Mark

Weeks pass, and my world turns into something I don’t recognize. Something I’ve never known.

It’s the happiest I’ve ever been, and when I’m not running errands for Gavin, I do my best to be at the theater. Lara sneaks away to eat, and I meet her with a smile. She didn’t say no when I asked her to move in with me. What her body language and actions said was show me, and I’m damn well going to show her. I’ve been working on proving she can trust me ever since.

This morning Gavin sent me to a florist to pick up a box marked fragile. I didn’t ask questions, but I did buy a five-dollar bouquet. It’s not red-velvet roses—the tag says chrysanthemums and lantana—but Lara’s eyes light up when she sees it.

I hope it makes her musty theater-home a little brighter, red and gray as opposed to burgundy and black.

“I was thinking I could take a job at the shipyards. Maybe starting at night and working my way up to something full time.” She’s perched on a large box, and I lean beside her, my arm around her waist.

“No.” Her dark head shakes fast. “You’ll be exhausted, and the docks are dangerous. What if you were hurt?”

Warmth moves through my stomach. “You’d worry about me?”

“Of course!” She stretches, catlike to kiss my jaw, and I can’t resist. I catch her neck and push her lips apart, tasting her sweet mouth. Her cheeks are flushed pink when I straighten, and I smile. She’s adorable.

“Okay…” I take out my pocketknife and cut a wedge of apple for her. “I could take a retail job at one of the men’s stores… get a clothing discount.”

“I’d like that better. You’d look amazing in a suit.”

“You like sharp-dressed men.”

I laugh and hold the piece of fruit to her. She passes me a bit of cheese. In my errands, I also pick up better food for her and Molly. Better than day-old bread and burnt coffee.

“What would you like to do?” I ask, and beautiful blue eyes meet mine. “Would you want to continue working here?”

She thinks about it. “Only if Gavin paid me a real wage. I’m not sure he’d do it.”

Roland calls from the stage, and she swings her legs off the box. I duck down for another quick kiss. Her hands catch my cheeks, and she inhales deeply. I do the same, savoring her delicate flowery scent. She trots to the front, and I follow slowly, leaving our dreams with the rest of the old set pieces.

I watch from where I stand beside a concrete pillar, rubbing the pain in my chest at her departure. I know the pressure she’s under. We’ve only known each other a short time, but still…

Roland plays the introductory chords, and her beautiful voice fills the space. I want her to be happy. I want to make her happy. I want to save her.

Later that night, high above the theater, I’m more forceful. She races into my arms, and I hold her close, nuzzling her hair and kissing her mouth. I want to taste her. I want to show her how I feel, convince her I’m serious. I’m not just another asshole stagehand, hanging around for her body.

“Don’t smudge my make up,” she whispers. Still, she shudders as my lips trace along her neck and hairline. I know she feels this bond between us.

Her hands smooth the backs of mine as I help her take the seat, fasten the harness. She swings out over the audience, but our eyes remain locked as the words to the song flow from her lips.

You’re in my arms, and it feels so right;

But it’s simply an illusion…

* * *

Lara

All around us is darkness and night, but I’ve found a box of matches, and one by one, I strike them, watching the happy flames dancing, allowing the tiny bits of warmth to give me something I’ve never dared have…

Hope.

Still lurking in the back of my mind are the dark questions. Can I trust Mark? Yes, I know I can. What about Gavin? How long will he keep his promise to me? How long can Roland protect me?

What about Molly? Will my promise cover her?

Not yet…

I strike another match and pretend these fears aren’t sneaking closer.

I wear skirts to rehearsals hoping for a chance to sneak away with Mark, to meet him in the dark wings. In those lucky times, we’re feverish with need. I cover his mouth with mine, and we kiss as the flames consume us.

“This is dangerous,” he says against my heated skin.

“We have time,” I whisper, my panties on the floor in my dressing room.

He groans as I take his hand, guiding it under my skirt, and I moan as long fingers stroke me, exploring the depths of my desire for him.

He drops to one knee, shoving my skirt away, and my stomach heats, twisting with anticipation as large hands lift me, and spread my thighs apart.

“Oh, God!” I gasp as his tongue slowly circles my clit.

Ever since that first night, all we want is more. It’s torture being kept apart. At the same time, it’s a potent aphrodisiac.

His mouth touches the crease of my leg, his beard scuffs my sensitive skin, and my body trembles.

“Quiet,” he says before touching me again with his tongue.

My eyes squeeze shut as he focuses on that little bud, pulling and tasting, sucking and flickering. My hand threads in his soft hair, and I bite my lip until I taste blood to keep from screaming as the orgasm rips through me. My thighs jerk and my stomach shudders, aching for more.

Heavy velvet surrounds us. The lights of the stage seem far away, and the set crew has disbanded. No one can see us stealing this moment.

He’s up, and I hear the clink of his belt, the rip of foil. My insides tighten in anticipation, and I reach for him, needing his kiss, his skin against mine. Large hands are on my ass, and I’m off my feet. The cinder-block wall scrapes my back, but I pull my shirt higher. I pull his shirt higher so I can feel his chest on mine.

My legs are around his waist, he positions the tip then …

“Mark!” I gasp as I’m filled.

Instinct takes over, and I ride him hard. His legs bend and he thrusts deeper, all the way inside me, and my moans are consumed in his kiss. Our mouths seal, hiding the noises of hunger, satisfaction, and need.

These are kisses I’ve only read about. Feelings I only dreamed I’d experience. I’m a junkie getting high off the strongest drug I’ve ever known. He groans and pumps, driving deeper and pushing me higher. His length strokes my inner walls until I’m flying again, pleasure snaking up my legs like vines.

He slaps my ass, and a cascade of glittering ecstasy showers through my core. I whimper, and my inner walls pulse and tingle.

“That’s it,” he groans, slapping my ass again, making my insides flex.

With a low noise, I feel him break, pulsing and holding deep, filling me so completely I can feel his muscles tremor.

A strong arm is around my waist, and our bodies are flush and slippery. His forehead is against my neck and shoulder, damp with sweat, and I place my hand on his cheek, closing my eyes to treasure this moment.

It’s perfect…

Until a small voice cuts through the dim space.

“I knew it!” The sound echoes off the back walls.

We both jump, and I’m on my feet, shoving my skirt down while Mark hastily removes the condom and fastens his jeans.

Molly stands at the edge of the stage with Roland, who looks equally annoyed. I take a hesitant step forward, away from the warmth of Mark, toward the two of them.

“Lara, we need to talk,” Roland says. “Mark, you’d better take off.”

Mark steps toward me, and catches my hand. I look up and over my shoulder, my chest squeezes when our eyes meet.

“We can talk tonight,” he says, lifting my fingers to his lips.

I reach for Molly, but she jerks away.

“Don’t touch me,” she says. “Traitor.”

I don’t respond. I’ve kept her in the dark so long, if she reacts this way, I’m as much to blame.

“Come on,” I say, leading her through the door toward our dressing room. “That wasn’t what you think.”

She follows me, Roland with her. “I’m sorry… You weren’t just fucking Mark? Your body wasn’t completely entwined with his just now?”

“Language.” My voice is low. My inner thighs are scuffed, and my lips still throb from Mark’s kisses. I can still feel his face against my inner thighs, and joy like a fountain bubbles inside me. “I didn’t think you cared about Mark anymore.”

“And I thought you were trying to like Freddie.”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

We reach the room, and I go inside. Roland follows us and closes the door.

“You never want to talk about it,” Molly continues. “Except to lie about it.”

“Molly, hush,” Roland orders in a low voice. “I overheard Gavin talking to Darby. Things are changing, and not for the better.”

I frown. “What does that mean—”

“You need to keep an eye on Molly,” he interrupts, an angry edge in his voice. “Better than you’ve been doing.”

I look over at her sitting on the bed with her arms crossed, pouting. “What happened?”

He presses his lips together before answering. “Nothing yet, but if what I heard is true…” His hand clenches into a fist, but he quickly releases it and turns to the door. “Let’s just hope it isn’t.”

“I don’t understand—” But he’s out the door again, striding down the dark passage.

“Get cleaned up and get out here. We need to rehearse.”

Frustration lines my brow, and I feel a headache starting. I turn to Molly, who takes one look at me and jerks away, facing the back wall. I cross to my dressing table and dig through the drawers for my makeup remover cloths. I make quick work of cleaning up between my legs, toss them in the trash, then pull on a fresh pair of panties.

Out of nowhere, tears heat my eyes, and my stomach twists at how unfair my life is, how I desperately want to be with Mark doing anything we want anytime we want. He wants to be with me… At least that’s what he says, and I want to believe him.

We could build a life together.

We could grow together in happiness.

I’m tired of being responsible for another person all the time, and how can Roland order me to do something, scare me like that, and not even explain?

Life isn’t fair.

My mind bitterly responds, who said life was fair?

I press my fingers against my eyes until I see white sparks behind my eyelids. Then I take a deep breath and stand up straight, looking at Molly in the mirror. She’s still straining as hard as she can to position her entire body away from me, so I go to the bed and take her hands.

“Don’t,” she says trying to pull them away, but I hold them tightly in mine.

“I’m sorry about what you saw. Me and Mark.”

She tries to pull her hands away again, but I hold her.

“I told you I didn’t have feelings for him, and I do.” I look down and release her as the tears threaten my eyes again.

“I knew it,” she says as if it’s some great reveal.

I go to my dressing table. Standing beside it, I run a finger down the outline of my brush. How I want to be with Mark. Instead I inhale a deep breath and let it out.

“Roland says you’ve got to stay close. No more flirting, and that includes Guy.” Her description of that mystery man makes me shudder.

“I might as well be living in a convent.” She kicks a pillow off the bed and lays down hard on her side.

I go to her. Roland hasn’t given me any reason to forbid her to see Guy. I’m only following my gut. “Please just do what I say. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we have to trust Roland and be careful.”

“You don’t want me getting caught?” Her green eyes snap to mine. “Like you?”

“Just work with me, Mol. I’m trying.”

“You’d better try harder.”

I can’t argue. I know Mark and I have been reckless, and we have to stop. I can’t simply do whatever I want.

As much as it’s breaking my heart.

* * *

Mark

When I was fifteen, Mrs. Peterson, who lived in our neighborhood hired me to do her lawn.

Dad was gone all the time gambling all our money away, so I took the job. She was a widow, and I told myself we needed the money, ignoring the way she ran her eyes over my body and licked her lips when I said okay.

The first day I was supposed to cut her grass. Instead, she met me in the garage and said she had something special for me. I’d never had sex. I’d only jerked off to porn, so when she dropped to her knees and started sucking me off, I grabbed the side of her car and held on for the ride.

She pulled and tugged, moaning and carrying on as if I were a three-course dinner and she was starving. She took me all the way to the back of her throat until she coughed and gagged, then she did it again. My eyes rolled, my knees buckled, and I shot down her eager throat so hard I saw stars. I cut her lawn that day, and I came back the next day to trim the hedges.

Mrs. Peterson won Yard of the Month in our neighborhood three months straight, and I learned all about what women like. After that summer, she moved away.

I wasn’t heartbroken. I was never in love with her. It never hurt me to leave her arms. It was good sex, but I didn’t dream of her body when we were apart.

Walking away from Lara each day is like ripping out my insides and leaving them at her feet. Watching her walk away and not being able to kiss her, touch her, tell her I’m serious about making a plan, is like repeated kicks to the stomach. Every night, I lie in my bed and dream of her beautiful body.

Terrence is gone and until January I have this place to myself. With her voice, she could take a job singing at any club in the city. Right now she thinks walking away to be with me is too great a risk. It’s a leap of faith because our incomes are tied up in the same place, but I’m going to show her I can take care of her and Molly. I’m shit out of luck on job prospects at the moment, but I’m saving. I’m going to prove we can do it. She can walk away with me, survive, and still accomplish her dream.

“Fitz,” Gavin’s voice breaks my thoughts. “Report to the basement club immediately after the show tonight. You’re my doorman and guard.”

He hands me a clip of money. “Get some better clothes. Nice shoes. You work for me now. I want you to look like it.”

Turning the clip in my hand, I see several hundreds, and my mind drifts to my plan. “Yes, sir.”

I take off into the city, and I barely make it back in time to climb the narrow ladder before the finale begins. It’s more of a challenge in leather Gucci loafers as opposed to heavy boots, and I’m amazed Lara does it every night in those stilettoes.

She’s already at the top, and when she sees me, her eyes widen. “I thought something had happened to you,” she says, running to me.

I hold her at my side, touching her gently, not at all like I want. I want to pull her into my arms and hold her close, tell her I’ll always be here. But I can’t get her body glitter all over my fucking suit.

“Don’t be afraid,” I say, tracing the pad of my thumb lightly along the top of her cheek.

“Why are you dressed like this?” She quickly scans my dark suit and pale blue dress shirt.

I adjust my tie with a wink. “It’s my new uniform. Like it?”

“You’re very handsome.” Her chin drops, and she bends an arm to cover her breasts. “I feel underdressed.”

That makes me laugh, and I step closer to nuzzle her ear with my nose before kissing it. “You are the sexiest thing in this entire theater.”

She responds how I like, a little shiver, a tightening of her fingers. I attach the safety harness and check it to be sure it’s secure. She takes her seat in the swing.

“The way you’re dressed…” Her beautiful blue eyes are worried. “Are they sending you away?”

I kiss her lips lightly. “I won’t even leave the building tonight… But I’m not sure how late I’ll be working.”

“So I won’t see you.” Her voice is different, sad, and I don’t like it.

“I’ll try—”

We’re out of time. The music swells, and she moves out over the stage. Our eyes meet, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

Still, she sings out the notes, leaning into the act, beautiful as always.

As soon as she’s safely to the stage below, I’m down the ladder headed to the dark corridor from my first job. I remember the blood and Gavin’s instructions. I’m the guard.

The idea turns my stomach. I’m not sure I can guard if something illegal is happening, if someone’s being tortured or killed, but what can I do? Landry fucking welcomed me to the dark side on my first job. He’s well acquainted with my face and my name, and I know the point of that meeting was to send me a message. If I decide to turn on them, rat them out, or even not do what I’m told, they’ve got me right where they want me—with blood all over my hands and all of it on camera.

Gavin meets me at the entrance, quickly surveying my attire. “Good work. The men coming here expect the highest quality—in goods as well as atmosphere. They’ll show you their invitations. Check it and let them in.”

“What exactly is this?”

He pauses, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or deciding how to answer. “What happens here is an exclusive exchange for a very high fee.”

Again, I survey the hall, the doors leading to smaller rooms. Bedrooms. “What’s being exchanged?”

This time he’s annoyed. “Private performances. Don’t interrupt them no matter what you hear.” He starts to leave, then walks back to me. “In fact… it’s probably better if you stay outside.”

“Outside?” I look around for an exit sign.

He motions for me to follow him, and we go out the heavy metal door to the other side, the side under the stage. The vast, empty room below the trap doors. “I’ll have someone bring you a chair. The show’s over. They’ll be here soon.”

Automatically, my mind goes to Lara, and my stomach tightens. Will Freddie go to her room again? Will he protect her? Is he part of this?

My forehead tightens, and I acknowledge the truth. I thought I could take this job, stay close, make money, and be here with her, but I can’t. I have to get us out of here.

Buying these clothes obligates me to fulfill my commitment tonight, but I’m done. I’ll give them back, return them if I have to, and convince Lara to move in with me… and bring Molly with her. Whatever it takes.

A loud squeak and crash of metal door snaps my attention to the present. The first man appears, and he’s not alone.

“What’s with the cloak and dagger?” he laughs, and I detect an accent.

It’s northern, but not the nasal twang of the Midwest. It’s more rounded, Canadian or Pacific Northwest.

“Are you taking us down the rabbit hole, Guy?” Another voice, similar accent.

“Rabbit hole. Name for my next club.” The first man sounds intoxicated.

“My brother has a flair for the dramatic.” That voice is laced in Deep South.

They stop in front of me, and I stand straight, not smiling. I wait until the one with the copper hair and green eyes, the one wearing a gold pinky ring and carrying a shiny wooden cane holds out a black business card. It’s thick and shiny, and one phrase is in the center, embossed in gold lettering.

I’d expected something with VIP or Admit One stamped on it, but when I meet the fellow’s cold eyes, I know this is it. He’s sinister and challenging, and the good part inside me recoils.

“Something wrong?” His voice is hard, and I know he’s not really asking.

I step to the side for him to pass, but just as fast, I block the other two.

“Sorry…” Canada digs in his breast pocket and produces a similar scrap of paper.

“At least security is working.” Guy narrows his eyes at the third man, who hastily produces his card.

I stand down, and they pass through the door. Music drifts out from inside along with the faint scent of perfume. I realize there’s another entrance. The girls come in a different way…

The click of heels on concrete precedes two more men dressed in expensive suits, both carrying gold cards. I step to the side, and this time when I look through the door, I see Minette, one of the girls from the show.

She’s still wearing her costume, a glittering thong, and she’s draped over one of the couches allowing the Canadian to stroke her breasts.

I swallow the knot in my throat. Who else is back there? I can’t even think her name.

The door slams, and I’m left standing, fear expanding in my chest as vast as the empty space surrounding me. I step to the side, shoving my hands in my hair and trying to decide what to do. My forehead is against the wall when I hear a throat clearing.

Spinning around, I see a fat man in a tux waiting. He holds a card, and I nod for him to enter, which he does without hesitation. This time the noises have started, fake moans and bouncing cries.

It’s an orgy.

These men have paid to have sex with the girls in the show, and my job is to let it happen. Tanya’s words, Lara’s fears, even Terrence’s remark about why the crew dwindled so fast filter through my brain like rushing water. The blood I cleaned up—what the fuck was that about?

I drop into the metal chair, my head in my hands. I pull my phone out of my pocket. I want to call her, but she doesn’t have a phone. She says it’s a wasted expense. She doesn’t have anyone to call, and she doesn’t want to be monitored.

She’s getting one after this night.

The time passes slowly, and I wonder how long I’m expected to stay here. No one else is coming. No one other than the men in there and Gavin knows about this place. I’m pushing off my legs to leave when the door scrapes and opens.

Fake moans set to music filter out along with Guy. He’s on his phone, and his face is contorted with anger.

I listen to his words as he stalks past. “She is not what I requested,” he growls. “She is not a star. She’s a used-up drug addict. Give me what I want or—”

The exit door slams shut, and my throat knots.

I don’t like where this is headed.