Once inside, the hostess guided them to seats in a booth by a window where they could watch the western horizon lose its last glow of the day. The dividers between all the booths provided some privacy, which Shelley appreciated. She certainly didn’t want to run into anyone she knew. Not when she was on a date with someone other than Dickie.
Thor took the initiative and ordered a good red wine to go with two rib steaks with baked potatoes and garden salads. That suited Shelley, because her brain cells were too uncoordinated to make a decision. She felt completely out of her depth with Thor. Something about him jammed her thought processes. Especially when his eyes held her gaze.
“Let’s have a toast,” he said, raising his wineglass.
She raised hers in response.
He smiled, his blue eyes holding her in thrall. “To our quest for happiness, wherever it may take us.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She sipped her wine.
Without taking his eyes off her, he tipped his glass and swallowed.
Just when she began to squirm under his direct gaze, he chuckled and set his glass down. “I’m sorry. You’re just so beautiful, I can’t stop staring.”
Her face flooded with warmth and her ears tingled. She dropped her gaze. “Thank you.”
“I love it when you blush like that. You are so innocent.”
She frowned, feeling a bit insulted. “Not that innocent—after watching your video!” She toyed with her wineglass.
“So, what did you learn?”
She shrugged, without looking up. Her face must be beet red, she realized, judging by the heat.
“Did you see anything you want to try?”
She took a drink of wine in order to stall answering his outrageous question. “Maybe.”
To her relief, the waiter arrived with their salads. She dug in, hoping Thor would drop the subject of the video. At the same time, she anticipated his next move, counting on it being provocative. She felt torn, yearning for what she shouldn’t have, yet terrified she might get it.
Cutting into a tomato, he continued, “I have a feeling I know the sort of thing that turns you on.”
Shelley knew she should put a stop to this conversation. It was improper subject matter for two people who were virtual strangers. In fact, she should give him an ultimatum—
mind your manners or I’m walking out of here
.
But she didn’t.
She was curious about what he thought would turn her on. They were sitting in a public place with her car parked right outside. She could leave whenever she wanted. What would be the harm in flirting a little with danger?
She risked a glance at him. Yes, he definitely had a dangerous look. Predatory to the nth degree. How wise was it to tease a lion—especially when he wasn’t locked in a cage?
Unable to help herself, she goaded him. “How can you tell what turns me on?”
“By your personality.”
“Oh?”
“You’d be surprised how much a woman gives away with her posture, mannerisms, body language.” Thor’s low voice sounded like water flowing over rocks, smoothing the rough edges and swirling through deep pools. The sound battered her defenses and lulled her into a sense of complacency.
The wine was going to her head. Either that or her exposure to perhaps the sexiest man alive was turning her brain to mush.
“You resist the very things that you want and need,” he continued. “People expect certain things from you, and you feel trapped. Deep down, you yearn for your own brand of adventure.”
“Close,” she said, surprised at his insight. “Very close.”
Before he could say anything more, their dinners arrived. She pushed her half-eaten salad aside.
Thor wasted no time cutting into his steak and forking a bite into his mouth. Briefly, he closed his eyes as though savoring the taste.
She imagined Thor embraced life the same way, experiencing eagerly all the sensations nature had to offer. How different he was from Dickie who thought eating was necessary to sustain life and not much more. Like most thin people, he treated food with indifference, or worse, examined it with a certain amount of suspicion and distaste.
It was a pleasure to watch Thor enjoy his food.
Red meat and Vikings are a natural combination
, she thought.
She sampled her own steak. “Mmm, sure beats an old hamburger from a fast-food joint.”
“I’m with you on that!”
They ate in silence, sharing contented smiles and glances reflecting curiosity and interest.
Thor felt reluctant to finish dinner, because Shelley might develop second thoughts about keeping company with him. She might thank him and slip away. It was a risky moment.
A waiter approached and hovered discreetly. “Dessert?”
She shook her head. “I’m stuffed. Thanks, anyway.”
“I guess that will be all. May I have the check?” Thor could almost feel her gearing up for a polite goodbye.
The waiter left a small black leather-bound folder on the table and departed.
Thor glanced at his watch. “If we hurry, we’ll get good seats near the front. You can have an unrestricted view of the Bad Boys.”
A spark of interest flared in her eye. “I’m actually surprised they’re performing in the middle of the week.”
“They used to limit their shows to the weekends, but they decided they needed the practice. They’re gearing up to go on tour.” He opened the black folder, glanced at the bill, and shoved a wad of cash inside. “Shall I ask for ringside seats tonight?”
For a split second, she hesitated, then nodded and smiled. “Sure. Okay.”
“Let’s go.”
Once outside, he paused with his hand on her arm. “Listen, are you sure you don’t want to ride with me? It’s only a few blocks. We can swing back here for your car afterwards.”
She eyed his Harley. “No, that’s all right. I’ll meet you there.”
“Suit yourself.” He watched as she climbed into her car, eyeballing her lean body and long, shapely legs. What a cautious little filly she was! But he didn’t blame her one whit for being careful. If she had an inkling of how much she tempted him, how badly he wanted a taste of her innocence, she’d run screaming.
Chapter Three
Shelley figured she might live to regret going out with Thor Ryersson, but what were the chances that Dickie would ever find out? It was not like he or any of her friends hung out at the Blue Light Club. It was a different world from her usual haunts, and tonight, the Bad Boys’ performance was just the sort of excitement she craved.
Immediately after finding seats right next to the stage, which was nothing more than a roped-off section of floor along one wall of the club, Thor ordered drinks. This time, he asked her preference, and she settled for a Seven-High.
In almost no time, the place became jam-packed with women laughing, smoking and drinking. The room pulsated as though charged with pure estrogen. Restless motion, like a surging sea, increased as the women waited for the show to begin.
By the time the lights went down, there was literally standing room only. The cocktail tables had all been hauled out, and only half the women had chairs. Rubbing elbows was as real as it could get. Shelley wondered what the legal capacity of customers in the establishment was. To her inexperienced eye, the attendance had to be double what regulations allowed.
The lights dimmed overhead, leaving spotlights flooding the stage. The pounding music in the darkened room provided a surreal environment for the Bad Boys prancing like four gypsies in their bolero vests and leather pants. Their movements were graceful, yet powerful, exuding machismo. They swaggered and postured, their muscles rippling, as they peeled off the outer layers of clothing. Under the brilliant lights, their firm pecs and six-packs gleamed as though coated with oil.
When they were down to their tight-fitting shorts, the music reached a crescendo, and the young men whirled away behind a makeshift curtain in the corner. The spotlights centered on the stage, and one at a time, the Bad Boys returned to perform individual acts. Each one gyrated with abandon in his own style, and Shelley could almost smell the perspiration steaming off their slick bodies.
The volume gradually rose until the music became deafening. Most of the women were on their feet now, screaming at the Bad Boys to strip off their last scrap of clothing. The lights came up slightly, allowing the performers to move into the audience. Women reached out to stuff dollar bills into the dancers’ thongs. The floor was so crowded, the Boys had to step from chair to chair to make any progress. This worked fine, since by now, few women were sitting down.
Shelley stood up, too, the better to see the action of the crowd. Eventually, one of the gypsies stepped onto her vacated chair, steadying himself on the back as he leaned left and right accepting bills from ecstatic women. He was young, in his early twenties, she guessed. It couldn’t have been his first performance, still his eyes were wide with barely suppressed alarm. He trembled slightly, as though intimidated by all the wild women reaching for him.
Shelley smiled at Thor. He gave her a thumbs-up, so she showed off by patting the young man’s thigh. He didn’t seem to notice, being preoccupied with the women in front of him. His muscles were firm, the skin damp with perspiration. What fun, she thought, to be in a situation where she had permission to run her hands over the smooth skin of a nearly nude male—a stranger at that.
Her antics got a grin out of Thor. She slipped her hand higher, stroking his bare hip and buttock. Laughing aloud, she tucked a dollar down the front. Wow! What a rush!
* * * * *
Thor guided Shelley across the parking lot, his large hand warm on the small of her back. A shiver traversed her body, a reaction not entirely due to the cool autumn night air.
“I don’t want you driving home,” he said. “I’ll take you.”
“I didn’t drink that much. I’ll be fine.” Her head whirled only a bit as she stumbled along beside him.
He didn’t answer, but continued urging her toward his motorcycle.
“I’d be nervous leaving my car here overnight,” she protested. “They might have me towed.”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“But how will I get here to pick it up?”
He smiled down at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll see that you get your car home all right.”
“Well, then… Just let me get my jacket out of the trunk of my car.”
A few moments later, he buttoned her into the jacket as though she were a child. Standing so close, invading her personal space, he set every nerve in her body on red alert. She flinched each time his hand brushed against her.
After popping a helmet on her head and buckling it under her chin, he boosted her onto the passenger seat of his motorcycle. He climbed on in front of her and hit the starter.
The rumble of the engine vibrated between her thighs like a living beast. What a sexy machine!
“Where do you live?” He turned his head to hear her answer over the reverberations.
She hesitated. Just because he owned an adult store and managed a team of male strippers didn’t mean he was a danger to society. Everybody had to earn a living somehow. Besides, Thor was the most gorgeous hunk she’d met since—well, since forever. On the other hand, she’d been taught to safeguard her privacy. Rapists and stalkers were not unknown in Loveland.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised.
Why was it so hard to think when his eyes met hers?
He smiled. “I mean you no harm, Shelley.”
She nodded and gave him her address.
“Now don’t feel shy about hanging onto me,” he said. “I don’t want you falling off.”
She tentatively slipped her arms around his waist. His large hands gripped hers and pulled them tighter around himself. The smooth metal of his belt buckle pressed against her palm. The intimacy conjured lascivious thoughts. If she shifted her hand only a few inches downward, she would be trespassing on forbidden territory.
As they zoomed through the dark, the cool wind on her face contrasted with the heat flaring between her legs. Street lamps flickered past at dizzying speed. The throb of the engine shattered the stillness of the night. Once they reached the suburbs, the streets formed tunnels between rows of trees and the headlamp pierced the gloom.
Riding the motorcycle was like straddling a humongous personal vibrator. Her bottom quivered on the firm seat, and Thor’s hips, wedged between her thighs, added to her growing arousal.
In Shelley’s driveway, he cut the engine and dismounted, then helped her to the ground. Retaining his grip on her elbow, he led her up the walk. Did he think she was falling down drunk? Or was he the last of a dying breed of gentlemen escorting her to the door?
His hand slipped around her waist, offering extra support. Either he considered her incapable of walking on her own, or he had intentionally maneuvered her into letting him tuck his fingertips under the edge of her blouse to stroke the bare skin on her midriff. The heat from his touch spread through her body.
“Let’s have your key,” he said, releasing his grip as he stepped onto the miniscule porch.
Automatically, she handed it to him, then waited while he unlocked the door.