Private Dancer (22 page)

        
Cori was absolutely stunned at this confession.
Is this an apology? An audible I'm sorry? She's gonna choke on it. I'll lose her altogether.
"Reece, you fucked me and I let you. I liked it."

        
"Yeah, but I did things that...." Blue eyes peered through her hair with an unusual look.

        
Cori read that look and smiled. "You did things that I wouldn't have let you if I didn't want it. Believe me, I was more than willing to be your plaything, I have no regrets, Reece. It was great while it lasted. I even learned a few things." She grinned.

        
"Oh yeah?" Reece smirked back and Cori let out a breath of relief. "Do tell, Cor. What did I teach you?"

        
Cori leaned into her friend's shoulder and started ticking things off on her fingers. "Oh, Creative Positions 101, The art of knots, 1001 uses for a banana, interesting photography, sex toys for idiots... I could go on." She gave her boss an arch look.

        
Reece laughed. "I get the idea. So, it's okay? I mean the other stuff?"

        
"Oh that. That wasn't really bad, Reece, you didn't hurt me. If I didn't enjoy it, would I have came?

        
Reece looked skeptical. "You could have faked it," she challenged.

        
"Oh, I don't think so. You saw me fake it the other day. "

        
"Yeah, that was pretty convincing, but I think I'd know. Thanks, Cori."

        
"Anytime, boss. But there is one thing I want to know about that time. How come I never noticed your tongue piercing?" She pulled open Reece's mouth and looked at the barbell in question.

        
Reece slapped her hand away with a mock glare. "Geez, you take liberties don't you? I took it out for a time." Cori opened her mouth but a large hand covered it. "
And
, before you ask, I had to get X-rayed and forgot to put it back in. I had to get it re-pierced."

        
Satisfied with the answer Cori directed the conversation back to Frankie. "So, what happened that day, you know, after you won that fight," she prompted.

        
Much more relaxed, Reece spoke more freely. "Well, afterwards he came to me and offered me half his winnings. I threw it in his face and laughed. He didn't even flinch. I was impressed to say the least..."

        
"I don't want your fucking money!" a young arrogant Reece spat. "You won it fair and square."

        
"Just thought you could use it," the man in the suit replied. "If you won't take the money, can I offer you a job?"

        
"Yeah, right. I'm not a fucking whore, asshole. You have no use for me."

        
"Name's Frankie, not Asshole. I own a club, in midtown...I could use a bouncer." He handed her his card.

        
She glanced at it and sneered. "Your money is gonna blow away." She saw her 'owner' approach; she had to get out of there. She stuffed the man's card in her pocket.

        
"It's legal. Better than this."

        
"You exploit people just the same." Her eyes darted around the room.

        
"No, I own no one. It's a business, like any other."

        
"You have nothing to gain with me. I'm a trained killer. You have everything to lose with a worthless scum like me...Frankie," she growled. Her 'owner' grabbed her by the arms and, like a trained dog, she allowed herself to be led away.

        
Then he said something that she will never forget. "Reece, you're a human being, not an animal."

        
Cori saw the boss staring into her mug. She could never imagine a life like that. God, what she went through. She twined her fingers through her friend's and squeezed. "Thanks, Reece. You don't have to go on. I'm feeling mighty special about now," she smiled.

        
Blue eyes focused on her friend. "You know? I feel like a weight lifted off me. I should be thanking you." She got another smile in return. "Um, is this where the hug comes in?"

        
"See? You catch on fast." Cori fell into the strong, open arms and fell quickly to sleep. Reece was still remembering. It had been pushed so far down for so long, she couldn't stop it now if she tried.

        
Frankie showed up to a few fights after that, but never approached her again. Reece was undefeated. She never threw out Frankie's card. His words haunting her at times... "Human being, not an animal." A year had passed when she accidentally killed another opponent. Her owner, having enough legal trouble, sold her to a sadistic man, who she had eventually blinded before running away from. She lived on the streets for about six months and one day was caught stealing a lousy can of tuna fish. Back in jail for the umpteenth time, she took out the crumpled up business card. The cop holding her making rude comments the whole time. A woman's voice, hollering over loud music, answered the phone.

        
"Lounge, how can I help you?"

        
"Um, Frankie."

        
"Who's calling?"

        
"The Animal," she growled at the cop.

        
"Hold please."

        
"Reece?"

        
"Yeah."

        
"You okay?"

        
"I'm in jail..."

        
"Hang out." Click.

        
She stared at the receiver until the obnoxious cop snatched it from her. "Hey, Animal," he chuckled," stand in the back, you're stinking up my jail." He laughed at her. She'd have to kill him later. Defiantly, she stood up against the bars and glared at him. Which is how Frankie found her.

        
"Reece? What the fuck happened to you?" He was shocked at her appearance.

        
"She's a fucking thief." The cop smirked.

        
"Hey, asshole, I'm bailing her out now, and you have to leave this place sometime."

        
Reece sneered and made biting gestures.

        
The cab ride home was silent and Frankie never mentioned the state of her clothing, or anything else for that matter. She sat still and wondered what kind of mistake she just made. When she stepped inside the house she was awestruck. The sheer size of it all was astounding. This was no trailer or subway car, this was the fucking Taj Mahal! Holy shit!

        
"Hey, Animal." She caught the bundle of clean clothes thrown her way. "I don't have ladies underwear, but I think you'll do just fine with boxer briefs. Somehow I don't see you in panties anyway. There's towels and a toothbrush in your room." He pointed to the far side of the living room. "Go get cleaned up."

        
She stood stock still, staring at him in disbelief.

        
"Are you deaf?" he chuckled. "Go clean up, I'll be here when you finish. I'm ordering Italian."

        
She moved towards the door he pointed too, and slammed her shin on a very short and pointy table.

        
"Motherfucking shit!"

        
"Heh, you'll get used to it," he laughed.

        
"Holy shit!" she muttered when she opened the door. Where the fuck am I? I know we didn't leave Manhattan... She looked out the big window at the narrow, tree-lined street. The street lamp shone on the sign, Bank Street. The West Village? This guy is gay? All thought processes stopped when she saw the size of the bathroom attached to the room.

        
The underwear fit fine as well as the jeans and sweatshirt. Clean for the first time in a long time, she felt good. Frankie wasn't kidding about ordering Italian. There was enough food for an army in there. She stood in the living room waiting to be noticed. He turned around and saw how beautiful she was—thin, but beautiful. "Well, look at you. You sure do clean up nice." She fidgeted under his appraising stare. "Come eat. I got you spaghetti...you can never go wrong with pasta."

        
"Why are you doing this?" she accused.

        
"What? Don't like pasta?" He shrugged, completely unconcerned.

        
"Why are you doing this for me? What do you want? Sex? Can't have it. I fuck women." Her stomach was screaming for the food.

        
"You'll come to the club tomorrow. I have a job for you. Eat. I'm going to bring this food to the girls."

        
She stuffed her face full of pasta. "You feed them?" she mumbled.

        
"Sometimes, when business is slow I help them out where I can." Frankie thought she looked like a kid eating ice cream. But he knew inside, there was never any child. The shit she must have been through. "And no, I don't want sex."

        
"So, you gay too or somethin'?" She stopped chewing and waited for a response.

        
"I'd probably have better luck, but no."

        
Blowing out the breath she was holding, she leaned over the table and looked him in the eyes. They looked like honest eyes, she thought. But trust was unheard of in her world. What's the catch?"

        
"You remind me of my sister. She was something. She died on the streets. We all die young in this family. You can't fight the genes, though." He shook his head and seemed to come back to himself. "Reece, I see something in you...a potential to be somebody, not be somebody else's. Just accept it." He touched her hand and felt her flinch.

        
"What's the job entail?" She was more interested, but still cautious.

        
"Tossing out assholes, watching the girls... Oh, they're gonna love you!"

        
"Yeah? A bouncer, huh?" She grinned at the thought of beautiful, half naked women around her all night. Oh, it's been too long. She fidgeted again, this time against the heat in her crotch.

        
"Maybe you can help me with the finances." He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

        
"Collections? As in, break some legs collections?" Her eyes went wide.

        
"Yes," he nodded.

        
"Cool!" She smiled and it wasn't nice. ""It'll keep the juices flowing."

        
Frankie just laughed.

        
Cori found herself in the guest room. She smiled, knowing Reece took care in bringing her in and not waking her.
Speaking of, where is she?
There was a note on the full coffee pot.
She's at the gym at 3 in the afternoon? Don't tell me she just woke up too!
She laughed, but then sobered up again quickly.
Boy, what am I going to tell Faith? She wants details.
Since Faith wasn't getting any, she lived vicariously through Cori's exploits.