Get Your Sexy On

by Kimberky Kaye Terry

  Ńo, you do owe me. Until I say the debt is paid, ain·t shit paid!

  Unless you want something unfortunate to happen to Jacob, I suggest you play nice.µ

  When he mentioned her brother, chills danced along her body.

  She turned to face him, her shoulders

  slumped. ´What do you want?µ

  His thin lips stretched wide in a parody of a smile. He walked toward her, propped his body against

  her desk, and crossed his long legs, near his ankles.

  Śimple. I got a new gig I need you to work.µ

  Sienna stopped her pacing and turned to face him. ´What gig?

  Stripping? I·m not doing that!

  Listen, I

  have a new life here. I have a respectable profession. No one knows³µ

  Ánd they don·t have to know your dirty little secret. As long as you do this last gig, no worries. It·s

  not stripping in a club. And it won·t be here. I need you to come to Virginia Beach, a respectable distance

  from this quaint little

  community.µ

  Ánd do what?µ she asked

  warily.

  Í·ve got a group of investors that need to be entertained.µ

  ´What type of entertaining?µ

  ´The kind you do best, baby.

  Nothing hard about that. Just come with your costume, and you and the

  others will simply entertain while we conduct business.

  You·ll like it! We have a big, beautiful yacht

  anchored off the marina. All you have to do is a bit of dancing, look pretty, and earn a few greenbacks in

  the process!µ He spoke as though he were offering her a wonderful island getaway

  vacation.

  ´What kind of business? I·m not getting involved in anything illegal!µ

  Back when she worked for

  Damian, she knew he had

  dealings with ´businessmenµ

  dirtier than he.

  She·d once accidentally walked in his office when he·d been in the middle of a meeting with one.

  Sienna had backed up when the men had turned to her³

  Damian·s face irritated, the other man·s a

  mask of fury before he quickly closed down his expression.

  ´What the hell do you want? I·m in the middle of something. You don·t just come in here any damn

  time you want!µ Damian had yelled at her.

  Sienna had been too surprised at the way he·d spoken to her to say anything. She·d mumbled an apology as she stumbled out the door, quickly closing the door behind her.

  She·d turned away from the door and stopped. Unable to resist, she·d looked up and down the hall to

  see if anyone was looking. Then she·d leaned her face close to the door to try and hear what they were

  talking about. She was curious as to who the sophisticated-looking, well-dressed man was.

  She wanted to

  know what he was doing talking to someone like Damian.

  ´«yes, she·s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Not that I·d expect a simpleton like you to see that.µ

  The

  unknown man spoke so softly Sienna had to strain to hear him better.

  ´Yeah, she·s got a perfect ass, sí, amigo? I can·t wait to sample a piece of that.µ The next thing she

  heard was a loud gasp. She heard the choked-off

  exclamation through the door.

  ´Wha³what did I do? Let go of my neck!µ Damian squeaked out.

  ´You will keep your hands off her. You·ll do well to remember that«friend.µ There was a long silence

  before she heard anything more.

  Nervous, afraid to stay and listen to any more, yet unable to leave,

  Sienna stayed rooted to her eavesdropping spot in front of the door.

  ´Give her this. I want to see her wearing it the next time she dances,µ the unknown man

  spoke again.

  A moment later, she heard Damian exclaim, Ńo problem.

  Damn, you didn·t have to choke me! If you

  want me to do something, all you gotta do is ask. You know that,µ he cried.

  Sienna would have stayed to listen to more, but she heard voices and scurried away from the door,

  swiftly walking away, just as two dancers passed her in the hallway.

  After that episode, she·d learned the man·s name. Carlos

  Medeiros. The few times he came to the

  club, he would stay for her set, sitting at a secluded table, alone, his dark eyes never leaving hers as she

  danced. When she came back out to the floor, he was nowhere to be seen. After a few times, she

  dismissed it, but it always left her unsettled the way she·d only see him during the times she danced.

  During one of his infrequent visits to the Sweet Kitty, he·d been sitting at a VIP table with several

  businessmen.

  All the men looked out of place in the club. They weren·t the normal nine-to-fivers who frequented the

  Sweet Kitty. They wore their hard sophistication as elegantly as they wore the expensive clothes on their

  bodies. Although they watched the dancers, there was an air of detachment surrounding them.

  She·d

  avoided their cold-eyed stares.

  Particularly Carlos·s.

  Sienna shivered, remembering the hard, cold, calculating look in his eyes as he watched her dance.

  Ńow dance for me.µ Damian·s demand wrenched her out of her memories.

  He leaned back on the desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and grinned a nasty smile.

  ´Wha-what do you mean, dance for you? I·ve agreed to do the damn party³what more do you want?

  µ Sienna cried out, completely humiliated, nerves stretched taut.

  Í need to see if you still got it.

  It·s been a while, baby girl.

  You·ve been out of the biz for a while.µ He

  got up and strolled around her room, touching the art on the wall, the bulletin board she had with each

  student·s picture pinned up with a thumbtack.

  Í wonder what your precious students would think if they knew their teacher used to strip, and get

  men off, for a living?µ he asked, turning to face her, an evil look on his face. Ór how would their parents

  feel if they knew? Hmmm?µ

  Í already told you that I·d do it!

  Please, Damian³µ

  He walked closer, until he was inches from her. The smell of his cheap cologne cloying, making her

  nauseous. He lifted a strand of her hair. Í like the new look.

  Softer, more womanly.µ When she flinched,

  his face hardened.

  Álthough I·d bet the fathers wouldn·t be as judgmental. I bet a few of them have already had fantasies surrounding hot little Ms. Featherstone.µ

  Í·ll do whatever you want. Just don·t³µ

  ´Don·t what? Spoil your new

  ¶gig·?µ He laughed. Ńo fears, baby girl, just show me what you got.µ

  Sienna bit back the tears of humiliation and schooled her features. She closed her eyes, inhaled deep

  breaths, and slowly began to gyrate her body. Listening to the music in her head, tuning out Damian·s

  mocking face, she began to dance.

  21

  M ac parked his Jeep and

  vaulted out of the driver·s seat, locking the door with his remote.

  Glancing around the near-empty parking lot, he hoped he caught Sienna before she left the school.

  He had no idea what car she currently drove. If memory served correctly, she last drove an old Corolla,

  and he saw no sign of a Corolla in the parking lot. The only cars he saw were an old, beat-up²

  looking

  maintenance truck, a small compact, and a gleaming black Mercedes-Benz. Maybe the Ford was hers. He

  didn·t think she·d be driving a Benz.

  Hell, if teaching paid
enough for her to afford a luxury car like that, he was in the wrong line of work.

  He walked to the door, and wasn·t surprised when he found it was locked.

  ´Fuck!µ He tried the revolving door, with no luck.

  He banged on the glass door for several minutes before giving up. He must have missed her.

  Damn it!

  Turning to go, he caught sight of a uniformed man ambling

  toward the door. He motioned for the man

  to come, and waited impatiently for him to finally open the door.

  ´What can I do for you, young man? You banging so hard on the door, you·ll wake the dead!

  Nobody

  here, school is closed for the weekend,µ the old man said around a mouthful of what looked like chewing

  tobacco.

  Áre any of the teachers still around?µ

  ´Didn·t you hear what I said?

  You deafer than me, or what?

  Told you, nobody·s around. Gone for the

  weekend.µ The old man started to close the door in Mac·s face after that pronouncement. Mac grabbed the

  door edge before he could.

  ´There·s a couple of cars in the lot. I thought my son·s teacher may still be here. We were supposed

  to meet for a conference.µ He uttered the lie completely straight-faced.

  ´Which one?µ

  ´Ms. Featherstone.µ

  ´Who·s your kid?µ the janitor asked, swirling the tobacco from one side of his gaunt cheek to the

  other, his eyes suspicious-looking.

  ´Daniel Rhodes.µ

  ´Hmmm. What·s your name,

  again?µ

  ´Garrett McAllister,µ he

  answered, impatiently wanting to get past the inquisition to see if Sienna was

  still in the building.

  ´Hmmm. Thought he lived with his mama. Never heard your name mentioned as the father.

  Different

  last names?µ

  ´He·s biologically my nephew. I take care of him and his mom.

  Could I please come in?µ Mac answered shortly.

  After a long perusal, where the old man·s eyes roamed over him, head to toe, he finally opened the

  door, allowing Mac to enter.

  ´Haven·t seen Ms. Featherstone leave yet. Usually, she·s the last to leave for the night. Know where

  her classroom is?µ

  ´Yes, but thanks,µ Mac

  answered.

  He walked through the empty halls, making his way toward her classroom, hoping he·d caught her

  before she left. He had no desire over the next few hours to hunt down where she lived.

  Something he

  knew he·d do if he had to.

  He rounded the corner that led to her room and sprinted the last few yards. He stopped in front of

  her door, hand on the knob, and peered inside the stained glass window.

  Mac stopped short of opening the door, a red haze of anger clouding his vision.

  Wearing nothing but the pink bra he·d glimpsed beneath her blouse, and the demure straight black

  skirt, she was on her knees, rolling her hot little body.

  The man she was on her knees in front of, taking off her clothes for, was Damian Marks.

  ´Yes, just like that, baby. Show daddy what you got,µ Damian taunted.

  Sienna continued to ignore him, pretending she danced for herself and no one else. Just as she·d

  done before.

  She rolled her upper body, snaked her hands down her chest, alongside her breasts, before cupping

  them. She completely lost herself to the sensuality of the dance.

  Ópen your eyes and look at me.µ

  Reality crashed in on her, and she opened her eyes as he commanded.

  Ńow come up real slow,µ he demanded. She began to rise, only to have him stop her.

  Ńo, not like that.µ He laughed loudly. ´Turn that sweet ass around and let me see it from the back.µ

  Sienna clenched her teeth and kept her face blank. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing

  her angry, letting him know how much she hated him and what he was forcing her to do.

  She spun around on her knees, grabbed her ankles, and rotated her body upward, allowing her ass to

  jut back as her fingers slid up her ankles, past her knees. She lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing her

  thong-covered buttocks to his leering eyes.

  ´Yeah, just like that. You can take the whore out of the club, but you can·t take the club out of the

  whore!µ He laughed at his own lewd comment.

  She raised her head, ready to turn to face him, and her glance fell to the door. Her heart leaped.

  Very clearly she could see the outline shadow of someone behind the translucent glass.

  She clutched her hands in front of her near-nude body,

  desperately trying to cover herself. Dear God,

  who had witnessed what she·d been doing? she wondered, frantic. She spun around to face Damian.

  ´Get out, damn it!µ

  ´What?µ

  ´You heard me. Get the hell out of here! I promised to come. I·ll be there! Now just get out!µ

  His jaw clenched, a small tic flickered. He stared at her for so long, she thought he·d ignore her. When

  he shoved her away, she

  breathed a sigh of relief. She watched nervously as he

  reached inside his

  doublebreasted

  jacket and withdrew a slip of paper and threw it on her desk.

  ´Just be there. These are the directions and my cell phone number.µ

  When he walked away, her body sagged with relief. She needed him gone, now.

  At the door, he looked over his shoulder and paused, his eyes hard. ´Don·t be late. Remember, I know

  where you live. Don·t make me have to come and get your ass.

  And I know where Jacob lives.

  Remember

  that.µ He turned the lock and flung open the door, slamming it behind him.

  When the door closed behind him, Sienna waited five full minutes before she swiftly gathered her

  things and left the classroom.

  She glanced around to see if the person she·d glimpsed outside the door was around. When the empty

  hallways echoed only her

  footsteps, she prayed to God it had been her imagination, and no one had

  witnessed her stripping in her classroom.

  Dear God, would she ever

  escape her past? She swallowed bitter tears and rushed out of the school.

  22

  Ś ame dance, different city.µ

  Sin³Sienna, Mac mentally

  corrected himself³jumped when he spoke. He spoke as though he were

  picking up a pleasant

  conversation between two

  friends, and not ex-lovers.

  He·d been waiting for over an hour for her to come home.

  Images of her dancing for Marks, her hot

  little hands touching the other man·s body, screwed with his head.

  After witnessing her dance, Mac had driven around for a short time, enraged, trying like hell to cool

  down.

  He didn·t trust himself to go back to the school, to confront her. And if Marks·s ass was still there,

  there was no telling what the hell he would do to the man. To say he wanted to rip him apart was putting

  it too mildly. He had to calm down.

  And now he knew her address and phone number.

  He·d stopped at a gas station, picked up a phone book, and searched for her listing. She had an

  unusual last name, not common.

  He wasn·t surprised when there was only one listed, and when it had the

  initial S, with no full first name, he knew it was a good chance it was hers.

  He·d impatiently punched in the number and waited.

  Her voice mail picked up, and
when he heard her soft voice directing the caller to leave a message,

  his lips stretched in a grin of satisfaction.

  He·d disconnected, taken note of her address from the phone book, and had driven the small distance

  to her house.

  When no lights shone in the small town house, no evidence of her being home, Mac made his move.

  Easily picking the lock, he·d entered. Once inside, edgy, he·d stalked through her home, familiarizing

  himself with the layout before returning to her small den in the front of the house, near both the front door

  and the small entry to the garage.

  He wanted to catch her when she finally came home, no matter which entry she chose.

  ´Wha-what are you doing here?

  Who the hell are you? H-how did you get in my home?µ she

  stuttered, her large eyes wide and frightened as she stumbled back from his advancing body.

  He kept to the shadows of her den, knowing that his face was half-shadowed, wanting³

  needing³her

  to fear him.

  Í wonder if the school board knows they have a whore for a teacher?µ

  Í don·t know who you are, but you·d better get the hell out of here before I call³µ

  ´You·re not calling anyone, and neither are you going

  anywhere.µ

  Mac swiftly caught her before she could turn the knob on the door, his hands lying on top of hers

  heavily. As he came out of the shadows, his face fully exposed, she was able to see who he was.

  Mac saw the look of relieved recognition, followed quickly by some unknown emotion close to longing,

  flare in her eyes.

  ´Mac!µ She turned frightened eyes up, to stare intently into his face.

  Śorry to disappoint you, Sin.

  Expecting someone else,

  maybe?µ

  They weren·t touching; yet her heat seared him, called out to him. His dick was hard as a rock,

  pushing against his zipper. His body needed hers, longed to feel her soft curves moving along his body,

  needed to feel her wrapped around him.