Longing: Club Inferno

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Clint didn’t give a shit. He hadn’t wanted her to be naked and exposed to the club.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, letting her go.

  “Wait,” she said, hurrying to catch up to him. She could move fast in heels; he had to give her credit.

  “Why?” He didn’t slow down. He’d accomplished what he wanted. Crisis averted, now he just wanted to go find someone who wanted to be filmed while having a loud, raucous orgasm. Maybe Angie. She was always up for some fun.

  “I wanted to apologize to you.” Anya wasn’t quitting and was keeping up with him.

  “Okay.” He shrugged.

  “Will you slow down?” She tugged on his arm.

  “I get it. You’re sorry for thinking I was a jerk. You’re sorry for not trusting that the rules of this dungeon—the ones your best friend put in place—were to be obeyed at all costs.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “But mostly for being an ass about it.” She was breathing heavily and she swayed on her feet. “I haven’t been myself today. I’ve got a lot of things going on. A lot of pressure.” She put a hand to her stomach. “I’m not feeling well.”

  Her face had gone chalky white.

  “You should go back to bed,” he said. “Alone,” he added, just in case she thought he was coming on to her. She actually didn’t look so hot.

  “Not until I…” Anya’s eyes went glassy, then rolled up into her head.

  “Shit.” Clint caught her as she fell. “Anya?” He lifted her into his arms. “This isn’t funny.”

  He knew dead weight when he felt it.

  “Mallory,” he thundered, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

  Chapter Ten

  “You fainted like a Victorian ninny.”

  Anya was on the couch in Colleen’s office without any idea how she had gotten there. Colleen handed her a glass of water.

  “Was your corset too tight?” Colleen asked.

  Anya sat up and felt another wave of dizziness hit her, but she rode it out. Gulping down the water, she pressed the cool glass to her forehead. “No.”

  “Because your tits are about to fall out of that thing,” Colleen said.

  Anya gave the top a yank. “It’s supposed to look that way.”

  “Here, eat this.”

  Anya pried open one eye to look at the Girl Scout cookie Colleen offered. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “Just eat it. You need the sugar.”

  “I can’t. Too many calories.”

  Colleen snorted and went over to the bar for cherries and oranges.

  “What did you eat today?” Mallory said.

  “My protein drinks.” Anya popped a cherry in her mouth when Colleen thrust a bar napkin full of fruit at her.

  Bliss.

  “This is bullshit.”

  Anya cringed. She hadn’t seen Clint in the doorway.

  “You’re starving yourself for no reason,” he said.

  “It’s just temporary,” she said defensively. “Just until I get this part. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand,” Mallory said, tapping her foot and crossing her arms as she leveled a death glare at Anya. “I understand that your blood sugar is dangerously low. I can’t tell for sure without a blood test, but you’re probably hypoglycemic and that’s what caused you to faint.”

  “I’m fine,” Anya said, peeling the orange slice from the rind. She still felt shaky, but she wasn’t going to faint again. Dying from embarrassment, however, was more likely.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right,” a viper hissed from the doorway.

  Mortification.

  “Rita,” Anya said through her teeth. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “I was concerned,” Rita gushed with fake sincerity. “But now that I see that you’re all better I can ease Cesare’s mind.”

  “You said he was in the Mediterranean,” Anya gasped out.

  “He’s back.” Rita winked.

  “I think you should go,” Colleen said. “You’re upsetting her.”

  “I’m not upset,” Anya said. She wasn’t. She was hoping that the floor would open up and swallow her. Was that too much to ask?

  “I have to leave anyway. I’m meeting Cesare for dinner.” And with a little wave, Rita bounced out of Colleen’s office.

  “Get thee behind me, Satan,” Anya said, shooing with both hands.

  “Who was that?” Clint asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Look, thanks for helping me out. I’m assuming you stopped me from cracking my head open on the dungeon floor.”

  “One of the small services I provide,” he said with a bow.

  “Am I going to live, doc?” Anya asked.

  “You need to get some more food in you,” Mallory said. “Not that liquid-diet shit.”

  Anya held up the empty bar napkin. “I ate.”

  “She’s going out to dinner with me,” Clint said.

  “I am?” Anya asked at the same time Colleen and Mallory said, “She is?”

  Clint looked around and seemed to be aware that he was outnumbered. “I know a great steakhouse that makes a killer surf and turf.”

  Her traitorous stomach took that moment to growl like a demented wildebeest.

  Everyone looked at her.

  “I guess I am.”

  “Are you sure you feel up to it?” Mallory asked. “I’d like you to come in for some tests.”

  Anya shook her head. “No. You were right. It’s just me being stupid about this diet. I didn’t mean to faint. I hadn’t slept a lot last night. Then things just went from bad to worse.” To her horror, tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes.

  “Come on,” Clint said, moving into the room to take her arm. “Let’s have a nice dinner and talk it out.”

  She nodded her head. “I’d like that. Don’t wait up,” she called over her shoulder at Mallory and Colleen. After a quick stop at the lending closet, Anya wrapped a shawl around her so she wouldn’t have to go upstairs and change.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Clint asked when they were in the parking garage.

  “I’m getting there. I meant what I said. I’m sorry I freaked out about the video. It was just so unexpected.”

  “I get it.” Clint helped her into his car. “We rushed things. I should have been more detailed with the dungeon games. I just thought you knew the score.”

  “I wasn’t prepared to have my most intimate moments videotaped.”

  Clint grinned. “I don’t use tape. That’s pretty old-school.”

  Anya huffed. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do a Flash video or WMV file. I’m surprised you’re not more familiar with it from your catwalk experiences.”

  “I’m on the other end of the camera. I’m usually too worried about slipping in my heels or my next change of clothes to wonder about the flashes and cameras.”

  “We could have had some fun with it. I would have ‘videotaped’ you going down on me. Fair is fair.”

  Anya took a deep breath. The image kept her mind occupied until they got onto the highway. “Are we really going for steak and lobster?”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  She wanted him to keep talking. Maybe he would like her again if they could find some common ground. “So tell me more about the camera stuff.”

  “Well, it’s all digital. I use a high-end camera on a tripod and then edit it on my Mac. I can play with the audio and visuals, control the set and the lighting.”

  “What usually happens to the video—er, the DVD?” She tensed at his look. “I know you don’t put it out on porn sites for money. I mean does it end after the shoot?”

  Clint lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Depends on the scene. If I’m in charge, I bring them back the next day to watch it. Sometimes they get off watching it while having sex.”

  Anya cleared her throat. “Are you the one they’re having sex with?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes I’m just t
he cameraman and the director.”

  From what she’d experienced, he was a damned fine director. She played with a loose thread on her skirt. “What are your favorite types of scenes?”

  “I like to see women beg to come.”

  Flames shot up her cheeks. Well, she’d asked. “How do you bring that about?”

  “I can show you firsthand.”

  Her heart started stuttering.

  “If you can trust me again.”

  “This is that orgasm-denial thing that Master Dante was talking about, right?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Why were you speaking with Dante about that?” The flat tone of his voice sent goose bumps up her arms.

  “Leo was wearing a penis cage. You don’t see one of those every day.”

  Clint snorted. “Poor Leo.”

  Anya gave a shy grin. “I think he likes it.”

  “He does, but you couldn’t pay me to be him.”

  Anya had to agree. It did seem a little extreme. But she noticed he didn’t answer her question. Did she dare bring it up again? While she was dithering back and forth, they arrived at the restaurant.

  Taking her by the hand to help her out of the car, Clint warned her, “Don’t even think about just ordering a salad.”

  There was a quick sliver of awareness that sparked through her at his touch. She remembered his hands on her, his mouth and fingers doing delicious things. Salad was the last thing on Anya’s mind. Clint released her and the moment was gone. Staring at his wide back as he led the way, she tried to figure out if he’d been serious in the car about making her beg. Did she even want that? Rubbing her eyes, she let out a sigh.

  “You okay?” he asked, stopping to put his arm around her. “You’re not going to faint on me again, are you?”

  Anya pushed aside her thoughts and concentrated on inhaling the heavenly aroma coming from the steakhouse. “Not unless it’s from pure pleasure.”

  She had meant the food. Honest. His eyes shuttered and he trailed a finger over her bare arm.

  “You keep giving me openings like that, don’t be surprised if I take you up on them.”

  Gaping at him, Anya hurried to catch up when he walked up to the hostess. Anything she wanted to say had to be put on hold while they were seated. And by the time the waitress got their drink orders, the moment had passed.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  And there was the million-dollar question. You came to mind. But really it was You—with conditions. And nobody wanted that. She held the menu up to block his gaze and concentrated on the dinner choices.

  “I suppose I could do a no-carb thing.” Anya’s mouth watered at the thought of a twelve-ounce steak and shrimp sautéed in butter. She could give up the bread and the baked potato.

  “I can help you with a healthier way to lose weight,” he said, staring at the menu.

  Part of her wanted to kick his ass for saying that, but the rational part knew he was just trying to help.

  She sighed. “I’ve been there. I know about portion control and exercise. I just don’t have the motivation to stick with it long-term. And frankly, I like who I am and what I look like—most of the time. I work all over the world, so a bunch of other people like me the way I am too. I even get paid to look like this.” She indicated her corset dress and faltered a bit when he stared. “It’s the other assholes that have a problem. For example, this director who wants me svelte and petite has never met me. He just has a size in mind and he doesn’t care about anything else.”

  “Then this isn’t the opportunity for you.”

  Clint refused the bread basket that the waitress brought over and her heart gave a little leap. He ordered the surf and turf and a loaded baked potato. She couldn’t fault him for that. Ordering the steak and grilled shrimp almost made her swoon. She was going to chew!

  She sipped her water with lemon and smiled as he drank half his beer in one swallow.

  “That bad?”

  “You scared the shit out of me when you dropped like a stone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Was it because you were running to keep up with me?”

  Anya didn’t like the guilt in his voice. She shrugged. “It might have been part of it, but honestly it could have just as easily happened in yoga, or worse, when we were having sex.”

  When we were having sex hung in the air between them. Anya was riveted to the hunger in his eyes. She was pretty sure it wasn’t for that surf and turf. Maybe she hadn’t burned her bridges with him after all. This could all be a flirtation to get things back on an even keel. Or this could be a new start. She swallowed and watched his eyes track the motion down her throat.

  “You will eat.” He pointed his fork at her when their salads came.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

  She closed her eyes in bliss. She didn’t remember when blue cheese on iceberg lettuce had ever tasted like nirvana, but it was perfect. When she opened her eyes, she caught him staring at her.

  “Do you think the corset dress is too much for here?” Anya tugged the neckline up.

  “I like it,” he drawled.

  Anya did her best to eat her dinner like a lady and not the ravenous beast she felt like. She thought she’d pulled it off when Clint smiled at her over coffee.

  “Thanks for this,” she said, indicating the restaurant. “I’m sorry I was such a bozo about the DVD.”

  “Stop apologizing. It happens. Live and learn, right?”

  Here goes nothing. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’d like to make it up to you,” she said in her best sultry voice.

  “Why?” Clint asked, gesturing for the check. He sounded bored.

  “Because it was a crap-ass way to react.” She lost the vampy tone and got a little snippy. “I feel guilty.” Then she closed her eyes at her mistake. Guilt was real sexy.

  “Guilt is a wasted emotion.”

  “So you’re not going to forgive me?” Anya figured she’d blown it. But it was worth a shot.

  “Nothing to forgive.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Unfortunately, she didn’t want kind from him right now. Ugh, she couldn’t believe they were going to go back to her ogling him at the swimming pool while drinking lemon water. Damn it. Maybe he’d give her another chance once the sting of her accusations faded.

  She grabbed the check when it came, holding it away when he tried to swipe it back. “No way. It’s the least I can do.”

  Handing the waitress her credit card, Anya tapped her fingers on the table and looked her fill at the handsome man sitting across from her. He had been so cool and reserved all through dinner, it was hard to remember that he had given her two fantastic orgasms in less than two days. Only she could muck something up this badly.

  “What’s with the sad eyes?” Clint asked.

  “Thinking about dessert,” she said with a forced laugh.

  “Is this part worth it?”

  For a minute, she didn’t know what he was talking about. Then she realized he was talking about Some Like It Hot. “Hell yeah. I always loved the movie with Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe. Do you think I should dye my hair blond?”

  He shook his head. “No, blonds are too generic. You stand out as a brunette.”

  Preening, she toyed with her hair. “You’re too kind.”

  “So this jackass of a director wants someone with fewer curves?”

  “That’s a polite way of putting it.”

  “There are other parts,” he said.

  “Yeah, but this one I’m so close to. I know I can do it. I want to do it.” Anya leaned in and saw his eyes drop down to her cleavage, which was threatening to pop out of the corset dress. Normally, she’d sit back and tug up her dress. But she wanted him to look. Look and remember and then maybe propose that they go somewhere a little more comfortable and start over again. Anya wanted that almost as much as she wanted the part in the play.

  “I know what that’s like,” he said, dra
gging his eyes up to meet hers. “I auditioned a few times in the city myself.”

  Anya nodded. “You’re an amazing dancer. I can’t believe you didn’t break in.”

  He played with his coaster, spinning it. His face was drawn and serious.

  “Now you’re the one looking so sad,” she said.

  “I got into a few shows. Chorus-line dancer mainly. I was the understudy to Bernardo when they did West Side Story at the Winter Garden.”

  “Wow.”

  He actually blushed. “It’s not that big of a deal. My parents got to see me dance onstage, though. They were doing a show in Hartford and drove down to see my matinee.”

  “I would love to have seen that. You’ve got talent.”

  He slammed the coaster flat. She jumped at the quick action. “It wasn’t enough. You can’t pay New York rent on bit jobs. In the end, I got paid more for stripping and dungeon work than I did onstage. I sold out. It was easier.” Grabbing his jacket, he slid out of the booth.

  Way to go, Anya, she thought. She scribbled her name on the credit card receipt and left a big tip because she remembered her waitress days. Hurrying to catch up to him, she tugged on his arm. “I need you to teach me to pole dance,” she blurted out.

  That stopped him in his tracks. “Why?” he said. “You told me you didn’t have the upper-arm strength.”

  Yeah, why? Anya looked around for inspiration and her eyes caught the restaurant’s specials posted on a chalkboard. “Well, now that I’m not starving myself I need to put some more cardio in my workout. I thought it would be…fun.”

  “Fun?” he said. “You practically threatened to cut my balls off if I showed you some moves.”

  “That was in front of all those people.”

  “You want private lessons?”

  And how. Anya nodded.

  Clint ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I’ve got the time. I bartend the nights I’m not in the dungeon and I strip at Tricky Ricky’s most weekends.” He shook his head.

  Face it. He’s just not that into you.

  “No problem,” she said, and pushed by him to beat him to the door. “Just a random thought. Not a big deal. I can always…oh crap on toast.” She whirled back around to face him. “Kiss me.”

  Coming through the door were Rita and Cesare. It was like Rita had put a tracking device in her shoe. Anya wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck. She had a moment to notice he was very confused before she mashed her body to him and planted an openmouthed kiss on his lips. He staggered back a step before he got with the program and kissed her back enthusiastically. Oh man, could he kiss. She was starting to forget they were in public when she got tapped on her shoulder.