Taking It Off

by Claire Kent

  She was overwhelmed with excitement again, but this time it was emotional rather than physical. “You are?”

  “Yes. I mean it,” he said, looking awkward and self-conscious, like she’d never seen him before. “I’m terrible at this, but I’ve been regretting how I acted all week. I was just…I was just taken by surprise and didn’t respond well. I know you weren’t eavesdropping on purpose. So I’m really sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay,” she told him, genuinely touched by his obvious sincerity. “Thanks for apologizing.”

  “I’m not any good at it. I don’t usually apologize.”

  “Well, you should. It suits you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I do.” She smiled at him. “Just don’t make a habit of doing things that need apologizing for. Anyway, it’s a lot better than trying to seduce me into forgetting anything happened.”

  He glanced down. “Yeah. That was pretty stupid. I know you’re more than just your body. That’s why…”

  When he didn’t finish his sentence, her curiosity was piqued. “That’s why…?”

  “That’s why I can’t seem to let you walk away from me. Because I’m so used to just indulging the physical, and there’s so much more to you that…attracts me.”

  The words were stilted, but it might have been the best compliment she’d ever gotten in her life. “Oh. Thank you.” She darted a look up at his face and saw he was watching her again with that intense focus. “There’s more to you too, you know.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She could tell he actually meant it. “Of course there is. There’s more to everyone.”

  “Yeah. I just mean that the rest of me isn’t really worth knowing.”

  She met his eyes without looking away, suddenly understanding something important about him she hadn’t fully known before. “I don’t believe that.”

  “That’s because you’re used to looking deeper and hoping the things in your life will turn into something good. That doesn’t always work, you know. Some things are just…empty.”

  She felt strangely rattled by the turn of the conversation—nervous and a little upset now. “Everything can’t be empty.”

  “That hasn’t been my experience.” The words were soft, like he was speaking to himself.

  She couldn’t help but wonder how much of his life he had believed he was empty, and she found herself asking something she knew to be too private. “Did you feel that way growing up?”

  He glanced over at her in surprise. “What way?”

  “Like everything was empty.”

  She was afraid he’d react defensively, the way he had when she’d overheard his conversation with his mother, but instead he seemed to think through the question sincerely. “No. I don’t think so. I was always trying to take care…”

  He trailed off, but Elizabeth knew what he was going to say. His mother. He’d always felt like he had to take care of his mother. She might have been an addict for most of his life. Elizabeth’s stomach knotted in sympathy as she tried to imagine the little boy he had been.

  “So when did it start to feel empty?” she asked softly, knowing she shouldn’t be asking him something so intimate but desperately wanting to know the answer.

  He let out a short breath. “I don’t know. I guess, when you do something long enough and nothing ever changes, it starts to feel like it has no meaning.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” She glanced at his face and saw that he looked wistful but not like he was closing her out, so she dared to ask, “So nothing seems to change with your mom?”

  He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “Not since I was five years old.”

  “Damn.” She straightened her posture. “But things can change in other parts of your life, right?”

  “How easy have you found it to change?” He finally met her eyes—his cool gaze almost a challenge.

  She thought about the years she’d spent trying to be the perfect girl her parents expected and how wrenching it had been to even try to be someone else. She gave him a wry smile. “Not very easy.”

  They shared something in the look—like they understood each other deeply, like they weren’t really so different at all.

  She released a breath, suddenly nervous because the conversation had gotten so intimate so unexpectedly. This was just supposed to be a wild, fun detour from her regular life. It wasn’t supposed to rip her apart and expose questions and insecurities at the heart of her. It wasn’t supposed to make her feel like she wanted this man to know her better than anyone ever had before—and like she wanted to know him just as deeply.

  He smiled back, his earlier bleak mood relaxing into his more characteristic easy confidence. “So is your curiosity about all the dark, dirty parts of my life satisfied yet?”

  Relieved they’d returned to more normal conversation, she replied in the same teasing tone. “It’s not anywhere close to satisfied. Just how dark and dirty do you get?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She laughed, her body responding slightly to the heat in his tone and his gaze. Then she cleared her throat and said in a different tone, “Anyway, I’m really sorry I barged into your office. I really thought no one would be there.”

  “I know.” He paused, watching her almost hopefully. “So you’re not leaving for good?”

  “I’m leaving for tonight. It’s getting late, and I’m tired. But I’ll be back on Saturday.”

  “You better be.” He was back to his old sexy self, sounding hot and entitled.

  “That’s kind of demanding, isn’t it?”

  “I can be demanding.” He gave her a little smile. “Didn’t you know that?”

  “I guess I did.”

  “You’ll come back on Saturday?”

  “Didn’t I just say so?”

  “Just checking.”

  She chuckled and opened her car door. “Okay. This has been a strange night.”

  “For me too.” He leaned down to kiss her lightly on the mouth. “Earlier this evening I was telling myself that I wouldn’t see you again and it was probably a good thing.”

  “Maybe it would be a good thing.”

  “No, it might be a smart thing, but it wouldn’t be a good thing.”

  She stroked one hand down his chest. “I think that’s right.”

  He kissed her again, but he didn’t deepen it with his tongue and he pulled away after a few moments. “With you, princess, sometimes I feel like I’m more than a body too.”

  She stared at him, surprised, trying to figure it out, until he smiled again and walked away.

  Chapter 7

  Matt stared at the photo on his computer screen of Elizabeth leaning over to hold the hand of a chubby little girl.

  He’d done a search on her name, and the first site pulled up was the preschool she worked at as an art therapist. The Web site was gorgeous—obviously very expensively designed—and she was in the slide show of pictures on the home page.

  In the photo she wore a long, pale blue cotton dress, and her hair was hanging down over her shoulder. She looked lovely, almost tender and maternal. He could easily see why they’d chosen this shot for the Web site. She looked exactly like the kind of person overprotective parents would want to leave their precious children with.

  It made that vague knot tighten in his belly, though.

  A quick scan of the Web site made it clear that she worked for a very exclusive, prestigious school. Even if it was just a preschool, there was evidently a years-long waiting list and very high standards for admission. The board of directors was made up of influential people in business and politics, and the site didn’t list the tuition, which Matt understood to mean it was ridiculously expensive.

  Of course she worked at a place like this. Her whole lifestyle was affluent, elegant, untouchable.

  He stared at the picture. The affection on her face as she looked at the little girl appeared to be genuine. She must love children. She probably wa
nted children of her own. She was destined for an attractive, successful family and a comfortable, respectable life.

  She’d never find such a thing with him, and she was unlikely to even want it with him. He would have done better to not even approach her on Thursday evening—to just call the whole thing off and go back to his regular, no-win life.

  But he hadn’t been able to resist when he saw her standing alone at the back of the club, looking as if she wasn’t sure she should be there, as if she was thinking about leaving.

  He’d wanted her to stay. He hadn’t wanted her to leave. So he’d done what he knew was stupid and had gone over to try to win her over. He’d even ended up saying a lot more about his private thoughts than he’d ever shared with anyone else.

  But now he was back to where he’d been before—starting to hope for something that was utterly hopeless.

  He closed the browser on his computer and stood up, the restless emotion pushing him to his feet. He left the office and wandered to the stage, where Brent was working with Vinnie on a routine.

  “You’re not on Dancing with the Stars here,” Brent was saying, sounding faintly impatient. “You’re not trying to wow them with beautiful moves. They’re here to see sex.” He pumped his pelvis a few times in a practiced sequence, his hips working effortlessly in a series of fast thrusts. “You’ve got to pretend like you’re screwing your dream fuck, whoever it is, and you’re giving it to them good.”

  Vinnie was sober as he worked on his hip pumps, but he still looked more like he was dancing a ballet than fucking.

  It was sometimes easier for guys to learn the ropes when they had no previous dance experience. Vinnie was clearly not one of those.

  “Stop,” Brent interrupted. “Your body isn’t a work of art here. That’s not why the girls come. Your body is a tool—purely functional—and the tool is made to give a woman pleasure. Think about it like that.”

  Vinnie looked frustrated as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I thought I was doing okay.”

  “You were doing okay,” Matt broke in from where he was standing. Both of the other men turned to look at him, clearly surprised by his presence. “But you need to be better than okay to stay on here. You need to disconnect your body from the rest of yourself and think only about the body. You’re not a dancer. You’re an object, a lover. If the women aren’t thinking about sex when you’re done with your routine, then you haven’t done your job.”

  Vinnie nodded and tried again.

  Matt shook his head. “No. Try it this way. Close your eyes and picture your dream fuck.”

  Vinnie rolled his eyes before he closed them.

  “Keep them closed. I know it’s stupid but it works. Is it a him or a her?”

  “Her,” Vinnie said.

  “Okay.” Matt walked up onto the stage as he spoke. “Now imagine you’ve worked her up so she’s right on the edge. She’s screaming for you to take her there. And the only thing you’ve got to work with is your dick. So go. Take her home.”

  Vinnie pumped his hips again, his eyes still closed, and this time his moves were blunter, more animalistic, and he grunted a few times as he did.

  “Good,” Brent said. “Much better.”

  Vinnie opened his eyes and looked at Matt.

  Matt nodded. “Better. Just learn to do it with your eyes open.”

  He walked away then, thinking about what he’d been like when he’d been young and just learning to strip. It had been easy for him. He’d been a natural. He could make a woman think he was dying to fuck her, even when he couldn’t care less.

  But now, in his mind, he only saw Elizabeth. He wasn’t even sure he could take the stage again, since he didn’t want to even pretend to be fucking anyone else.

  His body had always been only a tool, and he didn’t know how to use it any other way. If that was what he had to stay close to Elizabeth, then that was what he would use.

  Maybe he could have her for a little while longer, at least.

  Even though it was hopeless, he couldn’t seem to stop.

  —

  “What’s going on with you today?” Katie asked as she and Elizabeth ate a late lunch on Saturday.

  “What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, stirring her salad on her plate and trying not to think about seeing Matt that evening.

  “I don’t know. You’re all…excited about something.”

  “I’m not excited about anything.” It was a lie, but she could hardly admit to being excited about seeing a sexy, tattooed stripper that evening.

  “Yes, you are.” Katie gasped. “You have a date tonight!”

  “I do not.”

  “Let’s see a movie tonight, then.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I knew it!” Katie looked delighted. “You do have a date.”

  “I don’t have a date. I’ve got other plans.” Elizabeth felt rather self-conscious and was uncomfortable knowing that her jittery mood was so evident for anyone to see.

  This wasn’t anything serious, after all. She was just having fun for a little while longer.

  “Oh.” Katie frowned. “Then why are you so squirmy?”

  Elizabeth gasped. “I am not squirmy.”

  “Yes, you are. Are you into someone?”

  To her disgust, Elizabeth felt herself blushing.

  “You are! You’ve got the hots for someone, even if you’re not dating him yet! I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. Who is he?”

  “He’s no one. I haven’t fallen for anyone. I’m having a little fun with someone, but it’s not serious. He’s not the kind of guy to get serious about.”

  “Oh. Okay. It’s fine to have fun, I guess, but just be careful. You won’t be able to hook up with an inappropriate guy after your dad announces he’s running for governor. And you’re looking awfully twitterpated for it to just be a fling. Don’t do anything stupid like fall in love or anything.”

  “I’m not about to fall in love! I’m just trying something out for a little while. Something different. There’s nothing to get all uptight about.”

  Katie laughed. “There’s a delicious irony in you saying not to get uptight.”

  “Shut up,” Elizabeth muttered without any heat. “I’m not that bad.”

  “I know. To tell you the truth, I think your little fling might have been good for you. You seem happier or something lately. Just be careful about taking it too seriously.”

  “I’m not taking it seriously.”

  She actually believed it was true.

  —

  Elizabeth spent a lot of time deciding what to wear to the club that evening. She felt the shivery excitement that she used to feel for first dates when she thought there was real potential.

  It was silly to feel this way right now, she kept telling herself. She was just having fun. But she felt a little giddy—although she’d never have admitted it to Katie or anyone else—as she looked at herself in the mirror before she left.

  She wore a short skirt, brown above-the-knee boots, and a clingy top. She didn’t straighten her hair, so it fell around her shoulders in tousled waves. She felt gorgeous, sexy, desirable in a way she rarely did.

  She couldn’t wait to see what Matt thought when he saw her.

  She got to the club just before eight and was able to get her favorite table in the back corner. Once she’d claimed it, she walked over to the bar to order a scotch.

  “You’re looking good tonight,” Robbie told her with his laid-back smile.

  “Thanks.” She wondered if he knew why she looked all sexy tonight. She wondered if everyone knew Matt had been fucking her.

  Probably. It must be hard to keep a secret in a place like this.

  “Is Matt around?” she asked, scanning the crowd for his familiar face and body.

  “He’ll be in later. He had to stop by his mom’s, I think.”

  She swallowed, feeling a little disappointed that he wasn’t here right away and then hoping everythin
g was all right with his mom.

  She wished she knew what was going on there, as Robbie obviously did. The truth was she didn’t really know Matt well at all.

  It didn’t matter, though. She was just here to have fun. Not for anything serious. It wasn’t like they were in a relationship.

  So she took her scotch back to her table, determined to enjoy herself until Matt arrived. His presence wasn’t the only thing in the world that could be fun.

  She watched the first routine and drank her whiskey, but she was actually getting a little bored twenty minutes later. She’d seen it all before. The only thing that made the club exciting for her was Matt.

  If he wasn’t going to show up, then there wasn’t much reason for her to be here.

  She got up and went to the bathroom and then wandered toward the bar again, thinking maybe Robbie had heard from him and would know if he was tied up.

  She waited as Robbie poured out drinks for a party of six.

  Then she gave a little jump of shock when a tattooed arm slid around her from behind.

  “I highly approve of that outfit,” Matt murmured into her ear, pressing his body against her back.

  She giggled foolishly in the aftermath of her surprise and in pleasure that he had finally actually arrived. “I can occasionally look sexy, you know.”

  “You look sexy all the time—especially in your fancy, uptight clothes.”

  She felt a warmth wash over her, since it sounded like he meant it, that he actually thought she was sexy in her normal, vanilla clothes. “They’re not uptight.”

  “What you’re wearing tonight definitely isn’t. Did you wear those boots for me?” Matt asked, pressing her back against him more fully so she could feel the line of his long, firm, very warm body.

  “No. I wore them for me.”

  “Too bad.” He tilted his head so he could murmur very softly in her ear. “Later tonight I’m going to have you on the desk with your legs in the air, boots and all. You know that, right?”

  Her pussy clenched hard, and she lost her breath.

  “You like the sound of that, don’t you? You like the idea of being so naughty.”

  She swallowed, shifting restlessly in response to the ache between her legs. She could hardly speak, she was so deeply aroused so quickly, just by his words.