A dangerous Affair (holiday specials)

Chapter 001

----SO SEXY, EVEN YOU CAN'T DENY IT-----

GABBIE

The bass thumped through the velvet floors when Dante cornered me near the backstage curtain. His breath smelled like cheap cigarettes, desperation showing in his expression.

“Just this once, Ella… I talked to him. He promised not to touch you anymore, okay? Please?”

Lies. His eyes were always the first to give him away, muddy, nervous, dirty.

“You can’t tame a monster, Dante. It’s the third time this week. Frederico is going to do it again and you know that.” I jerked my chin toward Rico lounging across the room, pretending to be harmless. Pretending was his specialty. “If you’re so worried, send another girl. Why me?”

“Ella, please, just this once and I’ll...”

“My pay.” I held out my hand. “For today. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He hesitated only a second before dropping the envelope into my palm, then scurried off to kiss Frederico’s boots or whatever kept his club running. I'd rather kiss shit.

The smell of spilled wine clung to my bra, sticky and sour. Men always did this shit, spill, grab and laugh like ruining my night was part of the service they paid for.

I pushed through the hallway, the muffled music fading as the smell of hairspray and perfume grew stronger. The dressing-room door was cracked open, and just as I reached for the handle, voices drifted through.

“She thinks she’s better than everyone,” someone hissed.

Another giggled. “Oh Please. I know she sneaks around with customers after hours. Little miss saint my ass.”

“Yeah, and I don’t even understand why they cling to her like leeches...”

I swung the door open, unable to take the shit anymore.

Silence hit the room as soon as I stepped in. The girls froze, their make-up brushes dangling from their hands. They were all staring at me with that guilty, wide eyed expression like they had been caught in a lie...

Their eyes dragged over me, my body, my outfit, my curves and I didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

I unclipped my bra with one clean pull, letting it fall open. My breasts bounced free before the fabric even hit the floor.

The room inhaled at the same time as I stepped toward them slowly, deliberately, like I was walking on a stage instead of grimy tile. They stared, hungry and hateful and stunned.

“This…” I said, cupping my breasts lightly with both hands, then running my palms up to my temples as if their presence gave me a migraine. “This is the reason they cling. Like leeches.”

I turned my back to them and looked straight into the mirror. Under the glowing bulbs, my curves glowed. I traced one finger down my hip in a slow, taunting manner but never breaking eye contact with them through the glass.

Even the air stopped moving.

“Even you can’t deny it,” I murmured.

None of them blinked. None of them breathed.

Perfect.

I smirked and walked toward my private closet, my one little sanctuary in this whole place... feeling their burning stares follow every step.

Once the door shut behind me, the air changed. It was Softer, Quieter and Safe.

I sat in front of my mirror and pulled off my stage mask.

Underneath the glitter and eyeliner, my own eyes looked back at me, smudged, tired, human.

I took out my contacts lenses first, they didn't look like mine. Not the siren they wanted.

Just a girl trying to make rent.

The money I earned tonight was just enough to pay my rent deposit, crazy how I've been holding on for so long.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

The shower hissed on behind me, steam filling the small space. I stepped inside and let the water run hot, hotter, until my skin tingled and the glitter washed down the drain in gold and pink.

The steam curled around me like a second skin, thick and hazy. I tilted my head back under the hot spray, letting the water pound against my collarbone.

I was rinsing my hair when I heard the door creak open.

I didn’t scream, Didn’t jump and never even bothered covering myself because only one coward in this place had footsteps that nervous.

“Dante,” I said flatly, wiping water from my eyes. “Ever heard of knocking?”

He hovered in the doorway, hands twitching, eyes glued to the ceiling as if looking at me would burn him alive. “I...uh... I did knock. Twice. You didn’t answer.”

“That usually means go away.”

“I know, I know.” He swallowed, staring at the wall instead of me. “But there’s… a customer.”

“So?” I dragged a hand down my stomach to wipe off foam. “What does that have to do with me? There are like ten girls outside dying to sit on some old man’s lap.”

“This one asked for you specifically,” he said quickly. “By name.”

I snorted. “Then tell him he can specifically fuck off.”

"He saw your dance earlier but briefly... He wants to see you again."

Dante stepped inside fully now, tension all over him.

He wouldn’t be here unless he was desperate.

“He’s new,” Dante said. “Never been here before. Very… particular. Very rich.”

“Most men with money are particular,” I muttered, turning my back to rinse out my hair. “Still not my problem. Send Bianca. Or Maya. Anyone.”

“No.” Dante’s voice dropped. “He said only you.”

I paused... It wasn't because I cared, but because that kind of confidence was rare.

“And,” Dante added, breathless, “he’s offering to pay what you make in a week… just for tonight.”

The water suddenly felt colder.

I turned slowly toward him, eyebrow raised. “A week?”

“A week,” he repeated, nodding so hard his greasy hair shook. “And that’s before tips. He also said he’d tip according to your performance.”

My pulse kicked once, curiosity, not flattery.

“That’s impossible,” I said. “Nobody pays that much for a first visit.”

“I thought so too,” Dante whispered, wiping sweat off his forehead. “But he already transferred half. Instantly. No questions.”

My stomach tightened.

People didn’t do that unless they wanted something dangerous, illegal, or insane.

“So what’s the catch?” I asked. “Does he want me alone? Does he want contact? Does he want to pick the outfit? What is it?”

Dante shook his head. “He said... and I quote. he will not ask for sex. At all. He understands the rules.”

That made me finally freeze.

Men with money always asked for sex.

Men who didn’t… usually wanted something worse.

I pushed wet hair off my face and narrowed my eyes at Dante.

“Are you sure?” I said quietly. “Did he say that? Directly?”

“Yes,” Dante breathed. “He said he doesn’t want to touch you. He just wants… your time. Your presence. He wants you to dance for him. That’s all. His exact words.”

No touching, No sex. Just a private performance.

My heartbeat wasn’t steady anymore.

I normally didn't believe Dante but this time...

“And who is he?” I asked, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel, water dripping down my legs. “What’s his name?”

Dante lifted his gaze only enough to meet mine.

“That’s the thing,” he said.

“He didn’t give one.”