Page 3 of Directing You
“Oh, come on,” Noah said. “It’s not even midnight yet.”
The emcee came out to center stage with microphone in hand and pointed directly at me. “Sir, you’re going to want to sit down for this one,” he said, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “Trust me.”
I don’t know what it was about the way he said that—or whether it was just because I got singled out by the announcer of the show—but it was almost like getting called to the principal’s office.
He held my gaze until I slowly lowered back into my seat, looking at my buddies. “One more number won’t hurt, I guess,” I whispered.
Seemingly satisfied that I was staying, the emcee looked up and out at the rest of the audience, announcing, “Up next, we have the one…the only…Hazel Moon!”
The slow piano treble notes hit my ears first. I recognized Nina Simone’s “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl” filling the space, and one slender, muscled leg slid out from behind the red velvet curtain.
With the other acts, there was a constant buzz in the crowd—cheers, whistles and catcalls. But now? The audience seemed mesmerized, and as Hazel Moon swayed her body onto center stage, it was silent. Her hips churned hypnotically, circling to the beat. Her eyes swept the crowd, a mischievous smile tilting her mouth. Her dark hair, styled in retro curls, fell in her face and she nibbled on the bottom of her scarlet-stained lip. I watched her make eye contact, one by one, with random people in the audience, but when her eyes met mine, everyone else faded away. There was no one else in the room but the two of us, and she was dancing just for me. She paused, her hip pulses breaking for a fraction of a second. Did she feel it too? Or was this what she did? Was this her magic sorcery that made every man in the audience feel special when she laid her eyes on them?
I blinked, looking down at my glass, and when I brought my gaze back to the stage, she had moved on. Shimmying, she lifted her leg over her head in a high kick that rivaled the Rockettes. This girl was a trained dancer. I could see it in the turnout of her hips, the way she pointed her toe and squared her shoulders, the position of her gloved fingertips.
But what gave me the most pause wasn’t her dance training or her striking beauty. It was her costume. Unlike the other women who came out in sexy lingerie and feather boas, she was scantily clad in a Willy Wonka-esque costume, fully equipped with the cane, top hat, and deep purple tuxedo jacket. Beneath that, she wore what looked like a bedazzled yellow and purple bra and some sort of jeweled panty with a short skirt and hosiery. And, of course…those long, purple gloves.
And thus, her striptease began as she slithered out of the tuxedo jacket, bending backwards and allowing it to slip off her slender shoulders to the floor before kicking it away. Next, starting with her pinky, she peeled the glove off her fingers, slowly trailing it over her skin down past her elbow and wrist. As Nina Simone crooned about sugar, she revealed a chocolate truffle in the palm of her hand.
The audience went wild. Where they were once silent, now they were screaming and whistling. She bit her bottom lip, looking out to her admirers, and devoured the chocolate, slowly licking her fingers and giggling as the cheering grew louder. Unlike the other dancers, it seemed like she got pleasure out of her act, too. Not just the audience.
She peeled off her other glove and, lo and behold, there was another chocolate, which she ate quickly. This time, she revealed the melted chocolate on her fingers to the audience, then slowly spread it down between her cleavage, rolling her neck back.
Drifting her arms into the air, she glided into an elegant split that, even in her hosiery and small skirt, left little to the imagination. Flawlessly, she spun her legs on the floor and lifted back onto her feet, coming down the stairs into the audience, her eyes now locked on me. She swept past Noah, Simon, and James and paused in front of me, jutting her hip out as an offering. I lifted my brows, crossing my arms, the smirk on my face growing wider.
Her expression shifted, one eyebrow arching like a cat stretching its back after a long nap, and we held an entire conversation without speaking a word, with a few eyebrow twitches. She pulsed her hips toward me, an invitation to tug on the scrap of silk tied around her waist, covering her ass.
“Your crowd’s getting restless,” I said. “Better move on to someone else.”
“Restless men tip better,” she whispered, then glanced at Noah, who gave her a wink.
“Dammit,” I grunted. “I should’ve known you were behind this.”
Noah held up his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Reluctantly, I grabbed the string at her hip, and she twirled away from me, pulling loose the scarf that was left in my hand along with a golden ticket taped to the inside. Hazel twirled back into me, grabbed me by the wrist, and lifted my hand holding the ticket high in the air for the audience to see. They went nuts. Almost as if they all knew what was going to happen. Like they were in on some larger cosmic joke that I was not privy to.
She grabbed my hand and tugged me onto the stage with her as I inwardly cursed my former best friends still down at the safety of our table. Putting her fingers on top of my head, she pushed me to my knees in front of her. Then, she pulled a chocolate out from inside her bra, put it between her lips, and bent to meet my mouth.
I swallowed hard, feeling the stir in my pants as I looked into her low-hooded eyes. In the spotlight, they were such a dark shade of blue, they looked nearly black. She smelled like a heady mixture of lavender and chocolate as she hovered in front of me, and I parted my lips for her, a movement that was entirely out of my control.
Leaning forward slowly, she pressed the chocolate into my mouth, her wet lips meeting mine, and I had to swallow my groan. The moment both lasted forever and passed far too quickly for my liking, leaving me speechless and frozen on the stage, kneeling at her feet.
She straightened back to a standing position. Then, grasping my shoulders, she turned me so that I faced the audience and pushed me onto my back, lying on the stage. Facing me, and only me, with her back to the audience, she undid her bra. Bending at the waist, she flashed the audience her ass, shaking it and licking her lips as she tossed the bra aside, her perky, perfect B-cup breasts in my face…only for my viewing. Two tassels covered her nipples and I found myself wondering what they looked like beneath. Were they a rich mauve color? A pale rose hue? My mouth watered…and not for the chocolate that dripped down her cleavage. The whistles, the cheers, the horny men around us faded away, and for a moment, it was just Hazel Moon and me, lost in each other’s eyes again. She licked her lips, smiling down at me as her brows twitched.
“Ready?” she whispered.
“With you?” I said in return. “Something tells me I can never be ready enough.”
Her dark blue eyes twinkled. “You’re a fast learner.”
She lowered herself down onto me, her nearly bare pussy pressing against my now fully erect cock, and she rubbed her breasts against my mouth. “You know what to do,” she whispered as she writhed against my body.
I gave in—not like I had much choice—and opened my mouth, laving the melted chocolate between her breasts and just beside her tassel-covered nipple. Jesus Christ. In that moment, I would have given my left nut to have sucked her nipple into my mouth.
A vibration pulled me from the moment. A moan…hermoan. Could it be that she was enjoying my tongue as much as I was enjoying this? Or was that part of the act?
Her chest heaved as she pulled back. Her lips were wet and parted as she panted heavy, hard breaths. “Meet me after. In the Champagne Room.”
With that, she pushed off of me, spun around, revealing herself to the audience, and circled those tassels for the rest of the audience to see. And just like that, her performance was over.
