Read Online Love and Demotion by Logan Belle - Free Book Online Page B

front of the stage. By the time the song built to the lyrics “don’t break my heart” I shook my ass at the audience and slowly removed one glove. They cheered their approval, and I peeked coquettishly at them over one shoulder while inching off the second glove. I tossed it to the ground, and the crowd whistled and clapped. Stretching my arms out, I arched my back dramatically, and the audience cheered in anticipation of me removing the corset. Instead, I reached down for the cat o’nine tails, and – naughty schoolgirl that I was – used it to sweep the books off of the desk onto the floor. I stepped one high-heeled foot onto a book, and then slowly undid the side clasps of my corset. Facing the audience, I shimmied, cupping my breasts as I eased the corset away.
    And then I saw him.
    There, in the second row, dead center, was Declan Guinness.
    Even though I knew it was him – knew it even before it fully registered with me, I looked back to make sure. And we made eye contact that hit me like an electric shock.
    I froze, but only for a second. Quickly recovering, I tossed my corset to the ground, and went into autopilot as I cupped my pasties-covered breasts in my hands and offered them to the roaring crowd.
    I’d heard about things like this happening – girls seeing their ex-boyfriends or college friends in the audience. The key was to just tune them out, and to know that it wasn’t you on stage, it was your burlesque persona. Maybe he didn’t even recognize me, I foolishly hoped, while another part of me – the part of me that thought of him late at night or when I was putting on my body glitter before shows – hoped that he did.
    And it was this part of me that was extremely turned on knowing he was watching me, finally seeing me as I really was, not as his mousy assistant, breasts and tattoos hidden under button-down shirts from the GAP and shapeless dresses.
    The song built to its crescendo, And I don’t mind you keeping me on pins and needles …, and I pulled off my little schoolgirl skirt, and danced over to the desk, where I splayed my body across the hard wooden ledge, one knee bent, toes pointed, arms outstretched, my chest heaving with excitement and exertion. I thought of him watching me, and wondered if the audience knew that my expensive thong was suddenly very damp.
    *** ***
    The club had a back entrance that let us leave through an alley and avoid the customers. Dressed in my normal clothes, with my make-up removed, I could usually pass right in front of the club and no one noticed me. But tonight I wanted someone to notice me – and he did.
    “Cat,” he said, stepping out from under the awning of the club.
    “What are you doing here?” It felt strange to be that direct – almost accusatory — but the usual dynamic of employer/employee had fallen away the minute my corset hit the floor.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “It’s okay…I mean, it’s a free country. I just want to know why.”
    He hesitated for a beat.
    “I heard a rumor that you did this. I was curious about it but I didn’t know where or when. And so tonight, when you were in such a hurry to leave the party, I had my driver follow you and text me where to find you.”
    I had no idea how to respond to this, so I said nothing. And then I remembered,
    “It was a sold out show,” I said.
    “I hate to break it to you, but your ticket counter accepts bribes.”
    We stared at each other and I fought the urge to break eye-contact first.
    And then he reached out and took the duffel bag off of my shoulder.
    “Let me carry this for you,” he said. And just like that, it was understood that wherever I was going next, he was coming with me.
    I walked west, towards my apartment on Bank Street, because I didn’t know where else to go. Declan walked beside me silently. When we reached Greenwich Avenue, I stopped and said,
    “This is probably a bad idea.”
    “I know,” he agreed – a little too quickly.
    “I mean, work and