Death of a Chorus Girl (The Delacroix Series Book 1) (9 page)

“She’s not manipulative,” I defend her through clenched teeth.

“For your sake, I hope she’s not.”

Empathy Delacroix: In My Element

“E
verything’s going to be great, Em.  I knew you were the right person for the job.”  Tom’s hands are on my shoulders as we wait in the wings for the drifters to find their seats.  The evening is about to commence, and I was fine until I thought I caught a glimpse of Richard in the audience.  I shake the image out of my head and berate myself. 
Focus.  No matter how much you wish he were here, you already know he’s not
.  “It’s time.”

Tom takes my hand, places it in the crook of his elbow, and leads me on stage with the evening’s MC’s trailing behind us.  He gives his speech, thanking everyone for this year’s turnout, before asking the audience to thank this year’s creative team.  We all take our bows before departing the stage.  The second my footsteps off the stage I race to wardrobe to change quickly and join our floor crew.

My assistant, Trevor, takes my dress as I slip into my orphan costume.  He helps me secure my wig before I join the other dancers on the ballroom floor.  There are typically just the selected numbers from some of the current shows performed on the stage for the audience.  This year, Tom approved my idea to hire some of the chorus performers to learn a multitude of routines to perform scattered amongst the patrons.  This brings the show to everyone.

One number down, two to
go.  I disappear through my exit and change into my costume from my own show.  Trevor pulls off my wig as I slip into a pair of dance slacks and my rain slicker. Popping on my fedora, I grab my umbrella and get back out on the floor.  I have a longer break on the next go round.  Having to slip into fishnets is one of the primary reasons.  The short black wig is the other.

I am ready to go just in time.  The music starts; I inhale courage and exhale nerves until it is my turn to step into my first move of
Cell Block Tango
from
Chicago
.

Richard Giordano: The Westin New York Grand Central

My head spins from being in the midst of all these performers, especially because I keep seeing Em among them.  But she can’t be.  She is dressed to exquisite perfection at a table beside my least favorite person, Tom Worthy.

I sit at a table near the back with Frisco, Steve, the captain, and a few other guys from the unit.  I guess being personally invited by the organizers doesn’t afford you prime viewing for the event.

“Psst, Dick!” 
God damn it, could he be any louder? 
I glare at Steve and mouth “what?”  “Switch seats with me,” he hisses.  When I mouth “why” his eyes dart to the blonde next to me.  I glance over my shoulder to find her making eyes at him too and I roll mine.  Does Steve seriously have to find a skirt everywhere he goes?

I go back to watching the dancers.  It isn’t safe to switch with him now, not with them moving all around.  Besides, this is the number from Em’s show.

Steve and I switch seats when the song ends.  He immediately cozies up to the blonde.  I turn my attention back to the performers.  After seeing Em on her stage, I have a newfound respect for their performance.

The lights in the room dim after a couple more numbers.  Spotlights light up the stage and certain spots in the room, one right in front of me.  The immediate catcalls and whistles erupting through the room confirm that this performance is one many of the guests have been waiting for.

It begins with six women on the stage.  One of the women steps forward into a spotlight as the others fade.  A howl immediately erupts from the front corner of the room.  I can’t see what is going on, but
something
is.  This pattern repeats itself twice more before I figure it out.  The spotlights are for each individual performance.  In the transitions between each actor, some men come out and pick up a chair from a member of the audience before plopping them down in the spotlight.  Being so close to one makes me instantly uneasy.

Then what I’ve been dreading happens.  Two men race out during the transition, pick up my chair, and put me down, dead center in the spotlight.  All eyes turn to me as I close mine.  The music slows, and I can feel the sweat sliding down my back.  There are occasional touches as her hands graze across my body, but I have no idea what the dancer sharing my spotlight is doing.  But the whistles and shouts tell me she is greatly appreciated by every other man in the vicinity.

About the time I dare to open my eyes, because I think I am getting off easy, I find out I’m not.  They pop wide when her leg comes over my shoulder. 
Christ!
  A calf slides down my chest and the rest of her body follows until she is in my lap with her back to me.  I hear Steve’s raucous comments above all the others.  But what drives me crazy? I swear,
on my life
, this woman is Em.

You’re projecting.  She’s at the table with Worthy and her hair isn’t black
.  The woman leans back into me, her hands run down my arms, and she stretches her leg straight up.  Her smell is just like Em’s.  My brain screams this isn’t her.  My body, however, convinced it is, overrules my mind.  Her hands take mine and I can’t stop myself from running my nose the length of her neck as I breathe her in.  This close, I hear her faint gasp.  My desire for Em clouds my better judgment and my lids fall until my eyes are half closed.  She guides my hands down her torso to her legs until they are on her inner thighs.  Together we spread them wide.  I shake my head to get her hair out of my face and Em out of my thoughts.  That’s when I notice the other one.

All I hear is, “spread eagle.”  There is a beat, the spotlight goes out, and the woman in my lap falls lifeless.  At her collapse, from being the embodiment of my one desire to being laid out across my lap, my eyes open wide.  I quickly recover from the initial shock, realizing this is the end of our spot.  No one has returned to their tables so I can only assume there is going to be something else at some point.

There is nothing else to do but examine the woman splayed atop me. I figure out how she keeps herself from falling.  She twisted so that her side replaced her back against my torso.  The one leg that stayed over mine is limp now.  The other wrapped around my leg, and I can feel her flexed muscles. Her back is arched across my thigh with her arms extended above her head.  While they appear flaccid, I can see the tension in their lines.

I place a hand on her waist and the other under her neck in an effort to ease the strain she has to be in because of this awkward position.  My fingers graze her open midriff, which I am fighting desperately not to look at, and she jolts.  She’s ticklish.  The move presses her against my pelvis, and I throb against her hip.  I’m sure the blush on my face is obvious even with the lights dimmed.

Finally, God takes pity on my soul and ends the torturous song.  I pull up on my arm at the shifting of her body.  “Richard!” she breathes in full astonishment when we are nose to nose.

Em!
  My eyes need a minute to focus since the lights burst on, illuminating the whole space.  “Can you offer me any cover?” I whisper.  I have a hundred questions for her, but I also have a hundred desires, and they are currently all located in my pants.

She flashes me a warm smile and is slow to rise, allowing me the opportunity to adjust so my erection isn’t so obvious when I return to my table. 
How am I going to talk to her?
  She was right there, in my lap, in my arms. 
Stop that train of thought.  That’s not going to help with your other situation. 
Trying not to think of her is an impossible task.  She stands before me, barely dressed in some kind of netted hose, panties, a sports bra, and heels.  My mouth salivates at the sight.  This image will fill my dreams tonight. So much for maintaining a professional distance. 
What Joe doesn’t know…

I am unable to remove my eyes from her form. I catch the subtle flicker of her eyes to the door; the flex in her hand as she spreads all her fingers.  I pray that I’m not about to make a fool out of myself when I meet her outside the door in five minutes.  Then like a ghost, she is gone, vanished from the room.  I stand and notice that I am not the only one who got excited from being incorporated into the show.  Thanks to her help, I’m not pitching a noticeable tent like the guy across from me.

Steve slaps me on the shoulder when I get back to my table.  “You’re welcome, you lucky bastard!”  My mind is still swimming so I sink into my seat in absolute confusion of why he thinks I owe him thanks.

Frisco leans into my ear. “Steve would have been the guy in the chair had you two not switched.”

Holy shit, that’s right!  That means Em would have been draped all over him!  That means Em didn’t pick me out of the crowd!  She was just as surprised as I was!  THAT MEANS EM would have done that with whatever guy had been in this chair!

Fury explodes inside me.  It just now hits me that the entire room saw her in nothing more than simple lingerie.  That she would have done that on anyone!  The jealousy comes on so quick there isn’t time to think clearly.  “Please excuse me,” I say as I shoot up from the blasted chair.  “I need a minute.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Steve taunts me.

I round on him. “Shut it, Steve!” comes out as a snarl before I storm out of the room.

Empathy Delacroix: Insanity

I step out of a packed dressing room right when Richard barrels through the doors, looking positively wild.  He immediately spots me and charges, snatching my hand and dragging me down the hall.  We move so fast that the chiffon fabric of my dress flutters behind me.  He searches for a place to go.  I start to ask him what he is looking for but at the sound of his name, he rounds on me.  “Privacy! Em!  Now!”

Not fully understanding what demon has a hold of him, I nod and lead him to a room we used as a dressing room, which is now empty.  Everyone hurried back into the ballroom for dinner.  I slide the keycard through the slot on the door.  The second it unlocks we dive inside.

The rush from before disappears now that we are in private but whatever intense emotion possesses him hasn’t.  He flicks the lock so we can’t be bothered before turning what I assume are going to be hungry eyes on me.  I am wrong and therefore ill prepared for the absolute famine I see.  Having never been faced with such passion before, I can’t help but step back.

He captures me in a flash and locks me in the snare of his embrace.  There is only enough time to lift my forearms in an instinctually defensive move.  He crushes me against his body and his desires become evident.  His lips and tongue claim and invade me.

I’ve been kissed before, but never with such unbridled passion as what I experience now.  My legs give out and Richard automatically supports me, drawing me closer, which I didn’t think possible.  I melt into him, focusing on his taste, the softness of his lips, the clean, natural smell of his cologne, and the strength of his hold.  Every nerve ending I have engages and tingles all over my body.

Richard Giordano: The Empty Room

Her kiss is better than my dreams, superior to my fantasies, and more than I ever hoped for.  I can’t believe she is actually in my arms or that hers have wrapped around my neck with her fingers raking through my hair.  The scent of lavender fills my nostrils, erasing the truth of where we are from my mind and all the consequences that will befall us both if we are found together.

She inches backward and I follow, like an obedient dog, my lips never leaving hers, until her back meets the nearest wall.  I groan when her tongue laps at mine and crush her between my body and the wall, sinking deeper into the abyss of attraction.  I don’t know what it is about her, but from the second I saw her, I have always wanted more.  Even now, the exploration of her lips and her mouth isn’t satisfying enough.  I want to know this woman’s soul; express to her just how whole she makes me feel.

The backs of my fingers brush her cheeks before trailing down her neck.  A satisfied sigh passes her lips then she pulls away and tilts her head, offering me her neck.  I take a moment to drink her in.  The swollen, bottom lip caught in her teeth.  The drunken desire in her eyes. There is so much I want from her and to give her, but I know it is too soon.  Every beat of my heart stokes the heat threatening to burn me alive.

A hammering at the door cuts our rendezvous short.  “EM!  Everything alright?”

We both recognize Worthy’s voice.  Her eyes pop open and fly around the room.  She grabs my arm and shoves me behind a screen.  “Yes, I’m fine, give me a second,” she calls to him. She turns to the mirror, fingers frantically combing through her hair, putting every strand back in place.  “Unzip my dress,” she hisses as she presses an arm across her breasts.  Her other hand is quickly replacing her lipstick.  Her eyes trap mine in the mirror. “
Unzip my dress.
”

I follow her instructions.  It’s hard to be confronted with the muscular lines of her flawless back, the teasing strap of her bra, the hint of her lace panties, and not do anything else.  She leaves a quick kiss on my cheek at the same time as her palm pushes against my chest.  I sit when a chair meets the back of my knees.

Em speaks so fast I barely register all she says. “Stay there.  Don’t move and don’t make a sound.  I’ll be leaving with Tom so you aren’t caught.  Wait about ten minutes.  I’ll make sure to create enough of a scene to lure the photo-bloggers away from here.  Find me on the dance floor when dinner is over.  We can talk there.”  Then the screen steals her from my eyes.