Dancing in the Dark
Chapter One
This was only the second time he’d come to this club. His friend and colleague, Clem had held his stag party here last month, and though he didn’t have anything against strip joints, it was a damned long way to come just to see a bunch of naked women. Yet as the unmarried sheriff of a small town, it wouldn’t have been prudent to be seen in a club any nearer to home.
So here he was, William Hudson…aka…Spike, the thirty-one year old, unmarried sheriff of Sunnydale driving nearly ninety miles just to see some LA ass. Not that he couldn’t get to see ass back home. It was just the ass at home usually expected a ring and there wasn’t a woman in Sunnydale he’d ever felt inclined to offer one to–well, except for Drusilla and she was long gone.
Actually, that was a lie as she lived on in his memory in the worst possible way, and was the reason why he’d never formed a serious relationship with another woman since. Not that he hadn’t tried to give other women a chance it just never seemed to work out as he hoped it would.
At least with these particular women there’d be no expectations.
Neon lights, loud music and darkened alcoves–that supposedly gave the customers a certain amount of privacy, but didn’t really–and a room full of scantily clad women and fully dressed men made up the “Blue Bird” strip club and bar. The whistles and cheers of the men hit him like a slap in the face as he walked in.
It was Saturday night and the club was good and full, which gave him a sense of anonymity. He took a seat at the bar and decided to watch the show from a safe distance, hoping he’d get to see her again. There’d been something familiar about her…
The announcer introduced a double act, Willow and Tara on to the stage. Dressed in what he was sure was meant to be witches costumes, but were in fact so scanty and sexy they could only be described as down ‘n’ out slutty, the two proceeded to perform magic on one another. Spike decided their act was so good they had to be lovers off stage as well as on. The next act was a girl called Faith. She came out dressed like a nun, did the most salacious routine he’d ever seen as she rid herself of her ‘bad’ habit, leaving the stage as naked as the day she was born to the roar of a room full of worked up, drunken men. Next was dominatrix, Madam Cordelia. She was fucking hot. So hot, he found himself having to shift on his stool to make a little room in his jeans.
The acts took a break after her show, and the stage was given over to a bunch of pole dancers. Spike cast his gaze over the room, watching the other customers watching the display of semi-naked flesh. There were a lot of guys getting lap dances right out in the open, and more were heading for the curtained off area that led to the private rooms beyond. He was pretty sure that a lot more than just lap dancing went on in those rooms…or at least he hoped it did.
Calling the bartender over, he asked for another drink and a little information about the cost of a private dance. Sitting back he waited, hoping to see the girl that had caught his interest last month at Clem’s stag do.
In the next hour, a nicely curved blonde coaxed him away from the bar into one of the booths for a lap dance. Shrugging, he figured why not and let her do her thing. She said her name was Harmony, though the last thing he was feeling was harmonious by the time she’d finished rolling her ass over his groin. But besides the cheap thrill, she didn’t do much else for him and he refused her offer to give him a more personal dance in one of the private rooms and moved to sit closer to the stage.
He sat up as the announcer came back to introduce the girl he’d been waiting for. Buffy the Slave Girl. Her name was Buffy, and though she wore a transparent veil that partially obscured the lower half of her face, he could still see enough of her to once again get the feeling that she was somehow familiar to him. She didn’t have any gimmicks. No wacky routine or kinky props, just a sexy white and silver slave-girl costume that left enough of her covered to taunt a guy to madness.
Without the aid of music, she moved to nothing more than the jangle of the bells fixed around her ankles and arms. He wondered if this girl had actually had professional dance lessons and not just a crash course in how to turn herself upside down on a pole with her legs splayed wide open. Though some of her moves made him wonder if she were a gymnast or an acrobat, she was so fluid and athletic.
It suddenly occurred to him that the noise in the room had dropped considerably since she’d stepped on to the stage. He spared a glance at the men beside him, surprised by the feeling of possessiveness that took hold of him when he saw they were keenly focused on the young, nubile woman on stage, tensed and waiting for something to happen.
From a hidden sound system, a soft note of music began filtering through the air building steadily until the beat could be felt throbbing through the floor. The tiny blonde kept perfect time, moving her supple body to the slow, heavy beat that was coiling into the atmosphere like a bloom of perfumed smoke. Spike found he was holding his breath in anticipation, his body hard and anxious as she moved closer to where he was sitting. She bent back low, her long hair sweeping the stage in front of him then turning slowly, she dropped into a position of supplication as though she were falling at her Master’s feet.
The music played on…the clear, haunting notes of a snake charmer’s pipe. She lifted her head slowly. Spike inhaled sharply willing her to look at him. Kneeling with her head bowed, she moved her hands down her body, slowly peeling away the gauzy layers of her top. The flimsy little jacket she’d been wearing fell to the stage exposing the half cups of the bra part of her costume. He had to force himself to work some moisture into his dry mouth since he was in real danger of choking. Her breasts gleamed soft and white before him. All he’d have to do to touch them was stretch out his hand. Kneeling up before him, she reached for the clasp that held the bra together, her silver slave cuffs glinting at her wrists. Now his mouth began to water. This woman turned him on…all the way on. He had to have her!
She pulled aside the cups of her bra and lifted her face to look right at him. For a split second, shock lit her green eyes…green eyes that sent a bolt of something close to recognition through his system. Did she think she knew him too? Had he met her before? No, he couldn’t have–he’d have remembered a woman as beautiful as this one…and though her veil didn’t hide that much of her face, the feeling that he should know her wouldn’t leave him.
With her small breasts bare before him, he took the time to gaze at her. Her nipples were dusky pink discs against soft white flesh. Topless, she was perfect. She was so lovely, and he was completely mesmerised by her. She stood and moved away from him. He had to check the urge to make a grab for her to haul her back. It was then that he realised they were in a bar full of men…men who were all staring at her, whistling and calling for her to take off more.
Anger zinged through him as she smiled at the crowd and slowly brought her hands to the ties at her hips. The music played on and she drew out undoing the ribbons as she continued to dance and twirl in front of different men along the front of the stage. Spike realised, she was working her way back towards the curtain. Her act was nearly done, yet to him it felt as though she’d only been on the stage for a matter of seconds and not the full five minutes it must have been.
As she reached the end of the stage, the balloon legged bottom half of her costume fell away, leaving her standing in the tiniest, gauziest silver thong he’d ever seen. It barely covered her sex, but because it was see-through, it might as well not be there at all. There was a mighty roar from the crowd as she gave them a slave-girl bow, and turned to give them all a view of her toned ass before flinging the curtain aside and disappearing from sight.
Money rained down on the stage, and as before, one of the other dancers collected her tips. With her act over, Spike got up and moved to an empty booth. Signalling a topless waitress, he ordered another drink.
She smiled, placing a glass of whiskey on the table. ‘Anything else I can get you?’
‘Yeah, there’s a twenty in it if you can get Buffy the Slave Girl to come out here and have a drink with me,’ he told her showing her a twenty dollar bill.
She frowned. ‘Sorry, no can do. Buffy doesn’t work the floor. Just the stage,’ she told him.
Now Spike was intrigued. ‘Is that so?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay, then you can still have the twenty if you take her a note for me.’ Lifting the notepad and pencil off her tray, he quickly began writing. Done, he handed it back to her.
Reading it, she shrugged. ‘Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ She sashayed away, her ass barely concealed in a pair of gold, short shorts.
Spike waited for her to come back, which she did a damn sight quicker than he thought she would. She handed him his note back. On the other side, in feminine handwriting was written one word–No!
‘Right, here’s the twenty I promised you, and there’s another twenty if you take another note,’ he said, not yet ready to be defeated. He was going to meet this woman tonight, on that he was determined.
She rolled her eyes, handing him her notepad. ‘Hey, it’s your money.’
This time her eyes bugged out when she saw what he’d scribbled. Her eyes snapped up to his face. ‘Honey, for this kind of cash, I’ll have your babies, never mind a measly drink.’
Spike smiled, hoping Buffy might finally be tempted to have a drink with him.
But the look on the waitress’ face as she came back told him his hopes were doomed.
‘Tell her I’ll double it,’ he barked.
She sighed, shrugged again and went to deliver his message.
This time she was smiling when she came back. ‘Okay, she says she’ll have one drink with you. But not out here…in one of the private rooms as she doesn’t want to be seen drinking with a customer.’
Spike could respect that, and nodding, followed her to the curtained off area at the back. She led him down a long corridor to a small, dark room. Painted deep red, with large mirrors on every wall and a larger one on the ceiling, the room was designed for sex. There was a large reclining sofa, more bed than sofa, in one corner of the room, and a smaller seating area and table in another corner, but the rest of the room was bare of furniture. Taking a seat on the large chaise, Spike waited.
The door opened and a big bouncer walked in, followed by the small blonde woman.
‘This is Luke,’ she announced, ‘and he’s going to stand right outside while we have our drink.’
Spike smiled tightly at the big guy. ‘That’s fine by me,’ he replied.
‘I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you,’ she shot back quickly. ‘And if you look up there…’ she pointed to a camera in the far corner of the room ‘…you’ll see that we’re under surveillance…and we will be at all times.’
She nodded to the bouncer, dismissing him. As he stepped back, a waitress appeared with a chilled bottle of champagne, a single glass and a bottle of water which she left on the table beside the small seating area.
Spike eyed the bottle of water.
The door closed behind the waitress.
The blonde took a seat at the table. She looked at him for a long moment. Spike returned her scrutiny, studying her unmasked face with a professional eye. She was beautiful. Frowning, he was now more sure than ever that he should know this woman from somewhere…but from where eluded him.
Drawing a deep breath, she broke the silence. ‘Let me make a few things clear. I don’t smoke or do drugs. I don’t drink with the customers and I never have nor will I ever have sex for money. So if you were thinking of getting more than a drink for your thousand bucks, then you were wrong.’
‘But lucky for me and a room full of other blokes you do strip,’ he said smiling.
‘I prefer to think of it as dancing,’ she replied flatly.
‘Yeah, I’m sure you do. But if you were to look up the definition in the dictionary you’d find the word “strip or striptease” means to remove your clothes to music.’
‘Are you implying that I should be ashamed of myself? Because that would be rather hypocritical of you since you paid to watch me strip,’ she pointed out hotly.
‘True. And no, I don’t think you should feel ashamed. You’re a beautiful and talented woman…perhaps too talented for a place like this.’
She seemed to think about that for a second, then pouring a glass of champagne, she offered it to him. ‘Better drink up before it gets warm. I’m told it doesn’t taste as nice at room temperature…’
‘How about you bring it to me,’ he said, curious to see what she’d do. For some reason or other, she was on the defensive. Why, he had no idea. What possible reason could she have to be angry or defensive with him? She didn’t know him from Adam–or did she? ‘Or is sitting next to a man another one of the things you don’t do?’
‘No.’
‘So…’ He patted the seat next to him.
She rose slowly and walked towards him, his flute of champagne in one hand, her bottled water in the other. She didn’t sit right next to him, but rather sat a good arms length away. Smiling, he took the proffered glass and took a small sip, looking at her over the rim. ‘Hmm, perfect,’ he told her as he lowered it to the table.
‘You can pay me now,’ she told him, holding out her hand expectantly.
He ignored her outstretched hand. ‘You look different with your clothes on.’
Stung, she snatched her hand back and glared at him. Something in the expression tugged at his memory. ‘And I’m sure you’d look different out of your clothes.’
That made his smile widen noticeably. ‘I should hope so. But nowhere near as nice as you do, I’ll bet.’
She bit her lip and turned her face. And again the gesture tugged at a memory long buried. If he could just keep her talking long enough, he was sure he’d figure it out.
‘So how’s that champagne?’ she asked. ‘Nice and chilled I hope? You really do need to drink it while it’s cold.’
‘You’re not trying to get rid of me are you, princess?’
She looked at him strangely and he felt yet another dull jab to his memory.
‘Don’t tell me you have a husband and kids to rush home to?’ he asked, his eyes dropping to her unadorned wedding ring finger.
‘That’s none of your business,’ she snapped, her green eyes flashing dangerously.
‘So, are you married?’
‘I’m not answering that.’
‘How about kids?’
‘I’m not telling you anything about my personal life.’
‘So you can add…and don’t talk to the customers…to that impressively standoffish list of yours. You know for a stripper you’re a bit of a snob.’
She inhaled sharply and for a second he thought she was going to haul back and slap him, but she held on to her temper by taking a couple of deep breaths. He frowned. There was something familiar about all of this. He had the most uncanny feeling that he’d had a similar conversation with this woman before. Frowning at the floor between his feet, he tried to puzzle it through.
He looked up at her…studied her. She seemed a little nervous. Why? Why was she nervous? Did he make her nervous? He didn’t think she was scared of him…not in that way at least. But maybe it was because he did know her from somewhere and she didn’t want him to remember her. As that thought occurred to him, he started to sift through the list of female criminals he’d arrested over the years. She wasn’t among them–not even close–not even if he tried to imagine her with different hair and eye colour or carrying more weight.
He narrowed his eyes on her, and spoke in a husky tone, ‘You know I think my thousand bucks should cover a private dance.’
She shook her head. ‘That isn’t what I agreed to.’
‘No, you agreed to a drink…but haven’t drank anything but water. A bloke might feel he has cause to complain about that, pet. So to prevent me from complaining to the management, how about you give me a private dance?’
‘I don’t do lap dances…just the stage,’ she said, biting her lip again.
Spike guessed that his threat to complain must actually mean something to her, which was interesting. Obviously, she had some special arrangement going on with the owner to just let her work the stage, or she’d be out working the floor giving lap jobs like the other girls. But if he complained, maybe her special arrangement would end.
‘Where you strip–right?’
She looked away. ‘Yes.’
‘Then how about a private strip?’ he said daringly, his body responding to the thought.
She sighed and looked back at him. ‘Is that what you want…a private strip?’ she replied softly.
‘Yes.’
‘Why? You’ve already seen my act tonight.’
‘I want to look at you without sharing the pleasure with anyone else,’ he admitted, his mind and body in perfect agreement and unable to lie to her.
‘Anything else?’
Her question surprised yet pleased him. ‘Yes. I’d like to hold you naked and dance with you.’ He wasn’t confident enough to believe she’d agree, but said it anyway.
‘And then you’ll go?’
He arched a brow at her. Did that mean she’d agree to the dance if he said yes? ‘Yes, and then I’ll go.’
She sighed again and he guessed she must want rid of him pretty bad to agree to dance with him. ‘I’ll just go and put my costume on then,’ she said heading for the door.
‘No. There’s no need for a costume. You’re fine as you are,’ he told her. ‘But music would be good. You might be able to move like a goddess without it…but I need a beat to move to.’
‘Okay…’ she agreed and got up to turn on a switch in the wall. Instantly the darkened room was filled with a sensual beat.
Spike drew a shaky breath as he watched her take a position in the center of the room.
*~*~*~*~*
TBC…
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