Sex Idol

by Shelley Munro

  “I’ll be with Antonio and Bridget and will check on you when you least expect, so don’t muck around,” she ended on a hard note.

  Satisfied with her students’ progress, Sasha stomped to where Antonio and Bridget were rehearsing. Realizing she’d left the paper behind, she stormed back to the classroom. Her students were all following instructions.

  A pity ’cause she really needed to yell. Looked as if Antonio would win that slot.

  Grabbing up the handheld, she strode back down the passage and marched into the room. Small, it contained the double couch, a sound system and enough space for her to circle whoever was training and view them from all angles. Antonio and Bridget were busy working through their routine.

  “What the hell are you playing at?” she snapped.

  Antonio stopped mid-thrust and withdrew from Bridget. Sasha averted her eyes, feeling as if she had walked in on a private rendezvous instead of a training session.

  “What are you talking about?” Antonio stood, fluid and graceful.

  Sasha drew herself upright and met Antonio’s innocent expression with a glare. “The story on the front page of the paper stating I will take Bridget’s place as your partner.”

  “Let me see that.” Bridget snatched the handheld from her and scanned the front-page story. “Bastard. When the hell were you intending to tell me?”

  Antonio held out his hand. “I’d better read the story so I know what the pair of you are accusing me of.” Bridget glared but passed over the handheld.

  Sasha watched Antonio while he read the story. His expression didn’t shift. Part of her wanted to believe him while the other part of her wanted to shriek and call him a liar.

  Last weekend had been a favor because she knew how much the competition meant to him and she’d promised Bridget. But being with Antonio and making love in public had felt weird. She’d never thought of sex as a private act until this last time with Antonio. She didn’t want to perform again and risk baring her emotions to all and sundry. It was hard enough being around Antonio. Hard enough keeping her love for him hidden. Hard enough watching him with Bridget, touching…

  “I didn’t speak to a reporter,” Antonio said.

  “Where did she get her quote from?” Bridget jumped up from the couch and flounced over to her clothes. She thrust her legs into a pair of syncanvas trousers and shoved on a linen shirt.

  Antonio snorted. “You know what the media is like. They’ve quoted you before. Didn’t they misquote you a few weeks ago?”

  “I don’t believe you and if you want to partner with her, tell me first! I’m counting on good results to gain a sponsorship deal. Tell me if you intend to screw me over.” Bridget snatched her bag and slammed from the room.

  “Yesterday, after I left here, I went straight home. I did not speak to the media or contact them in any manner. They rang for an interview. I refused. End of story. You know I don’t chase media attention. I never have.”

  “You prefer to let your performance and contest standings speak for you. I remember.” Sasha’s shoulders slumped. She knew Antonio and trusted him more than she trusted any other human being. “Bridget sounded angry. Do you think she should be out there alone? She was terrified earlier.”

  “I don’t know what’s up with her. If she lets me down again, will you perform with me?” His dark eyes captured her gaze, penetrating and holding her prisoner.

  Her heart pitter-pattered as she wrenched her gaze away. “I…no. I can’t afford to take time off to train with you. Bridget will come round.” The more time she spent making love with him, the harder it would be later when it came say goodbye. “No, I want to stick to our original deal. Once this season ends, I’ll take some of your sperm, make a baby, and we go our own separate ways.” There. She’d said it, spelled out. That made her goal real. Concrete.

  Antonio closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  Fear suffused Sasha. Keep cool. Don’t let him see how you feel about him. Don’t let him use you. Don’t be a doormat, dammit.

  “That’s fine, Sasha. But what if I don’t want to walk away?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What?” Sasha’s head lifted so quickly, she almost crowned him.

  “I said, what if I want to be a part of the baby’s life?” Shit, what was he saying? What the hell did he know about kids? The mechanics of procreation were fine but past that point, he ran right out of knowledge.

  “No.” Sasha turned away, but he stilled her with a hand on her forearm.

  Bloody hell. Antonio thought he’d been insulted. No, dammit, she had insulted him. Sasha hadn’t even considered her answer. A flat no. If that wasn’t an insult… “Don’t leave.”

  She wrenched from his touch. “I have a class. I have to earn a living, even if you don’t.”

  The rapid retreat of her footsteps gave way to silence.

  “Fuck, way to go, Perez.” Antonio wanted to chase after her, but now wasn’t the time. She had her class. Maybe another date? And this time, he’d stick with private. Perhaps he’d arrange a romantic rendezvous complete with a large bed, silky sheets and rose petals. A bottle of good wine? Antonio frowned. No, not wine. Sasha didn’t touch alcohol. Sparkling grape juice or spring water. He could go romantic with the food. Not oysters. They were too obvious. Fresh fruit. Something traditional. Chocolate. Yeah, he could get off on licking chocolate off her beautiful body.

  His cock jumped to attention as his mind dwelled on the idea of drizzling chocolate on her torso in swirly patterns. Around her breasts, down her ribs, across her belly. Between her parted legs.

  Yep, he’d ask her out on another date.

  It might prove difficult getting her there. He could lie. Antonio frowned again and paced to facilitate his thinking. Yeah, he could lie as a last resort. If it meant being with Sasha, he’d do anything.

  Somewhere along the line, he’d become used to the idea of Sasha having his baby, her stomach and body shape changing. Funny, the idea no longer disgusted him. Sasha would make a great mother and, with her at his side, he might even make a decent father. Much better than his own judgmental parent.

  Antonio’s long strides slowed. Another date was a step toward commitment. His thoughts of fatherhood were another step in that direction.

  Commitment.

  He turned the word over in his mind. It didn’t scare him as it had several years ago, fresh from a bad relationship, scared and determined not to repeat the mistake he’d made with Rachel.

  Maybe it was time to tell Sasha about Rachel and why he was so relationship shy. They’d discussed nothing truly personal, but Antonio wanted to now. He wanted to know what had put the shadows in Sasha’s eyes.

  A plan. He needed a plan.

  He snorted, and it was a derisive sound. Hell, he’d had a plan all along. But it needed adapting—badly—because if he carried on this way, he be short a partner. Both Bridget and Sasha would tell him to take a hike and partner himself.

  Antonio wandered over to the small end window and stared out at the street below. As he watched, Bridget’s mystery driver roared to a stop. Bridget scurried over to the car and climbed into the passenger side.

  Time to put plan number two in motion. Bridget acted so cagey these days, and whatever was going on in her life had spilled over to her performing. Her concentration was zilch. He’d call his friend Massey in the city squad and ask him to check out the car and its owner. No one could afford a gas-guzzler like that without a heap of money.

  Sasha concentrated on her students’ performances with difficulty, guilt washing through her as a result of her inattention. She stepped between the rows of couches determined to focus. If she didn’t give a hundred and ten percent to her students, she’d lose them to other schools. With a rent hike on the horizon, she needed every student who walked through her doors.

  “No, not like that,” Sasha said, pausing to critique a student’s finger-work. “You need to spread the pussy lips. Mak
e sure the audience and cameras will see the dew of arousal on your partner. Every move must be slow and deliberate. You need to plan it to the nth degree but make the whole routine look natural.”

  Her male student repeated the move, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead. His partner stared at the ceiling and yawned.

  Sasha whispered into her student’s ear. He looked startled for an instant before a grin lit up his olive-toned face. Sasha beamed back, his magnetism drawing her. This boy would rival Antonio’s prowess on the stage in a few years. But right now, he needed to practice the basics more.

  He turned back to his partner, spread her pussy lips as though he’d been on the contest circuit for years, and blew warm air along his partner’s cleft.

  “Ooh,” his partner squeaked.

  Sasha smirked. The young woman didn’t look bored now. Her lithe body quivered and she licked her lips as she waited to determine what her male partner would do next.

  Sasha moved on down the line of stations. Her students worked with either sex. They needed to since versatility was the key to a successful performer. She stopped to critique two of her female students who were working together.

  “Good. That’s a perfect spread. Excellent technique, Jeannie.”

  Funny, when it was female-female or male-male, the dominant partner seemed to know how to place their hands, how to move. It was when the couples were mixed that they dithered and became lost in the communication department. A bit like her and Antonio…

  Sasha shook the notion away.

  “Good, Martin. That’s excellent. Perhaps more of the squeeze and massage technique first?”

  She strolled farther down the row before turning to wander down the next one.

  “Sasha.” Antonio stood inside the doorway.

  “What do you want?” She wasn’t in the mood for another argument, although the butterflies inside her stomach said something else.

  “I need your help with some training—”

  “I’m teaching.” Sasha cut him off with clear impatience.

  “I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wondered if I could help you with your students now and we could discuss my problems later this evening.”

  Sasha shot him a sharp look. “I’m teaching for the rest of the day.”

  “I need to make one call and I’m all yours. I’ll help out wherever you need me.”

  Sasha stared at him for an instant longer before nodding. Good grief. She was weak where Antonio was concerned, a glutton for his emotional punishment. “Fine, when you’re ready, you can take those two rows. Offer each couple a critique and any pointers you think they need. No touching. Just tips and advice.”

  “And if they still don’t get it?” He winked in a clear challenge. “Can I demonstrate with you?”

  Sasha’s breath hitched and lodged halfway up her throat. She coughed and a wave of heat engulfed her face. Swallowing, she murmured, “It depends on the type of demonstration required.”

  “Okay. I’ll make that call and come straight back.”

  Confusion swept her as she watched him stride from her classroom. What was it about this man that made her act the fool? She couldn’t say no to him no matter how hard she tried.

  The morning sped by. Her students left and another group arrived. With Antonio’s help, she managed to offer more individual instruction, and the students reveled in the attention. The male students seemed to come to a quicker understanding when Antonio explained a point of technique to them. To Sasha’s astonishment, he was a natural teacher—patient and a good communicator. The afternoon session passed just as fast. The last of her students drifted from the cleansing block and departed.

  “I enjoyed teaching,” Antonio said. “You’ve got a great group. That young male you were working with—he’s got champion written all over him.”

  “Yeah. I only hope his mother can keep him in school. He dropped out for a while.”

  “Money problems?” Antonio asked.

  Sasha sighed. “I’d offer to teach him for free but his mother won’t accept charity.”

  “I’d be willing to set up a scholarship program if it meant keeping him in school. Anonymous,” he added.

  “Wow. Antonio, that’s a wonderful idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself!” Sasha grabbed Antonio and hugged him hard. Their lips met in a heated kiss. Antonio drew her closer, fitting her to his larger frame. Ribbons of sensation danced from her lips, firing desire for the rest of him. The idea of his hard cock pounding into her, his muscular frame moving against hers pushed her arousal higher.

  A loud cough ripped into her fantasy. A short barrel-chested man in a dingy, loose-fitting suit stood at the classroom threshold.

  Sasha hopped away from Antonio in appalled embarrassment. “Hello!” Talk about unprofessional.

  “I’ve come to collect the rent,” the man said.

  “But— All right. I’ll write you a check. How much is the increase again?” Sasha winced at the figure the man quoted, even though the woman who’d rung had already told her. At this rate, her savings would be wiped out by the end of the season. Antonio might have agreed to father her baby but unless she found alternative premises—cheaper premises—her dream was history. Sasha wrote out the check, handed it to the rent collector, and saw him out.

  “I’ve got to go too,” Antonio said. “See you at seven?”

  “Great.” A scholarship. Sasha stared after Antonio, bemused and excited. Confused. The Antonio she used to know had changed. He’d always been driven and focused on winning. Hope unfurled for an instant before dying. A scholarship wouldn’t be any use to her student if she had to close down due to a lack of premises.

  Sasha hustled over to her desk, determined to find a new property. As she sat on hold for the realtor, her gaze hit the shelves she hadn’t had time to restock—the empty spaces where her stock used to sit on display. A thief amongst her students. Sasha bit her lip, hating the idea of locking up her stuff.

  “Davies.”

  “Mr. Davies, I’m looking for new rental premises. Could you tell me what you have available?”

  Five minutes later Sasha hung up and sagged back in her seat, more depressed now than before her call. The stocktaking results didn’t help. Five large bottles of carnation body lotion and two tubs of the expensive face cream gone. That was her profit, stolen by someone she’d trusted.

  Sighing, Sasha grabbed her lesson plans and shoved everything she didn’t need into a desk drawer. The rest she placed in her syncanvas bag to take home. She dragged her feet, turning the possibilities to raise more money, to save her school, to catch the thief around in her head. They all added up to failure. The last thing she wanted to do was spend time with Antonio tonight. He was successful. The man set goals and mowed them down. As long as Bridget performed half decently, the man was a cert for the Sex Idol title. Failure wasn’t in his vocabulary.

  Sasha headed for her tiny rental apartment not far from the warehouse. It wasn’t big or flashy, but it was hers. A space to call her own and be herself. She checked her watch and decided she had time to soak in the tub.

  Water gushed into the deep tub, pink suds expanding and bubbling with the force. Sasha stripped and sank into the warmth with a groan. She leaned back and closed her eyes, prepared to think of a way around her problems. The communicator rang. Sasha didn’t move, hoping it would stop. It didn’t, not for a long time. It rang and rang. Finally, she climbed out of the tub, grabbed a towel and stomped to pick up.

  “Yes.” Her greeting was clipped.

  “Fire department,” a crisp voice said. “Am I speaking to Sasha Greenacre?”

  “Yes.” No emotion this time, but her stomach churned with sudden apprehension.

  “The warehouse down on the waterfront is on fire—”

  “My classroom?” A cold knot of fear formed in her stomach.

  “Yeah. Is there anyone on the premises?”

  “No. No, it’s empty. I was the las
t to leave. Is it bad?”

  “The entire building is on fire. Don’t think we can save it. The best we can do is stop it spreading to the neighboring buildings. I have to go.” The communicator clicked in her ear. Shock weakened her knees, and she sank onto the nearest chair, ignoring the water dripping from her damp hair. Her classroom. Gone. Her lesson plans, her awards and certificates, her mementos of the past…

  Tears pricked her eyes, building until they overflowed and poured down her cheeks. A long time passed, but the tears kept coming.

  The communicator rang again, and she picked it up.

  “Sasha?”

  “Antonio.” She tried to say more but all that emerged was a feeble croak. The tears kept flowing.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No!” But her thick voice and a loud hiccup gave it away.

  “I’m coming over. Address?” With her address memorized, Antonio hung up. Sasha never broke down like that. She’d sounded dreadful and that alarmed him. He grabbed wallet and identification and strode from his residence. Spying a hover-cab halfway down the street, he let out a piercing whistle and gestured imperiously, cursing his mechanic all the while. The bloody man had promised he’d have the hover fixed on time. It had still been inoperable when Antonio had gone to collect it. The hover-cab settled beside him and he leapt inside.

  “Booth Street, Arnie City. Number twenty-nine. And be quick about it.”

  “Antonio! Give me an autograph for my wife and I’ll have you there in record time.”

  “It’s yours.” Antonio settled against the backseat but couldn’t think of anything but Sasha. What the hell was wrong?

  The driver made excellent time. Antonio handed over his fare plus a generous tip and signed his name on a piece of paper the driver provided.

  Two minutes later, he pounded on the front door of number twenty-nine.

  The door opened. Sasha stood in front of him wrapped in a towel, her beautiful face wet and shiny with tears. He stepped inside, shut the door, and hauled her into his arms. She cried in earnest, sobbing against his chest. Antonio held her tight. This was exactly where he wanted to be—with Sasha.