by Layla Frost
Not getting it, she perched her ass on the arm of the chair and gestured to the bartender anyway. “You’re not the one getting hitched, right? That’d be a shame for womankind, you being off the market.”
“Nope, not me. It’s that guy.” I pointed to Dave, assuming she’d jump to the groom-to-be.
Continuing the theme of my lucky night, she didn’t.
“So, no wifey waitin’ for you?” She tilted her head to my bare ring finger.
“No,” I muttered distractedly, trying to look around her.
“Well, aren’t us single women lucky.”
My focus was locked on the curtained room as Eden opened it. Stepping out, she finished tying her shirt under chest.
I smiled up at the blonde, turning on the charm as she handed me a fresh beer that’d been sent over. “Thanks. How’s your night going?”
“Oh, uh,” she mumbled, thrown by my about-face. Her fake everything slipped back into place as she put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s going better now. How about you? You like what you’re seeing?”
“It’s been a fun night.” Scanning the room, I caught Eden glancing our way before hurrying through a door next to the stage.
“You wanna head to one of the private rooms?” Leaning closer, the blonde whispered, “Or maybe get together later? I’ve never met up with a customer.”
I almost choked on my beer. I’d sooner believe her snatch was a working credit card reader.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t want a dance, and I sure as hell didn’t want to fuck her.
“I want to buy a dance for the groom,” I declared, all the guys hooting and whistling.
Her smile became forced as she took Dave’s hand.
I sat back with my fresh beer and kicked a leg up on a low table, casually searching the room. But I already knew.
Eden was gone.
Chapter Two
* * *
Just This Once
Damien
Wednesday nights were usually reserved for working on my lesson plans and returning emails.
But not that night.
That night, I’d left my house so I could sell my soul.
Obsession and addiction, Eden consumed me.
I’d spent the Monday holiday watching my email, waiting to see whether she’d reach out or, more likely, try to drop the class. When she’d walked into my room Wednesday morning, I’d been relieved.
And so hard, I’d had to stay behind my lectern.
I should’ve left well enough alone.
Instead, I’d called the club to find out when she’d be working.
Sitting at the bar, I watched her dance. That time I stared, memorizing the natural ease she moved with, as if she were dancing a graceful ballet.
It was breathtaking.
It was maddening.
My mind and body were at war with one another.
Just this once.
One time to watch openly and that’s it.
“Hey, handsome, want another drink?” the bartender asked.
“Not right now, thanks.” I smiled. “How do I get a private dance?”
“Which girl?”
I pretended to think as I scanned the club. “The one dancing.”
“Mandi? Her private dances fill up fast, but if you head into the third room, I’ll let her know you’re waiting.” She leaned closer, her smile in place but her voice firm. “House rules… No touching. No requesting anything other than a dance, or you get an immediate ban. For life. Dancers can’t talk unless you talk to them first. Some men like to get chatty, some want silence. It’s up to you.”
“Thanks.” Dropping some cash on the bar, I headed into the curtained room and sat on the small couch.
Leave.
Don’t be an idiot.
Leave, you stupid bastard.
Just one time.
When the curtain opened, a startled Eden stopped in the doorway. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her head tilted.
When she made no further move, I gestured to the sound system. She jolted and looked at it like she’d never seen it before. Her gaze darted back to mine, but I just waited.
Pulling her lips in, she dragged her attention back to the system before pressing the touchscreen a few times.
A strong beat filled the small room as she closed the curtain and came closer. The brightness that usually lit her eyes was gone, and her expression was a mask that’d been slipped into place. The only sign she wasn’t a robot was the blush that tinted her cheeks.
I wondered how her other cheeks would look that same color.
She kept her distance as she swayed, and our legs barely brushed. Her fingers shook as she removed her top. Running her palms down her ribs and stomach, she hooked her thumbs into her skirt before sliding it off slowly.
Torturing me.
It seemed like only seconds had passed when the song trailed off, signaling the end of my time.
Eden turned and quickly redressed before heading for the curtain. Sliding it open, she paused and threw a small, forced smile over her shoulder at me.
I’d take it.
Once she was gone, I stood and adjusted myself before following. My hands fisted when I saw she’d gone right to the bar to talk to another man.
I need to get the hell out of here.
Walking past Eden, I slipped her a hundred and headed outside.
Going there had been a mistake.
Watching her. Getting a dance from her.
Giving in, just that once. Just a little.
I’d fucked up big.
*******
Eden
Stepping out onto the stage Friday night, my eyes locked with his.
Looking bored and disinterested, Professor Caine sat at the bar.
Again.
I turned and slid my mask into place. When I twisted back to the audience, everything was a blur. Even him.
After seeing him at Sinners the first time, I’d been mortified. I’d spent the long weekend in a panic before meeting with my adviser on Tuesday. Covertly, I’d tried to see if I could rearrange my schedule while coincidentally dropping the class, but there hadn’t been a way.
The course was mandatory for my degree.
I’d also researched the criteria for him to drop me. I hadn’t done anything to warrant it, but that didn’t mean anything if he were willing to lie.
When I’d gotten to class that Wednesday, I’d expected the worst, but he’d ignored me as usual.
Seeing him at Sinners later that night had been beyond shocking. Even more so when he’d been in the private room. I’d waited for him to speak. To lecture me. Maybe even blackmail me or threaten me. But he’d just gestured to the music without saying a word.
I hadn’t gotten as close as I was supposed to, but he hadn’t said anything about it. Or anything else, for that matter.
Thursday night had been the same. He’d watched me dance on stage before getting an awkwardly silent private one in the room. Then he’d left right after, sliding me another hundred on his way out.
I’d been freaked about that morning’s class. My sleep had been filled with nightmares where he’d laugh as he told me I was kicked out of school.
My fear had been for nothing because his silent streak continued. His lecture had been short, with a quiz taking up the remainder of class. When I’d dropped my paper on his desk, he’d been talking to another student and hadn’t even glanced at me.
Finishing my dances, I rushed into the back to change. I came out and saw Lita holding up four fingers. I guessed it was him before even opening the curtain.
Maybe he’ll finally tell me why he’s here.
Is it to see me?
Is it to prove he holds the cards? If he wanted, he could tell everyone what I do. It’d be admitting to being here, too, but maybe he doesn’t care if people know. To most, the men at strip clubs are somehow superior to the strippers they pay to see.
They’re fun and virile.
We’re wh
ores.
I paused in the entrance, wondering if he’d speak. Equal parts hope and dread filled me at the thought. My curiosity was killing me, but ignorance could be bliss.
He didn’t say anything. His head jerked toward the system, and I pushed some buttons until a slow beat filled the room.
Slouching, his arms went across the back of the couch and his long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His expression was his usual—bored and indifferent.
It was disconcerting to dance for strangers. More so for someone I knew.
I couldn’t imagine anything worse than dancing for someone I knew when they looked like they were about to doze off at any moment.
As I got closer, I expected him to move. When he didn’t, I was forced to stand with one leg on each side of his ankles. As I swayed, my legs brushed against his.
The contact may have been minor, but it was torture.
Using a bend as my cover, I spread my legs so they wouldn’t touch his. It would’ve been a flawless maneuver had I not misjudged my hand placement as I stood. Slowly, my fingers grazed along his calf.
Nope. No. Okay, this is torture.
*******
Damien
Fucking torture.
I’d sworn I’d give in just once, but I was weak when it came to Eden.
It was pathetic how relieved I’d been that I hadn’t come in my pants when her hands had grazed my legs. Barely a touch to my calves, and my dick had jumped like she’d been going down on me.
In defense of my dick and me, it’d been her reaction that’d done it. Her soft intake of breath. Her mask slipping to reveal her startled expression. The way she’d yanked her hands back like she’d been burned.
It made me want to see how far I could push before she broke the rules and talked.
She finished her dance and dressed quicker than ever before. Rushing from the room, she left without giving me her tight smile over her shoulder.
I missed it.
I missed her.
I’m pathetic.
Chapter Three
* * *
Totally Under Control
Eden
He was back.
Again.
And I was annoyed.
Again.
All week at school, he’d said nothing. He’d given me nothing. Then he’d sit at my club and watch me. He was always silent and indifferent, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.
I’d wondered briefly if he was into me. If he’d been coming to see me because he wanted to.
Wanted me.
There’d been a part of me holding out hope he’d… I dunno. Admit he liked what he saw. I wasn’t expecting declarations of love, but maybe lust. A connection. Something beyond indifference and silence.
That hope had died earlier that day.
When we’d gotten our papers back, everyone else’s had in depth notes marking the pages. Not just the usual corrections, but differing theories or options to encourage them to think from a different point of view. My stomach had clenched as I’d scanned the surrounding papers. I’d worked so hard on mine and was certain I’d done well, and I’d been anxious to see what feedback he’d had for me.
Only when I’d looked down at my paper, there was barely anything. A few notations, a circled correction, and a ninety-five-percent.
It just showed he felt everyone else was worth the time, effort, and thought he put into making so many notes.
Not me, though.
Never me.
That was when I’d had to face the truth. His time at Sinners hadn’t been about an unspoken connection—some undeniable pull between us. My stupid crush was one-sided, and his visits were a power trip. A reminder that he knew my dirty little secret and could spill it to everyone. Easily. Anonymously.
He may not have been able to get me expelled, but he could force me to leave. Because if people found out what I did for a living, there was no way I could continue attending there.
And what a heady power that must’ve been for him. He held my future in the palm of his large, veined hand. Just one move—one whisper—and he’d crush it. Crush me.
Before I’d stepped on stage, I’d caught sight of Professor Caine sitting at a table, sipping a drink. As I danced, I forced myself to ignore him. I’d learned early on to scan the crowd with unseeing eyes. It became too real if I allowed my vision to focus. Too intense and intimate.
During private dances, I’d always stare at their forehead or ear. The only reason I could watch Professor Caine for a reaction was because my movements were so watered-down.
I finished my set and practically ran to the back.
After redressing and freshening up, I came out to see Lita holding up two fingers. I was tempted to send someone else in, but I knew I’d get in trouble. Plus, I could use the hundred.
And don’t forget the rush you get from seeing him. The anticipation that clutches you. The need that makes your imagination soar.
You know, before the high crashes when he says nothing, leaving you an emotionally raw mess.
Pathetic.
Entering the room, we went through our usual song and dance—pun intended. I paused by the door.
He tilted his head.
I traded a little more of my soul for a hundred bucks and a cheap thrill.
Even though he kept his legs outstretched, I didn’t straddle his calves. I danced in front of his feet, putting more distance than usual between us. It gave me room to move without running the risk of an accidental touch.
Once I finished, I dressed and raced from the room before I’d even finished tying my top. Lita grabbed my attention immediately and held up three fingers. I gave her a wave before heading into that room for another private dance. The customer was a little sad and lonely, but he seemed to enjoy himself.
At the very least, he didn’t look like he would nod off at any minute, which was an improvement from the professor.
When I got back out to the main room, I slid the tip from the sad man into the hidden zipper pocket in my skirt. It wasn’t until I was closing it that I realized Professor Cain hadn’t tipped me.
Shit.
I went behind the bar and grabbed a water bottle before turning to Lita. “Hey, did my first dance leave a tip out here for me?”
“He didn’t tip you?” Her lips pressed into a tight line and her eyes narrowed.
No one liked when a customer didn’t tip, even if it wasn’t them who got shafted.
“You know what, I don’t remember,” I lied. “I rushed out and into my next dance. It’s been an insane night.”
“I think I’d be moving at a snail’s pace if I was in the room with a man like that.”
If she only knew.
“No one’s been in there since,” she pointed out, “so you might wanna go check.”
“Good idea.”
I rushed to the room just in time to stop Mystique and a customer from entering. It didn’t matter because there was no cash.
What the hell?
*******
During school on Monday, I stopped at my student mailbox and grabbed its contents, bringing it with me to Political Theory. I sat at my desk and thumbed through, but it was all junk. As I shoved it into my backpack, a plain unmarked envelope fell from between the pages of a magazine.
My heart sped up as I glanced inside, confirming my suspicion.
A hundred-dollar bill was folded neatly inside.
After the tipless dance on Friday, I’d expected to see him on Saturday. When the night came and went with no silent professor, I’d been relieved. Grateful for the money he’d given me. A little disappointed because of my established patheticness. But overall?
Relieved.
His point had been made.
He knew who I was, I knew who he was, we both had a lot to lose.
It was time to move on.
As I glanced down at the money, I realized how wrong I’d been.
To hell with him and his stupi
d power trip.
Carefully blanking my expression, I gave him nothing. No reaction. Not a single eye twitch. Full-on Stepford student, I was practically a robot as I put the envelope into my bag.
With my concentration on pretending I wasn’t internally seething, I jumped when a heavy backpack slammed to the floor.
One of the guys who usually sat on the other side of the room plopped down next to me and opened his laptop. “Hey, what’d we do Friday?”
“A lecture and discussion about different types of separatism throughout history and globally.”
“Can I get a copy of your notes?”
“Sure, I’ll email them.”
“Thanks. Brooks.” He held out his hand. “I mean, my name is Brooks.” A sheepish smile crossed his face.
It was cute.
He was cute, in a college-kid-frat-boy kind of way.
A little over six feet, he was all lean muscle. His dark-blond hair was artfully disheveled, and he kept pushing it away from his hazel eyes.
I laughed and took his hand. “I knew what you meant. I’m Eden.”
“I know. I mean, not in a creeper way. I just saw something with your name on it when I was talking to Caine once.”
“Oh.” Unsure what to say to that, I muttered, “Cool.”
He didn’t seem fazed by my lackluster social skills. “Did we get our papers back?”
Unfortunately.
I nodded.
“I’m gonna see if I can grab mine from Caine before class starts. When I get back, I’ll give you my email.” Standing, he paused before hastily adding, “For the notes.”
“Okay.” I smiled up at him.
He returned my smile but didn’t move.
Raising my brows, I tilted my head. “You better go, he’ll probably be starting soon.”
“Right. I’ll be right back.”
I wasn’t stupid or naïve. Sinners didn’t hire ugly girls as dancers. The owners weren’t mean, but when their money was made based on how girls looked, they couldn’t hire based on more worthy attributes. The world was shallow and ugly in its focus on beauty. But it was what it was.