clearly he's done well for himself.” She says on a shrug.

  “Yeah. I guess. Whatever.” I say, pulling open my bag and emptying out the three large text books inside. “It doesn't matter anyways. It's not like I am planning on being his friend or anything. Besides, I have more important things to worry about.” I say, peeling open one of my text books. “Like how in the hell I am going to get through finals without pulling all my hair out.”

  Chapter Three

  I manage to get through my first dance of the night with no incident and by the time I take the stage for the second time, I have almost completely forgotten about everything that happened the night before. Almost.

  As “Sail” by Awolnation, starts thumping from the speakers, I cross the stage in slow strides, my movements matching the music. Dropping into a straddle on the floor, I lean forward and lay my torso across the smooth marble.

  I love dancing to this song. And even more, I love my outfit for the night. Black lace boy shorts and a polka dot cami that is practically see through but not quite. Partnered with black heels and a black Fedora, I feel sexy. I feel powerful. It gives me a taste of what these men probably feel everyday. Like I can control the world. Pushing my legs together and laying them flat behind me, I push up into a plank position before spinning into a back bend and slowly kicking myself over.

  Grabbing the pole directly in front of me, I grip the smooth metal and climb about two feet with my hands before wrapping one leg around it and doing a half spin, my other leg stretched out to the side giving
everyone in the audience a perfect view of my inner thigh.

  After a few more seconds, I lower myself from the pole, tipping my fedora hat down so that the majority of my face is covered in shadows as I make my way to a chair sitting at the end of the catwalk. It isn't until I spin the chair towards me and straddle the seat, that my eyes land on the one person I didn't expect to see again. Bentley Reed.

  He's sitting at the table that sits just a foot from the end of the catwalk. His eyes are dark and he slowly bites down on his lower lip like he is physically trying to restrain himself. Feeling empowered by the clear effect I have on him, I slide down the seat of the chair, spinning around so that my ass is right in his line of sight. Lowering myself into a split, I look in his direction as seductively as I can muster before twisting my body back around and pushing up into a handstand, my legs still completely spread apart.

  As the song winds down, I straighten my legs into a full handstand and push myself forward into a front walkover and then immediately drop to my knees directly in front of Mr. Reed. Once again pulling my hat down as the last beat of the song pounds from the speakers and the lights go black.

  My breathing is ragged and I can feel the beads of sweat forming at my nape as I quickly stand and exit the stage, not looking back in his direction again. The minute I step into the lights of the back room, regret hits me full force. What the hell was I thinking just then? Did Josh see that little display? But before I have another second to even think about it, I hear someone approaching from behind and quickly spin around to see Mr. Reed closing in on me.

  Gripping my forearm, he pulls me along side him, back out into the main room of the club before veering left and leading me down the dim hall that leads to the private rooms. I don't have time to protest. Hell, I don't even have time to think, as he opens the door to the last room on the right and pulls me inside with him. The click of the latch causing me to jump slightly.