All Things Pretty (11 page)

“Can’t keep my eyes on her from out here,
now can I?” I say with a crooked smile. Casual. Dedicated. Taking
my job more seriously after his call today. That’s what I want him
to think.

He stares at me with his bizarrely blank
eyes–killer’s eyes, if I had to guess–before he nods once and turns
to walk off. I follow him in, the two doormen, AKA high-end
bouncers, nodding us in as we pass. I’m not surprised that Tonin
and his goons are well known here.

The inside of the club is done up in black
as far as the eye can see. The walls, the ceiling, the marble
floor, the granite bar–everything, jet black. Even the stage, the
focal point of the room, is black, and just as shiny as the shiny
black pole in the center of it. There’s a dancer on it right now.
She has red hair that reaches her ass and tits that look too big
for her body. I’d much prefer the natural handful of Tommi’s to
this woman’s. She’s pretty hot, just not what’s on my mind at the
moment.

I watch her wrap one leg around the pole and
grind against it as she rubs her nipples. I don’t know how, but
she’s doing a great job of making stripping look classy. That’s
probably a talent in and of itself. I doubt
any
of the girls
one might find in here are common or trashy, though. Just
expensive.

The stage is surrounded by deep-seated
velvet chairs in black, each with a small, round table to the side,
and there are several doors on two of the walls, as well as a
balcony area up top. The glass is smoked, but not so much that I
can’t see a pole coming from the ceiling up there, too. A private
viewing room, I guess.

That’s when I see Tommi preceding Tonin
through a door that opens onto steps that go up. I guess I know
where she and Lance are going now.

I’m feeling pissy again when Barber lightly
slaps my arm to get my attention. He motions toward the bar that
wraps around the left side of the room. I nod and follow, sitting
with him and two guys I’ve only seen once before, but haven’t been
introduced to. Must be Tonin’s most trusted men. Like Barber, just
lower.

I slide onto a stool and turn to watch the
cocktail waitresses shake their ass across the room as they dart
between tables. They’re wearing short, black, satin skirts and
sequined tops that look like low-cut, sleeveless tuxedos. All of
them are good-looking. Built like brick shithouses. Smell like
expensive perfume instead of stale cigarette smoke. Nothing less
than grade A pussy in this place, I’m sure.

Nothing but the best for Tonin.

Even
I
can hear the bitterness in the
tone of my inner voice. That’s why, when Barber signals me for a
drink, I order a shot of whiskey with my Coke.

My eyes continually stray to the balcony.
It’s eating me up wondering what the hell is going on up there. I
almost come out of my seat when I see a nice, naked ass get pressed
up against the tinted glass in the balcony. It’s attached to a
blonde head. I think my heart stops for a second when I see Tonin
flatten his hands on either side of her head and kiss her. I can’t
watch this shit! I just can’t do it.

But then I realize it’s not Tommi.
Thank
God!
She’s not tall enough to be Tommi and her legs aren’t long
enough. That only makes me feel a little better, though. I still
don’t know what he’s putting her through up there. I just know that
I feel like she needs me, like she needs saving. And not just
tonight.
Every
night.

Four shots later, nothing seems to be able
to take the edge off. I
have to know
what’s going on up
there.

I tell Barber I’m going to the bathroom.
After seeing several people going in one direction, I finally saw
the muted male and female symbols above a short hallway right
beside the stairs that lead up to the balcony. The stairs I need to
sneak onto. I head that way, squelching the voice in the back of my
mind that warns me that this is a bad idea. Yes, I’m supposed to
get close to her, but it probably shouldn’t be eating me up like
this because I can’t. The rational side of me says that I’m
dangerously close to mixing business with pleasure. Every other
side of me tells that side to go to hell.

I glance behind me to see if Barber’s
watching. He’s not. He and the other two are eyeing a waitress that
has stopped to talk to them. She’s all but sitting in Barber’s lap,
which he doesn’t seem to be minding much. I turn back toward my
objective.

After another quick glance behind me, rather
than continuing on to the bathrooms, I open the door that leads
upstairs and then jerk it shut behind me. In the darkness of the
stairwell, as I look up to whatever might be waiting for me at the
top, I realize I’m almost to the point of no return. I also realize
that I don’t care. If I get caught, I’ll think of something, some
excuse. I’m quick on my feet. You have to be to go under. I was
born with the skill to do this and I’m not afraid to use it.

I still hear the music from the club; it’s
just a little more muted. But now, I also hear laughing and
moaning. It’s coming from upstairs. And it sets my teeth on
edge.

I mount the steps, pausing at the top to
look left and right. The stairs don’t dump directly into the
balcony. There’s a small anteroom before it, and I can see another
open doorway. It leads into a private bathroom. I can see the
vanity mirror and sink.

The next song that comes on is sexy as hell,
Don’t Tell ‘Em
. Under different circumstances, I’d love to
have this playing when I’m with Tommi. But not tonight. Not like
this.

I ease around the rail that tops the steps
and press against the wall to get a sidelong glance into the
balcony room. My jaw drops open and hangs there, stunned wide.

There’s a stage up here as well. A smaller
version of the one downstairs. And Tommi is on it. Her ass is
pressed to the pole, back arched, eyes closed. Her fingers are
threaded into the hair of a brunette. Looks like she’s licking one
of Tommi’s nipples. Tonin is on a couch to the left of the stage,
watching the show as the blonde who I must’ve seen from downstairs
sucks his cock. His palm is on the back of her head, pumping it up
and down, as he eyes Tommi and the other girl on the stage.

So this is what he likes. This is what he
has her do for him. While I hate the thought of him seeing her, of
him possibly making her do stuff like this against her will, I
almost hope this is what gets him off, that he never lays a hand on
her otherwise. Just watches other women do it. Maybe this is what
she does to get what she needs from him, whatever that is. Because
I know there’s something. Right now, Tonin is saving her
from…something. But who’s going to save her from him? Or from
herself?

I can’t stop my eyes from drifting back to
the stage. The brunette is making her way down Tommi’s stomach, her
hands plastered to the round ass that I so often admire. Tommi’s
eyes are still closed, her body swaying slightly to the sensual
tune, but not necessarily like she’s enjoying what’s happening. She
looks to me like she’s checked out, like she’s somewhere else.
Thinking of something else. I wonder again if this is what Tonin
makes
her do. Maybe it’s what she
has to do
to keep
him from putting his dick in her. Hell, if that’s the case, I don’t
blame her. I’d let a hot chick lick on me all day long if it saved
me from Tonin. Of course, I’d let a hot chick lick on me all day
anyway, but that’s not the point.

The brunette pulls Tommi’s lacy panties from
one hip and I let my eyes wander back up a flat, golden stomach to
pale-white, creamy breasts that are absolutely perfect in every
way. They’re plump and high and topped with dusky pink nipples that
are just the right size. At the moment, they’re hard as damn rocks,
too.

My cock stirs in my jeans and I think to
myself that I should go back downstairs. Tonin would be mad as hell
if he found me up here creeping on his party, but I can’t tear my
eyes away from Tommi. She’s the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve
ever seen. Her skin is flawless, her body exquisite. Every long,
tall inch of it.

I pull my gaze away from her tits to find
her face. Her eyes are open now. And focused on me.

CHAPTER NINETEEN- TOMMI

In my mind, Sig is so real. With the thump
of the music drowning out reality, I can feel his hands on my body,
his mouth at my breast, his hair between my fingers. In my fantasy,
in the quiet of my mind, I can be anywhere, with anybody. And I
chose Sig. Whether I meant to or not, he’s on my mind more often
than not lately.

Heat and moisture spread from my nipples
down my stomach to my navel. Fingers tug at my panties and I want
more than anything to lose myself to sensation. To him.

Only this isn’t real. Not what’s in my head.
It’s just a dream, a foggy place where I go to escape whatever is
happening to me. I’ve done it most of my life and it’s always
worked. Until tonight. I know when I open my eyes, I won’t see Sig.
I’ll be alone in a room full of people, in a room full of people
who don’t even know me, who only want something from me that I
don’t want to give.

Reluctantly, my lids drift up and lock onto
a pair of eyes that look onyx in the shadows, eyes that I’ve been
dreaming about since I first saw them sparkle in the sunshine. For
a few seconds, I can’t be sure I’m not still in my dream world.

Is Sig really standing in the doorway,
watching me? I don’t know.

His gaze devours me, delves into my soul,
through the windows of my pupils. I can feel him touching me there,
like I can feel his stare touching me everywhere else.

Like a caress, I watch his eyes fall to my
lips. I wet them because they burn for him, for his kiss. I see his
perusal skim my throat and chest and stray to my breasts. My
nipples tingle into sharp points, aching for the man who stands
across the room. My stomach muscles contract when the dark orbs
tease them. And when they go lower, as though stripping me barer
than I already am, I feel the gush of warmth between my legs.

I gasp, teetering between what’s real and
what’s imagined. It’s when Sig’s eyes return to mine, blazing with
a fire that singes my nerve ends, that I realize he’s here. He’s
really here, standing in the doorway, watching as another woman
touches me so that Lance can get off. What he doesn’t know is that
his
is the only touch that I crave–Sig’s.

I jerk my eyes away. I have to fight the
urge to cover myself because I can’t draw Lance’s attention to Sig
or this night will go sideways in a hurry. Instead, I tug on
Felicia’s head and bring her back up to stand in front of me. “I
need to go to the bathroom,” I tell her.

With a sexy smile, she nods and whirls away
to grab the pole with one hand and swing her body around it, always
the performer. I hold up one finger to Lance, who just lays his
head back and closes his eyes as Amber bobs up and down on him.

Trying not to act self-conscious, I walk
across the room in only my heels and panties, my head held high. I
remind myself that nobody knows me. Not really. They might think
they do, that they can judge me, but they can’t. They have no idea
what my life is like, what’s involved and why I do the things that
I do. God forbid they ever have to find out, that they ever have to
face the limited options I’ve had to face. And make the choices
that I’ve made.

My cheeks burn as I brush past Sig in the
hall and hurry to the bathroom. I know he will follow me. I can see
the anger on his face. He’s too mad to think about
self-preservation, which is why I have to preserve
for
him.

He comes in behind me and closes the door. I
cover myself as I turn, not expecting him to be right next to
me.

“Why?” he hisses. “Why the hell do you let
him do this shit to you? You’re better than this. Better than
him.”

“If I do things like this for him, let him
watch, he keeps his hands off me. It’s a deal we made a long time
ago. He can keep his whores or he can have me. Not both.”

“H-he doesn’t touch you? You don’t…”

“No. I don’t think I could live with myself.
Besides, it’s not
his
hands that I want touching me.”

He watches me, chest heaving, for two long
seconds and then his mouth is on mine, hot and urgent. His fingers
thread into my braid and fist, pulling my head to the side as he
slips his tongue between my lips. I taste the dark hint of whiskey
combined with a sweetness that seems to be just Sig, and I realize
that I’m thirsty. So thirsty. For this. For
him.

He kisses me with a wildness that awakens an
abandon in me, a desire to throw caution to the wind and dive into
this. And for a few moments, I do.

I dig my nails into his straining biceps and
I open for him, I let him into a place that few people have ever
seen. It’s a place where I hide, I hide the real me with all her
emotions and hurts and wants.

Sig winds his arms around me, the fingers of
one hand squeezing my butt while the other skates up and down my
naked side. When his lips leave mine and trail along my jaw, I arch
for him, my only thought to feel his kiss on every needy surface of
my body.

“When you go back out there, you think of
me,” he growls lustily, his teeth biting into my chin as he passes
on his way to my neck. “My hands, my lips, my tongue.”

I feel breathless and hot. On fire, from the
inside out. When his mouth latches onto my nipple, I gasp my
response to him as quietly as I can. “I was. I was already thinking
of you.”

“Now you’ll know,” he says around my flesh,
his tongue and teeth and lips, licking and nipping and sucking.
“You’ll know what it feels like. And what it’ll be like when I have
you naked, underneath me.”

I’m panting, dizzy when his hand slides down
my belly and into my panties, one long finger finding my core,
driving inside me and bringing me up on my tiptoes.