Operation Burlesque BBW Romance

by Michelle Fox

  Blake gestured toward the stairs leading up to the bedroom suites.“Okay, well that’s that. It’s getting late, I’m ready for bed. Ruby, you and I will meet here at seven a.m. to start working on the trick for the magic competition.”

  “Umm, Blake?” I leaned in close and lowered my voice. “I don’t have any clothes or a toothbrush, remember? I probably should go shopping tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “Make a list. I’ll get everything. I don’t want you leaving the Riad right now.” To the guys, he said, “Ruby’s had some trouble with men here harassing her. She’s the key to the magic competition, nothing can happen to her. You are to watch her back at all times, understood?”

  “Yes sir,” the men chorused in unison. They also gave him an actual salute. It was a casual finger-to-the-forehead salute, but still a salute.

  Everyone dispersed after that. The guys hauled large duffle bags to their rooms and I tried not to openly stare at their backsides as they walked down the hall. It was like Blake’s ass had been cloned.

  Blake snagged my hand and escorted me to my room saying, “For the sake of appearances we should sleep in our rooms.”

  “How long do we have to keep up appearances?” I asked. After our little romp that afternoon, I wanted more.

  He stepped inside my room and shut the door after him, assuring us of some privacy. “Not too long.” Blake kissed me, his lips soft, undemanding and promising nothing. It was the kind of kiss that would go nowhere.

  Disappointed, I pulled back and asked, “Tell me something. Are you the good guys or the bad guys?”

  “We’re the good guys.”

  I sighed in relief. “Promise?”

  Blake raised his hand. “I swear.” He paused for a second. “What if I’d said the bad guys?”

  I leaned into him. “I don’t think I can say no to you.”

  He ducked his head to whisper in my ear, “Same here.”

  “We’re in so much trouble.”

  “You may be right.” His tone was light but his expression grew somber.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, Blake woke me bright and early with a loud knock at my door. The sun still hadn’t cracked the horizon yet, which combined with jetlag, made me feel off kilter. I dressed in the caftan again, finger combed my hair and scrubbed my teeth with a washcloth. Then I made my way downstairs, my stomach urging me on with a growl. In the dining room, I gulped down two cups of coffee and enjoyed some eggs with a side of fresh fruit.

  Blake was there along with the guys and conversation consisted mostly of ‘good morning’ and ‘please pass the salt.’ From all the furtive looks and awkward silences, it seemed to me that everyone was careful to keep things banal and unimportant. I followed suit, wondering if their secrets were worse than mine. After we ate, Blake and I convened in the living room while the guys traipsed out the door with a loud goodbye as they left to run errands, which included buying me some clothes.

  I’d been nervous about what they would buy for me, visions of ugly muumuus dancing in my head, but the bald guy, Mark, assured me he had sisters who were big girls. Plus, being the baby of the family he’d been clothes shopping with them all his life. He swore he would find me something decent. I gave him a detailed list of cuts and sizes anyway. Between Mark’s alleged expertise and my notes, I hoped they would return with something half way okay for me to wear.

  Blake perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair and waved a hand at me until he caught my attention. “We’re going to do an illusion. A striptease where the clothes just disappear.” He snapped his fingers. “Like magic.”

  I sipped my coffee and watched Blake from where I sat on the couch. “How are we going to do that?”

  “With math and engineering, but, first, we need to figure out the choreography.” He pulled out his phone and soon had some bump-and-grind music playing. “Show me how you would move with the music.”

  I gave a helpless shrug. “Lilli was the dancer. I was just the seamstress.”

  “Bullshit. I saw you on the stage that last night. You have a dance vocabulary, speak to me.” He crossed his arms.

  Setting aside my coffee, I stood in the center of the living room. My eyes closed, I listened to the thump of the bass and the crescendo of a passionate saxophone. Following the music, I started with some hip thrusts and soon was moving freely. Blake had me dance several times in a row, allowing me to explore the music without comment. Then, he began to edit my movements to fit with his trick.

  Not even an hour in and I was covered with sweat and short of breath. Blake, of course, looked cool and composed in his khaki pants and white linen shirt. The top two buttons were undone and I keep thinking about slipping my hands under the fabric to feel the heat of his smooth skin. It was hard to focus when every bump and grind made me think of the two of us in bed. We carried an electrical charge between us and it kept zapping me. I gave my head a little shake, trying to get my thoughts out of the gutter.“When is the performance?”

  “Tomorrow night.” He laughed at my gasp of horror. “Don’t worry, Ruby. We’ll be ready.”

  I cocked my head and frowned. “It’s a competition, right? Don’t you want to win?”

  Blake waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not there to win. I’m looking for something other than a trophy. We just have to fit in.”

  I looked at him confused. “What’s the point then?” What was at a magic competition except for magic tricks?

  “Don’t worry about it, just learn your part.”

  “Is this another thing you can’t tell me?” I put my hands on my hips and gave him a look.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Blake watched me, his eyes steady. “You okay with that?”

  “Well, I guess so.” I spread my arms and let them fall to my sides. “Do I have a choice?”

  He shook his head and then changed the subject. “All right, I think we’re ready to try this with your costume. Let me go get it.” He disappeared for a moment and returned shortly with a red velvet gown over his arm.

  I took it from him, running my hand over the soft fabric. The dress was fit for a queen. The bodice was a mix of velvet and rich silk brocade, beaded and sequined almost to the point of being visible in outer space. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “A ruby dress for my Ruby,” Blake said with a crooked smile. “I’m glad you like it. See if it fits.”

  I stepped into the guest bathroom off the front entrance to the Riad and put the dress on. It fit perfectly as if Blake had memorized my measurements. The bodice pushed my breasts up high and cinched in my waist.

  He gave a low whistle when he saw me. “Gorgeous. Just like I knew you would be.”

  The heat of a blush burned my cheeks. He crossed the room to where I stood and pulled me close for a kiss. The smell of his aftershave hit my senses and I inhaled deeply, taking my fill.

  “If we had more time, I would take you upstairs and do wicked, terrible things to you,” he said between kisses.

  I moaned as his tongue stroked mine. Breaking our kiss, I said, “How much time do we have?”

  “Maybe ten minutes.”

  I sank to my knees before him.

  Blake tried to stop my descent, to pull me back up, but I was too far down to reverse course. “Ruby, this isn’t a good idea. There’s not enough time and the servants...”

  I cut him off. “We’re alone, the staff are at the market picking up the food for lunch, remember? And ten minutes is more than enough time.” I undid his belt and yanked down his pants. As usual, he wore no underwear and his shaft was already hard. “You’re not the only one who can do wicked things.”

  With that, I wrapped my lips tight around his shaft, sliding over the head and down as far as I could go. One hand went to cup his ass, the other his balls. Blake groaned softly and arched toward my mouth.

  “Suck me, baby.”

  I took him deeper and sucked for all I was worth. His shaft jumped in my mouth.

  “Ruby.” He dr
ew my name out like a plea.

  I scraped the sensitive skin covering his hard length with my teeth. His whole body flexed at the sensation and I soothed him by swirling my tongue around and around his shaft. Blake hissed and his hands went to skim the crown of my head, exerting gentle forward pressure for me to take even more of him.

  Soon we were rocking in tandem and he came with a guttural cry. I drank him down, relishing the power over his pleasure. When he was done, I carefully pulled up his pants, tucked him inside and zipped, buttoned and buckled everything up.

  Taking the hand he offered, I pulled myself to my feet. Before I could say a word, his lips covered mine and he backed me into a wall as his hands dived under my skirt, seeking out the heat pulsing between my legs. I widened my stance to give him easier access and moaned when his fingers found my sensitive nub. He kneeled down and added his tongue to the assault on my senses. When the fingers of his other hand thrust into my wet passage, I lost the ability to breath. He worked my core with steady, sure strokes while his fingers danced inside me.

  Within seconds, I was a panting mess. I ground into his hand as his tongue ravished my core. I came with a sharp cry and then slumped as all the tension left my body.

  Blake guided me to a chair then and let me collapse there while I caught my breath. He seemed a little winded himself and sank into the couch, his eyes heavy lidded.

  The sound of a door opening and closing caused us to freeze. We looked at each other with wide eyes. Metal clanked on metal somewhere in the kitchen and water ran in the sink.

  “The cook,” I said softly.

  “The cook,” he echoed.

  “That was close.”

  “Yeah, wicked close.” Blake smiled and I laughed.

  We rested for a few more minutes and then Blake waved me up. “Come stand in the middle of the room. We’ve got work to do.”

  I stood where he indicated and zoned out as he worked around me. Our interlude had left me lethargic. It didn’t help that I couldn’t understand half of what he did. There were thin strands of wire, fishing line and mirrors. Now that I was inside the trick, I found magic to be dull and boring. Instead of mystery and wonder, it was full of precision and science and OCD attention to detail. It became a chore of holding still and pulling the correct wire at the right time.

  Once he was satisfied with the set up, he played the music again. “Let’s try this out.”

  I danced and he did his magician thing, waving his hands and making it look like he was in charge of the striptease. I navigated the mechanics of the trick with some difficulty, but as we practiced over and over again the rough edges of the trick smoothed out. Soon, I was stripping down to my underwear like magicians had been undressing me all my life.

  After another run through, he said, “I think we’ve almost got t. We just need the corset and thong that go under your dress. They should be here tonight and then I’ll show you the finale of the trick.”

  “You mean there’s more?” I didn’t like how close we were cutting it. The show was tomorrow and I didn’t even know the end of the act yet.

  “Yep. You’re going to disappear right in front of their eyes.”

  “How are you going to do that?” I pulled the dress back on. So far the staff had stayed out of sight, but I remained nervous about someone catching me half naked.

  He put a finger to his lips. “Watch and see if you can figure it out.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is this some kind of bet?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s the prize if I figure it out?”

  Blake stepped close to me, hands skimming my curves. He tucked my hair behind my ear and leaned down to whisper, “More screams than you can count.”

  His words went right to the dark, wet place at my core. I set my head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent and the reassuring strength of his lean physique.

  Just as I was about to ask him if we could take a break, one that involved both of us naked in bed, Blake pulled away. “Now, let’s run it again.”

  With a resigned sigh, I took my position in the middle of the room. I was tired, but knew we needed to get this trick down as soon as possible. We worked through lunch, relying on our breakfast to carry us through the afternoon, but finally called it quits around three.

  I changed back into Blake’s clothes while the cook set fresh fruit and yogurt sweetened with honey on the dining room table for us. It was more of a snack than a meal, but I found the cool fruit to be refreshing. The cook served us steaming hot tea as well and when I made a face at the prospect of drinking something so hot, Blake chuckled.

  “It’s considered rude to drink less than three cups, and, if the tea isn’t hot, it’s no good.” He downed his in one gulp, apparently immune to the tea’s scalding hot temperature.

  I took a polite sip, wincing as a bitter mint flavor hit my taste buds.

  Blake raised his cup to me. “The desert nomads here have a saying: The first cup is to be harsh as death, the second sweet as life and the third light as love, but all three must be hotter than hell.”

  I took another sip, trying to ignore the bitterness this time.“How do you know this?”

  He smiled. “I did some research before I came here.”

  The cook came out and filled his cup a second time and then added a heaping spoonful of sugar to it. I tried to hurry up and finish mine so he could pour my second cup at the same time, but the tea was just too hot.

  The cook, an older man with a graying mustache, gave me a disapproving look and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Is he going to poison my food now?” I asked as I finally, hallelujah, finished the last of my tea. Its acrid flavor permeated my tongue, worse than burnt coffee. Ugh. Apparently, I wasn’t a huge fan of mint tea. At least not the way they brewed it in Morocco.

  “I’m sure he’s used to foreigners.” Blake snapped his fingers and the cook reappeared to fill my cup again. He put markedly less sugar in it, probably to punish me for being so slow.

  This time when I sipped, I found the tea hot as ever, but the flavor was that of sweet mint. I was sweating now and alternated sips of the tea with bites of cool fruit, all while Blake watched me with open amusement.

  The third cup of tea didn’t taste any different from the second. If it was as light as love, I couldn’t tell. “This is a really hot tradition,” I said as I finished the last of my tea. I fanned myself.“Am I allowed to have some ice water or would that be rude?”

  “I’m sure I can arrange something.” Blake stepped into the kitchen and returned with a pitcher full of water, ice and fresh lemon. He poured me a big glass, which I drank in one gulp.

  “Why do you think the tea has to be so hot?”

  Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they figure if they make themselves hot enough, the desert will feel cool.”

  The front door opened and shut just as I poured my third glass of ice water. The guys were back. I’d almost forgotten they were gone, I’d been too busy learning my part in Blake’s trick and sweating my ass off drinking tea.

  Mark, the bald guy, dropped several plastic bags by my chair. “Your wardrobe, mademoiselle.” He bent over in a shallow bow.

  “Thanks, Mark.” I peeked inside the bags and caught sight of t-shirts and underwear. The idea of the burly man buying my unmentionables made me blush. I wished I could’ve gone shopping on my own, but I agreed with Blake that it was better for me to stay out of sight. Goodness knew what kind of surveillance Frankie had on the Riad. He’d certainly been able to track me to the general area despite Blake’s jammers. Hopefully, he was now off chasing the mail thinking it was me.

  I picked up all the bags. “I’m going to take these back to my room. I’d like a shower and to put on some clean clothes.” I paused, giving Blake a questioning look. “That is, unless you wanted to practice some more?”

  Blake waved me off. “No we’re done for the day, but just so you know, we’re leaving tonight for the Sahara. Be packed and
ready to go by seven.”

  My eyes widened at the idea that I would soon be in the Sahara desert. My kidnapping had not been a dull experience so far.

  “Sure thing.” I grabbed the pitcher of water off the table on my way out, which made Blake laugh.

  As I started up the stairs that led to my suite, the men started talking in low voices, but not low enough to keep the words operation and terrorist from my ears. They were so unexpected, so discordant compared to everything else the men had discussed so far that I stopped short on the stairs, thinking furiously. What did they mean terrorist? Was I part of something even more dangerous than Frankie?

  I had to know, so I dropped my bags on the steps, knowing the rustling of the plastic would make too much noise. Hands free, I crept back toward the dining room on tiptoe. Because the stairs could be seen from the dining room if anyone decided to look, I quickly flitted into the living room and hunkered down against the wall that separated the rooms. My heart pounding, I listened to their conversation. Now was my chance to learn more about Blake and his mysterious ‘job’ that he could never talk about.

  “You shouldn’t have brought a civvie into this,” said one of the guys. I didn’t know their voices well enough to tell them apart yet.

  “Sorry, guys, but none of you have what it takes to be part of the trick,” said Blake. “Besides, she’s Ferrid’s type. We’ll have his attention.”

  “We have tits-and-ass, too, Blake. Trained tits-and-ass that can shoot and hold their own in a fight. Not some chick you picked up at a circus,” came another voice, this one seething with anger.

  “You think I didn’t go to command and ask?” Blake’s tone was sharp. “They couldn’t get me anyone on such short notice. Ruby’s perfect. I picked her for her skills. She’s good at what she does and she’s smart enough to handle the mission.”

  “Does she even know the mission? Have you told her?”

  “No. She knows nothing and we need to keep it that way.” Blake’s voice was terse.

  “Well, at least our op sec is intact,” someone mumbled.

  “Yeah, but what about Ruby’s op sec? You think of what’ll happen to her once Ferrid’s got her in his sights? You think he’ll let her go home safe and sound? You said it yourself, she’s his type and he’s obsessive.”