by Sasha White
She’d been following the same plan the rest of her upper middle class family followed. And gotten herself stuck in a relationship that was false, and by a twist of fate — a job where she was unappreciated.
Basically, she gotten a life she didn’t really want.
She glared at the cold mug of coffee in front of her. She’d ordered it because it was what one did at a coffee shop, but she hated coffee. She hated the smell of it, the taste of it…she hated it.
Damn it!
She stood up so abruptly her chair fell back onto the floor and people stared. But she didn’t care. She was done caring what others thought of her behavior. Last night, for the first time in way too long, she’d felt good.
She used to enjoy life. She had friends, plans…dreams. Somewhere in the past few years she’d lost her way. She’d given up. She’d given up, and she’d settled.
She used to feel things. Sure, she’d been a little impetuous, even a little wild, but she’d been alive. She’d been in charge of what she did and what happened to her. No one else, just her.
Just like she’d been last night.
She’d felt playful and daring when she’d hit the club, and even better when she’d gotten Valentine Ward alone.
Holy hell, that had been better than good!
A laugh bubbled up inside and spilled from her lips as she grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. She’d been her own boss, and she’d like it. There was absolutely no reason why she couldn’t go after the dream of always being her own boss.
8
Joey didn’t bother with her keys when she got to her building. Instead she pushed the buzzer for her apartment and yelled, “It’s me. Let me in.”
The door buzzed and she pulled it open and started to climb the three flights of stairs. The audition had been long and grueling. She’d made it through the first three cuts, but not the final one. It sucked totally because she’d made it that far in auditions before, too many times to count, but she’d yet to get the break she needed.
Sometimes, she wanted to give up. Sometimes, she wondered if her love of dancing was enough, if maybe she just wasn’t good enough to make it as more than a cage dancer in a club. In two more years she’d be thirty. Too old to be the kind of dancer she wanted to be. She enjoyed teaching—up to a point. But her heart was really in performing.
As much fun as dancing at Risqué was, she wanted more than that. She wanted to go on tour with a troupe or show. Or at the least do some music videos or commercials. Vancouver’s film industry was booming, there were plenty of opportunities, all she needed was the right break.
She was glad not to be alone with her thoughts that night. It was sort of nice to know someone was there waiting for her. Especially nice that it was Sammie.
She hadn’t seen Samair in way too long. In all honesty, she’d wondered if she might never see her again.
The last time they’d hung out, Sammie had seemed so distant, and, well, sort of limp. Like all the life had gone out of her. But last night it was back full force, and Sammie had been as seductive as ever.
It sucked that the shit had hit the fan in her life, but it was good to see her friend’s fire hadn’t disappeared.
Just thinking about it made Joey feel a bit better. There was a time when she’d been in love with Samair. But that had changed. Romantic love had shifted sometime during their college explorations, morphing into a deep, abiding friendship. And Joey was going to do everything she could to help her friend follow her heart.
After all, she thought as she pushed open her apartment door and hefted the plastic bags she was carrying onto the counter, life is meant to be lived.
One look around the studio apartment showed her that Sammie had indeed moved in. A couple of suitcases laying on her bed, and Sammie was glued to the loveseat in front of her sewing machine, which was set up on the coffee table.
“Been busy today, have you?” She tossed her gym bag onto the bed next to Samair’s suitcases. “I brought Chinese.”
“Yum!” Samair said, cutting some threads and pulling her newest creation from the machine. After she ran a critical eye over it she tossed the material at Joey. “Try this on.”
“Ohhh! For me?” Pleasure ran through her and she squealed like a little girl. She loved it when Sammie made her clothes. They always fit perfect, looked good, and lasted forever.
“Made just for you, baby.”
All her depressing thoughts floated away while she whipped her sweatshirt over her head, and did up the bra-like top as she walked toward the bathroom.
She pulled the door closed and gazed at herself in the full-length mirror hanging there.
“It’s gorgeous, Sammie!” She ran her hands over the royal purple satin that cupped her breasts lovingly before tangling her fingers in the soft fringe hanging from the underwires to her hips. “You are so talented. When are you going to realize people would pay a lot to have something like this?”
She did a shimmy and a little bump and grind, loving the way the fringe played peek-a-boo with her fair skin. That top was going to help her rake in the tips.
“You really believe that?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“Good,” Sammie’s voice was determined. “Because I want you to help me start my own design label.”
That got her attention. She spun away from the reflection in the mirror. “Really?”
Samair nodded.
“It’s about time!” Joey left the mirror and grabbed Samair in an enthusiastic hug. She felt like a proud mama. Sammie was finally going to go after her dream, and do what she was meant to do. Be her own creative and original self.
This is exactly what Sammie needed. To remember what her dream was, and to go after it. When people gave up their dreams, their spirit died.
She went back and looked in the mirror again. This time she looked herself in the eye. It didn’t matter how many auditions she had to go to, she wasn’t going to give up on her dream, either.
Her stomach rumbled and she spun around and pointed at the waiting food. “You get that out while I change. Then we can eat, and you can tell me how I can help.”
They didn’t bother with plates, just used forks to eat straight out of the takeout containers as they brainstormed.
“I’ll be your official model and spokesperson! I have a few things you’ve made me over the years, and I’ll be sure to wear them, and tell everyone how durable they are, too. Durability is a key issue for dancers.” Sweat and rubbing body parts were hell on materials.
“I think starting with the dance community is great, but I need to do more. That isn’t enough business.” Samair chewed a piece of ginger chicken before rambling on. “I need to find a way to get the word out about custom lingerie, too. I know I’m not the only woman with hips and a big ass out there that wants to wear sexy underwear and not feel like an idiot.”
“What about a catalogue?” She could leave one at the studio where she taught, and drop them off at every audition she went to. Soon they’d be all over the city. “And a website?”
But Sam was quick to nix that idea.
“Too expensive. I have enough savings that, if you agree to let me stay here, I won’t have to look for a day job for a couple of months. But only if I’m smart about where I spend.”
“Mi casa es su casa.” She waved her fork blithely. The place wasn’t big, but she didn’t need a lot of room and it was nice to have Sammie around again.
Samair grinned her thanks. “You know that means you get your outfits for free.”
“Yes!”
“I want to make some low slung black velvet hip hugger pants to go with the purple bra, too. Will you wear them to the club when you dance and tell all your friends to order some?”
“Ohh, velvet pants,” she cooed. “Very cool. And for sure I’ll push them for you. Okay, a catalogue-online or print- is out for now, but you need business cards for sure! I can do some up for you on the computer as soon as we come up with a lab
el.”
Samair nibbled on her bottom lip. “What do you think of Trouble?”
“It’s perfect.” She set down her fork and raised her glass of Diet Coke in salute. “To doing what we were meant to do, and mucho success for Trouble!”
9
Val stood in the shadowed corner watching Samair as she danced. Things were pretty hectic the last few days with staff problems, Vera calling, and a visit to the courthouse to testify about a fight that had happened outside the club six months earlier. All normal things, but everything seemed to be happening at once, and the curvaceous blonde had popped into his head at odd times. He’d be doing the schedules or on the phone with his liquor vendor and the image of her on his desk, all angelic and naughty at the same time would fill his mind.
He hadn’t lied when he told Karl he wasn’t going to let her distract him, but he’d been able to think of nothing other than learning more of her secret fantasies since she’d walked into Risqué that night.
The club was pretty busy for a Monday night and he’d watched from his office as she laughed and danced with her friends until the itch under his skin became undeniable. After a quick round of the club, checking in with his doormen and bartenders to see that all was well, he’d found a corner and searched her out with his gaze.
A soft pink top hugged her upper body and showed off her fantastic cleavage, and some long, flowing skirt hid the curve of her delectable ass. Her breasts bounced and her skirt swung as she danced with an enthusiasm and abandon that called to the animal deep within him.
As if she sensed his thoughts, she spun around and her gaze landed directly on him. On the corner where he stood.
There was no way she could see him in the darkened corner, but she knew someone was there, watching her. A defiant and blatantly devilish grin spread across her face and she shook her ass, rubbing back against her partner. The challenge in her gaze was clear. She was out to have a good time, and nothing was going to get in her way.
Raising her hands, she spun in her partner’s arms, did a last rub against him, then walked away, leaving the loser who’d been trying to make a move on her behind on the dance floor.
The thrill of the chase fired up inside him and he stepped out of the shadows to follow her. If she really wanted to misbehave, he was the man for her.
He saw her at the back bar and moved in that direction. When he stepped up behind her, Tommy was just sliding her drink in front of her. With a shake of his head Val signaled the bartender to refuse her money. Before she could turn around, he leaned in and spoke softly against her ear. “What’s number two?”
She did a tight turn, her body brushing erotically against his, and looked up at him. “Number two?”
“On your list of sexual fantasies.”
“Oh, that.” Her baby blue eyes met his dead on. “You thinking of helping me experience another?”
“Possibly.”
Her little pink tongue snuck out and slid slowly over her pouty bottom lip, making his cock twitch with need.
Samair saw the flare of heat in Valentine’s dark eyes and an answering flame licked at her insides. The urge to dance close to the fire had her reaching out to place a hand low on his belly. His stomach contracted and heat seeped through the silk of his dress shirt to her fingertips, invading her body.
“I’m not so sure ‘possibly’ is good enough. You’re asking me to share some of my deepest desires. They’re very personal.” She struggled to keep her voice light and flirtatious.
“How about we make a little deal?”
“Deal?”
He moved closer, leaving mere millimeters of space between their bodies as he reached up to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek. “You tell me your fantasies, and I’ll make them come true.”
Samair swallowed. Her heart pounded and her insides melted at his touch. She’d known from the first time she set eyes on him that he was a powerful man. Her time in his office, in his arms, had made her hyper aware of just what kind of passion she’d been missing out on. This was no boy to be toyed with. If she said yes, there was no backing out. Mind you, he was offering her sex not love, and not a relationship. He was offering her the perfect affair.
Valentine Ward was all man. Just being near him set her body to humming with erotic anticipation. His words promised untold pleasures and his steady gaze made it clear he was confident in his abilities to follow through.
Yet, she couldn’t help but try to push a button or two of her own. She smiled slowly and lifted a hand to toy with the button at his neck. “Promises, promises.”
He stepped back and tucked his hands into his pockets. His hooded gaze ran over her, making all her pleasure points tingle, and threw out a challenge of his own. “Are you brave enough to see if I can keep my promises?”
Nope, definitely not a boy.
A thrill ripped through her at the prospect of having this man willing to do whatever she wanted. “Right now my fantasy is to have you on your knees, with your face buried between my thighs.”
“Done.”
10
Excitement swamped Samair as Val took her by the elbow and led her confidently through the crowd. Heart racing, nipples hardening, body softening in all the right places, she was ready to play.
They passed by the dance floor and Samair glanced over the crowd. Joey was watching her from the cage not ten feet away. Samair flashed her a thumb’s-up and went back to concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
As far as sexual fantasies went, oral sex wasn’t real daring. But it was the first thing to pop into her head and out of her mouth. Thinking straight when Val was standing right in front of her, offering to make her every fantasy come true, was a hard thing to do.
He was basically a stranger, and for sure only interested in sex, but she couldn’t seem to say no. And why should she? She’d already made the decision to start living life, and going after what she wanted. He’d seen her naked and panting before, he knew she was overweight, and he still wanted more. She hadn’t gone to him—he’d come to her.
She’d have to be a freaking imbecile to say no!
Instead of going up the stairs to his office, the way she expected, he directed her underneath them to a dark door that blended with the wall.
Without a word he pulled a set of keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door and ushered her in. The room was dimly lit, and Samair was shocked to see how large it was.
Plump sofas and low chairs were scattered about the floor space, and a small bar in the far corner told her the room was used for private parties.
A window that was about three feet high ran the length of one wall and when Samair stepped closer, she realized that the window was actually the mirror that ran the length of the dance floor.
“Wow,” she whispered. “I never even knew this was here.”
“It’s mostly used for bachelor parties and such, but right now, it’s perfect for what I have in mind.” He stepped behind her, one strong arm circling her waist, his other hand tangling in her hair and pulling her head back for his kiss.
His body pressed full length against her backside while his lips covered hers. All thought fled from her brain as her lips parted naturally and she drank in the taste of Val.
She tried to turn his arms, but he held her tight to him. His hardening cock pressed against her butt and she arched into it, wiggling and pressing back. Wanting to forget about the oral sex fantasy and just be taken by him. Filled by him.
“Hands on the window,” he said, scraping his teeth lightly across her cheek to her ear. He nipped at the fleshy lobe and goose bumps rose on her skin. “And don’t move them.”
His arm slid from around her waist and his chest scraped along her backside as he sank to his knees behind her. A gasp escaped when firm hands clasped her ankles and urged her feet back and out. Before she knew it she was bent forward at the waist, her hands on the window keeping her standing as firm hands slid up her outer thighs, lifting her skirt.<
br />
“Very nice,” he said when her pink velvet thong was exposed. His words had hot breath whispering over her buttocks and a tremor of pure want ran trough her while he quickly got rid of the panties.
Samair lifted her head and focused on the tableau of dancers through the one-way mirror. She was afraid if she didn’t that her knees would give out too soon, and she wouldn’t get what she’d really been craving. Val’s mouth on her body.
His hands ran up and down her legs, and then over her rounded butt, lifting and squeezing her cheeks. Hot air landed on her exposed pussy lips a split second before a firm wet tongue speared between them. A joyous cry leapt from her throat and her knees trembled.
Val’s grip was strong on her hips, his head thrust between her thighs as he showed no mercy. This was no gentle seduction. His mouth was firm, open, and hungry. His thumbs spread her wide, his tongue thrust deep, and his teeth nipped teasingly. A thrilling mix of pain and pleasure whipped through her and her head fell forward, eyes closed. Who was she kidding? Nothing could distract her from what he was doing.
She was no innocent; men had eaten her out before. But she’d always felt too self-conscious to lay there stretched out in such a vulnerable position and stopped them after just a few minutes. Maybe it was standing up that made this so much better. Maybe it was facing the wall. Maybe it was Val, and his blatant enjoyment for what he was doing. She didn’t really care.
All she cared about was what she was feeling.
A finger circled her clit and his tongue toyed with her entrance, dipping in and out. Arousal coiled low in her belly and she arched her back, giving him better access. The pressure on her clit intensified and she ground down on him, her whole body straining toward the orgasm that was so close. Her fingers curled against the glass, trying to grab hold of something solid as the sensations built to an unbearable level and pleasure exploded through her. With a victorious cry she welcomed wave after wave of sensation as it flooded her mind and body.