Stiletto Secrets (7 page)

“Very busy. It’s the end of the month, so the guys are just itching to toss their cash around.”

Now normally Emma would be happy to hear that since it would mean more money in her pocket. But tonight, not so much. Tonight she lacked her usual
motivation
. Ever since last Saturday and her hot and heady encounter with Mr. Blake, she just could not imagine herself dancing for anyone else and actually be
good
at it. One thing she had learned during her time as a stripper was that if you pretended to enjoy it, to love every move and to seem like you relished the fact that
they
lusted after you, wanted you in every way possible, then you would own every client that walked through those doors.

But tonight, all Emma could think about was how much she did enjoy the fact that Mr. Blake—Nicholas—loved every move she made. The thought of him lusting after her—and she definitely felt the evidence of that lust—had every inch of her body coiled tight. Just thinking about that night had her all hot and bothered. There was no pretending from her side, she loved dancing for him. And now, the thought of dancing for someone else just did not appeal to her at all.

“You have a good night now, Cinderella. Be safe.” Harvey winked at her, but she noticed the slight look of concern on his face. There was no doubt that in this line of work there were certain dangers. In the few months that Emma had been stripping, there were two cases when Harvey and the rest of the security crew had to save girls from stalking perverts. One of the girls ended up seriously injured, and she was never seen at the club again.

“I will.”

Emma walked down the halls of the back of the club. She passed a few of the other girls also on their way to their separate booths, and she just smiled at them. Emma hadn’t made any friends here since she never socialized at the club outside of work. She came in, did her shows, and then left. She didn’t want to be in this place a minute longer than was absolutely necessary.

From inside the halls she could hear the pounding music coming from the front of the club, and by the sound of it there definitely was a large crowd out there. Emma swallowed and then hastily made her way to her little corner in the club—
Cinderella’s Booth.

“Hi, Cinderella.”

Emma turned around and saw Tracy with her wild red curly hair coming toward her, clutching a clipboard in her hands.

“Hi, Tracy.”

“You have a real busy night tonight.” Tracy glanced down at the clipboard. “You’re fully booked in fact.”

“Really?” Emma wondered if Tracy detected the disappointment in her voice.

Tracy winked at her. “I hope you’ve got your fridge stocked with some energy drinks, girl.” And then she sashayed down the hall to the other girls.

Emma leaned back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Of all the nights, she had to be fully booked
tonight
, the night she really, really did not feel like performing.

“Okay, Cinderella,” Emma mumbled to herself, “pull your shit together.”

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and walked into her little fairy tale room.

When Emma originally got the job, she was told to pick a theme and her room would be decorated accordingly. Since Emma had a thing for shoes, she thought Cinderella to be real fitting, no pun intended. Oh, and she loved every pair of stilettos she had in her little display cabinet. She had worn all of them, and it was like she became someone else whenever she slipped them on. It made her feel sexy, sensual, erotic—all the things she didn’t have the courage to be as plain little
Emma.

She walked over to the cabinet and turned on the switch. Emma watched as the cabinet turned, showcasing all the beautiful shoes. Her mother used to have an entire closet filled with all the kinds of shoes you can think of. As a little girl Emma loved going into her mom’s closet. It was a place she could totally lose herself in. Sometimes she would hide in the closet and pretend to be her mother—beautiful, gracious, stylish and everything Emma wanted to be when she grew up. There were days when her mother would play dress up with her, and they would try on every single outfit paired with the perfect shoes and pearl necklaces. Her father would come back from work and chase Emma and her mother around the house while they wore their sometimes ridiculous outfits. They were so happy, and as a little girl Emma felt like they were the perfect family. Emma missed those days. She missed her mother.

After her mother’s death, everything changed. Her father was stuck with a five-year-old girl and a newborn baby. There was no time for him to grieve. Emma was too young to understand, to know that she also needed to grieve the death of her mother. Everything just seemed like it had erupted into chaos around her. Her dad started yelling at her, her new baby sister never stopped crying, and all Emma had left of her mother was the closet full of clothes she had left behind, a closet that became increasingly empty as time went by.

Emma was nine and Lizzy four when her father one day returned home with a woman they didn’t know. He introduced her as Lillian Monroe and that was the day everything changed.

“Cinderella?” Tracy knocked on the door.

Emma shook the memories from her head. “Yeah?”

“Change in schedule. Be ready in ten.”

“What do you mean change in schedule?”

“Just make sure you’re ready in ten minutes.” And then she heard Tracy stomp off.

Emma glanced at the big clock against the wall. Usually she didn’t start until ten p.m. and it was only nine. And she needed to be ready in ten minutes? Shit!

She quickly rushed to the back of the room behind the pink curtain. Emma needed much more than ten minutes to prepare. Usually she needed at least an hour. Again, shit!

As she scurried around trying to get ready, Emma caught a glimpse of a white shoe on the floor. She stopped, and then stared at the shoe with the little diamond bow on top. It was one of the shoes she had worn during her show for Mr. Blake—
Nicholas.
But where was the other shoe?

Emma quickly scanned the room and searched under the tables and cabinets. Nothing.

She remembered being so caught off guard by her own desire that had suddenly skyrocketed when Nicholas whispered in her ear, that she kicked off the heels in a rush to get out of the room. Somehow she knew that once she loosened the cuffs, he would try to catch a glimpse of her. And she was right. But luckily she was out of sight by the time he removed the blindfold. So where was that other shoe?

Another knock on the door. “Ready in five, Cinderella. Your first client just walked in.”

Crap.
She would have to search for that shoe some other time.

Emma tied her curls in a sleek ponytail and attached the hair extension. In this line of business it was all about disguising yourself. Not one of her clients knew what she looked like. She changed it up every time, and whenever one of her clients chose the
sight
show, she would wear a wig hiding her true hair color, along with a mask. Emma didn’t want to risk running into one of her clients on the street, and then have to look them in the eye after they had seen her in this type of environment. Her anonymity was most important to her. So with her
touch and feel
show she would wear a plain black mask, even though the client was blindfolded, just in case.

Then she heard the bell chiming as someone opened the door, signaling that her client had arrived. She hadn’t even had a chance to check the schedule to see who this client was.

“Pick a pair of shoes.” Emma tried her best to sound sexy even though she was rushing her ass off to get ready.

“I have three types of shows. Touch, feel, and—”

“See.”

Emma froze.

That voice.

She immediately recognized that voice. She would recognize that voice in a room filled with a thousand men.

Nicholas.

Her heart stopped. Her blood
swooshed
through her veins as warmth spread to her core.

“Mr. Blake,” she whispered.

“You remember me?”

Of course she remembered him. How could she forget?

Emma leaned against the cabinet with all her makeup and hair accessories on. She clutched the edges so tight, her knuckles turned white.

There was no way. She wouldn’t be able to do this again, not with him. The risk was too much. What if he somehow recognized her? He had already sensed that her voice sounded familiar when he had taken care of the wound in her palm.

The wound! Crap.

She glanced at her palm and saw the remnants of the wound. It had healed well, but there was still a scar, a scar that he might recognize. In panic she searched the area and found a pair of white gloves. It just had to do.

“I remember you, Mr. Blake.” She pulled on the gloves.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, counting to ten in a bid to compose herself. Her heart was still beating at a hundred miles an hour, blood rushing to her head.

“I choose
see
,” he said.

Emma almost choked on a breath.

When she turned around, she saw that he had slipped his hand through the curtain and he held the missing shoe she had searched for earlier. “I want to see you dance for me, Cinderella. And I want to see you wearing these again.” His voice sounded low, rough and strong and did strange things to her insides.

“Mr. Blake, did you steal my shoe last Saturday?”

His hand along with the shoe disappeared back to the other side of the curtain. “Not steal, just borrowed.”

“You borrowed a woman’s shoe?”

“I needed to have a reason to come back.”

Emma heard him pacing around in the room.

She smiled. “You didn’t have to resort to a felony, Mr. Blake.”

He snorted. “The only crime I’m guilty of, Cinderella, is not being able to get you out of my head.”

Emma felt the buzz of excitement pulse through her chest with his words. Her body was already completely electrified and she hadn’t even seen him yet.

“Well then, Mr. Blake, you most definitely need punishment.”

Suddenly the motivation she lacked earlier had returned with a vengeance. Now she had every motivation she needed to put on her best damn show ever.

“And what kind of punishment did you have in mind, Cinderella?” His voice was sensual, alluring and Emma loved it.

“Give me the shoes, Mr. Blake.” She held out her hand through the curtain. When he placed the shoes in her gloved hand, she felt him gently drag his finger along her arm, and shivers moved down her spine.

“Unfortunately, as part of your punishment, you will not experience the gift of sight tonight, Mr. Blake.”

“But I get to choose, and I choose to
see
you.”

“I don’t care. Tonight you will experience
touch
.”

Silence.

And then, “Are you going to let me touch you, Cinderella?”

Emma swallowed again, desperately trying to hold on to her control. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to experience his touch. “There are a few rules with this show. Rules you have to swear you will abide by.”

“I told you the last time what I think about rules.”

“And I told you that the rules I implement in this room are rules to enhance the pleasure.” Rules she herself had almost broken last weekend with the same damn man standing in her room right now.

“What are the rules?”

Emma heard the reluctance in his voice loud and clear, and she kind of liked the fact that she had that kind of control over him.

“You will be allowed to touch me, but only in ways I guide you to.”

“What if I tell you that it would be so much more fun if you gave me free rein over your body?”

“Don’t be a wise-ass, Mr. Blake. That’s the rule.”

“Well, may I just say, that’s a real shitty rule.”

Emma pulled on the shoes and it was like she felt herself slipping into that role, the role of the seductress, the teasing goddess that held the secrets to a man’s pleasure.

“That is not the only rule, Mr. Blake.”

“Of course it isn’t.” The way he said it, she could almost see him rolling his eyes.

Emma glided her hands down her hips. She had chosen a pink floral lace and dotted chemise with matching lace thong. It wasn’t like he was going to see anything, but he sure as hell was going to feel the softness of the lace.

“You will need to take a seat on the chair.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

“And wear the blindfold.”

“Oh come on, are you serious?”

Emma smothered a laugh. “Very serious, Mr. Blake.”

After a few seconds she heard a very reluctant, “Okay fine, but let me just say that this seems like a real crappy deal, and I will make it my mission to get you to break every goddamn annoying rule of yours.”

Suddenly Emma’s stomach churned with nerves. She was taking one hell of a risk doing this. If he should recognize her, it would be disastrous. Nicholas Blake was a man of stature, a man with a social status like no other. He walked around in the highest of circles, a man with class. He was the kind of man who would never be interested in a maid, not to mention a stripper. But here he was, in
Cinderella’s Booth
, and he admitted that he had thought of her, or
Cinderella
, throughout the week. But Emma wasn’t stupid. A lot of the high society men came to the club. They all needed it, an escape, and Nicholas was no different. She was nothing more than entertainment to him. But tonight she would be okay with that.

Emma took one last glance at her reflection, and then reached for the stereo.

“Take a seat, Mr. Blake.”

She made sure her little black mask was secure, and as Beyoncé’s sultry voice started to fill the room, she made her way through the curtains.

Emma sucked in a breath when she saw him sitting in the chair with his back to her. He was wearing the blindfold just as she had instructed.

“So, exactly how does this touch thing work?”

“Mr. Blake?”

He turned his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”