Private Dancer

‘Don’t stop,’ Crowe murmured. Again, that thumb stroked against her spine, so warm even though her knit top kept the contact from being skin-on-skin.

She gave a quick shake of her head, embarrassment running through her.

‘But you were enjoying yourself,’ he said. ‘It was giving you pleasure.’

Pleasure. There it was again, that dangerous word.

‘Mr Crowe –’

‘Call me Bas.’ That thumb moved again, seemingly harmless, but oh-so-attention-demanding. ‘Why don’t we go into my office where we can speak in private?’

That sounded like a very bad idea. On the other hand, she might be able to regain her composure there. She could put a desk between them and organise her thoughts. She nodded mutely.

That hand at the base of her spine turned her towards the far side of the room. She followed along, but her steps hitched when she saw the nook on the other side of the bar. Still out in the open but tucked in the corner was another dancer, one she hadn’t noticed – but several of the patrons had.

The woman was also dancing on a slightly elevated stage.

Only she was in a cage.

All the air left Alicia’s lungs. A gilded, very pretty cage, but a cage nonetheless. The dark-haired brunette was wearing a tiny G-string, stiletto heels and a smile. Her body rocked in time with the music, but her style was more aggressive. Blatantly sexual. She gripped the bars of the cage in a way that could only remind Alicia of fingers wrapping around a headboard. The woman’s hips ground and her breasts bounced, their tips beading up tight and red. What was most shocking of all, though, was the hands on her.

‘They’re touching her!’ Alicia gasped.

This! This was what her father had warned her about. This was the debasement of women, the objectification.

The hand at the base of her spine rubbed in soft circles. ‘Only because she’s letting them.’

‘What?’ She snapped her head towards Bas and found him much too close. Instead of standing beside her, he was behind her now, his mouth only inches from her ear. She could feel his hot exhales on her neck and goosebumps spread down her spine.

‘Look more closely,’ he said softly. ‘She’s the one in control.’

Uncertainly, Alicia looked back, her chin swivelling in jerky increments. Once she took in the picture again, she couldn’t look away. He was right. The dancer was in charge. Men circled the platform, looking up at her. They could reach inside the bars any time they wanted, but the dancer could stop their caresses by simply moving to the centre of the cage. Yet she didn’t. With a gleam in her eye, the seductress kept her curvy body all but plastered against the bars where her admirers stood. She rocked and swayed in time with the music, but her lips trembled when a hand thrust inside the cage and stroked over her calf and ankle.

The dancer was letting the men touch her, and she was enjoying it.

Alicia was flabbergasted. She knew a lot about performing and she knew a fake smile when she saw one. This one was not for show. This was about …

Pleasure.

There it was again.

The hot, tight feeling in the pit of her belly drifted lower.

‘The Petting Zoo is only for dancers who want to enter it,’ Bas said into her ear, ‘but I must admit, most of our girls do. In fact, they’re the ones who came up with the idea.’

Alicia let out a shaky breath. ‘They did?’

That one hand at the small of her back became two as his hands fell lightly on her hips. Her lashes fluttered downwards. Her body was moving again, dancing in time with the sultry tune floating in the air.

‘It’s not only the gentlemen who become aroused by exotic dancing.’

No. No, it wasn’t. She took another quick drink of her wine and discovered it nearly gone.

‘Some of the girls felt frustrated by the all-look-no-touch model.’

‘But what … what if …’

‘If things go too far, there’s always someone watching out for them.’

Someone …

Her gaze lifted and she found herself pinned by a familiar stare. Remy Hunt lounged in the corner, his arms folded over his muscled chest. A flash of heat went through her and the tightness low in her belly throbbed, pulsing in time with the music. The thought of him watching while other men touched her … The idea of him looking at her while a stranger’s fingers plucked and pinched …

Oh, dear Lord.

She had to go. Her hand trembled, spilling the rest of her wine on the expensive thick carpet. She had to go now.

She turned but nearly ran smack dab into Bas’s chest. He took the wine glass from her and passed it to a waiter.

‘My office is this way.’ He turned her and Alicia found that Hunt had moved as well. Silently, swiftly. The operations manager pressed against a door that blended so well into the wall, she hadn’t seen it. It swung open on oiled hinges, and Bas gave her another nudge. Hunt gave her no space as she walked by him and her shoulder brushed against his chest. Heat spread down her arm, making her fingers tingle.

She was playing with danger here.

Her feet moved fast, and she separated herself from the two powerful men. She looked around for an escape, but instead saw a wall of television monitors. She took a step closer. One was trained on the spot across the street where her group of protesters stood every day.

Her body flashed hot. They had seen her! They’d been watching her for days.

She shouldn’t have come here. This had been a very bad idea. She was in over her head, and she knew it. Her hands shook as she opened her clutch and searched for her keys.

‘Please,’ Bas said, ‘have a seat.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really, I should be going now.’

He continued around his desk as if he hadn’t heard her and took a seat in the leather chair. ‘I’m glad you came here today, Alicia. I’ve been trying to be patient, but I’m not quite sure what it is that the Sunlight Epiphany Church wants from us.’

Her chin jerked upward. Once again, he’d shifted gears on her.

Her fingers finally wrapped around her keys, and she looked at the door. Once again, Hunt stood silently watching her. He leaned against the wall, seemingly at ease, but that image of a lounging black panther returned to her mind’s eye. She could feel its intense gaze upon her as its tail swished back and forth.

‘Leesha?’

The soft sound of her nickname had her looking back to the desk. There were two panthers here, she had to remember. One somewhat domesticated, the other not.

‘I’m sorry. You really should talk to my father about this. I could set up a time and –’

‘Do you want to close us down? Because there are families who depend on paychecks from the Satin Club to survive. We pay our employees very well.’

‘Our intent isn’t to make anyone want,’ she said immediately.