“How many other girls, like Cathy, have you left in all the towns you have passed through over the years?”
He threw his garment bag to the ground. “Jesus, what in the hell is the matter with you? Why are you turning some twisted girl’s fantasy about me into my fault? She hit on me the other night at a bar. She is the one who wanted to come back to my room and ….” He stopped and shook his head. “I don’t lead women on, Allison. I don’t tell them things they need to hear so I can get them into bed. If anything, they’re the ones sneaking out of my room before sunrise so they don’t have to wake up with me. Being a male stripper makes you an intriguing one-night stand, not dating material. Once a woman finds out what I am, she treats me like a meaningless fuck. I’m the one considered not worthy enough to have a relationship with, and I’m sick of feeling worthless.”
Al stared into his blue eyes, weighing his words. “That’s why you don’t tell anyone what you do, isn’t it?”
Furious that he had shared such intimate feelings with her, Grady snatched up his bag and marched toward the neutral ground that divided Esplanade Avenue. He was heading for the French Quarter when Al came running up to him.
“Wait, Grady. Don’t walk away angry. I didn’t mean to—”
“To what? Judge me?” He turned to her. “Do you know how it feels for people to judge you before you even open your mouth?” He waved his hand down her body. “When people find out what you do, you earn their respect. When they find out what I do, I earn their disgust. Thanks for all of your help.”
He was about to storm off when Al placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was judging you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He studied the traffic on the busy street. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I will worry about it. I don’t want you to think … that show of yours starts at eleven, right?”
He nodded, but did not look at her.
“You’d better make it real damn good, if you plan on changing my mind.”
Grady’s resentment eased, and he faced her. “Are you sure?”
She let go of his arm. “I’ll be there. I promise.”
He blew out a breath, letting go of his frustration. “All right, Allison. I’ll be watching for you.”
He admired the contours of her face and the attraction that had plagued him, since he had first set eyes on Al, turned from a spark into a full on bonfire. In a matter of seconds, he had gone from wanting her to caring for her. The shift in his feelings worried, more than excited, Grady.
How could such an amazing woman ever care for a man like me?
As he mulled over the expression in her gray eyes, he noticed a slight change in them. No longer did he see the glare of cold contempt in her unsettling orbs; now there was a glint of genuine warmth. It was the first time he could remember sensing anything like that from her. Until he had seen the change in her, he would never have thought he stood a chance. Grady believed the winds of fate had shifted his way, and that the recalcitrant Allison Wagner was beginning to see the man and not the G-string.
Chapter 7
For the third time in an hour, Grady made the trek from his dressing room to the side stage door to check the pit for Al. He had cracked the door and was scanning the crowd for her head of long, blonde hair. Even so, the dim lights set over the pit area made it impossible to see much of anything. Dressed in his tuxedo, he had less than ten minutes to go before his act was due on stage. He was dabbing his forehead with a towel and trying not to soak his costume in sweat before he went out under the bright lights.
“Who you are looking for?” Lewis asked, coming up to him. “Have you got another club owner coming to check you out?”
Lewis had donned his second costume for the night: a black biker outfit with black leather pants, a black leather jacket, red bandana, and dark sunglasses.
Grady tossed the towel to a backstage chair. “No, a friend is coming.”
“A friend that makes you sweat like that?” He peered over Grady’s shoulder into the crowd of women. “Who is she?”
“Damn, I can’t find her,” Grady admitted.
“Give me a description and a name,” Lewis demanded.
Grady glanced back at him. “Why?”
“I’ll tell Teddy, the bouncer, to let your girlfriend in for free.”
“Friend, not girlfriend. Actually … she’s my landlord.”
Lewis chuckled and slapped Grady’s back. “You’re kidding? You invited your landlord here? Does she know what you do?”
“Yeah, she knows.”
“What does the hag look like?” Lewis joked.
“Al’s not a hag. She’s petite with long, blonde hair, deep gray eyes that always look like they don’t approve of me, round face, pale, creamy skin, high cheekbones, and a toned body. She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a light blue silk blouse when she left the house.”
Lewis stared at him, his deep brown eyes looking thoroughly amused. “That’s a rather detailed description for someone who is just a friend.”
“Let’s just say she’s a friend, for now. I’m hoping for more.”
Lewis pointed to Grady’s face. “I guess that explains the sweat.” He pushed the stage door open. “I’ll go and give Teddy your detailed description. He used to be a PI before he became a bouncer, so if she’s here, he’ll know.”
Lewis slipped through the stage door. He stayed in the shadows along the bar and made his way around the pillars in front to the entrance.
Grady closed the door and felt another trickle of sweat on his face. “I feel like I’m sixteen again, going to my first prom,” he mumbled.
He retrieved the towel he had tossed to a nearby chair and quickly wiped his face. “Shit, I’ve got to get it together.”
“Paulson,” a deep, stormy voice called from the off stage area behind him. “You need to get ready.”
Grady threw the towel back on the chair and went to the entrance that led to the stage. As he approached, Colin blocked his way. “You should’ve been up ready to go when I came off stage five minutes ago. Don’t make me come looking for you again.”
Grady nodded, attempting to go around the man’s thick body. “Won’t happen again, Colin.”
Colin did not budge. “See that it doesn’t, Paulson.” He pulled at the black bow tie around his neck, snapping it off. “You traveling geeks always think you own the show.”
“No, Colin, we leave that to you headliners.” Grady scrambled around him.
Suddenly, a mammoth hand reached for Grady’s shoulder. “Do we have a problem?”
Grady turned and shoved the man’s hand away. “Don’t push me, Colin, or we might just have a real big problem.”
The man’s dark eyes carefully calculated Grady’s angry scowl, and then he took a step back. “Get out there. The women are waiting.”
Heading to his mark right behind the red velvet curtains that led to the stage, Grady looked back at Colin waiting to the side and still wearing his red G-string. He had no intention of getting into a fight, but the man was pushing him, hard. Grady never let anyone get to him, especially not in a club, but if he had to, he would fight back. He had learned a long time ago that he had to stand up for himself on the circuit; otherwise, he would be cut to shreds by the other dancers.
Forget about that asshole, his voice of reason scolded. She is out there.
Grady heard his music start overhead. Blowing out a few deep breaths, he gripped the red velvet curtains. He counted off the beats to the peppy dance music in his head, and when he heard his cue, he rushed onto the stage.
First, the screaming pierced his ears as the hot lights hit his tuxedo and face. Then the repetition of the dance he had performed a thousand times—in a hundred different clubs—took over. As he seductively shook his hips, the shrill cries of women drowned out sections of his music. Unfazed, he danced on. He could dance his entire routine without a scrap of music and it would still be the same every time. Some da
ncers frequently changed their choreography and music to keep it fresh, but Grady had brushed off such updating, just like he had refused to make new costumes. To make any changes had simply meant this was a career, and not a temporary way to make ends meet.
As he stretched, swiveled, and strutted across the stage, his eyes kept searching the audience for Al. Unfortunately, he could not find her, so he made an extra effort with his performance in the hope that she was watching.
With every article of clothing he removed, the screaming grew louder. When he had only his tuxedo pants to pull away, his eyes traveled the audience in front of the stage for that unwilling victim to be his orgasm girl. Just when he was sizing up a likely candidate in the crowd, off to stage right, he spotted Al.
Sitting at a table at the far edge of the stage, she was nursing a drink in her hand and taking in the show. She appeared to be having a good time and was smiling up at him. Determined to get a little payback for what she did with Cathy, he slowly made his way across the stage to her table. When he hopped from the stage and landed next to her table, he saw Al’s eyes widen with surprise. He took her hand and urged her to the stage, but she refused to budge.
“What are you doing?” she shouted above the music and screaming.
“Showing you what I do.”
With a firm tug, he pulled her from her chair and practically lifted her onto the stage. He was amazed at her light weight in his arms, and when he placed her feet on the boards of the stage, he hated to let her go. She seemed uncomfortable when he approached, swinging his hips and keeping his eyes locked on hers. Unlike the other women he had brought on stage, she was not covering her face, turning red, giddily laughing, or trying to rip off his clothes. Al just stood there, her eyes riveted on his. She did not flinch when he rubbed up against her; Al simply put her hand on his bare chest and gave him the most seductive grin he had ever seen.
The noise around them drifted away, and Grady discovered he was not dancing for the audience anymore; he was dancing for her. Swaying next to her, he placed his hand behind her back and pulled her to him. Instead of moving in and then out, and trying to tease his orgasm victim with exaggerated thrusts, he stayed close to Al, holding on to her and gently rubbing up and down her sides with his hands. God, she felt so good. He lingered over her hips, and licked his lips when his hands rose up her waist to her breasts.
Al’s body swayed in time with his, and Grady reached for her leg, wrapping it around him, placing her crotch right over his cock. Al fell against him and he caught her in his arms. Then her eyes changed. They weren’t taunting him anymore. They were on fire with a tormenting desire that reached down to his very core and shattered his confidence. In that instant, he knew he would do anything to have her.
The tone of their dance changed. What had started out as playful turned intensely erotic. His hands caressed her back and round ass, becoming much more intimate than he had ever been with any other victim up on the stage. Al explored his thick chest and shoulders. When her hands reached around and clutched his butt, Grady closed his eyes and eased forward, reveling in the hint of perfume along her neck. His lips grazed her flesh, and Al responded by bending backward like a tree in an unforgiving wind. He was on fire for her. His hands ached to rip the clothes from her body and feel every inch of her soft skin.
“Woohoo! Go for it baby!” a woman’s voice screamed from the audience, snapping Grady from his daydream. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the hungry glare of the audience eating up their performance.
He gazed into her face, and whispered, “You are the most fascinating woman I’ve ever known.”
She raised her lips to his, stopping inches away from kissing him. “You don’t know me yet, Grady.”
He thrust his hips hard into her crotch. “I don’t, huh?”
She removed her leg from around his hip and stood back from him. “Not even close.”
When she turned from the stage and went back to her seat, the audience broke out in an exuberant applause.
Fighting to stay focused, Grady returned to his performance, ripping off his tuxedo pants and parading around in his G-string. The last few minutes he spent up on the stage, doing his sexy strut, he never took his eyes off Al. She had returned to her chair and was calmly sipping her drink, taking in the final moments of his show.
When the last notes from his music boomed from the speakers overhead, he quickly grabbed his clothes from the floor and hustled off stage, omitting his customary final bow. The second Grady walked off stage, he ran right into Matt Harrison.
“Now that was some hot shit!” Matt exclaimed, slapping his hand over Grady’s back. “The women out there went crazy watching the two of you. We should get that broad a job here.”
Grady refrained from telling Matt what he thought of his idea. Instead, he just put on his stage smile. “Glad you liked it.” He went around the club owner and was heading to the door that led to the dressing rooms when Matt called to him.
“Who was she? She looked familiar.”
Grady turned to face his boss. Keeping the anger from his voice, he said, “She was just a woman in the audience, Matt. I can do the same thing tomorrow night with someone else.”
Matt walked up to him. “Sure, kid. You do that.”
Grady ignored him and opened the hallway door to the dressing rooms. As he marched down the hall, Lewis passed him, ready to go on.
“I caught your show. Was that her?”
Grady fumbled with the clothes in his hands. “Yeah, that was her.”
“Nice looking lady,” Lewis told him. “Better hurry up and change before she leaves.”
Tightening his grip on his clothes, Grady went around him. “Thanks for the advice.”
“The answer to your question is, yes. She’s interested, Grady.”
Grady turned to him. “Interested … perhaps? Just not sure about me yet.”
Lewis shook his head, snickering. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”
Grady gave him a quizzical look. “What does?”
“Opening up to someone. The problem is that until you open up to her, she will never open up to you. It’s a hell of a dilemma, but I think you already know what you’re going to do about it.” Lewis headed toward the stage door at the end of the hallway, his white wings flapping behind him.
When Grady reached his dressing room, he hurriedly grabbed at his jeans and slid them on over his G-string. Forgoing his customary routine of reassembling his costume for the next night and wiping the oil from his body, he stuffed his outfits into his garment bag. Tossing the black dress shoes for his tuxedo and the silver boots from his other costume into the duffel bag, he grabbed for his blue T-shirt. With the T-shirt clinging to his sweaty, oily chest, he raced out of the dressing room and down the hall.
When he stepped from the backstage door, he searched the pit for Al, but she wasn’t at her table. He went to the bar and scanned the room, but he could not stay in one place for long before the eyes of the women in the pit began to notice him.
“She left,” one of the bartenders announced.
Grady edged closer to the bar. “Who left?”
A young man with thick, brown, wavy hair motioned to the entrance. “The woman you danced with, she left about five minutes ago,” he explained.
Without looking back, Grady bolted for the entrance. He gave a curt wave to Teddy, the burly bouncer, and bolted out the front doors. When his feet hit the sidewalk, his eyes frantically scoured up and down Bourbon Street for any trace of Al.
“Are you looking for me?” Al emerged from the shadows next to the entrance. “I thought I would wait out here for you. The noise and smoke in there was getting to me.”
He strolled up to her. “I thought you had left.”
She stood before him, taking in his handsome face. “Why would I leave?”
He pulled at the strap of the duffel bag. “Maybe you’re mad at me for pulling you up on stage like that.”
“If I was mad at you,
I would have left already, Grady.” She grinned. “I’m still here.”
He sucked in a relieved breath. “Yes, you are.”
Al gestured to the brightly lit entrance of The Flesh Factory “You were pretty good in there. I was impressed. Where did you learn to dance like that?”
He sheepishly smiled. “Ten years of tap and jazz at Mrs. Armstrong’s School of Dance.”
“What made you want to study dance?”
“I saw West Side Story on TV when I was six. I thought dancing would make me cool,” he disclosed with a casual shrug.
They stood beneath the lights of the club, staring into each other’s eyes. Grady wanted so much to pull her into his arms, but this wasn’t a stage, it was real life. In such a world, relationships took time to foster, and those awkward, unrehearsed moments between two people were the true showstoppers.
“Can I give you a lift home?” Al finally asked.
“You sure it’s not out of your way?”
“I think I might be heading in your direction.”
Grady held out his right arm to her. Al took it and spied the swollen pinkie on his hand.
“That didn’t seem to bother you tonight.”
Grady glimpsed his finger, and instantly the throbbing started up again. He thought it odd how he had been so preoccupied, waiting for her and then dancing with her on stage, that he had forgotten all about his finger.
“It’s fine,” he told her, escorting her along the street.
“It still needs to be taped.”
“Are you volunteering?”
She tightened her grip on his arm. “You could come back to my place, and I might even be able to offer you some pain reliever.”
“What do you suggest?”
She surveyed the people milling about Bourbon Street. “I have a beer and a bottle of vodka chilling in my fridge.”
“Sounds enticing. Maybe you could even show me your cupola.”
She laughed, and the light, airy sound made Grady’s insides smolder.
“You’re obsessed with my cupola.”
The Art of Sin Page 8