by Unknown
The lights came on in a nova burst that only stage illumination can produce. Momentarily blinded, I struck my starting pose and showed off my costume. The number had me in a fancy ball gown the color of midnight. Sequins and jewels lined the whole thing, capturing the light and fracturing it into an eye dazzling glamour.
The music was all sass and strumpet, easy to move to. I tried not to look at the audience and concentrated on the thump of the bass, letting my hips bump with its beat. Strutting up to the footlights, I motioned a man from the audience forward. He’d been selected by the ticketing staff before the show started and coached on what to do, but no one else knew that. To outsiders, it all looked very titillating and raised the idea that they, too may be called forth to participate in my striptease. The threat or promise of that heightened the tension in the room nicely. I’d seen Lilli do it a hundred times.
I held out my hand, extending each finger in turn. The man smiled with glee as he leaned forward to grab the tip of my glove in his teeth. We pulled against each other in time with the music. With my other hand I jerked the glove off my elbow and toward my wrist, doing my best to evoke the double entendre of a hand job.
“Every movement has to be sexual,” Lilli had said time and time again. She had to say it a lot because my performance lacked in that arena. I wasn’t a sex kitten like Lilli. I had to work at it. She wore her sexuality like an accessory, whereas mine had to be excavated like the most ancient of archeological digs. God only knew how I was going to get through this performance.
My glove came free and the man took it back to his seat, grinning ear-to-ear in triumph. I saw it off with a forward pelvic thrust. The other glove I removed myself. First, I caressed my arm, rubbing and circling my flesh with my hand, inviting the audience to wonder what it would feel like if they touched me or if I touched them. Then I used my teeth to pull each finger free. The long trumpet note was my cue to arch back, arm held overhead as I pulled the glove off, miming the trumpet player the whole time.
Standing upright, I twirled the glove and then, taking the other end, pulled it taut to rub between my breasts. This made the audience hoot, although I saw more than one woman cover their mouths in embarrassment.
“You’re never as naked as the audience,” was another thing Lilli liked to say. She talked about psychology a lot. “Burlesque is all about confronting the pictures in people’s heads with reality. They think they know what to expect, especially with a big, lush girl like me, but I always surprise.”
I tossed the glove aside. Turning my back to the audience I bent over and raised my skirts a little past my knees. They couldn’t see much through my dress, but imagination was a powerful thing. Just the hint of the roundness of my ass was enough to make their minds spin. Sashaying with the music, I worked the stage as I pulled off my dress. The audience held its collective breath in anticipation and I felt a surge of power from the attention. All eyes were on me, waiting to see what I would do next.
I’m doing it. I’m really doing it. No one has even booed me yet.
A little drunk with power, I toyed with them, pulling my sleeve down to reveal the curve of my breast and then back up again. I did it over and over until the audience began to shout and grow restless. Finally I let the silk dress drop. Underneath I wore a corset and a little fringe skirt. Thigh highs gripped my legs. I felt exposed, but nowhere near as nervous as I expected. I was channeling Lilli, my burlesque fairy godmother.
The stage had worked its magic on me, and I sensed, once I stepped off, I would never be the same. Lilli had been right. For someone who used glitter like she wanted to become a second sun, she had an undeniable wisdom.
I kicked the dress to the stagehand waiting to catch it in the wings. Then, I strutted across the stage pausing every so many beats to circle my hips, my body’s way of saying ‘you know you want this’. My breathing quickened as I pulled the ribbons of my corset loose. With a start, I realized a wet warmth pulsed between my legs. I was turned on.
I stopped breathing all together as something in the wings caught my attention.
Blake was there, standing in my hiding spot. The one I’d stood in for months to watch his act. Now he was there and I was in his place. The look on his face was one of intense interest. His eyes burned over my body. We stared at each other, and I was so lost in his gaze I almost forgot to keep dancing. He raised his hands and applauded me silently.
His approval washed over me in a flush of heat. Somehow I kept going with the act, moving to center stage and pulling the remaining ribbons on my corset loose. What I really wanted to do was rush backstage...whether into his arms or to hide, I couldn’t decide.
Swallowing hard, I faced the audience and did a shimmy as I cast off the corset. The music was faster now. I had to concentrate to stay on beat. The fringe skirt came off next, leaving me in my bra and a sequined thong. I twirled the fringe skirt around my shoulders like a boa, rubbing and caressing my skin with it. Pulling it up and around, I covered my eyes and face.
“Now the audience can see your body but they can’t see your soul. You’re still hidden from them,” Lilli had explained to me. She’d made me watch YouTube clips of other burlesque dancers using this technique. It effectively maintained suspense even though the dancer was practically naked.
“Covering the eyes means you’re holding back, that you’re still in control, not them. Never give them all of you. Always hold something back.”
I peeked out between the fringe, flirting. The audience was really worked up now, whistling and cat calling in response to my striptease. Their adulation was a heady rush. Between the crowd and Blake, I was alive with frenetic energy that seemed to thump through me in time with the music. Desire tightened my belly as I thought of the darkly handsome magician.
Did my act make me desirable? Was he standing back there filled with lust watching me? At the thought, I cast my attention backstage and thrust my hips at him as if to ask ‘you want this?’ I was no skinny Minnie. I was a full-bodied woman with hips and breasts that threatened to spill out of any bra I tried to contain them in. Nothing could hold me back. Once unleashed, I would be a force to be reckoned with, my curves unstoppable. Blake’s eyes locked with mine and he gave a slow nod in acknowledgement.
In response, I bit my lip, a small flirtation that only he could see given that my back was to the audience. Boldly holding his gaze, I unhooked my bra, releasing my breasts. As I spun back toward the front of the stage, I paused to spin the tassels of the pasties covering my nipples at Blake. His eyes widened. I’d surprised him again, but then he smiled at me.
I was smiling too, a big silly grin of satisfaction. My tassels spun round and round with the last few bars of the music. I played with them, raising my hands over my head to reverse the tassels’ spin and then lowering my hands to make them switch directions again. The audience roared so loud, I couldn’t tell the music had stopped.
I stood there, basking in the exhilaration. I’d done it. The spotlight had shined on me and chased away all the shadows cast by my doubts. Yes, I was a quiet, retiring seamstress, but I could claim the role of strumpet temptress too.
And own it like a rock star.
Boo-freaking-yah.
Unable to hide a broad grin, I lifted a breast in each hand to the delight of the audience and swung the tassels one last time before strutting off stage.
Someone handed me Lilli’s robe and I shrugged it on as I worked to catch my breath, thankful that Stan had reduced Lilli’s act to just one number. I didn’t know if he was hedging his bets or taking it easy on me, but I was glad either way. She normally did three different stripteases and made it look easy. I’d done one number and felt like I’d run a marathon.
The MC took the stage again to introduce the final act; a showgirl revue with even fewer clothes on than me. The number had a pretty art nouveau aesthetic. I liked to watch it when I could, but tonight a hand reached out and spun me into a dark out-of-the-way corner. A hungry mouth pressed into m
ine.
I pushed against whoever it was, squealing against their lips, but they just captured both my hands and pinned them at my sides.
“Ruby,” whispered Blake, the rasp of his deep voice unmistakable.
“Blake?” I drew back my head. “What are you doing?”
“You promised me something, did you not?” His hand moved to briefly cup my breast, thumb grazing the pastie over one nipple.
My body responded instantly. My nipples tightened and pulled on my core. I sighed and leaned into him. Had I promised him anything? No. I didn’t know what I was doing enough to make such a specific promise. Teasing? Yes. Taunting? Sure. But a promise? No. Still, the man I had lusted over for months, who’d been my knight in shining armor just that morning was now kissing me and saying my name. I wasn’t going to complain. Other than to wish this had happened sooner.
He kissed me again and this time I opened my mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep inside. Still kissing me, he pulled me through the stage and the hallway to a door leading outside.
“Come on.” He tugged my hand.
Another hand unexpectedly grabbed my free hand and pulled me back. I stumbled, which caused Blake to lose his grip on me. We both turned around to see what had happened.
“You owe me a kiss, Ruby,” came the familiar voice of Clark.
I groaned. “This again?” I faced the crewman with a glare. “Let it go, man. It’s not going to happen.”
“I won’t let it happen,” Blake said, his voice low with anger. “Did you forget this morning’s lesson?”
“No. I think you’ll find I did some studying.” Clark’s lips twisted in a malicious grin and he brandished a small gun. “She comes with me, magic man, and you’ll let her go unless you want to see what Swiss cheese feels like.”
The sight of the gun set my heart racing. I glanced at Blake with wide eyes, but he looked cool as ever. I hoped that meant he had a plan or at least a magic trick that could beat a gun up his sleeve. A disappearing act might come in handy.
Blake moved toward Clark, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Clark pulled me closer against him, until the smell of his sweat filled my nose. I twisted my wrist in his grasp, trying to break free and considered my options. In New York, I’d taken a self defense class that had advised us to ram our heel into an assailant’s instep and smash their faces with our heads.
I sized Clark up, trying to gauge whether I could really hurt the burly man.
“Let her go,” Blake said.
“Go away,” Clark countered. The gun clicked as he released the safety.
Blake and I exchanged glances. Apparently, the Cirque had a psycho on staff and he’d fixated on me. Lovely.
“I’ll do it,” I said wondering how I kept agreeing to such preposterous schemes. First Lilli’s act, now this. I had a real penchant for trouble. “But you have to give Blake the gun.”
“Ruby--” Blake began.
I cut him off. “I want this to go away. If all he wants is a kiss, then so be it.” To Clark I said, “I mean it, give him the gun and I’ll kiss you.”
“No lie?”
“No lie.”
Clark hesitated for a moment and then handed over the gun, which Blake pocketed smoothly, like he’d done it a hundred times before.
Everything happened so fast after that. I moved to keep my promise, but Blake was there, inserting himself between us. Shoving me away, he slammed his fist into Clark’s face several times. I heard the crunch of bone.
Clark dropped to the ground, howling. “You broke my nose, asshole.”
“You okay, Ruby?” Blake looked at me and shook his punching hand with a grimace.
I looked from Clark to Blake and back again. “I--what just happened?”
“I couldn’t let him kiss you. That kind of guy, you give him an inch he’ll take a mile.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He flexed his hand. “Just a little banged up. Clark’s a gnat compared to some of the guys I’ve gone up against.”
“You fight a lot?” I couldn’t reconcile the debonair magician facade with the sudden appearance of a rowdy street fighter underneath.
“I boxed in the military and I’ve done a lot of mixed martial arts. I even thought about UFC for a while, but decided I liked the way my nose looked too much to rearrange it.” Blake flashed a smile at me, but his eyes stayed on Clark.
I gaped at him. “You’re ex-military?”
He gave me a little salute. “Served two tours in Iraq before getting out and getting on with my life.”
“Wow. I had no idea.” Blake was just full of surprises.
“It’s not something I talk about much.” He crooked his elbow. “Shall we? I think he’s down for the count and we’ll want to be elsewhere when he recovers.”
I looped my arm through his and we started to take off, but Clark stopped us short with a loud groan. “You’ll pay for this, magic man.”
Blake held me close and said over his shoulder, “You pull that kind of bullshit on Ruby again and I won’t stop with your nose.”
“Fuck you, man,” snarled Clark. He was awfully feisty for a guy who’d just taken a pounding.
Blake let me go and squatted next to Clark. First, he punched him again in the face, making the crewman squeal in pain. Then he said, “Walk away while you still can.”
Standing up, he dusted off his hands and then hooked elbows with me to lead the way to his trailer.
“Thank you,” I said even though the words seemed inadequate.
He patted my arm and guided me in the direction of his trailer. “I’m glad I was there.”
“Me too.” I didn’t want to think about what would have happened without Blake there to rescue me. “Should we call the police?” I stopped walking as the thought struck me.
Blake shrugged. “It’s up to you, but I wouldn’t worry too much. He’ll be working teardown all night and ship out at dawn with the rest of the crew.”
“But he had a gun. Shouldn’t we tell someone?”
“It’s just a prop gun from the clown act.” Blake took it out of his pocket and pulled the trigger.
I flinched, but then relaxed when a little flag popped out with the word ‘Bang’ written on it. “Oh my God. What was he thinking?”
“Not the brightest bulb, Clark.” Blake tugged me forward with gentle pressure on my arm and we resumed walking. “He’s determined, but not particularly dangerous. I’ve seen his type, and even if he has time to bother you, he won’t because you’ll be with me.”
“I will?” I frowned at him, confused by this new Blake who paid so much attention to me.
“Yeah, you will. At least, I hope you’ll be with me.” We arrived at Blake’s sleek black trailer and he unlocked the door. “After you,” he said with a flourish of his hand.
I crossed the threshold with tentative steps. No one went inside Blake Cannon’s trailer. Everyone knew that. The crew were afraid to even knock on the door. Yet he ushered me in like he had people over all the time.
I wanted to look around, to see the sanctum sanctorum of a man like Blake, but he didn’t give me a chance. The second the door shut, he was on me, hands roaming over my curves. His lips crushed mine and he peeled the robe off my shoulders.
We hadn’t even made it past the kitchen area. In fact, I was braced against the counter.
“Blake--” I started, wanting to suggest we find a soft place to land.
He ignored me and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, making further conversation impossible. His hands snuck inside my robe and went to my breasts, cupping them, lifting them up and then letting them fall. The tassels swayed back and forth, pulling on the nipple underneath. I moaned as his fingers went to remove the pasties.
“Let me help,” I managed to say between his kisses. There was a process to pastie removal, but Blake didn’t care. He ripped the pasties off, ignoring my shriek of protest. I squirmed, wanting to free my arms, but all I managed to do was rub against the erecti
on in his pants. Wetness flooded me as I imagined him filling me up and pumping me to satisfaction.
Oh God, yes.
My nipples now naked, Blake dipped his head and wrapped his lips around one. Grimacing, he immediately released it.
That made me laugh. “Glue boob.” It took a lot of latex glue to avoid nip slips.
He arched an eyebrow at me. He hadn’t turned on any lights, but some illumination filtered in through the little window over his kitchen sink. The shadows made his already dark looks appear diabolically sexy.
“I haven’t eaten glue since I was five.” He shifted me over to the side and ran the water in the sink. Wetting a washrag with his free hand, he brought it to my breasts and began to scrub.
I tried to move again. “Here let me,” I offered.
He shook his head. “I’ll take care of it.” His hand tightened around my wrists. A little thrill went through me at the movement. I loved that he could hold me down with one hand, that his hands were big enough to contain me.
My nipples tingled at first, but, as he increased the pressure, the sensation escalated until the nub at my core began to pulse with hot desire. I moaned and my knees sagged, forcing me to lean back against the counter, grateful for its support. The rough pleasure of the wash rag, scrubbing my nipples up and down, shivered through me in waves. My flesh contracted into tighter and tighter points.
When he was satisfied the glue had been removed, he guided a nipple into his mouth and sucked. The hot velvet of his mouth was a stark contrast to the cold abrasion of the washrag. I arched against him and sighed. This was heaven.
“Why?” I asked him, running my hands through his hair and clutching him against my breast. “Why now?” I’d watched him for six months with wide goo-goo eyes, but he’d been as impassive as stone. What had changed?
He let my nipple go and said, “Because it’s the last night.”
“Love me and leave me?” I half joked, but the punch line hurt. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
“What’s not to like?” He hefted a breast in each hand and squeezed.