He was giving her an easy out. The question was, should she take it? Maggie looked uncertainly at Sherri dancing in front of the men. She sure looked like she was having a good time. What would it be like to feel that free, she wondered? To move like that, like some wicked fantasy?
They were hooting appreciatively, but not one of them tried to touch her. Even when Sherri grew bold and slid into their laps, they were careful to keep their hands off of her. No wonder she liked dancing for these guys. And there was the strong allure of five hundred dollars cash in her pocket.
“Thanks,” she said, lowering her voice a little in an attempt to make it sound sexier. At least she hoped it did. She really had no experience with this sort of thing, but that’s what always happened in the movies. “But I promised my friend...”
He smiled again, and she couldn’t help but notice that one side of his mouth curved a little more than the other when he did so. He had nice, full lips. Maggie fixated on them for a few seconds as she felt the warmth of the bourbon coursing through her limbs, wondering what it would be like to be kissed by lips like that. No doubt she’d find out when she drifted off to sleep that night, because she was pretty sure this hot tender would have the starring role in her dreams.
“Taking one for the team, huh?”
She giggled, surprising herself. This guy really made her feel at ease, which was strange, because people – especially men of godlike beauty – tended to have the exact opposite effect. But, she supposed, that was one of the things that distinguished a mediocre bartender from a great one – the ability to put people at ease. And this guy was definitely good.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Ah, then I think you’d best get ready,” he said, glancing up to where Sherri’s performance was coming to an end. “Because it looks like you’re up.”
A brief moment of panic shot through her at his words. She took the shot glass he offered, brushing his fingertips in the process, and tossed it back in one shot. His eyes glinted with surprised amusement, his deep chuckle lending her courage.
“That I am.” She winked at him, feeling a bit wicked as she let the feel of the hard, pounding bass reverberate through her body. Touching the mask to make sure it was in place, she walked carefully toward the back, letting her hips sway just a bit, praying she would not trip over her own feet.
As it turned out, it wasn’t nearly as hard as she thought it would be. With a bit of liquid courage and the anonymity of the mask, she let her body respond to the music. The cheers and catcalls died away as the men watched, transfixed, as she moved before them. Her muscle control and isolation were excellent, the result of more than a dozen years of dance and yoga. She spun around them, teasing them with veils, jingling the trinkets that dangled from her hips, and encircled her ankles and upper arms. Her natural, ruby colored hair hung loose, moving with her body; her emerald eyes, outlined in a smoky black, sparkled through the openings of the mask. Tonight she wasn’t Maggie, jilted anti-social recluse; she was Magdalena, exotic male fantasy.
She lost herself in the music, in the lights, in their blatant appreciation. For a little while, she allowed herself to become someone else, someone sexy and desirable, someone without worry or fear. Before she knew it, she was on her last song. With a deep-seated feeling of satisfaction, Maggie worked her way back up to the stage for her grand finale, her movements serpentine and hypnotic.
Her heart pounded in excitement, her mind and heart freer than it had been in a very long time. She felt wonderful as she gave her final bow to their appreciative applause, her steps light as she walked out of sight. Sherri was already taking her place back on stage, the music transitioning into something hard and sexy.
Maggie felt like her body was filled with light. Dancing in front of those men had been one of the most exhilarating – and terrifying - things she’d ever done. She had let herself go, mind, body and spirit, freed by her costume and mask, and they had been enraptured. It was a feeling she would remember for a long time. And if Sherri asked her to do this again, she realized, she probably would.
At least until her mask shifted and she stepped off the back of the stage. Then the trance was broken and she tumbled down, all grace forgotten as she landed face-first against one of the small bar tables pushed back there in storage.
Lights exploded behind her eyes with the impact. Her body followed behind, crumpling unnaturally as she rolled off the corner and hit the floor with a resounding thud. As if from far away she heard deep rumbling applause. Or maybe it was thunder.
Thunder was good, she decided, her head swimming deliriously. Maybe it would bring with it cool rain to ease some of the white-hot pain across her face.