Page 76 of Dance with Me
His grin flashed in the dark, wicked and full of anticipation. “Promise. Now get that sweet ass over here.”
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The burlesque show had been the worst kind of tease. Not because of any of the action happening on stage—though Renee and the other women had shaken and shimmied and stripteased like champs.
No, as titillating and fun as the show had been, Dimitri’s current source of discomfort came from Natasha’s reaction.
Who knew choosingnotto fight a guy would make him a hero in her eyes?
And who knew she’d enjoy watching other women strip? He would have thought she’d be immune to it.
Halfway through, he’d slipped a hand under her dress, feeling the warmth between her thighs. She’d moaned and wriggled on his lap, her ass rubbing against his erection.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
“You like this,” he’d said, surprised. On stage, two women made out and ran their hands over each other’s bodies. “The show.”
She’d twisted to kiss him, her tongue delving deep into his mouth, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Her dark eyes seemed luminous, reflecting the stage lights. “I like watching this withyou.”
He was so stocking up on porn after this.
Once the show was over, he helped Natasha to her feet. “Dinner?”
“We have to go backstage first,” she told him, sounding almost apologetic. “I can’t leave without saying hello to Renee and Jeff.”
Dimitri raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m going to complain about going backstage at a gentlemen’s club?”
She pinched his arm.
The backstage area was well lit, and filled with the warm, sweet smells of women—hair spray, perfume, makeup, and whatever else they used before going out to perform. It reminded him of the way his bathroom smelled after Natasha finished using a blow dryer on her hair. Rows of vanity tables lined both walls, each mirror surrounded by bright round bulbs. Another wall held framed black and white photos of classic movie stars, visible over a rack full of costumes.
Renee bustled over to them, wearing a short robe of ice-blue silk. She kissed Natasha’s cheek and shot Dimitri a teasing grin. “Glad you both could make it. What did you think?”
While Natasha launched into a discussion of the dance quality of the routines, punctuated by effusive praise, Dimitri put a hand on her shoulder and tried to keep his gaze at eye level.
He had years of backstage experience with dancers and actors. Seeing people in various stages of undress was normal for him. But this was different. Despite the joke he’d made to Natasha, he was aware of being a man in a women’s space, and he’d be damned if he made them feel ogled in their safe zone.
Then another man walked in, medium height and build with sandy brown hair, holding a clipboard. “Alicia and Damaris, you’re up next,” he called out.
Two women touching up their makeup slipped off their robes and headed out. One of them, a slim brunette, spotted Natasha and let out a gasp of surprise.
“Tash? Is that you?”
Natasha turned, and squealed. “Damaris! I didn’t know you were still here.”
Damaris gave Natasha a squeeze. “The money’s too good. I came back to do one night a week, just to build my savings.”
The man with the clipboard stepped closer. “Damaris, you’re due on the stage.” Then he nodded at Natasha. “Hey, Natasha, good to see you. Renee told me you might come by.”
With a wave, Damaris headed out, and Natasha made introductions.
“Dimitri, this is Jeff, the manager here. Jeff, Dimitri is a . . . a friend of mine.”
Jeff grinned and shook Dimitri’s hand. “Good to meet you. How’d you like the show?”
Renee patted Dimitri’s arm. “You don’t have to answer that. He wants your opinion because he knows you judge dancers.”
Some of the other women were watching, so he gave a thumbs-up and said, “I give it one hundred percent.”
