Make Me Weak (Make Me #1) (4 page)

“Oh I never said that, love. I just don’t have a habit of paying for my women.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you were the one paying tonight.” I pointed out.

“Different circumstance. That was a gift. However, you’re making me want to treat myself.”

His eyes roamed over my body once again, his arms pressed against the brick wall on either side of my head.

“
Aside from that, there are these legs.” A firm, hand with long strong fingers moved from the wall to my leg. He slid rough calloused pads of his palm from the top of my thigh to my knee. In an instant my leg was hitched up around his waist. The denim bulge of his crotch pressed against the thin cotton of my shorts. My leg squeezed tightly against him, the sensation was making my body shiver.

His fingers were rough but lightly caressed the surface of my skin. My head was spinning. All sense of reality was fading away as I lost myself in the feeling. The air slowly escaped from my lungs as he moved his face closer into mine. A heavy male scent swirled around me as he let his dark curtain of hair brush lightly against my shoulder.

“And then there was that kiss.” He whispered, lifting my chin with a single finger. I stared into those dark endless pools and lost all strength to think clearly.

“That wasn’t really a kiss.” I stammered.

“Well then, my mistake. I actually meant those delectable lips.”

My eyes fluttered from his dark ones to the luscious lips, waiting for a kiss. I thought about saying something witty but nothing came to mind. I was lost in everything about this man and I still didn’t even know his name. Before I had the chance to think about it any longer, he pressed his mouth against mine. The instant our lips touched an overwhelmingly passionate sensation rippled throughout my body. The simple touch turned into a heated erotic dance between our lips and our tongues. My other leg was lifted around his waist, his firm upper body held me up while he rubbed his hardness against my throbbing lips. The need for release was back. Twice in one night I needed to let my body explode, all because of this one man.

Just as my hand moved to grab his zipper I was back on my wobbly legs as he backed at least a foot away. Fire swirled with pleasure in his deep pools as he watched me like I was his prey.

“I have to leave.” He finally said.

My heart lurched forward. I hardly knew him but I couldn’t imagine him leaving. It was foreign for me to care about any of the people that walked through the club doors. In fact, it never happened. Yet here I was, staring at a man, aching because I knew he was slipping through my fingers.

“Will you be back?” I asked, hoping the desperation in my voice was masked better than I believed.

“One never knows, love.” There was that non-committal that I was famous for.

Never promise anything. Never say
I swear
, just walk away with as little said as possible. Don’t let anyone depend on you and even more important—never depend on anyone.

The slight change in his body language, the way he backed away, it was all a page from my own way of life.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” I called out as this mysterious man slipped further away from me.

He stopped backing away, the corner of his lips turned up while a wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes.

“Only if you tell me yours, sweet Kandi.”

I swallowed back the fear of someone knowing my actual identity. Anyone that knew me as Kandi, did not know me by my real name, and vice versa. But I had to know him, all of him—
starting with his name.

“Alexandria. Andie for short.”

“Alexandria.” He said, letting every single letter roll around on the tip of his tongue. The need deep between my legs grew at the sound.

“That suits you much better, love. As for me, people just call me, Onyx.”

“Onyx.” I repeated back to him. I had never heard that name before but suddenly I loved it. Or at least, I loved it for him.

“Until next time.” He said, bowing down his head for a moment before finishing the walk towards his
chopper.

I watched him mount it, start it, and felt the deep vibrating rumble of the heavy bl
ack machine throughout my body. He cast one last glance at me before riding off, letting the darkness close around him like a curtain.

Whatever had just happened, I wanted an encore.

I stomped back into the dressing room and saw Maurizio talking with another dancer.

“Maurizio, I’m done for the day.” He sighed, and shook his head all without looking my way.

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Not a chance.” As if the building was being engulfed in a slowly burning fire, I stuffed my things into my gym bag one after another. I couldn’t explain what was going on inside my head right now, but I knew I needed to get out.

Stealing a quick glance at Maurizio I didn’t miss the pulsing thick vein popping out of his neck.

“Follow me.” He seethed through his teeth. I finished gathering my things and followed after him. It wasn’t hard to miss the eye-rolls from the other dancers. A few delightful words like
bitch,
smacked me on the back as I walked by. I didn’t bother turning around. It was just another day in the life of my alter ego Kandi to simply be the pain in everyone’s ass.

Through the dressing room was a door that led to a small waiting room, followed by Maurizio’s tiny office. He actually used both little spaces as one office in the past. However, when complaints started coming in about our peeping Tom of a manager, he rectified it. Of course, now it allowed him to slam two doors shut in the midst of his temper tantrums.

“What the fuck! Do you have no respect little girl?? I gave you a table I knew was going to pay well. It was important and yeah, you did a fine job. My buddy Onyx was very pleased with your performance tonight. That is the
only
reason I haven’t kicked your ass out of my club. For some reason you know how to keep them coming back. But just because you have one good fucking dance doesn’t mean you can just be done.”

“I don’t care if you like me or not, Maurizio. Every time I dance I give it 100% and
that
is why people keep coming back. Maybe I’m a pain and don’t dance as much as the other chicks do. But, they also don’t have a clientele like mine. If they screw up once onstage, don’t look right, or anything really—their appeal drops. You know it. I know it. They don’t want a flawed woman for their wild night of forbidden fantasy. I give you hell but that is all behind the curtain. I’m telling you right now if I go back on tonight, it’s going to be shit.” I yelled back, sufficiently making this large, scary looking man look stuck.

“I really hate you sometimes.” He admitted, I knew without the shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t joking around.

“Yeah, I know you do. But you just hate me because I stand up to you like the others don’t. And whenever I do—I’m right.”

He stuck a sausage sized finger in my face. “Not always. I just want to set the record straight.”

“More often than not.”

He shook his head, running his fingers through the ratted mess of greying hair on his head.

“If I let you leave it will piss off all the other girls.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “So what? Tell them I had a bad attitude and didn’t deserve to work and get the tips. Meaning there are more for them.”

Maurizio’s eyes narrowed while the hamster wheel turned in his mind. “It’s not a horrible idea, but you know they won’t buy it.”

“Then maybe one of them will learn to stand up to you. If you want you could always just tell them that once they start bringing in as much money as I do that they can call the shots too.”

An unexpected chuckle shook his chest, making a reluctant smirk spread over my lips. “You’re a real bitch sometimes.”

“Meh.” I shrugged it off.

After a few more moments of Maurizio shaking his head and staring at me with uncertainty, he let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. Leave tonight and I’ll even be nice and say that if tomorrow night you need another night—take it. But when you come back, I want you to work a full night’s schedule like the other girls.” I opened my mouth to respond but he stuck that beefy hand up to stop me. “
Without
bitching about a damn thing. Do we have a deal?”

As difficult as it was going to be to not argue with Maurizio about something, I agreed. “Deal.”

In the front pocket of his grease stained white shirt he pulled out a wad of cash. I took the considerable amount in my hands and flashed through the bills to count it. I could hardly believe it. This was at least triple my regular fee for a lap dance. My head snapped up to Maurizio’s waiting face.

“Told you my buddy liked what you did.”

“This is all from him?”

“Yep, I threw the bills from your opening dance into your bag while you were dancing for his nephew. But that stack is all from him.”

I shuffled the bills through my fingers once more to make sure I didn’t make a mistake. Once I found that my math skills weren’t screwed up, I handed Maurizio a little more than his cut of what he got, and headed toward the exit.

“I’ll call you a cab.” Maurizio yelled after me. I flicked my hand in the air, but never turned around as I made my way back through the room of bright lights, fake hair and a whole lot of lingerie. On my way out I
grabbed my bag and gave a quick nod to Cherry, receiving one back. I was glad no one cared to stop me for a chat, at this point I wanted nothing to come between me and the prospect of a deep breath of fresh air.

I passed the security guard at the back door and inhaled the scents around me. Salty ocean air licked against me in a gust of wind. That and rain were two of my favorite smells
, but for some reason I swear I smelled that sexy, defined smell of Onyx. Typically nothing could cut through those heavenly scents, but right now, his was.

Just as I was about to sink to the ground, lost in scent, the cab pulled up. With one last inhale I took a seat in the back and let the driver take me away from the evening I wouldn’t soon forget.

“Have a nice night, Miss.” The cab driver said as he pulled up to my building. Well, at least the building I always claimed as my own.

This place was stunning
, yellow and sand colored paint covered the outside of the building. There were large windows and a patio door leading to a little deck. Palm trees every few feet welcomed the residents to their stunning homes. More than anything I wished I could pull out my set of keys and have one magically allow me to enter to an apartment that belonged all to me. That was of course, a foolish hope. Nothing like that would ever happen for me.

After the yellow cab disappeared
I took one final look at the luxury apartments before walking the three blocks to my own place. In its prime it was once a crappy brownstone, but now it was almost unlivable. Almost. At the side of the shitty building, in the alley was a door that one might miss at a first glance. It was covered with darkened boards that went over the door completely. A few locks were hidden by the wood. I slid my keys into each one, dipped under the boards and made my way inside.

It wasn’t much, but it was home.
In one corner was my mattress, soft purple blankets and a bookshelf of a few all-time favorite books. A cheap lamp, a surprisingly decent dresser, a vanity mirror and desk filled with the pounds of makeup I used each night at the club. Along one wall was a simple kitchen, fridge, counter, sink, and a hot plate I used in place of an oven. It was rare that I ate much here, this place I really only used for two reasons. One was sleep. The other though, was my true passion—art.

In the only vacant corner sat dozens of canvases, some empty and others held a story of my mind that I couldn’t explain. There was nothing I loved more than painting, drawing, sculpting,
and molding. When I danced, my mind shut off and everything faded away. When I picked up a paint brush however, the opposite happened. My deepest thoughts emerged. I wasn’t afraid to just
be
. It was freeing, safe, and completely cathartic.

On nights like these my first thoughts weren’t to eat or to sleep, they were to escape. Except I don’t escape into a fantasy of princes and princesses, white horses
, or happily ever after’s. I escape into the truth of myself.

I stripped out of my clothes, replacing them with a white pain
t stained tank top, and splattered denim shorts. After I pulled my hair into a messy bun high on my head, I took hold of my toolbox that was home to all my paint supplies—for the time being at least. At the far end of my little home was a window that began the bottom of the fire escape. I shimmied out, climbed the escape to the roof, pausing every now and then to make sure people weren’t around to discover my secret.

I slipped my leg over the roof wall and found my true home. A paint stained tarp was stretched wide, held by random cinder blocks, an easel in place
ready to hold my blank canvases. In the background was a breathtaking view of the moon, and city-light tainted night sky. This view, day or night, was always a marvelous display of the natural beauty of this place. It gives me an ultimate sense of peace to come up here, be alone, and not worry about some dickhead of a manager interrupting me. Under another tarp were a vast amount of blank canvases of all different shapes and sizes. I picked up one of the larger squared ones and set it atop my easel.

I pulled out my paints, and prepared my brushes for what was to come.
In the cheap CD player I acquired over the years I slipped in the self-titled album,
Beulah
. Her incredibly haunting voice and beautiful lyrics were a favorite of mine. Not to mention, I did my best painting while her voice was in the background. One of my favorites began and after a deep breath, I let my mind and brush connect.

Shapes formed, colors swirled together, and I felt like my soul was dancing. The stresses of life I couldn’t control left my mind
, and in its place was this moment. I controlled every stroke of my brush, every color that forever made its mark on my canvas. Some nights I only got part of a painting done before I just got stuck. If I couldn’t
feel
it, then I wouldn’t paint it. Tonight though I was finished in record time. In less than an hour I had set down my supplies and took a step back to examine my work.

The painting was dark, running water from what looked like a stream flowed diagonally across the canvas. The water wasn’t deep though and the primary subject of focus was a countless number of beautiful little stones. That was when I really noticed that in each dark stone were layers and patterns of different colors. My jaw nearly dropped as I realized I had painted an endless array of onyx stones.

The next morning I woke up and the first thing I saw was my painting of the onyx stones that I left near the end of my bed. I fell asleep thinking of it, spent the night dreaming of it. Now here I am, my eyes have only just opened and already I am under its spell once again. Whatever happened last night at the club was something I
needed
to get out of my mind. Onyx was already occupying so much of my subconscious thought, it was almost making me ill.