Stripping Her Gears

Stripping Her Gears An SK Private Label Story Sahara Kelly

Content © 2011 Sahara Kelly Cover by Sahara Kelly ISBN  #  SKPRVTOOOOO2  

Dedication With thanks to those who have made Steampunk a more familiar term. To Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, to the movies which have offered us a glimpse into that world, and to those...like me...who would love to belong to a Steampunk Club and experience it first hand. Probably won't happen, but at least I can write about it...and dream. To my best friend - who shares so much of my writing and gifted me with these amazingly fun titles - thanks, Partner. Sorry I couldn't use "Changing Her Oil". Author's Note Set in and around Boston, this story uses as many real places as possible. Newbury Street is a very popular high-end shopping destination and close to the Boston Common, although I have invented the location of the Steampunk Club itself. Revere Beach was one of my summer pleasures, in spite of the occasional oily wash from tankers heading in to unload in East Boston. The planes fly low since it's on the approach path to Logan Airport, which adds to the ambience. There are souvenir shops and several bars, but I took the liberty of adding my own Hurdy-Gurdy. However, if you've got one, you might take it down to the Boulevard. I bet the beachgoers would love it. Enjoy!

Chapter One "You what?" Cora Standish blushed. "I'm rather afraid I made kind of a tiny mistake on my taxes."

Olivia Hayden shook her head. "A tiny mistake is forgetting to carry ten cents over from one column to another. Owing eight thousand dollars is not a tiny mistake by any stretch of the imagination. How the hell did that happen?" "Some sort of stock sale at the very beginning of last year. I checked with my accountant." "And?" "He took two weeks to get back to me. He's switched careers. If I need a used car, I should call him, but he's done with the IRS." "Shit. This is a mess." "Well, I guess." Cora shrugged. "Look if you need money..." "No." Without hesitation, she interrupted Livvy, stopping the offer before it was made. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart, sweetie. But no. I won't take money from anyone else." Livvy nodded. "I should yell at you, but I'd say the same thing, so we'll move on." She licked her ice cream cone carefully. "You're in a predicament then." Cora finished her bottle of water and carefully placed the empty container in one of the environmental receptacles that dotted the sidewalk fronting the beach. "That would be a fair assessment." "Any ideas?" "Well, as a matter of fact..." She paused and leaned her elbows on the wall, looking out over the empty ocean. It was late Sunday afternoon and she and Livvy had decided to meet up for some sea air after their errands had been completed. For Cora that had been a thorough apartment cleaning and then a long soak in the tub. The walk along the shore was the perfect ending to the day and they'd both agreed a roast beef sandwich would put the seal on a super summer weekend. They were headed toward Kelly's now, the place that made the greatest roast beef sandwiches in the known universe. Livvy had gone with the "life's short, eat dessert first" school of thought and succumbed to the lure of strawberry ice cream, but they still had a good walk ahead of them, so Cora figured by the time they got there, they'd both be ready for their evening meal. The sun was warm but not unpleasant, they had always enjoyed each other's company and, for these few moments at least, they'd put aside their everyday problems. Not that Livvy's were awful, since she was dating a fabulously wealthy dude from whom she refused everything but the occasional dinner and lots of lusty sex. Cora, who had previously been the one to enjoy the lusty sex stuff, was now indulging in such activities with her vibrator, since she'd been dumped just before Memorial Day and had declared she was going to remain celibate for at least one season. It was now late June and she sadly realized that what began as a joke might well become reality. "Hello? Earth to Cora?" Livvy was watching her, while licking the last drips of ice cream from the pointed end of a rather soggy cone. Then she popped the remnants in her mouth and chewed blissfully. "Mmm. That was good." She sucked a finger clean. "So give, kid. Whatcha going to do about Uncle Sam?"

Cora straightened and together they headed off toward Kelly's. "I had a meeting with his reps on Friday afternoon. In the JFK building at Government Center. Nice place, by the way." Livvy nodded, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear as the sea breeze whisked it out of place. "Okay. Good start." "I paid them what I could. Explained I was not a distant relative of anyone named Rockefeller nor was I Bill Gates' love child. Therefore I had no familial resources to tap into for extra up front cash." "How'd that go over?" "Not great." She sighed. "But I came away with an extension, a penalty and a payment schedule, which is going to ensure I live on nothing but macaroni and cheese for approximately fifteen and three quarters years." "You're exaggerating." "Yes, but it seemed like it at the time." "Why am I feeling there's more to the story?" Livvy bumped shoulders with her friend as they walked. "Because you know me so well." Cora chuckled. "On the way out of the Fed offices, I checked their bulletin board, just for giggles." "Yeah?" "I found something." "Okay. You went through the 'Wanted Dead or Alive' section and found someone you knew and you're going to turn them in for the reward." "Better." She pulled a flyer from her purse. "Take a look at this." Livvy took the paper and read it carefully, then folded it and handed it back to Cora. "No way in hell." "Why not?" Cora tucked it back in her bag. "I can do data entry." "I know you can. But you already have a job. This is a second job. Cora, it'll kill you. Besides, the IRS facility is up in Andover. That's at least a good twenty minutes or half hour from Somerville. You leave work at five thirty, right? So when you add in travel time - rush hour travel time - you'll be lucky to get there by seven at night, let's say, you pull a four-hour shift -- you won't be home much before midnight. Every night?" She stopped and touched her friend on the shoulder. "It'll kill you. You'll get maybe five hours of sleep. If that. I know you. Other than weekends, you're an early to bed kind of gal." Cora sighed. "It sounded good. But the money isn't that great for part timers, either. I guess I was hoping you would talk me out of it." "Have I?" "Almost." "Give me another hour and I'll have you cleansed." Livvy shuddered. "God above. I would worry myself sick at the thought of you driving up there and back every damn night." "Okay mom." Cora grinned. "Cut it out." Livvy looked self-conscious. "Sorry, yeah that was a mother moment, wasn't it? I apologize." "Don't. You're looking out for me. I appreciate it."

"Well, okay. Moving on." She waved away the compliment. "Let's see if we can come up with something else." She lapsed into silence and Cora walked quietly beside her, enjoying the salt-filled tang of the air and the warm sunshine. There had to be a way out, of course. There always was. And if worst came to worst, she could simply pay it off over the time allotted. It seemed like forever, but all things must pass, as somebody smart had once said. Obviously whoever said it hadn't been talking about taxes. The roast beef sandwiches lived up to their billing, and it wasn't until after the last fry had been consumed, the last little bit of sauce licked up and the last suckable particle of milk shake had been...well...sucked, that they returned to the subject of Cora's problem. Livvy frowned a little as she tossed her trash into the bin. "Cora, didn't you tell me you used to take dance lessons once upon a time?" Cora blinked. "Yeah. For years. Pretty much all through high school and then some. I took tap, jazz, ballet until I topped the height limitations, and a bunch of other classes. Some salsa, a bit of ballroom. I can find my way around most music and not embarrass myself, I guess." "Yeah, I've seen you. And you can do it in heels, too. Very impressive." A veteran of more than a few nightclub outings with her friend, Livvy nodded in agreement. "So. Here's the thing. You remember the Steampunk Society, of course." "Duh." Cora's invitation to the Steampunk Society's party had resulted in Livvy becoming a wanton woman of the highest order. Which, in Cora's book, was an admirable trait even though she'd had to wait weeks for her friend to 'fess up to it. Livvy had attained her status thanks to Dane, another Steampunk fan, and the resultant relationship was sizzling along very nicely. "Well something Dane said the other night is sticking in my head. He heard that someone from the Society is opening a Steampunk nighclub. A private club, I think. One of those ritzy type deals. And he's looking for help." "Where does the dancing come in?" "That's the thing. They're looking for waitresses who can sing and dance. Do you know that restaurant that hires music students? I forget the name of it..." "I think I've heard of it..." "Well apparently they stop serving and sing every now and again. Not like some happy birthday stuff, but opera or musical theater. It sounds cool. Haven't been there." She looked pensive. "Perhaps I should get Dane to think about taking me some night. Up toward Saugus way..." "Off topic." Cora snapped her fingers. "This is all about me here, remember?" "Yep. Sorry." Livvy grinned. "So what do you say I find out if they're still hiring Steampunk wait staff for that club? You could do a weekend stint, probably for minimum wage, but I'll bet anything there'll be some hellaciously fine tips, and you could get some dancing in at the same time. Maybe even free food..." "Hmm." Cora turned the idea over in her mind as the two of them made their way back to the car. "Is it in Boston?" "Not sure." Livvy shrugged. "I didn't get many details. But I reckon Dane will have all the inside stuff...or he can get it if I ask him."

"He's not just a cute face, huh?" Livvy's expression softened. "Nope. Although by God his face is gorgeous." "Doesn't it bother you? Dating a guy who's prettier than you are?" "Har har." "Okay." Cora squared her shoulders. "If you can find out anything from Dane about this club, I'm definitely interested. One or two nights a week with big tips probably doubles anything the Feds might offer. On the basis of that assumption alone, I'm in." "Beats data entry to hell and gone." Livvy smiled her approval as they got into her car and headed for home. *~*~*~* Jack Brandon watched her. There was something about the tall blonde that grabbed him and wouldn't let go. Sure, she was damn good looking. She had a body like an Amazon warrior and the face of a fallen angel or a Renaissance painting. No, make that a pre-Raphaelite painting. There was a hint of wickedness in her blue eyes. But pound for pound, she was no more lovely than the bevy of staff he'd hired for Goggles and Cogs. All of them were talented and attractive, and he knew once the club opened he'd have a full house every night. Boston society was always on the lookout for something new and exclusive. He was offering them both in one package deal. His fingers drifted over the condensation on his glass of soda as he watched three of his new waitresses running through a little soft shoe routine. He planned on keeping their entertainment in keeping with the time period, although he was straying out of Victorian theater and into early twentieth century Music Hall. So let someone sue him. After a few martinis they wouldn't care if it was era-appropriate Victorian or Ozzie Osbourne. And there were those legs--a major distraction if he ever saw one. Or two, in this case. She had legs that could be defined as fucking perfect. Flawless. Calves that were firm and shapely, knees that looked about as good as human knees could look, and thighs... Well damn. Just looking at those thighs made Jack's mouth water. He wanted those thighs wrapped around his waist, or pressing against his ears. He sighed and surrendered. He wanted her. Cora Standish, her name was, from Somerville. She was twenty-seven and single and she'd walked in to the interview like a queen. He had the strangest feeling if she'd demanded fealty he'd have fallen to one knee before her and asked for her blessing. But then again, history was his thing. She might not be able to spell 'fealty', let alone understand what it was. Nothing to do with the blonde hair, of course, but everything to do with the class of women Jack had been mixing with lately. For some reason, the intellectual level had dropped and the giggle quotient had risen. He was, all things considered, not impressed with either. So if Ms. Standish had a brain to match her breasts, he was looking at a piece of heaven he would very much like to get his hands on. And yes, that was about the most arrogant thought he'd had in some time. He mentally slapped himself for being a jerk. Then he forgave himself. He had a right to ask for a compatible companion. Was there any reason at all he couldn't talk to a woman as well as fuck her? Sex was the best

thing since sliced bread. Better actually, unless it was that hot, fresh-from-the-oven sourdough bread from Fisherman's Wharf. But afterward, in those lazy sweaty moments when the heart slowed and the body relaxed--well, wasn't that a time to share ideas? To laugh a little, cuddle and talk to each other? To communicate on a new level--one made possible by the just-finished, mutually satisfactory, orgasms. Recently, Jack had run into a problem with that particular phase of intimacy. The woman who fucked like a nymphomaniac and drained his balls to prunes had wanted to talk about her favorite tv show. At length. Needless to say, in spite of the world-class sex, the relationship had been...brief. After that, he'd found himself getting more involved with organizing his club and there'd been little time left for socializing. So he was presently unattached. After surveying Cora Standish once more, he realized he was also damned horny. The short black shorts suited her--it was the legs, of course. But the neat vest, Edwardian collared shirt and bright bow tie were both sexy and cute on her, and the top hat with the gears--something all the staff were wearing--well with her blonde curly hair it was downright stunning. Her silky pantyhose ended with tap shoes and he hoped they'd be comfortable. Some of the 'dancers' would be wearing them and on their feet all night as well. The singers were slightly better off, but in basically the same outfit. It was a design he'd chosen himself and he was proud of it. Sure, it was a tad sexist, the women being in shorts and the guys in pants, but hell. He was a businessman. Damned if he was going to apologize for decorating his club with terrific legs. Even though he was initially planning to offer a buffet table, not a restaurant type deal, he knew his people would have to work hard ferrying drinks around, keeping on top of the used china and glasses and generally making themselves useful. Since it was a private club there would be a smoking room and he could keep the entire place open past the hours mandated for public venues if he chose. He dragged his attention from Ms. Legs and took a long, impartial look around the room. It was the second floor of an old home just off Newbury Street, and the owner had decided to break it up into usable spaces rather than lose it to foreclosure. Luckily, the location was ideal for what Jack had in mind, so he'd snapped up the entire second floor along with the couple of smaller attic rooms on the third, and was pleased with the result. It hadn't taken much to recreate Victorian splendor. Lots of brilliant colors, rich velvets and heavy draperies did the trick, along with more than a few old leather pub chairs rescued from an antique collaborative in Waltham. There was a fireplace in one of the three large rooms comprising the club--this would be the social room, where guests could schmooze and eat. The pub chairs added a nicely elegant touch to the room he earmarked for relaxed or intimate conversation. It was furthest away from the music, of course. The entertainment would be held in the largest room, probably some sort of enormous dining room originally. Coming up the stairs from the street level, guests would walk into the second largest room and find they could get themselves a drink from the bar set in the far corner, and take it to a tallboy table or sit on one of the couches arranged along the walls. One wall was free to hold a sturdy buffet where the food would be laid out. In the winter, he'd have a fire going to add to the atmosphere. Maybe. If he could get a permit.

At the moment he was more concerned about the air conditioner units not overloading his wiring, even though he'd been assured everything was up to code. There were unobtrusive exits leading to the modest kitchen facilities and also a clearly signed one for the rest rooms. Smoking would be permitted in the small area off the lounge, which had floor-to-ceiling windows. They could be cracked open for ventilation and even though it was his choice to make a smoking area available, Jack disliked the lingering odor of tobacco in his clothes and preferred his guests not be subject to it either, if he could avoid it. Yes, he'd thought through most everything, he hoped. He was sitting in the central room, looking through the broad archway toward the dance floor. He really had to name these rooms something, he realized. Quiet room, dance room and room with fireplace wasn't cutting it somehow, given the elegant ambience he was striving for. His attention was recaptured by Cora and the other women with her, now happily tapping their way through a music-hall classic--My Old Man Said Follow the Van. Jack's eyelids lowered a little as she leaned over, her ass stretching the shorts delectably snugly over her buttocks. Dear God. He'd really like to do some dilly-dallying with her. She was good, too. Her movements were natural, not forced at all, her limbs responding instinctively to the rhythm. Her smile was easy and cheerful, as if dancing in hot pants to old English music hall songs was something she did every day. He knew enough about her from her application to realize this wasn't the case, and the rest he'd gleaned from a quick phone call to Dane Lowell, who--bless him--had recommended Cora in the first place. Kudos to Dane for his brilliant notion and also to his girlfriend Livvy for suggesting her friend apply. He'd heard that some sort of IRS bill was looming or in repayment. Whatever the reason behind Cora's arrival in Jack's sphere of existence, he was glad of it. He foresaw an interesting time ahead for them both. One that would be mutually satisfactory and leave them both sweating and relaxed. Coincidentally, sweating was exactly what Cora was doing at that moment. He chuckled to himself as he watched them finish the number and then catch their breath. Or at least it should have been a chuckle. But she turned around and he caught a last glimpse of her ass as she stretched out one leg and rubbed her thigh. God. Now he was sweating too. Chapter Two He'd been watching her surreptitiously for the past several weeks now. Cora sighed as she turned and once again caught Mr. Jack Brandon self-consciously not looking at her, which he tended to do if he thought she might catch him in the act of looking at her. It was all horribly junior-high-school, and if he hadn't been such a luscious dish, Cora would have given him a piece of her mind. But in her more private moments, she confessed to herself that she'd rather give him something else--something a little more intimate. Her boss, the owner of Goggles and Cogs, was one dee-licious hunk of masculinity. Although they'd only exchanged mundane greetings and the occasional necessary work-

related conversation, Cora was sensing more than just the routine interest from Jack Brandon. Her sex-radar was registering him as a major blip, especially when he gave her one of "those" smiles. The ones that got her panties all sticky. He managed to be around when the evening was done, always checking to make sure his employees had transportation home. If his hand brushed her spine as he escorted the staff to the street and wished them goodnight, well, it was a casual thing and she shouldn't read anything into it. If she turned and found him near her a little more often than was to be expected, well again...she shouldn't read anything into it. She tried hard not to read anything into anything, and she also tried very hard not to let her awareness of Jack interfere with her job, which she liked a lot more than she'd anticipated. But he was not a man she could treat casually and he was almost impossible to ignore. As a general rule, most men over six foot or so got noticed. Jack was at least sixfour. Cora appreciated his height since she was five-foot-ten with bare feet. Not that it bothered her, since she didn't mind dating shorter guys...she never really thought about the matter of any difference in elevation. After all, as she was fond of saying, everyone was the same height lying down. But when she stood next to Jack and found herself looking up into his face...well, all of a sudden she shivered through a surprising ripple of feminine awareness. She didn't get anything like that from staring at the top of a man's head. Besides the height thing, there were those eyes she saw when she tipped her head backward. Cora was a sucker for a man's eyes. Jack's were hazel, changing from golden brown to green depending on the light. Or possibly his mood. She wasn't sure and didn't know him well enough to figure it out. The fact that she would very much like to know him that well scared the crap out of her and drove her far far away from him whenever such ideas intruded into her mind. Her main goal was to focus on her job, scooping up the generous tips and not missing a step in any of the four or five dance routines she had memorized...those were the important things. She wasn't one to get tangled up in emotional affairs or deeply intense relationships. Cora was all about having fun and keeping it light. Lusting after her boss wasn't on the agenda. So she'd damn well better cut it out. She tried. She really tried. But by the end of the first month, when they were all getting into a comfortable routine with each other and the work, Cora knew--all the way down to her ten tapping toes--that Jack Brandon was interested. In her. And she could deny it to herself all she wanted, but she also knew his interest was reciprocated. She wasn't as tired as she'd been the first week, of course. The frantic opening, the first few evenings--well, it had torn into her lifestyle and turned it upside down. She'd spent the Sunday collapsed on her couch, alternating between blinking at the sunlight and napping. Now that she had a few more weeks under her belt, knew where everything was and felt quite at home with the little tap routines...well, it was much much better. Three nights a week of exorbitant tips didn't hurt either.

Apparently Boston's elite loved dressing up in late Victorian costumes and hanging out with like-minded folks in feathers, top hats and an assortment of other things that made Cora blink. Her Thursday night shift was the quietest, usually couples, not many in costume, and much of the time comprised of friends who found Goggles and Cogs a charming place to meet after work. Members invited new guests who eagerly became members themselves, and Cora realized right away that Jack had found himself an ideal niche market for a club. Now and again there were older patrons who actually knew some of the old songs, and she loved seeing them sing along as she and her fellow waitresses tapped their way through some of the pre-World War I classics. Friday nights were the most challenging. Not surprisingly, the crowd was younger, edgy and eager for something new. They seemed fascinated by the concept of Steampunk and it didn't take long for the "let's dress up" idea to take root. These guests partied enthusiastically, arriving early and making plenty of noise. It was always a fun night, which flew by after the doors opened. Saturday was different again. These folks were dyed-in-the-wool enthusiasts who had chosen the club to indulge their fascination with all things Steampunk. There were regulars, dressed in amazingly period-accurate costumes, mingling with newcomers who had a hard time managing skirts and tailcoats. Not to mention monocles, which Cora was called upon to rinse and dry on more than one occasion. They had a nasty habit of dropping off a slippery nose and into the wearer's martini. Members of the real Steampunk Society liked to drop by on Saturday nights, so it was all hands to the pump and a lot of spit and polish before opening. Almost military in its precision, the club doors were thrown wide at nine pm exactly. Guests were welcomed until midnight or until capacity was reached, which was often well before the shut-off deadline. Always flexible, Jack welcomed the Society members, and if one wanted to recite a favorite passage from a Jules Verne novel, they were encouraged to do so. It was informal, delightful and unexpected. The nice thing about a private club, mused Cora. The freedom to accommodate guests and their wishes. He'd picked a good time to start up this whole deal. Summer was ripe with visitors to Boston, many of whom had passes to Goggles and Cogs from fellow Steampunk addicts. Word was spreading, and even though August would probably be a little on the slow side, Cora figured her waitressing would be good from anywhere between three and five hundred dollars in tips per week. She welcomed the "found" money, and her IRS bill was steadily declining. She knew there was no excuse for squandering any of it and was strong-minded enough to bypass the end-of-season sales while gleefully watching the outstanding Federal balance shrink. At this rate she might well be paid off by Thanksgiving--something she'd never expected quite so soon. They'd already scheduled a special event for September--a visit by a renowned Steampunk author--and although his fans might not tip as well as her regulars, it would be interesting to listen to him and see what his take on this whole brass-filled gadgetladen phenomena might be. It soon became clear that this particular venture wasn't just a money-making cash cow. It attracted a different clientele than the usual private clubs...although they were

certainly part of the membership. But there was a predominance of people who enjoyed conversation--and intelligent conversation at that--along with their excellent single malts, Napoleon brandies, and the occasional richly fragrant cigar. A treat which must have arrived in Boston under cover of darkness and behind the backs of the Customs folks. Overall, Cora enjoyed it. Even though she was, technically, a waitress, she was never made to feel less than an important member of the club team. She was treated respectfully by the members, many of whom now knew her by name and greeted her when they arrived, much as they greeted their friends. She was learning who liked what and got a kick out of seeing their surprised faces as she brought them their drinks without being asked. She also got a huge kick out of the extra tips her little memory exercise brought in. All things considered, if she had to take a second job, this one was the absolute top of the heap. And now that she'd managed to adapt to the extra hours and was no longer in danger of dozing over her keyboard during the day, all was good. It was especially fun when Livvy and Dane dropped by, in full costume, looking so happy together they made Cora's world glow for the rest of the night. They cheered and applauded her dance routine--it was the standard 'Enery the Eighth song, made popular many decades after it first appeared by a sixties pop band who introduced it to a new generation. Cora and two other girls danced behind a handsome waiter singing the song in a lovely British accent and encouraging the guests to join in the chorus which they all did with abandon. At the end of the evening, Livvy grabbed a few words with Cora. "Damn, girl. This was the most fun. You doing okay? I don't get to see you so much anymore." Cora smiled. "I know and I'm sorry. That's the only drawback. I'm loving it here, though. Can't you tell?" She tapped the brim of her top hat in a mock salute. "Glad it's working out." Livvy leaned in. "You put the moves on the hunk yet?" "Which hunk?" "C'mon, kiddo. There's only one for you here. And you know it." She angled her chin toward Jack who was chatting with Dane and one or two other men. "Jack, right? The owner?" Cora sighed. "Yeah. He is." "All that and more." Both women took a moment to appreciate the finer aspects of the male of the species. "I'm thinking about it." Cora decided to go for honesty. "Think fast." Livvy looked pensive. "He's a hottie. Someone else will hunt him down and bag him if you don't." Before she could answer, the man himself moved away from the little group and walked toward them. "Nice to meet you, Olivia. I hope you and Dane will come back again soon." He smiled, his eyes crinkling nicely at the corners and bringing a little sigh to Livvy's throat. "Thanks. I had a great time." She glanced up at Cora. "And you take care of my friend here. She's special people." "I will." Jack moved to stand beside Cora. "I know how special she is."

Cora gulped. "You do?" "Absolutely. All my folks are special. I wouldn't have hired them otherwise." "Of course, Mr. Brandon." Cora tried not to let her disappointment show. Damn it all. She wanted to be more than just one of my folks. "I have to go." Livvy touched Cora's hand. "See you next week, hon." "Bye, Livvy. Glad you came." Cora waved to Dane as he held the door for Livvy. "Come back soon." Jack stayed at her side as they left, followed by the last lingerers. Then he turned to Cora. "Can you ask Pauline and Megan if they'd join us for a few minutes? I have something I'd like to run past you guys if you've time..." "Sure thing." Cora nodded. "I'll go find them." "Cora?" "Yes Mr. Brandon?" "It's Jack. If you don't mind. Mr. Brandon makes me look around for my father." She grinned. "Okay. If you say so. Jack..." There it was again. That flash of her incredible smile sending tiny shocks of electricity down to Jack's groin and making him feel like he'd had his genitals delicately tapped with a tazer. She strode away--Cora never walked, she always seem to stride vividly through life--and he watched her as she disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with Pauline in tow. Seconds after that, Megan peered around a doorjamb and Cora waved her over. Jack called to her. "C'mon up to my office? I won't keep you long." He moved to a side door and stepped through to the narrow stairs, knowing the three women would follow. The little attic room he'd appropriated for himself was small, small enough that he guessed it was originally a servant's room. But it held a desk, a chair, a couple of cabinets for paperwork and his laptop. He didn't need much more. It was crowded with the three women in there, and for a second Jack felt dizzy as he inhaled the wonderful scent of sweaty women, a blend of their perfumes and the underlying aroma of old wood. For some reason, he could distinguish Cora's scent clearly. She was fresh, airy--kind of like linens that had been drying outside in the sun. And where the hell that whimsical notion had come from he had no idea. He dragged his errant thoughts back into place. "Okay, ladies. Here's the thing." He paused, watching them as they watched him. "In two weeks time, we have a special booking. A closed night for a bachelor party." There were varying degrees of interest and a groan or two. He grinned. "Yeah, I know. But they're paying top dollar and we are running a business. With what we'll clear from that affair, this month will be ahead of last month's figures by a factor of two." "Wow." Pauline's eyes grew large. "That must be some bachelor." "It is." He nodded and mentioned a high-profile name that everyone knew. "That explains the fee." Cora pursed her lips. "But I'm sensing there's more to it..." She quirked an eyebrow at him.

He looked away from them for a heartbeat, searching for the right words. Then looked back. "A bachelor party is going to get rowdy. There's no two ways about it. And they're going to expect...er...entertainment of a certain kind." "Strippers." Megan looked sour. "Always strippers. What's with men anyway?" "Don't get me started." Pauline shrugged with disdain. "Ladies..." Jack held up his hand. "I have two options here and I want you to know them both. The first is that I can hire some expensive performers for the night. You know how hard I've worked--we've all worked--to achieve a reputation here. We're unique and I want to keep it that way. So if I go out and hire girls for that night, they will be top class and cost me a lot. But it will be worth it." Cora's eyes were glued to his face. "What's the second option?" "I pay you ladies to work that night instead." "Strip?" Pauline's jaw dropped. "I'm not a stripper, Jack. No way in hell." The other two nodded in agreement. "I understand. Really I do. And there will be no repercussions if you say no. But hear me out. Local ordinances allow topless performers, but not full frontal, if you get my drift. That's the way it is here in this area. The days of the old Combat Zone are long gone." He grinned as he remembered his father referring to one of the more controversial adult entertainment areas of Boston that had died a natural death when Jack was very young. "I remember hearing about that." Cora stretched one leg absently. "The Piccadilly Lounge. I had an uncle used to hang out there. Until my aunt found out." Jack chuckled. "Yeah, that's how it used to be. But we're getting off topic." He straightened. "Here's the deal. You three are fabulous performers and entertainers. I've watched you grow into a team of dancers who are as good on your own as you are together. You can wing it, perform to just about anything, and the guests love you. Which is why you're here right now." "Thank you." Cora looked suspicious. "You're setting us up." "No, really I'm not." Jack tried to look mildly offended. "That's nothing but the truth and you all know it." "But?" Megan tilted her head to one side and waited. "No buts. What I'd like to suggest is this. That you think about how you could manage a striptease that isn't a revealing striptease for these guys." "Can we get 'em blind drunk beforehand?" Pauline looked thoughtful. "Provided they don't throw up on the furniture, sure." "You mean we could use props? Like fans or something?" asked Megan. Jack nodded. "Yes. Exactly like that. I will not ask you or tell you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. As I said before, I have another fallback option. But if I'm going to spend some cash here, I'd rather it go to you three." There was a brief silence. Then Cora spoke. "Okay. So without being too mercenary about this, exactly what kind of cash are we talking?" Jack let the tension build for a little, then hit them with a number that made three jaws drop simultaneously. "Shit." Pauline shook her head. "I'm in the wrong business." "I know sex sells, but I had no idea it sold that well." Megan blinked.

Cora was the last to offer her opinion, and for some reason it was her words that Jack awaited with the most eagerness. "Well, Jack. Here's our thing. We're all here to make money. We're enjoying the hell out of what we do, make no mistake about it. Every night is fun, challenging and there's usually something or someone new to keep it all fresh. We're all really appreciative of what you've put together here." She looked down at her tap shoes and idly rapped out a quick staccato rhythm as the other two made supporting noises. "That said, none of us are strippers. And I don't think any of us would be comfortable with the idea of ripping off our clothes in front of a bunch of drunk and horny guys." There was a stronger murmur of agreement after that statement, which sent Jack's spirits down to his boots. "However," continued Cora, "that doesn't mean we're idiots either. If prancing around in a bikini or something and flashing a bit of personal skin will pull in that kind of cash for one night--and it had better be one night only, Jack--then I'm thinking I can do it and still look myself in the face in the morning." She turned slightly away from him and looked at the others. "What do you guys say?" "I need to think about it." Megan sounded uncertain. "I really could use the money, but I gotta have a bit of time to decide." She glanced at Jack. "Look, if you need an answer now..." "No, no." He shook his head. "I understand that this is way out of the ordinary. And I'm happy you at least want to think about it. You can be damn sure I'll take care of you all if you decide to do this. There will be nothing at all to make you uncomfortable or feel threatened. Security will be the byword and there'll be no touching or anything along those lines." "Yeah." Pauline chuckled. "I'm always real comfortable strutting around with the girls on display." She rolled her eyes. "I think I'm going to say yes, Jack, but like Megan I need a bit of time to work it around in my head." "I'm fine with that." He opened the door. "If your answer is yes, I'll give you some time to put together a routine if you'd like. Or certainly get whatever props you might need. It's to my advantage, ladies. You are talented and wonderful performers. I don't want to go outside and spend huge chunks of profit on a troupe that won't relate to people the way I know you all can." "We don't want that either," grinned Cora. "If you're going to drop huge chunks of profits, we'd rather do the catching." "Does this mean you're on board?" Jack's gaze met her blue eyes, and perhaps it was his imagination, but he could've sworn he saw heat flickering in their depths. A heat he felt reflected down inside himself. Damn. If he ever got her alone and she gave him one ounce of encouragement... "We'll get back to you on that." She shifted her shoulders. "I'm thinking the money sounds wonderful. I'm also thinking if we can pull it off, we can present an image of stripping without actually showing much. Sort of more along the lines of burlesque than stripper sleaze." She pursed her lips and he could almost see ideas rolling around her brain. She had a face that reflected her thoughts when she forgot to school her features. Like now. He sure would have liked to know what particular idea brought a sudden flush of color to her cheeks and made her turn away from him in a real hurry.

He kept his amusement to himself. "Okay. Go home. The cab's probably waiting outside. We'll talk again and thanks, ladies." "For what?" Cora glanced at him uncertainly as they filed out. He casually flicked her nose. "For not telling me to shove my bright ideas where the sun don't shine." "As if." She snorted. "You're the money man, Jack. We may say a flat out no, but even if it comes to that, we'll do it politely." He grinned again. "I'll bet you would, too." He reached out, unable to keep his hands off her, and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "But I'm hoping you'll say yes." For a moment or two they were alone, isolated in the darkness just outside Jack's office. He took a chance. "This whole adult scene? It's a business decision, made because the bachelor has been a friend of mine since kindergarten. Otherwise I'd never have agreed to any of it. I'm not crazy about the idea of any of my girls taking things off." He paused. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't pay close attention, of course. Especially when it comes to you, Cora." There was a second of silence and then the whoosh of an indrawn breath. He couldn't make out her features too well, but he could smell her light perfume as she leaned toward him. Her finger brushed against his chest. "Then I'd better be damn good at it, hadn't I...Jack." Then she was gone, her shoes tapping rapidly down the stairs, leaving him with the faint scent of sunshine and a rapidly growing hard-on. "Well fuckin' hell." Maybe there was hope for him after all. Chapter Three The three women agreed to do the bachelor party. Cora knew the other two had struggled with the decision; Pauline was in a committed relationship with her boyfriend and they were already making plans for some kind of formal engagement. She wouldn't have been able to say yes without his support. Megan, on the other hand, was a casual dater, much like Cora. So neither had a significant other to worry about. It was more of a concern about the whole idea of stepping outside the socially acceptable standards of behavior and taking their clothes off in front of people. Male people. Most likely drunk male people. They'd met up for a quick coffee before going to the club that Saturday night and discussed the ins and outs. Pauline had been a bit late, but when she said that even though her boyfriend wasn't keen, the money was so good he couldn't turn it down...well, the other two found the decision easier. Cora was elected to tell Jack, and also present the carefully selected list of props they'd worked out, which included a large fur wrap--preferably white--for the dark-haired Pauline, several voluminous emerald green veils for Megan the redhead, and for Cora? Two big ostrich feather fans. His relief at their decision was evident and followed almost immediately by a rather confused expression as he read over the list. Cora took pity on him. "Look, Jack. Would it be easier if we got what we needed and just asked you to reimburse us?"

He looked relieved. "God, yeah. Uh..." he glanced at the list again. "Provided Pauline doesn't get white mink?" Cora laughed. "No. I think she's anti real fur." "Oh. One of those." "Yeah. Remind me never to wear my sable here." Cora took the list back with a grin. "You'd look magnificent in sable." His voice was a caress that she felt right down to her crotch. It was as if he'd hit the right switch inside her girl parts and a whole bunch of floodlights had just come on with a whoosh. "Uhh...well. Um, thanks." Sparkling repartee there, you idiot. He ignored her confusion. "You know, of course, the costumes will have to be briefer than you're used to. The hats will stay, but the shorts will have to be replaced." Cora winced. "Thongs?" "Or some kind of glittery bikini thing, yeah." He looked a little embarrassed. "The place we got the waitress outfits might be a good place to check. I have an account set up with them. So you might go there first and if you're lucky you can find your props as well as the rest of the outfit." She nodded. "Okay. We'll check it out. Thanks." Grabbing the list, she turned to leave him. "Cora?" "Yes?" She turned back to see that look in his eyes again. The one that made her shiver and had begun haunting her dreams. "This is inappropriate." He caught himself up, as if the words had spewed out without his consent. "What I'm about to say." "It is?" "Yes." She blinked. "Oh. Well maybe you'd better just say it and get it over with, then." He took a breath. "What I said last night, I meant. I'd much rather you gave one performance only. A private performance." "Private, as in..." "One customer." Her heart thudded fiercely but she kept her voice even. "You have a specific customer in mind?" "Me. Me, Cora. I want you naked. But only for me." The word echoed in the silence that had fallen, and Cora couldn't drag her gaze away from Jack's face. She wanted to be cool and professional and adult. She wanted to find the right words to answer him, to let him know she wasn't upset or insulted or about to file a sexual harassment suit. But all she could do was swallow down a lump of lust that threatened to choke her as she tried to banish the visual images running amok in her brain. Then she whispered the words trembling on the tip of her tongue. "I think...I think that would be...exciting." He moved, his body jerking as if he'd touched a live wire. She saw his hands reach toward her and quickly backed away. This wasn't the time and it certainly wasn't the place.

"We'll have to table this discussion until later. Any minute the club's going to open." She held the list close to her chest like a shield and turned away from him as she babbled. "I'll get the girls together and we'll take care of this." She was halfway out of the room when he finally spoke. "Later then. But I won't forget, Cora. Count on it." Daringly, she flashed him that quick smile over her shoulder. "I am." Then she was gone. *~*~*~* The intervening days flew by faster than Cora could have believed. She barely had time to fill Livvy in on the details of the event, and then only in brief conversations over their cell phones, tiny intervals snatched from the hectic schedule Cora's life had become. "On my way to the costume shop." She neatly dodged a puddle as she ran out at lunchtime to pick up her outfit for the bachelor party. Phone to her ear, she cast a wary eye at the clouds and prayed it would stay dry for an hour or so. "What did you end up with?" Livvy sounded curious. "Sort of a sequined panty thing. Not quite a thong but less than I'd wear to the beach." "Uh." "And two of the biggest turquoise blue ostrich feather fans I could find." Cora giggled into the phone. "I swear you could hide all the Rockettes behind them if you'd a mind to. I'm going to be so well covered it'll be ridiculous." "Wow. Expensive?" "I'm renting them. Since Jack has an account we can do that for specialty items. The panty will be mine of course, but the fans go back. It's a pity. They're kinda fun." "Cora Standish." Livvy put on her teacher's voice. "You are a bad girl. And if you don't give me chance to play with them before you return them, I'll never speak to you again." "Okay, Sally Rand." "Who?" Cora rolled her eyes. "She was a very famous stripper. Look her up on the Internet. I found a video and got a lot of really great tips on fan dancing." "Sheesh. How about Megan and Pauline?" "They're good. We had a brief rehearsal at Megan's last night, so if these guys want all three of us performing together, we won't fall over each other and embarrass ourselves." "The fur work for her?" Livvy had already been informed of everyone's props. "Yeah. Works great. Very sexy. And Pauline's veils are super seductive. I think we're gonna be one hell of an act." "You sure?" Cora smiled at the concern she could hear in her friend's voice. "Yes. Jack will be there keeping an eye on things. We're all getting into the spirit of it. Pretending it's more like the old style burlesque shows, you know? Lots of sizzle but a lot less skin than you actually think. That takes the sleaze factor out of it and makes it art instead."

"Just tell the happy bachelor that." Livvy managed to convey a raised eyebrow over the phone. No mean trick. "Jack will take care of that." "Yeah. Jack. How about Jack, anyway." "Huh?" Cora was close to her destination and slowed her pace. "What do you mean?" "I mean what's with you and Jack?" "Nothing." "Sure, honey." She snorted. "This is me. You've been all fidgety for a while now. I know the signs. And I reckon it's Jack that's put the itching powder in your panties, so to speak." "Damn. I'm at the shop, Liv. Gotta go. We'll talk later, okay?" With a sigh of relief, Cora ended the call and went in to the quiet little costume shop tucked away close to Boston Common. She was hiding, she knew. Hiding from any conversation that involved Jack. Or her and Jack. Or any combination thereof. Shortly afterward, shiny shopping bag in hand, she emerged and headed back toward the office. In some ways she missed having Livvy walking beside her. But today, with Jack's sensual comments fresh in her mind, Cora appreciated the chance to do some thinking. An affair with her boss, even though he was only her part-time boss, was probably the stupidest thing she could ever contemplate. So why she was spending so much time contemplating that exact thing, she wasn't sure, other than the fact he was getting to her on a variety of levels. Ignoring the lunchtime crowd of visitors to the Common, she mentally ticked off his positive attributes. Handsome. Check. His height was a plus and there were those dreamy eyes... Intelligent. Check. He couldn't have started and maintained such a successful enterprise without a heaping helping of smarts. Plus the club showed every sign of growing in popularity. Again, largely due to Jack and his business acumen. Good sense of humor. Check. His laugh was real and she found herself smiling every time she heard it at the club. He had a quick wit and could engage just about anyone in a war of words, coming out the winner more often than not. She paused and adjusted her purse more comfortably on her shoulder. Dammit, there wasn't one bad thing about him that she could think of to put in the negative attribute column. Determinedly she strode on, searching for something, anything she could say was a bad thing about Jack. But the slate remained blank on that side of the list. For her part, she was very attracted to him. Everything she'd listed was on her personal preference chart when it came to men. He was right up there with Clooney and possibly Farrell. She hadn't seen him in a tuxedo--few mortals could match Clooney in a tux--but when Jack wore his Edwardian suits and top hats...well, dayum. That kinda did it for her every bit as much as Gorgeous George on the red carpet. She reached the office with a clear bottom line on her mental spreadsheet. She was seriously attracted to Jack Brandon. She shared his opinion that getting naked would be a worthwhile endeavor, especially if he was naked too.

She admitted to herself, in the bluntest of terms, that she wanted to fuck him. Several times. If he was as good as she imagined he would be--then make that several dozen times. Cora sighed as the elevator deposited her on the correct floor for her office. It was time to slip back into regular work mode. The sequins, feathers and fucking would have to wait for another day or so. *~*~*~* Jack couldn't recall the last time he'd been this nervous. Binky Mitchell and his buddies were in the house, having a great time for themselves over a poker game Jack had set up. He hoped Binky's intended bride called him Bryan, but to Jack he was Binky. Always had been and always would be. It wasn't a large group, not quite a dozen guys. He recognized most of them, relieved that one or two were lawyers. They might condone less-than-gentlemanly behavior on such an occasion, but they'd make damn sure nothing went into the realms of potential litigation. It helped that they were all in the 'heading-for-thirty' age bracket. He chuckled. He was just past thirty. And apparently he was turning into an old man at a rapid rate. Then the music picked up tempo and he became a horny teenager in an instant. A spotlight hit the dance floor and the three girls moved in, each swathed in their props. As waitstaff, they'd been a sensation and the guys had done everything but actually drool when served by three glittering lovelies. Initially, they resembled sparkling supermodels at some exotic millionaires-only beach party. Jack had approved of the bikini-styled costumes, and admired the long strips of rhinestones falling from the upper parts to brush the tops of the girls' thighs. It was sexy, revealing without being crass, and exactly what he'd hoped for. And yes, he found the almost-thong very distracting. Seeing Cora's bare ass for the first time had been comparable to a religious experience, since her rear view presented the most creamily perfect pair of buttocks he'd ever ogled. Separated only by a strip of twinkling jewels, he had a hard time not falling over his tongue as she walked past. Damned if she didn't add a slight wiggle too. Just for him, he felt sure. Now, with the added enhancement of their chosen props, they were little short of astounding. They began to dance to an upbeat version of A little of what yer fancy does yer good, and the partygoers hooted and applauded appropriately. The drinks were flowing, the two waiters working the evening were busy and Jack kept his fingers crossed that everything would run smoothly. Outside there was a rumble of thunder, and he spared a second to mentally check he'd rolled up his car windows. It had been sultry and humid for the last few days, stretching everyone's air conditioning units to the max. Perhaps a good storm would break the heat and make the next few days more comfortable. However, in the club it was cool, even though the dancers were getting hotter.

Megan stepped forward, swathed in her fake white mink stole. She was petite and pretty in a purely feminine kind of way and Jack enjoyed watching her arrange her stole so as to allow brief glimpses at the body beneath. Her coyly fluttering eyelashes made everyone laugh and when she began a version of Oh Mr. Porter, whatever shall I do? in a naughty little girl voice, the approval was instantaneous. Pauline and Cora were off to one side, acting sometimes as chorus and others as punctuation with hushed taps of their shoes. They were really an awesome troupe. Jack acknowledged he'd accidentally hit gold when he'd hired them. Megan gently unfastened her top and when she held up one arm with the glittering bra dangling from it, the men went wild, even though she was almost completely covered. In a moment of clarity, Jack understood the appeal of burlesque. It wasn't what you could see, it was the anticipation of seeing what you couldn't see. Megan understood that, without a doubt. She flashed her torso, stretched one arm and then the other and turned away, glancing wickedly over her naked shoulder as the stole slid down to rest on her ass, revealing a slender expanse of nude back. It was sexy, sensual and really hot. And the guys were lapping it up. Then Pauline moved forward as Megan moved back and they easily slid into When I Take My Morning Promenade, another music hall favorite. This one seemed perfect for Pauline, since it was about fashion and revealing a woman's shape. Pauline revealed her shape, all right. She carefully took off her top, in much the same way as Megan had, making sure her breasts were swathed in yards of green chiffon. The contrast between the brilliant glitter of the rhinestones, the green of the scarves and the red of Pauline's hair--it was a Titian kind of vision, without a doubt. Jack found himself as entranced by her appearance and her performance as the other men in the room. She pulled the green stuff taut, wrapping herself in it, and clearly showing the shape of a set of mighty fine breasts. Such a vision inspired long and loud approval, the hoots and encouragement almost drowning out the saucy song. It got louder as the fabric slipped, and Jack had to laugh to himself as he watched Pauline play her audience like a maestro at the piano. She swayed and swung her hips, let chiffon drift daringly down her arms as her hands held it to her bare breasts and then finally allowed them a flash of nipple before swinging around and dancing into the shadows at the back of the stage. Which brought Cora front and center. And Jack's cock went from mildly interested to forged steel in zero point two seconds flat. Chapter Four Cora gulped down nerves as her music began to play. The one thing she'd learned since working at Goggles and Cogs was that she was an excellent dancer, but a pretty crappy singer. So she'd worked a deal with Megan and Pauline. They'd do most of the singing, and she'd do the most revealing dance.

In the light of day-when they were rehearsing--it had seemed like a fair exchange. Now, confronted by a dozen men staring at her body, Jack among them, she really wished she'd taken voice lessons. But the song began and her arms went into automatic mode, gently positioning the two large turquoise fans in front of her breasts. She did her best to turn off everything in her head except her concentration on the moves. The girls began the first verse of She Was Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage, and Cora strolled around the stage, letting her audience get used to the fans and the way she was using them. She knew, from several exhausting hours in front of her bedroom mirror, that it took focus and concentration to get them where she wanted and yet leave the impression that any moment a bit of naked goodness would be revealed. The fans were an extension of the dancer, in many ways, not just a method of concealment. Plus she had to strip off her top as well, all while moving in time to the song. Piece of cake. Of course, what seemed relatively simple at home suddenly became a challenge of sizeable proportions. But she blessed her training, since her dancer's body remembered the routine she'd developed, drawing on the instincts she'd programmed into it over the years. Her hips swayed, the ostrich feathers wafted sexily around her body and her top fell to the floor in a glittering cascade of rhinestones. The chorus sang on, lamenting that her "beauty was sold for an old man's gold...", and Cora swung her fans, turning, teasing, tantalizing the men with brief glimpses of bare skin. In a daring move she turned her back on them and positioned one fan just above her butt, turning it into a bird's tail feathers. She bent over and fluttered it, shamelessly flaunting her sparkly-thonged ass. It fit the words--"...a beautiful sight to see." In this performance, as in every performance, timing was everything. There was a groan of delight and a few suggestions followed, none of which she was inclined to consider seriously. She did, however, allow herself a satisfied grin. There was nothing better than knowing your audience was in the palm of your hand. Although in this instance it was more like up your butt crack... She turned again, hearing the girls launching into the last verse. It was getting perilously near time when the fans would drop and her assets would get to make their public debut. Their one and--she hoped--only public appearance. She sucked in a breath, lifted one fan high behind her and moved the other one slowly, letting the feathers do their own trembling dance, lower and lower over her naked chest. Just as she was about to drop it and bare all, there was a brilliant flash of lightning, a huge crack of thunder--and the lights went out. "Fuck." Cora heard Jack's soft oath as she froze, blinded for a second by the flash, and unwilling to go anywhere until she could see again. "Everyone--please stay where you are. The emergency lights should activate immediately...ah, there we go." Jack was across the room in seconds, finding his way through the murky glow of a small red light high on the wall. "You girls okay? Megan? Pauline? Can you stay here for a few minutes?"

Jack's hand was on Cora's bare shoulder, warm and firm. She wanted him to move it to someplace else. A place that was being seductively tickled by ostrich feathers at this precise moment. Mentally slapping herself upside the head, she nodded. "We're fine. Go see to the party." "Okay." He turned, then looked back at Cora. "Don't leave. You hear me? Do not leave." He mouthed the words more than spoke them, but she heard them like he'd screamed them in her ear. "I hear you." Her heart thudded, her belly tightened and she had a feeling that if she'd lowered the damn fan right then, her breasts would be wearing the latest fashion in extremely hard nipples. He had that much of an effect on her. The skin he'd touched was tingling and she didn't dare look at her shoulder in case it was bearing his mark. Yeah, she'd gone over the edge into crazy tonight. She had managed to turn herself on with that stupid dance routine, knowing Jack's eyes were on her. And as the confusion of the power failure continued around her, she peered inside herself and accepted the truth of her situation. She'd danced for no one but him. The bachelor party had subsided to the occasional grunted murmur, but overall the participants were conscious enough to realize that they couldn't do much about what was happening. There were one or two shouts for Cora to take it off--what it was, she decided not to ask. She ignored them and watched Jack, who was beginning to shepherd them toward the end of their evening. None of them had any idea how long the power would be out and this was a time when a business had to act professionally and put safety first. Opening the doors to the exit, Jack paused as his cell phone rang, took a five second call and then cleared his throat loudly. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems the storm took out a local transformer. We're looking at three to four hours before the power comes back. At least." There were groans from the guys. "I know." Jack held up his hand. "I'm going to ask Jim to call your car come for you. I'm afraid we're going to have to close because you'll understand I can't take any chances with your safety right now. Or my employees either." Cora held her breath. These were guys intent on having themselves a party, and had been interrupted in the middle of watching three almost naked women dance. Being told they had to leave...well it could get nasty. But something about Jack's demeanor seemed reassuring, and she noticed two of them helping another from his chair without too many complaints. She heaved a sigh of relief as they all disappeared down the stairs. "Can we go too, d'you think?" Megan moved, wrapping the fur tightly around herself. "I want to call Doug." Pauline looked around. "I want to put some clothes on and have him pick me up and take me home." She grinned. "Maybe dance again for Doug. Just for fun this time. Not that tonight hasn't been a weird kind of embarrassing fun, and I've loved sharing it with you guys, you know that. But this isn't anything I'd care to do for a living in front of an audience."

"Amen, sister." Megan reached for her top. "I am going to cherish this, though. I'll take it out and reminisce when I'm old and grey." She jingled the rhinestones. "But I'm also thinkin' this is one sexy little skill I'm going to hang on to for the right man, whenever he gets off his ass and shows up in my life." She shrugged. "I'll leave the fur in Jack's office, okay?" Cora realized they were both looking to her, for some reason. She wasn't their leader, by any stretch of the imagination, but at this point in time, they'd elected her to the position. She sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Stuff to go back to the costume rental can go in Jack's office. I'll take care of it. After that, we're out of here, I guess. Be careful and watch yourself on those front steps." Jack reappeared. "Pauline, there's a handsome young lad outside with your transportation. Says his name's Doug and as soon as the power went out he leaped onto his trusty steed and came to your rescue." Pauline snorted. "Doug wouldn't say any of that if you put a gun to his head. But thanks for the thought." She grinned. "C'mon Meg. We'll drop you off." She started untangling the veils. "Cora, you gonna be okay? We can drop you too if you want." Jack was picking up empties across the room. She wasn't sure if he could hear or not, but she played it safe. "You're a doll, honey, but I wouldn't ask you guys to go the opposite direction just to drop me off. I'm in Somerville and you're down toward Quincy. Right now with power out and who-knows-how-many traffic lights screwed up, I'm not going to even think about it. I'll finish up, make sure the costume stuff is ready to go back next week, and then get a cab." "It's late..." Megan looked concerned. "You sure?" "I'll be fine. Don't worry about a thing." She did her best to radiate relaxed confidence. Which was a big fat bit of fakery, since her insides were jumping up and down and her skin tingling at the thought of being alone with Jack. "Everyone managing okay?" The man himself appeared behind Cora, as if summoned by her errant thoughts. "Yeah. Sorry we didn't get to finish the evening, Jack." Megan smiled at him. "But I think the guys enjoyed what there was of it." "You were all great. Truly. I asked the world of you and you came through." He grinned at all of them. "You earned every penny of your bonus. I'm so grateful. And I won't ever ask it of you again." They laughed, relaxing in the face of his charm, and Cora knew they were all relieved to know they'd still get paid. It was a worry off everyone's mind. "So about the props..." He looked around at the white fur, the green veils and the turquoise fans. The women filled him in on the arrangements they'd made. As he listened, he touched Cora's spine oh-so-casually, a slight brush of his palm--nothing more than that. But it acted on her like a private bolt of lightning. She did her best not to jump out of her panties and realized she was still clutching one fan in a death grip. "I gotta grab a shirt." She hurried to the ladies' room, leading the other two down the dark passage and into the little lounge area. There were some meager emergency lights high above the sinks, but barely enough to see their clothes in neat piles on the low couch bordering one wall.

Megan and Pauline dressed quickly and Cora slipped her arms into her cotton shirt, leaving the rhinestone panty on and not bothering with her bra. She realized she was blushing. Her lack of clothing was deliberate, a choice made with the clear knowledge of what she planned after her friends had left. She fumbled with buttons. "Damn." "What?" Megan looked up as she zipped her jeans. "I left my top on the stage. I'd better go get it while we still have some power left in these emergency lights." "Okay hon." Pauline came over and hugged her. "You be careful on the way home. Thanks for taking care of the costume stuff for us." "I had fun." Cora hugged her back. "Me too." Megan's arms came around the other two. "Let's not ever do it again." They laughed, a shared embrace of both relief and mutual acknowledgement of the end of a unique adventure. "See you tomorrow?" Cora broke the hug. "You betcha." "We'll be here." "Safe trip home, ladies." With a flourish of a bow, Cora grinned at her friends and strode from the ladies room. Only to run straight into Jack's chest. "Ooof." "Sorry. You all right?" His hands went to her upper arms, steadying her, holding her against him. She nodded, her hair brushing against his chest. "Yes. My fault. I was heading back to get my costume top. Not looking I guess." His hands dropped behind her and slid beneath her shirt, rubbing her spine in a sensual caress. "Upstairs. My office." It was a whisper. "Please?" She nodded, breathless, and tore herself away from him, nearly stumbling as she heard the ladies' room door open and the two women saying goodnight to Jack. She fled into the murky shadows of the dance floor, finding the shining mass of rhinestones still glittering on the stage. Picking it up, she paused and wondered if she should just leave. If what she should do was the right thing, and what she wanted to do-was wrong. But even as she engaged in her mental debate, her feet were taking her out of the club rooms and toward Jack's office. The decision had been made, it would seem. Not by her intellect or her common sense. But by her heart. And, to be brutally honest, her physical desires. She shivered as she put her hand on the door and pushed it open. "Jack?" *~*~*~* They were alone. He had made sure everyone was gone, the time seeming to drag painfully as the last of his employees vanished into the night. He'd locked up behind Megan and Pauline and run up the stairs to his office faster than he could have believed, stripping off his coat and cravat along the way.

The light was almost non-existent, but he swore he could hear her steps as she neared his door. He unbuttoned his shirt and toed off his shoes, his cock stiff and pressing fiercely against the front of his trousers. Then he heard the door open and her voice, soft and hesitant. "Jack?" "Here." He crossed to her, pulled her in and let the door swing shut. Unable to wait another damn minute, he pressed her against the wall and bent to her face, finding her mouth with his before she could say a word. He kissed her hungrily, feeling her warmth against his skin, knowing she was naked and only thin fabric separated their flesh. Her lips were parting, her tongue searching for his, slick and tasting like the finest wine, the best brandy--spicy and unique and with a flavor he knew he'd never forget. They devoured each other, Cora's hands seizing his shoulders, his neck, grabbing handfuls of hair as she moved his head this way and that, trying to decide which position worked best. He was doing his own touching, his hands sliding up under her shirt once more, stroking the incredible silk of her back and then down to cup her buttocks. He pressed their bodies together and amazingly she moaned, lifting up and thrusting her groin into his, rubbing his erection against her mound. She panted into his mouth and tore herself free. "You. Against me. Now." Her fingers scrabbled at his shirt. Willingly he obeyed, releasing her briefly to shrug free of the offending garment. He returned the favor by stripping her of her blouse. Now there was nothing to stop her breasts from searing his chest. Nothing to prevent her pebbled nipples from digging in to him, and nothing to stop her from rasping herself against the whorls of hair that narrowed down to a strip pointing to his cock. She moaned, muscles moving strongly but sensually beneath the ivory cream of her skin. She rubbed him with every inch of her body, caressing him with breasts and thighs and belly as well as hands and lips and a tongue that seemed desperate to taste him everywhere. He wanted to fuck her right then--right there. To slam her against the wall, wrench her thighs apart, strip that stupid panty from her pussy and plunge himself into her until they were both lost to anything but the lust exploding between them. He was so close, so near to doing just that. Then he took a breath and moved away a little. He wanted this night to go on for hours at least. He wanted to prolong the pleasure, explore this woman, play with her and drive her crazy. Fucking her in the first two minutes wasn't going to do that. He had to back off a little. She panted and stared at him, her lips shining in the low light, her eyes heavy lidded, her breasts tipped with large dusky areolas. He reached between them and captured one warm globe, his thumb brushing the firm bead at its tip. "God, woman. I want to fuck you so bad I can't think of anything else." "That's good." She breathed her response, her fingers trailing over his body and finding the snap on his pants. "I want that too."

"But anticipation makes it all the sweeter." He pulled himself away and crossed to his desk. "Let's set the stage." He reached out and flicked on the small speaker station holding his mp3 player. "You never finished your dance." A soft intro filled the room and Cora laughed. "Dusty?" "Is there anyone else better for setting the mood?" Dusty Springfield's sensual voice crept into the shadows and filled the air. "No." Cora shook her head. "You're right. And I have an idea. I will finish my show, Jack. Just for you. Sit down." She placed her hand on his chest and urged him backward until his desk chair was behind him. "Sit. Please. You'll be glad you did. I promise." "Okay." He swallowed down a massive lump of what was probably testosterone-mixed with the urge to beg her to fuck him right that second--and sat, his simple office chair squeaking a little. "That works." Cora moved to stand in front of him and paused. "You can't touch me, Jack. Not for a while. You touch me now and I'll go off like a rocket. You know it and I know it. So promise me...hands off until I say so." If he'd had breath, he would have choked. Close on six feet of luscious, almost-nude blonde was standing in front of him telling him not to touch her. Right after they'd almost fucked each other's brains out up against a wall. Life had its moments. This was three of them. Cora in a rhinestone thong--and her breasts. Against all his better instincts, which were screaming loudly at him to just do her right now before his balls blew up like hand grenades, he nodded again. "Okay." Chapter Five She'd never done a lap dance before. But how hard could it be? Cora let the gentle rhythm of Dusty Springfield's song dictate the motion of her body, once again blessing her dancer's instinct for making it easy. Hips, yes. Lots of hips. But this wasn't just a sexy dance, this was an erotic performance. Or at least she wanted it to be. Moving her feet apart, she shimmied herself into position over Jack's lap, letting the heat of their bodies mingle where skin was close to skin. Her thigh muscles were strong enough to hold her above him, teasing him but not touching him. Yet. She watched his eyes fall to the tiny triangle of rhinestones covering her pussy and had to restrain herself from ripping it off. She wanted him, oh how she wanted this man. So she set out to make sure he felt the same way. She thrust her groin toward him, low on his lap, grazing his arousal with her mound and making him gasp. She did it again, swaying a little, resting her hands on his shoulders as she did so. It felt wonderful--the most natural thing in the world to rub against a hard cock. As if her hips had been designed just for this activity. His gaze drifted upward to her breasts and she leaned closer, lifting her arms from him, and raising them high above her head, stretching herself and pushing closer to his

face. She undulated, her stomach muscles contracting as she sinuously writhed in front of him. He licked his lips, a tiny movement that made her shudder all the way down to her pussy. And then he opened his mouth, groaning a little, darting her a quick glance, pleading for what she knew he wanted. And she gave it to him, slowly--very slowly--leaning toward him until her nipple was within reach of his tongue. "Hands off" didn't apply to his mouth. She wanted it every bit as much as he did, and whimpered with pleasure as he sucked her, sending darts of pleasure through every nerve ending. Bracing her hands on his shoulders once more, she reveled in the feel of him, strong and warm. Her fingers clenched, digging in to solid muscle, flexing against his strength, matching it with her own. His arms moved, but not toward her. He unsnapped his pants and quickly opened his fly, groaning as his cock thrust outward and up toward her pussy, only inches away. And dear God above, he had the inches to bridge the gap. Cora couldn't help looking down at him, hard and thick and beautiful, a tiny glimmer of light reflecting from her rhinestones to a drop of moisture beading the swollen tip. She raised her body, silently urging him to take off the rest of his clothes. He read her encouragement, slipping his hands beneath his butt and sliding out of his pants and boxers. She heard him kick free, but remained fascinated by the size and the masculinity of him. His thighs were solid, not massive but as hard as his cock. They were dappled with hair and she bit back a moan of pleasure as the soft insides of her legs met the roughness of the outsides of his. She mimicked riding him, not coming too close, since she was well aware of her rhinestones and didn't want to cause any damage. After a few moments she rose away from him, turned her back and flagrantly rubbed his lower belly with her ass. All of these moves were designed to arouse him, excite him and do what lap dances were supposed to do. Cora had never considered that it worked both ways. Turning once more she straddled him, unable to keep her hands off him. He found her breast again and nipped her delicately. The gentle tug on her nipple increased her eagerness and she let her arms drift down over her own body, fingers stroking along the way, and more than ready to ditch what was left of her costume. But how? "Let me. Please." He must have read her mind. His hands carefully pulled at the tiny rhinestone bands around her hips, tugging them to her thighs. "Stand up a minute..." She rose above him, watching his shadowed face, catching the expression crossing his features as he eased down the panty to reveal her pussy. "God, you're so lovely Cora." He leaned forward and urged her to lift one leg so that he could free it. By doing so, she revealed even more. "You have the most beautiful pussy I've ever seen." His voice was reverent as he released one leg and let the panty drop to the floor around the other ankle. "I want to taste

you. Suck you. I want to inhale you all night long. I want to stick my tongue in you and feel you come..." She groaned. "Stop it, Jack. I can't stand it much longer." "Neither can I." He reached for something on his desk and she heard foil tearing. "Fuck me, Cora. Please. Fuck me before I die from wanting." The rules were forgotten. His hands were on her, squeezing her hips, positioning her even as his mouth sought everything within reach. He suckled her breasts, licked her chest and as she sank down on him he found her lips and forced them apart, kissing her and devouring the tiny sounds of pleasure she made as his cock pushed into her wet heat. She loved how he cupped her buttocks, how he sucked her tongue deeply and stroked it with his own. And above all, she moaned aloud at the exquisite sensation of his cock filling her. He stretched her wide, his girth unexpected yet amazingly perfect. She was struck with the notion that he had been created just for her. He touched the right spots, moved at the right speed and stopped at the right place. Their bodies were joined tight, his pubic bone against her clit, his cock seated fully within her, his hands grasping and caressing her ass as her arms locked around his neck. They couldn't be any closer. And then they started to move. In tandem, guided by some miracle of instinct, they began the dance that needed no lessons or music. A routine for two that was as old as humankind and yet new each time it was performed. Cora lifted, swayed and fell back--responding with every ounce of her body to Jack's thrusts and withdrawals. His tongue imitated the fucking his cock was giving her and he managed to gently rub against her clit with each stroke. She was mewling, deep in her throat, floating on a rising tide of lust and able to fully experience the growing sensations flooding her body. Never before had she been able to explore these feelings so thoroughly. It seemed that either she or her partners had always been in a hurry. This time she was frantic, but with Jack...well, there was no rush. He was content to fuck her in his own time, to leisurely help her along the way without dashing to the inevitable conclusion. Sitting like this, straddling him with her legs either side of his body, was more intimate than she would have guessed. She could breathe in his breath, hear his little groans, see his eyes beneath lowered lids and hold him tightly to her body if she chose. That added the wonderful shock of his chest abrading her nipples and set so much more of her on fire she wondered why the top of her head didn't blow off. He seemed content to fuck her like this, steadily, inexorably driving her higher with each penetration. She began to moan as her sensitive clit ached and her body drenched his cock with her liquid arousal. Soft slick sounds accompanied their movements, Dusty having long ago ceased serenading them. Now there was nothing but them--their bodies, their touch and their elemental need to reach for that blistering and blinding goal.

Jack shifted her and groaned, his body tensing beneath hers. She felt her response, low in her belly, a shuddering kind of excitement bouncing from her spine to her nipples to her clit. Each stroke of his cock, each brush against her most sensitive folds--she was halfway to madness and eager to lose herself in his erotic passion. She sucked on his tongue and slipped a hand between them, toying with the tiny hard nub of his nipple and then sliding down and around behind him to squeeze his buttock. She wanted to touch him, all of him, to learn his scent and his texture. Driven onward, she bit his ear, then licked the tiny hurt, only to open her mouth wide and suck at his neck. He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her head back so that he could return the favor, grazing his teeth down one side of her throat. It wasn't enough for either of them. Within seconds, they were face to face once more and his tongue was delving deeply into her mouth. They shared breath, their gasps melded into a single song of excitement and Cora knew she was about to blow past the point of no return. Tearing her lips from his, she dug her fingertips into his flesh. "Fuck me Jack. It's now. I can't stop..." Her head fell back and her throat opened on a long low moan as the tremors began. Jack thrust hard, pounding their bodies together, forcing his cock into her willing body as deeply as he could. He gripped her fiercely--then roared out a sound so elemental it stunned her and tipped her over that final precipice. Shattering spasms rocked Cora from head to foot. Her cunt clamped around Jack's cock so violently she wondered if she'd lock on to him for ever. Blind, she stared into infinity and watched the light show her orgasm was presenting for her pleasure. And pleasure it was. Insanely incredible pleasure. The shudders went on and on, her body apparently unable to stop coming as long as Jack was inside her. He was pumping, groaning, still thrusting with his hips as his cock erupted inside her once more, setting her off again on a second round of intergalactic travel. Helplessly she clung to him, a rodeo rider on a bucking stud. His hips continued to move for what seemed like eons and she continued to tremble in his arms with the aftershocks of her cataclysmic orgasm. Finally, with a shivering sigh of completion, she sagged and let him take her weight completely. He accepted the burden and held her tight. Neither spoke; Cora content to listen to his heartbeat slowing within his chest and knowing her own matched his. He nuzzled the top of her head and broke the silence. "God Almighty, Cora. God Almighty." *~*~*~* Jack woke with a mouthful of blonde hair and an erection. Again. He was astounded at his response to Cora, having not only fucked her after her lap dance, but then taken her into the tiny little room he used as a private retreat and repeated the experience.

She'd laughed at the small accommodations, but approved of the full sized couch and the little bathroom. He'd never brought a woman here before, and was glad of that. Cora was the first and he knew, deep inside, she'd be the only female visitor. She'd asked him if she could shower and dashed in, to emerge in under four minutes. The fact the power was still out and the water probably on the cold side might have had something to do with it. But she came out rosy and fresh, smelling of his soap and her womanhood. He'd grabbed her, dumped her on the couch and buried his face in her pussy before she'd had chance to finish drying off. Where she was concerned he was insatiable, and he recognized it. Her legs had held his head, her hands had gripped his hair and she'd let go with a yell of delight. He'd breathed in her orgasm and before she was through had sheathed himself and slipped inside her, sharing the final moments of her peak and bringing himself to completion shortly thereafter. He had amazed himself. He wasn't a horny teenager with sperm to spare. He was a grown man and yet this incredible woman had only to brush against him or tease him in any way--he was hard and ready once more. She quickly learned her power over him, since she was observant and fascinated by his body. She loved touching him, exploring him, with hands and tongue and lips. She made a point of driving him insane more times than he could have believed possible. When they finally collapsed, she onto her stomach and him on top of her after their umpteenth orgasm, this one doggy-style, they both called a time-out. He rolled off and snuggled her in beside him, her head on his shoulder, his arm holding her close. She tucked herself along his body as if she was made for him, and together they drifted for a while in limp and sated bliss. He awoke when the electricity came back on and the silence was broken by the hum of restored power. It was close to dawn, the sky just beginning to show signs of lightening in the east. Somewhere around four am, he guessed. Oddly enough, this was the time he'd usually be going to bed. Instead, he was in it. With the woman of his dreams lying naked next to him. Idly he ran his hand over her buttocks. Silken and creamy, she was a work of art from head to toe, and as enthusiastic a lover as a man could ever wish for. The way she'd sucked him off--just the thought made him even harder and he bit back a groan. As if sensing his wakefulness, Cora turned in his arms, pressing her back against his side. He turned too, letting his erection nudge between her thighs. She laughed lazily. "Good morning." "Hi." He stroked her thigh then lifted it and with a swift and easy stroke entered her sleep-warmed cunt. "Oh, that's good." She sighed and pushed backwards, settling him even deeper. "So good." It was good. It was more than good. It was out-of-this-world extraordinary. She took his hand and pulled it around her, encouraging him to cup her breast, pressing him into her softness. "You like this?" He toyed with the nipple, fascinated as it rose to attention beneath his fingertips.

"What woman wouldn't?" She slipped a hand down between her legs and moved it, gently playing with her clit as he began to slide himself in and out of her pussy. He shifted his position so that he could watch her touch herself, an erotic moment he'd never have imagined in a million years. "You liberate me, Jack." She sighed out the words. "With you I can be sexy, do all the sexy things I've wanted to do. I don't know why, so don't ask. Just know that it's true." He didn't know how to respond to that. She'd taken his breath away with her simple comment. So he said nothing, just gave her more of everything he could. Pinching her nipple made her moan and coupling it with an upward thrust brought a whimper to her throat. Her fingers moved faster over her pussy lips and both were breathing more heavily as the morning lassitude gave way to renewed sexual desires. He found himself wondering if he could ever get enough of her. Or if any other woman could fulfill him the way Cora did. A little scared at the direction his thoughts were taking, Jack went back to the delight of pleasuring her, and bringing himself to his peak. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd come, certainly couldn't begin to recall the number of times Cora had screamed out her release, and didn't even want to think about whether their muscles would complain as the day wore on. He didn't know about her, but marathon sex sessions weren't a regular part of his workout routine. Although he wasn't complaining by any means. The sight of her hand arousing her own body, slipping through the swollen lips of her pussy and just brushing his cock where he slid in and out of her--well, it was beyond anything and he shut down any other thoughts, focusing on the moment. He let himself drown in the sensuality, the sight, the sounds--the scent of this woman as she took him into her body and released her natural sexual desires. His mind floated, detached, above the tableau of them erotically intertwined. Her breathing quickened, her muscles grew taut and Jack recognized her body's preparations for its climax. He'd seen it enough last night and he was still fascinated by it. When Cora fucked, she threw every iota of herself into the experience, sharing everything, holding nothing back. How could he do anything else but respond? Gently he moved them, ending up buried to his balls in her cunt, supporting his weight on his hands and gazing at her. "Watch me, Cora. Don't look away. I want to see your eyes as you come for me." Her lips curved in a gentle smile as she nodded, then blinked as he began a slow but steady thrust. She sighed with pleasure, lifting herself a little to meet his moves. Her long legs bent at the knee, rubbing him sensually as he paced himself, gauging her responses. "Jack..." She whispered his name, a soft sound echoing around the silent room. He was drowning, falling into the blue pools of her eyes, his body merging into hers even as his buttocks began to shudder and his spine tingled. "I need to come, Cora." "I know. I can feel you inside me. Come, Jack. It's okay."

He suddenly realized what she meant, why he was so lost in her. He'd forgotten to put on a condom. For a second or two he froze. It was the first time he'd done anything so irresponsible in--well, forever. "Cora..." She lifted a hand and touched his lips. "I'm healthy, Jack. And on the pill. You wouldn't have forgotten protection if you'd thought otherwise. And I trust you enough to believe you're healthy too." He nodded. "I am. But still, I'm old enough and smart enough to know better. For what it's worth, I'm sorry." She sighed. "What's done is done. And since this is a first for me, can we finish it? I want to really feel you come inside me. It's...different this time." She was right, he realized. It was different. Almost reverently he moved again, this time aware down to his toenails of the awesome sensations. This was why she'd felt so extraordinary when he'd slid inside her. Every tiny crevice and fold was now his to explore. His naked cock rubbed freely against silk velvet covered in fire. Jack was more aroused mentally than he'd ever been. Physically everything was working as it should, but his mind knew that this time there were no barriers between them. Nothing to stop her cunt from grasping his cock with secret muscles only he would feel. It was close to a religious experience and he found himself in awe of the way their bodies fit, the way their moves mirrored each other and the way mutual pleasures were shared without a need for words. As the sun rose and lightened the sky, Jack fulfilled Cora's desires and Cora gave back everything she had to Jack. They reached orgasm together and Jack filled her, exploding inside the contracting heat, flooding her silken spaces with his seed. Afterward, as he softened and slipped free on a little river of their shared fluids, she sighed. "You're a dangerous man, Jack Brandon." Cora's eyelids drooped. "I could get used to this." He smiled as he cuddled her close once more. "Me too." Chapter Six "Shit." Cora tumbled from the couch onto the floor as she awoke with a jump. "Shit, it's morning." She poked Jack as she rubbed her knee. "Why didn't you set an alarm or something? What time is it? Ow." She straightened slowly and put a hand to her back. "Damn. Every muscle in my body is sore." Jack chuckled and folded his arms behind his head on their shared pillow. "I'm not even gonna move for a bit. I'll probably have the same aches and pains. But it was worth it." She shrugged and tried to hide her smile. "Yeah, when you put it like that. Okay, I have to go get dressed. I need to go home and I have to be back here tonight. I'll pick up the costumes after my shift's over and take them back on Monday..."

Her voice tailed off as she looked at Jack's expression of surprise. "What?" "You're going to work tonight?" "Well yeah," she snorted. "It's my job." "But I told all three of you to take tonight off." Cora sighed as she buttoned her shirt and hurried into the tiny bathroom to take care of an urgent need. She washed her hands and bemoaned the lack of underwear. The rest of her clothes were in the ladies' room, but at least she didn't have to creep around the club rooms stark naked. She went back out. "Jack, I love this job, don't get me wrong. And last night was...well beyond anything." She paused. "This morning too." He smirked. "However, the reason I took a second job still exists. I have a goal, a financial obligation. I'm gonna meet it." "I know." "What do you mean, you know?" She leaned in to the bathroom once more and ran her hands through her hair. Then cursed. She needed a real shower. "The IRS bill. I know." Turning, Cora stared at him. "You do?" "Yeah. Heard you talking about it not long after you started working here." "Oh." A bit unsettled by his revelation, she decided to shrug it off. "So you understand why I'll be in tonight. You know what they say...never fuck with the Mafia or the IRS." He looked smug. "You don't have to worry about either of 'em, unless you've got something going on with one of the five families that I don't know about. If you have, we'll go to the mattresses..." "What are you talking about?" A sinking feeling was crawling around in Cora's belly. Ordinarily she would have said she was hungry, but this was...different. "The mattresses? It's from The Godfather." "I know. The other." "Your IRS bill? It's paid off, honey." Her jaw dropped but no words came out. She felt her brain come screeching to a halt and could do nothing but stare at him, lying there, barely covered by a sheet and looking all self-satisfied. "You can thank me if you like." She found her voice. "What did you do, Jack?" He stretched. "Paid it for you, darlin'. Last week. I couldn't stand the idea that every night you were working so hard for Uncle Sam. I wanted you to work for you." Slowly she processed this statement. And something inside her shriveled into nothingness, leaving her feeling empty and with a stupid urge to weep. "That was very kind of you. I don't suppose it occurred to you to mention it to me or ask me first?" She straightened as a lick of heat swept through her, blurring her vision for a moment or two. Ugly notions swept over her mind. "Or were you planning on using it as a bribe last night if I wasn't as willing to put out for you as you thought?" He sat up in a hurry. "Cora. What the fuck are you talking about? That's shit..."

"You did a shitty thing. Of course I want my bill gone. But I was taking care of it myself. To have you do it is...well, I don't know how to describe it." She turned away, unable to look at him. "Yes I do." She rethought her words. "You've made me feel like a whore, Jack." "No--I--" "Yes. A woman bought, fucked and paid for." She opened the door. "Don't follow me. Don't speak to me. Don't ever touch me again. I quit. And you'll get your money back as soon as I can manage it." With some satisfaction she slammed the door to his little sanctuary and ran to the ladies' room, throwing her clothes on as fast as she could, and praying there'd be a cab somewhere outside. She heard his footsteps on the floor above as she ran for the front door, fastening her jeans as she flew down the stairs. She didn't want to see him, to have him try and talk his way out of this. She just couldn't face him. She heard him call and then cut off the sound by dashing out into the dawn and darting down the quiet road onto Newbury Street where she hoped she could catch a taxi. The fates were with her, an empty cab rolled past looking for a fare, and it wasn't until she was four blocks away from Goggles and Cogs that the tears began. *~*~*~* "It's been nearly three weeks, Livvy. Where the devil is she? I'm worried sick." Jack ran anxious hands through his hair as he looked across the table at Cora's best friend. She and Dane had come to the club at his urging, and Jack had made no secret of the reason. He wanted Cora. "I've left a thousand messages. Texted her. Emailed her. Done everything but send up smoke signals." Livvy stared at him steadily. "I told you before. She called in to work and said she was taking her vacation. A sudden decision. She had nearly a month coming, so there was no problem. She has closed up her apartment as well. She told me she was going away, that she needed time to think. We've gone over all this several times Jack. I've heard nothing since." He glared at her, wishing he could see inside her brain. He damn well knew Cora would've shared everything with her friend before she left. Livvy wasn't exactly lying to him but she wasn't telling him all the details. "Don't give me that evil eye. Doesn't work. Dane does it much better and it still doesn't work." Livvy sighed. "Let's face it, dude. You fucked up so badly that if castration were legal, Cora could have done you with a butter knife and gotten an award for it." He winced and crossed his legs. "Jesus. Tell me what you really think, why doncha?" "I think you're an asshole of the first order." "Well that's blunt." Jack blinked. A burst of laughter from the club distracted him for a moment or two but then he looked back at Livvy. "Just for paying off her fucking tax bill? And it was with that stupid bachelor party bonus, Livvy. It was her money. I knew what she'd do with it, so I did it for her and saved some interest."

She thought about that. "Look, I'm not sure how to explain this so you'll understand. First off, when it comes to people's finances you're on dangerous ground. Money, bills, payments, outstanding debts...whatever...they're very closely linked with things like pride and self-esteem." He snorted. "Don't do that. I've decided to talk to you because I think you might be a redeemable asshole so don't blow it." Livvy pointed a stern finger at him. "Women are especially susceptible when it comes to stuff like this, because there are still jerks out there who think we can't survive without their assistance. They figure we're helpless, can't deal with anything in life...from a hammer to a mortgage...unless a man's there to do it for them. It's an endless fight. If you don't believe me, I shall merely refer you to the Equal Rights Amendment and the ongoing battle for ratification. It's just a fucking sin that we haven't..." She caught herself. "Sorry. Hot button issue." He nodded. "Okay, sure. I can see that. I understand. But it's not relevant to me and Cora. I've never treated her--or any of the women in my life--as subservient or helpless. Or with any lack of respect." "On the surface it may not seem that way." She lowered her gaze and stared at her hands for a few moments, as if trying to come to some sort of decision. Finally she looked back up into his face. "Okay. I'm going to tell you a couple of things, Jack. Maybe I'm betraying a confidence, but I think fundamentally you're a good person. Dane says you're okay people and his opinion matters a lot." "Uh, thanks. I think." "Cora didn't have the easiest of childhoods. Dancing and dance lessons were, from what I can figure out, her escape. Because at home, she was a latch-key kid with a single mom. Said mom was one of those helpless women..." Livvy made little quotation mark gestures with her hands as she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Urgh. Gotcha." Lights were going on in Jack's brain. Yeah, he'd seriously fucked up. "Yep. Lots of helpful uncles or whatever, a couple of almost step-fathers, and all the time hearing how a woman needed a man around to make it all right. To make things work. To make a woman...a complete woman." "Jesus. Hard to believe these days." Livvy nodded. "Agreed. Funnily enough, it wasn't money they were handing over to Cora's mom, since she was okay financially. It was the to be happy and whole, you gotta have a man kind of thing. It's a miracle that Cora is as grounded and wonderful as she is. She's super smart and very particular about her independence. She wanted to go do parttime data entry in Andover, for God's sake, to pay off her damned tax bill." "I'd like five minutes with the dumbass accountant who got her into that mess in the first place." Jack absently cracked his knuckles. "Don't do that." Livvy shuddered. "Sorry." "But yeah, I'd like a shot at him myself." She shrugged. "However, that's over. This mess you've created--well, it isn't over."

"I didn't mean to, Livvy. I truly wanted to do something nice for her." Okay, that was just flat out whiny, but there wasn't any other way to say it. He was being honest. Pathetic, but honest. "I believe you. And I think, if you give her time, Cora will believe you as well. But for her to react like this...I have to ask you something." She stared at him intently. "When you two spent the night together...was it...special?" He felt the color rise into his cheeks. "Livvy, I know she's your friend. But I've made it a habit never to discuss the details of my sex life with anyone." "I'm not asking idly. If you were just another guy to Cora, she probably wouldn't have cared. She cares, Jack. She cares about this and it's hurt her more deeply than I've ever seen anything hurt her in the years I've known her." "So..." "So logically, there's something different about you. Something that makes her vulnerable to you and what you did." "Oh." Aware that he was being closely observed, Jack did his best to maintain a blank expression, even though his mind was replaying that night--as it did at regular intervals. He could still recall the feel of her skin and the scent of her body. He could still see her eyes darken as she neared her release or hear her tiny shrieks of pleasure as he made her come again and again with his hands or his mouth. He could taste... "Ah. Now I get it." Livvy's amused tones interrupted his erotic idyll. "You two. Together. Magic." Jack sighed and folded his arms on the table in front of him. "Livvy, I had no idea two people could connect in ways like that. I had no clue, even after all these years, that making love could be both soft and explosive all in the same second." "She's a special lady, Jack." "You have no idea how special she is to me." He gazed at Livvy. "Even I didn't realize how special she was until she ran away from me. I miss her like crazy. I want to see where we can go together. To see what lies ahead. If that magic, as you call it, will always be there or if it'll grow into something else." Her expression softened, a slight change that encouraged him. "I want to touch her again. To look at her again. To take her home and make her laugh, and introduce her to my family. I want to date her." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Jesus Livvy, listen to me. I sound like I'm seventeen. Maybe I should ask her to the prom." Livvy stood and smiled. "Maybe you should." "Kinda hard since I don't know where the hell she is or how to reach her." Livvy paused, then gave a slight nod. "You might try taking a walk along Revere Beach tomorrow. Late afternoon. I hear lots of folks like to spend their vacations near the ocean. And you should make sure you explain the details about bonuses and the IRS. After you kiss her." She turned with that and headed back toward the music and Dane, leaving Jack with something he hadn't had for three weeks. Hope.

*~*~*~* The air had that summer fragrance--a mix of sea breezes, cotton candy and suntan lotion. It was unique and Cora knew that even if she'd been blindfolded and driven in a dark sedan for twelve hours, she would be able to place it if she smelled it. She leaned her forearms on the sea wall and breathed it in. She was almost whole again--three weeks in her cousin's beachfront condo had done that for her. It had been three weeks of understanding what she'd done, working out why, dealing with it and learning how to live with the consequences. Fortunately, the consequences hadn't included anything that might require a college fund down the road. Her period had arrived as promptly as ever. But the memories lingered on and it was the huge hole in her heart that needed to heal. Or at least scab over. That had taken more than a few nights of tears and achingly empty body parts. She'd learned things about herself on long early morning walks down the shore. She'd taken a few trips north up the coast road and prowled the tourist spots--Marblehead, Gloucester, Rockport, and even jumping onto Route 1, following it as far north as Maine for a day trip to the Kittery outlets. All done on her own, with only her thoughts for company. And yet Jack's presence was there. No matter where she went, what she saw, or how beautiful the scenery, there was always the sense that Jack was nearby. That she could share some of this with him and have him understand why the sight of the tide crashing into a million diamonds on an ancient rocky shore should make her eyes fill with tears of wonder. She'd learned that perhaps she'd overreacted. That sometimes people do things just because they're nice people doing the right things. And she'd understood that one of her shortcomings was being over-sensitive about her independence. She'd called her mother...something she didn't do a lot anymore, since she wasn't particularly keen on rehashing her youth or hearing about the latest gentleman caller. And she absolutely wasn't going to drive all the way up to northern New Hampshire for a visit. But the conversation had been enlightening and helped her put recent events into a much clearer perspective. She realized, finally, that she wasn't her mother, and would never be. She, Cora, was her own woman, capable of making her own choices and decisions. That awareness proved therapeutic and Cora felt a weight lift from her shoulders--a burden she never knew she carried until it had nearly broken her. It might well have destroyed her chance at a real relationship though. That was the thought uppermost in her mind as she walked down Revere Beach Boulevard and watched the vacationers pack up their bags after a long day of sand, sea and sun. There were crying kids, little ones exhausted from their adventures. There were older ones trying to persuade mom and dad to let them take home their bucket of treasures, which would stink to high heaven in another twenty-four hours. And there were the teens, many of whom hadn't paid attention to the brilliant sun, and were now sporting all the signs of what would be painful sunburns come tomorrow morning.

Cora shook her head. Tans came and went, but wrinkles went on forever. It had been her mantra ever since she realized at the age of twelve she'd never get that luxurious bronzed glow. She was a fair-skinned blonde. She'd learned to cover up and live with it. She pulled her Red Sox cap down lower and walked on, breathing in the late afternoon warmth and watching some of the evening attractions light up early. There were a few little kiddie rides, a couple of restaurants, and the souvenir shops, staying open late in the summer. Not many people wanted t-shirts come January, so seasonal businesses had to make as much as they could from every tourist minute. She heard the tinkling tones of a hurdy-gurdy, an old fashioned bit of whimsy that delighted kids and adults alike. If she remembered correctly, the last one she saw had a monkey on top of it--like something out of a movie or a Hollywood set. She smiled at the memory. Something else tugged at her memory...the tune. The hurdy-gurdy was playing a familiar melody. She Was Only A Bird in a Gilded Cage... Cora stopped dead and closed her eyes, listening, remembering... She turned blindly toward the ocean, still lost in her own memories. She didn't hear the footsteps behind her or the indrawn breath of the tall man who came to a halt beside her. "Cora. Sweetheart. Forgive me. Please forgive me. I'm not sure I'm worth a damn thing without you." It was inevitable, she thought. The soft air, the sweet song--and Jack. She turned, opened her eyes, and there he was. Looking at her with an expression of awe and anxiety, his face hollowed a little as if he'd lost weight. He reached for her, stopping short of cradling her cheek in his palm, as if hesitant to touch her. She felt his fear, like a dart to her heart. This wasn't how she wanted him. This wasn't how she wanted them to be with each other. He'd been wrong--but so had she. Perhaps this little trial-by-fire was what they both needed. As she stared at him, reminding herself again of how this man affected her, she felt all her shattered pieces come together into a whole. She reached for him this time, catching his hand in hers and bringing it to her face. She rubbed against it and then kissed his palm. "I forgive you Jack. I hope you can forgive me." Jack's eyes widened, gold-green in the afternoon sunlight. "Cora." It was all he said before he pulled her against him and kissed her, the first gentle touch of his lips turning to fire within seconds. They ate at each other's mouths, hungry for the taste, the sensation they'd both missed. It was as exciting as Cora had remembered, even more so when seasoned with three weeks of abstinence. Hoots and whistles from a bunch of teenagers recalled them both and they drew apart with identical grins. "Jesus. Get a room." One kid smirked at them, mouthing off in front of his friends. Jack looked at Cora. "He's got a good idea. We've got a lot of talking to do." He put his arm around her as they began to walk. "Among other things."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Well, I have a room. A small condo, actually. Two blocks down, if you'd like to visit. We could talk." She chuckled. "Among other things..."

About The Author Sahara Kelly is always happy to explain to editors that her spelling errors aren't really errors, since she was born and raised in England, where an extra "u" is quite in order. She likes to think it adds colour to her writing. Sadly, it's not a widely held belief, so she'd like you to know she still retains a lot from her English childhood even though you won't see much of it in her stories. Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris' Saint novels, Sahara's new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings. (She still cherishes that extra "u", though!) Life in New England became complete with the publication of her first novel just after the birth of her son, and over two decades later she's still writing. This is the second in a series of stand-alone self-published stories and she's looking forward to many more. Being freed of any restraints has opened doors--not just for Sahara but also for many of her writing colleagues. She believes it has widened the range of books available to readers and is a win-win situation for everyone. To find out more about Sahara and her writing, please drop by her website at www.saharakelly.com She has quite a few books available for your eReaders from various publishers. There are also some older releases that she has edited and re-issued at a greatly reduced price and information about any of these volumes can be found on her website. Any books with the "SK Private Label" logo line on the cover are original works not published elsewhere.