Faye squared her shoulders, reached down for her clutch bag, and followed the dancer away from the stage.
“I’ve been watching you since you walked into the club,” Faye’s dancer glanced over her shoulder as she pulled back a black curtain. “You’re new here.”
“Y-yeah.” She smiled. She had no idea what the hell she was doing back here. Her dancer was gorgeous, those smoky eyes alluring, but this wasn’t right. Was it? As much as Faye hated this, her body told her otherwise. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so…aroused.You’re disgusting!“Look, you don’t have to do this. I’ll pay you, but the dance or whatever…you don’t have to do this.”
“What if I want to?” The dancer narrowed her eyes as she pushed Faye down into a seat. Those eyes…Faye knew them. “What if I want to dance for you?”
“I-I, uh…” Faye’s heart pounded when hot breath washed over her ear. And then came the perfume. God, this woman smelled amazing. Subtle, but a scent Faye wouldn’t forget in a hurry.I won’t forget the woman wearing it either. “W-what’s your name?”
“Don’t worry about my name right now.” Soft lips barely brushed Faye’s ear, flaring up every last ounce of arousal she had.
Faye’s eyes closed when the dancer ground down against her lap. As beautiful as this woman was, Faye couldn’t possibly enjoy something that required payment. Not in this way. But her body continued to respond, telling her otherwise.
“How about I just give you what you want?” The dancer flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her hips rolling in Faye’s lap. “That’s why you’re here.”
“S-sure,” Faye said, swallowing as she fought back the urge to reach out and touch her dancer. That wasn’t allowed—and rightly so. Nobody had any right to lay a hand on any of these women, and Faye was no different.
Her dancer turned; her arms draped over Faye’s shoulders. Faye studied her, still convinced she knew her, but she couldn’t place where from. She held back the need to tell her dancer just how beautiful her eyes were, this wasn’t the time or place to hit on a woman. They were here for a job, not for a date.But God, she really is beautiful.
Faye focused on her cleavage. Her mother would hit the roof if she knew what her daughter was doing tonight.
All she could do was watch on, and enjoy the show.
The dancer’s breasts pressed against Faye’s, and her breath hitched from the mere thought of this delectable woman against her. She shouldn’t feel this way. But Faye had never been so captivated by another woman before. A woman she knew nothing about, and a woman who was only here to get paid.
That’s right. Find yourself attracted to the exotic dancer!
CHAPTERTWO
Talia blewout a nervous breath as she jammed a tea towel into the cappuccino cup she’d been drying for the last ten minutes. Monday morning at the bistro was busy, but the constant orders coming in from customers hadn’t kept her mind off the events from Friday night. A night that Talia really wished she hadn’t been involved in.
She loved dancing at Vision. She loved dancingperiod. She didn’t particularly care for the men who drooled over her, or the women on some occasions, but she loved the freedom to express herself—andthe money she took home at the end of the night. In reality, she didn’t need the job at the bistro, but with only being required to work a Friday and Saturday night, a normal 9 to 5 job appealed to her. If she wasn’t on the go, Talia didn’t know what to do with herself.
But then the woman from the coffee shop had walked in, apparently booked a private dance, and now, any hopes of Talia charming her in here had been smashed to pieces. She knew she was fooling herself; she couldn’t hold down a relationship because of her other work, but Talia couldn’t give it up either.
Regardless of what people thought about the profession, she loved it. Every second of it. At a time when she could have ruined her life and fallen into a routine with the wrong people, Paul, the owner of Vision and its sister club in London, had come calling after seeing Talia’s audition tape.
And now, she was considered one of the best dancers in Europe.
But she knew what people thought of her. They may not say it out loud—her family and old friends who didn’t call anymore—but Talia knew exactly what they were saying. She was a whore. She would give up her body for anyone if the price was right. She was a disappointment in her mother’s eyes. But none of it was true. Vision had a strict no touching policy, and if anyone dared to cross the line, expecting more, the client was blacklisted from the venue. And in some cases, the dancer was released from their contract. Talia had witnessed it on several occasions, but she had never crossed the line with a client. And she never would. It would change how Talia saw herself.
It would also change her career. In her eyes, she was a performer. It really was as simple as that. She didn’t pour herself over clients because she wanted something more from them, but they paid the top end of the pricelist for her attention, and at the end of the night, Talia was the one who left feeling good about herself. Because she’d worked hard to have the life she had now. At 29, she had a mortgage on a gorgeous apartment in the city, her own car, and she didn’t rely on another soul for anything in life. While her friends from school were up to their eyeballs in debt, sleeping with the wrong people, or in prison, Talia was quite literally living her best life.
And as she stood here this morning, taking coffee and breakfast orders, she knew she wouldn’t change a single second of it. If someone wanted to pay the best part of four hundred pounds to spend thirty minutes with her in their lap, who was she to complain? She must have been doing something right.
She snapped out of her thoughts when she realised she had a queue forming at the cash register. It was Monday morning, the beginning of a new week, and she’d already paid her bills for the month. This was just something to keep her occupied, but she wouldn’t offer a shitty service because of it.
When she approached the counter, her eyes widened. The next customer to be served was the woman from the club on Friday. Talia had never felt embarrassed about what she did, but this morning, the potential was there. The customer would see her and probably out her to everyone around.
God, she is so beautiful too.And respectful. The first reminder that sprung to mind from that night was how respectful her client had been. Talia knew she didn’t want to be there, her friend had dragged her along, but she had offered to pay Talia without the dance. That was definitely the sign of a woman who didn’t agree with dancing in gentleman’s clubs.Yet, she still walked through that door.
“Hi. What can I get you?” Talia bit the bullet and stepped behind the register. The pretty cappuccino woman was going to bump into her at some point. Why not get it over and done with now?
“Oh, hi.” She smiled, her eyes fixed firmly on Talia’s. There was a slight crease to her brow. Did this woman not recognise Talia? Surely not. Okay, she had blonde hair when she was dancing, not her natural jet black, and her makeup was kinda heavy, but she didn’t think she’d be so unrecognisable. “Uh, cappuccino please. And I’ll take a cream cheese bagel, too.”
“What’s your name?”
“Excuse me?” The customer’s brow furrowed deeper. And then Talia realised exactly what she’d said. She’d asked the very same thing her client had asked on Friday night.