Dancer

Title Page

DANCER | EMMA CLARK

Emma Clark's Goodreads Page

Copyright 2013 Emma Clark

Deliciously Fiendish Fiction

Other ebooks

Teaching Melody

Baby Daddy

Chosen

Troll Part One

Troll Part Two

Coming Soon

Boy Next Door

Cruel Games

Dedicated to Betty H. and Christina B.

~ Emma Clark <3

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1

T
his city is gorgeous at night.

Full of gorgeous people and gorgeous men who will hurt you if you're not careful.

I'm Sam, short for Samantha. Some people call me Sammy but I loathe that nickname.

My BFF is Allison and we've been friends since ninth grade. We also endured a year of college before dropping out.

Quitters are birds of a feather.

Allison is more outgoing. She asked me to visit SIN, a new downtown nightclub. At first I refused, but then changed my mind.

How could it hurt to go out of my comfort zone for a few hours?

Famous last words.

Clad in a flaming red dress with a flared skirt, I met Allison at the club. We skirted our way through the boisterous crowd and sat at a table.

Disgusting ashes and cigarette butts strewn the table surface. Smoky fog hung in the air like a transparent sheet.

Since it was opening night at the club, a female singer was about to perform. Angelique Tremont stood at the microphone, stared into the crowd. Male back-up dancers posed behind her.

Both shirtless dancers had a golden-tan complexion. Skin-tight black pants nestled low on their hips. They sported collars around their necks and ebony masks obscured their features, but I could tell they were handsome guys.

Especially the one on the right. His sandy hair was neatly combed back, slick and shiny in the purplish light.

Angelique gripped the microphone and began singing.

I looked away. Wait—I felt a pair of eyes on me. Why would any guy look at me twice, particularly a man like
him
?

Turning back, I saw my favorite dancer gaze past me like I was invisible.

Disappointment burned.

Regardless, Angelique's resonating voice hit the main verse and that's when the guys enlivened.

Fast-paced music thumped. It was an explosion of lights, sound and hot guys with lean, sweaty bodies that writhed and shimmied to the beat.

"Damn," Allison said. "I'd die for the one on the right. Just a one-night stand and I'd be happy forever." She stared, toying with her smooth blonde hair.

I had to agree. The one on the right was incredible in looks
and
dancing. He lifted his arms as he swayed. Glistening sweat trailed down his toned stomach to his navel. His bright green eyes settled on me, entrancing, taunting with each fluid thrust—as if he were only dancing for me.

Don't I wish
?

If only my wildest fantasies would come true. He was so beautiful!

As the song wound down, twin dancers raised their arms and froze. Music cut.

Jillian waved at the cheering crowd.

Six songs later the trio left the stage.

Dancer Number Two (my favorite) stopped at our table to stretch. Tattoos of barbed wire circled his large biceps and the tightness of his jeans didn't leave much to the imagination. His firm ass was clearly outlined and close enough to touch.

"Wow. I'd love to suck on
him
for a while." Allison licked her lips. I hushed her, though no one could probably hear her over the noise.

Finally the group disappeared around a corner. Meanwhile, Allison scooted her chair backward and grabbed her purse.

"It's been fun but I gotta get home. As you know, my sister's coming in from Houston so I gotta be there when she gets home." Allison stood, her sapphire-blue eyes sparkling as she beamed like the Cheshire cat.

"Bye," I mumbled, glancing anxiously here and there.

"Don't do anything
I
wouldn't do," she sang, weaving her way through the crowd.

I felt uncomfortable being alone, yet something told me to stay.

Maybe I shouldn't listen to that voice.

Either way I ended up at the bar, drinking assortments of alcohol, knowing it would loosen me up. It would help.

Would it really?

I knew better than to drink too much. Right after turning eighteen a year earlier, Allison hosted a party in her dorm and we got so shit-faced we couldn't stand.

Told myself that shit would never happen again.

But—who was this guy sitting to my left? He majorly distracted me. I wanted to steal a glance but was afraid he'd spot me. I didn't need the embarrassment.

I bet he was really cute...

I sipped my drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he downed his.

Time passed—along with one ordered drink right after the other.

Uh-oh, promises broken. So much for not getting drunk.

I staggered out of the club and into a parking lot. Distant city lights twinkled. Deep darkness cast long shadows between cars packed together like colorful sardines. 

Colorful sardines.
What imagery!
My crazy laughter echoed as the urban environment spun and made me dizzier.

Entirely too drunk to see straight, I collided with a grey car. I was pretty sure it belonged to me.

My legs buckled and sent me straight to my hands and knees. Heat flooded my face. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked positioned on all fours, reeling like a sick dog.

Shit shit shit. Why did I do this to myself? Dammit.

Footsteps pounded the concrete. "Hey, are you okay?" some guy asked.

"I—can't drive. I'm too drunk." Nausea seized my stomach.

"Yeah." He laughed. "Been there. Done that."

A certain stranger's arms snaked around my waist and lifted—er tried to. I sank to the pavement.

I didn't even get a chance to see him. Was he cute? Would I fall on my face if I turned to catch a glimpse? Likely. Instead I focused on the cool concrete beneath my splayed fingers. Eye candy it
wasn't
.

"I can drive you home," he said. "No point in getting killed tonight, right?"

"Uh, sure—but what about my car?"

"I know the club manager. I'll talk to him. He'll let you keep it here until you're sober enough to come back for it."

Gripping my upper arm, he helped me to my feet. The city landscape whirled as my hero's voice faded in and out. Nighttime gloom shadowed his features.

I was also half-blind due to drunkenness.

While I leaned against his shoulder, he draped an arm behind me and carefully walked me to his car, a cherry-red Mustang convertible with the top down. 

"How do you know the club manager?" I asked.

"He hired Angelique to sing tonight. I was one of the back-up dancers, remember? The one on the right."

Whoa... no. Fucking. Way
. My heart raced, making the world spin faster. I tried to get another look at him. His darkened face drew into focus and blurred.

The Dancer threw open the passenger door, lowered me to the seat. He swaggered to the opposite side and got in.

"So where do you live?" he asked, starting the car.

"Um, Twenty-One West Maple." For Christ's sake, I'd almost forgotten where I lived!

He pulled the car out and the engine roared as it crossed the freeway.

Queasiness worsened as our ride dragged on. A small park surfaced ahead and I told him to stop the car before my vomit had a chance to erupt.

The golden-haired stranger parked under a tree where green foliage drooped. Immediately I exited the vehicle, embraced myself while doubled over.

I gagged but nothing came up.

Shit
.

Suddenly the sickness passed. Why? Maybe the summer breeze drifting through my hair, caressing my face had set my body at ease, thereby settling my stomach. Or maybe it was the scent of fresh country air, despite the visible downtown skyline that lingered miles off.

Or maybe it was his voice caressing my ears: "Are you okay, babe?"

Babe? He actually called me
babe
?

Impossible.

Stifling any further nonsensical fantasies, I slipped into the vehicle.

"Thanks, I'm feeling a little better. Still drunk though." I chuckled. In fact, if I weren't drunk I'd be very nervous sitting in a car with a strange dude.

"Maybe we should sit here for a few minutes, just to be sure you're totally over it," he suggested, two fingers tapping the wheel.

"'kay."

"I remember seeing you at the club," he said, tilting his head slightly as he regarded me. "I was thinking of how pretty you looked."

Did he just call me pretty?
Lonely as hell, I'd recently broken up with my boyfriend. That didn't help with the temptation to fall under this fascinating stranger's spell.

"Thank you." I gave a shy smile. "I think you're—cute."
Hot
.

Smokin'.

Warmly he smiled back, his teeth white between shapely lips. Lips that begged for a passionate kiss.

Eyes burning with excitement, he scooted closer, sending my heart into a pounding fury. His gaze shifted downward to drink in every contour of my body.

"Would you be offended if I asked to kiss you?" he said with a half-smile gracing those lips, his arm sliding past my shoulder.

How could I resist him? I couldn't. I wouldn't even try.

He leaned in and soft lips grazed mine in a teasing kiss. Chills shot up my arms as he withdrew.

It was sweltering in spite of an occasional breeze. He removed his jacket, unbuttoned the top of his black shirt and revealed a patch of sweat-streaked skin.

Thick silence ensued as we grew lost in each other's eyes. He seemed hesitant to make a second move.

"I wanna make a bet with you," The Dancer said.

"Yeah? What?"

"I bet a thousand dollars I can... make you wet."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know." His gaze lowered to my thighs, his tongue swept his upper lip, licked beads of sweat.