A Dance for Him (4 page)

Ah, a stalkerish creep then. I always did think he was eminently punchable …

“Well, P-, I mean Tiffany, stay here with me. When does your shift end?”

Her expression softens. “I’ve got one more hour or so to go,” she whispers.

“Well then I’ll book you for the remaining time. That way you don’t have to go back on the floor at all tonight.”

She looks at me, stunned. “But Dr. Morland! That’s going to get pretty expensive. It’s a hundred dollars for each quarter of an hour.”

I laugh darkly - ah, money, the one thing that doesn’t matter to me, the one thing that I have way more of than I need …

“That won’t be an issue, trust me.”

CHAPTER FIVE

It’s a bit over an hour later, and I’m about to leave the club after having dressed and paid my house fees and tipped everyone I need to tip.

Dr. Morland was right - the bachelor party’s still going on, so it was a good thing I remained with him, because the creep’s still around
and
looking pretty peeved. Ugh, he is awful.

It’s strange, and I’m sure there would be others who would tell me I was crazy, because the creep’s actually quite conventionally good-looking, but there’s just this air of smug sleaziness about him that grosses me out. And he’s weird too.

On one occasion I swear he followed me when I left and trailed my car till I drove to a 24-hour supermarket …

“Going already, college girl?”

It’s Brandi, who’s still on shift.

“Yeah, the usual. I’ve got a midterm on Monday.”

“Well, good luck darling. By the way how was the hot dude? That was a ton of time you spent in VIP with him, he’s probably in love with you by now or something at this rate. I think the creep is gonna have some serious competition for your affections in the future.”

I blush. “Oh my God Brandi don’t even speak of the two of them in the same breath!”

She raises an eyebrow. “Whoa! I guess we got ourselves a two-way crush then. Not that I blame you. So he’s even hotter than your dreamboat professor, is he?”

I feel sure at this point that I must resemble a tomato, given the amount of blood that I can feel rushing to my face.

“Oh, Brandi.”

She laughs. “Oh all right, I won’t tease you, poor thing. I’ve got to go back to work anyway. See you next week.”

I can’t keep from grinning, though, as I leave, as I think of Brandi’s speculation about Dr. Morland being in love with me. As utterly implausible as it is, I can’t help but like hearing what she said.

I don’t think I’ve ever left the club this light-heartedly in my entire time here!

I make my way out, only to find that Dr. Morland and some other guy from the party are standing outside chatting.

The other guy is smoking a cigarette, but Dr. Morland isn’t. That doesn’t surprise me - I’m pretty sure he doesn’t smoke - but it does make me wonder what he’s doing out there …

In any case I’m a bit at a loss for what to do - obviously it wouldn’t be very discreet to just go up to him and chirp “see you in class”!

But it’s not just a question of what I should or should not do. Seeing Dr. Morland, especially when I’m not expecting to see him, has always tended to get me all fluttery and confused, and today’s no different …

Fortunately my problem is solved for me by his reaction, or rather lack thereof. He sees me, but just goes on talking to the other guy as though he didn’t know me, even though his friend would have known that he’d just spent over an hour with me in the VIP room.

It’s understandable, if mortifying. After all, it’s not like he could introduce me as a student!

And yet his eyes are following me, even as he’s talking to his friend, seemingly unperturbed - in fact, it’s me he’s making eye contact with as he goes on chatting.

Actually, “making eye contact” is a massive understatement - he’s holding my gaze in a very deliberate way, as though he wanted there to be no question that he was looking at me. Of course, maybe he just wants to indicate that he’s looking out for me? …

Fuck, he’s making me wet again. Surely he
must
know what he’s doing to me, especially after that session in the VIP room!

In my haste and confusion I can barely find my car keys in my bag, and when I do it’s all I can manage to not fumble and drop them as I attempt to unlock the door. I can feel my cheeks flaming as I turn to look at him one last time - and yes, he’s still looking at me with that same intense, concentrated gaze - before I scramble into my car and flee.

Because - Brandi’s teasing and my fantasies notwithstanding - I know I can’t possibly have him, can’t afford to even think that I’ll ever have him …

CHAPTER SIX

It’s finally Wednesday, the day I get to see Dr. Morland in class.

He didn’t write or attempt to contact me in any way - not that I really expected it.

What could he have written, after all? “Hi Paige, I had a great time in the VIP room the other day. Are you there every Saturday? Because I’d like a repeat performance. Best regards, Sebastian Morland.”

Ha! I don’t think so.

I mean, yes, I’ve been hot and bothered all weekend, although I keep telling myself I mustn’t expect anything to come from our encounter on Saturday night. Maybe a hot fling at most, and I can’t say I would mind that. But I’m sure there won’t be anything more than that.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the years, it’s that expecting too much from other people is a sure prescription for disappointment, and I’m sure he’s no different in that respect.

Oh, I’m pretty certain he desires me and would like to fuck me. Which is just fine but that doesn’t mean anything in itself. I mustn’t, mustn’t, mustn’t fall in love with him on any account.

I know he couldn’t possibly have introduced me to his friend the other day, given the circumstances, but there’s no way I could ever fit in that preppy crowd even if I’d run into him in a more conventional setting. He comes from old money - a world that I couldn’t even begin to understand.

Even on the off-chance that we did more than hook up, it would never last.

How could it?

So I keep telling myself, don’t expect anything. It’s funny, before all this happened I was quite happy to fantasise about him whenever I took care of myself.

Since
that
happened, though, I’ve been a bit more cagey about that. It’s not that I haven’t been getting horny and masturbating - in fact, if anything, I’ve been much hornier than usual - I just feel that I shouldn’t think about him when I do, if only because I don’t want to get too stupidly attached to him for no reason other than my imagination and post-orgasmic hormone levels …

I was just beginning to calm down a little about the whole thing until this morning, when I awoke from an erotic dream about him.

A
very
detailed erotic dream, in which we were making out against his office door. I’d just unzipped his pants and was about to go down on him when the alarm went off and I woke up (damn!).

Which is why I’m about to show up in his class, all flustered and frustrated. Not where I want to be emotionally when I see him, but well, what can I do? …

He’s already at his desk when I get there, as is most of the class. I’m usually earlier than this but I wavered for way too long over what to wear, deciding finally to be just slightly suggestive, with a knee-length pencil skirt and a low-cut top.

My heart’s pounding as I walk past him - I glance at him a few times but he remains steadfastly buried in his notes.

Normally he looks up and smiles and says hello, so I’m not sure that this is a good sign …

I make my way over to my usual seat in the middle of the second row, put my bag down, and then proceed to take off my coat.

I don’t do this facing him, for reasons of deniability, but there’s no question I’m doing it a little more languorously than usual, mostly because I’m hoping he’ll look up and be reminded of my less innocent striptease the other day.

It works.

Well, at least, he does look up, that much I can say.

He’s still staring at me when I sit down, his gaze more piercing, more searching than ever, as though he was trying to figure me out.

It’s different from his usual stare though. Normally his eyes soften and he smiles, but he’s serious, almost impassive today - his lips are slightly parted and his nostrils are flaring, but I can’t tell if he’s cross with me or if he’s trying to not show any emotion.

This time I’m the first to break our mutual gaze, as I shrink down into my seat and get my pen out - it’s the midterm today.

I’ve no idea whom I’m dealing with right now. Before Saturday I’d only seen a kindly, benevolent dreamboat in him. On Saturday he was still kindly, in a way, since he rescued me from the creep, but I also saw a different side of him in the VIP room that I’d never seen before - sexual, intense, almost predatory.

I adored the first Dr. Morland even from the very beginning, but the second version is the one that
seriously
makes my knees weak. Which is probably bad news.

But even that version would be preferable to this one, because at least I could read him then …

CHAPTER SEVEN