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“You have no idea, do you?” Charlie held Elle’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and the heat from her touch spread across her face and down her throat.
“Um...”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Here?” Elle couldn’t help glance around the room, still half full of people. To be fair, most of them stood near the bar in groups, and were paying her no attention at all. A few snuck glances at Charlie, and that was enough to remind her that she was in public. It was one thing to lust after someone—no one could see her thoughts—but another completely to kiss a stranger in public. A rush of heat burst along her spine. What would it be like?
Elle cleared her throat. “Yes, I would like that.”
Charlie leaned forward in her chair and increased the pressure of her grip on Elle’s chin. She brushed her lips gently against Elle’s mouth, soft where she had expected bold and firm, and she almost moaned. It’d been so long since someone had cared for her like this; with a kiss that hinted at desire and lust, and she wanted it more than anything else.
“Come with me.” Charlie dropped her hand away from Elle’s face and stood up.
Elle slowly rose to her feet, a bit giddy with anticipation, and followed Charlie across the room. They threaded around the tables and chairs that filled the floor and went around the stage to a side door. Charlie opened it, and Elle walked through. As soon as the door closed, Charlie pushed Elle against the wall and kissed her. The loss of control would normally have Elle irritated, but for some reason, this was the hottest kiss she’d ever experienced. Had it been so long since she’d got laid that she’d willingly give up control? No, sex was the one part of her life where she didn’t pretend she was meek.
She placed her hands on Charlie’s shoulders—the dancer was quite a bit taller than her so she had to reach up—and purposely deepened the kiss. Charlie’s rose perfume filled her nostrils, and she tasted like champagne with a touch of mint and something that must be purely Charlie. Charlie moaned and pressed her harder against the wall. Elle ground her hips against Charlie’s thighs and willed her brain to figure out how to change this situation so she wasn’t trapped. Her heart beat tripled in speed, and she kissed Charlie with a slow deliberation that communicated what she wanted.
Elle wanted to swap places with Charlie, to have her pressed against the wall, where she could control how she touched her gorgeous body. Every stroke of her tongue was strong—she might be smaller, but she determined their pace. Elle pushed Charlie’s chiffon gown off her shoulders, and caressed down her sides, over her ribs, skirting the sides of her bare breasts.
“Touch me.” Charlie’s breath was raspy and frantic.
“Soon.” Elle let her hands linger on Charlie’s waist, before she spread her palms lower, over Charlie’s lean arse. The round muscles were firm with the perfect softness; the combination of her dancer’s strength and feminine curves was wonderful. Elle tilted her hips again, letting the fabric of her skirt slide over Charlie’s long thighs, and still she kept kissing Charlie. Charlie kept her hands flat on the wall, beside Elle’s head.
Yes. Elle wanted to command her to keep them there, but it’d been so long since she’d fucked someone that she didn’t want to break their kiss. Instead, she sucked Charlie’s tongue, then drifted her mouth down. Over her jaw, down her neck, and along her collar bone.
“The glue tastes pretty bad.”
“Excuse me?” Elle lifted her head and stared up at Charlie.
“If you were thinking of removing the tassels and sucking my nipples, don’t. The glue tastes pretty awful.”
“Noted.” Elle grabbed one of tassels and gave it a tug. Charlie gasped and it gave Elle the space she needed to push away from the wall and walked Charlie backwards, two steps to the wall on the other side of the hallway. Reluctantly, she shifted her grip off Charlie’s fine arse, and held her hips, pushing gently until Charlie’s breath huffed out with the soft impact of the wall. She gripped Charlie’s hips tighter, slowly increasing the pressure to see how Charlie would respond. When she didn’t flinch, even as Elle’s fingers dug into her flesh, a fresh flush of heat raced down Elle’s spine, collecting between her legs. She dropped to her knees, and slowly dragged her hands down Charlie’s long legs, then back up again.
“Touch my hair,” Elle said. She didn’t wait for Charlie to respond. It was always such a negotiation the first time; working out each other’s limits. She stroked her hands up Charlie’s soft thighs, gently pushing them apart, although she was so lean from her dancing, there was enough of a gap for her hands to explore without needing her to step her feet apart.
With her thumbs, Elle traced along the edges of Charlie’s g-string. The rough sequins contrasted with the softness of Charlie’s skin, and the sensations grew as Charlie threaded her fingers through Elle’s hair.
Yes. Elle leaned closer, kissing Charlie’s thighs, slowly drifting her lips along until Charlie’s fingers tightened on her scalp. Elle pushed Charlie’s g-string aside, tilted her head and waited for a second.
“Please.” Charlie’s voice trembled. So good. Elle breathed in. Charlie’s musky scent filled her nostrils and she licked. Taste exploded on her tongue. Oh fuck yeah, she’d really missed doing this. She licked and sucked and tasted, savouring all the flavours as she enjoyed the silky texture of Charlie’s sex. Charlie moaned, loud in the echoey hallway, and her fingers gripped Elle’s head tight. Elle knew Charlie was close, and she sucked on her clit hard. Over and over, and then she slowly sunk her fingers inside Charlie.
“So warm and tight,” she whispered against her clit, then flicked it with her tongue, not giving Charlie any rest.
Charlie’s breath was loud in the tight space of the hallway, and Elle adored the way the rhythm of her breathing matched the beat of Elle’s heart and the pace of her fingers. She slid her fingers in and out of Charlie’s vagina, continuing to work her clit with her tongue. The taste of her, so rich and delightful, was almost overwhelming, and Elle was close to coming herself. It would take more than this, but damn, it’d been so long, she could feel her body begging for someone’s touch. She pushed her head harder against Charlie’s mound, her tongue harder against her clit, and forced her fingers to move faster, until Charlie cried out, her inner muscles clenching around Elle’s fingers.
Oh fuck yes. Elle kept up the pace until Charlie’s fingers relaxed on her scalp, and then she staggered to her feet. Oof, she swayed, slightly faint in the head, and she leaned against Charlie.
“Fuck yeah. You are amazing,” Charlie whispered against her, then slid her hands down Elle’s sides. Elle pulled her skirt up, around her waist. “Touch me.”
Charlie kissed her on the lips. “You taste wonderful too.”
“Touch me.” Elle needed her, and she grabbed Charlie’s hands and moved them between her legs.
“So impatient.” Charlie wasn’t laughing, but there was a note of lazy humour in her voice. She slid her hands under Elle’s lingerie and brushed over her clit.
Elle groaned.
“Yes, more of that.”
Charlie didn’t have to do much, the pressure of her fingers on Elle’s clit was enough to send her spiralling over the edge. She buried her face between Charlie’s tits, tassels tickling her cheeks, and let the orgasm roll through her body. Fucking yes. Elle revelled in it; the delicious moment when her brain was quiet and her body thrilled. After a while, she lifted her head and Charlie kissed her on the forehead. Crap. The aftermath of these things was always awkward and Elle didn’t give herself much time to recover before she straightened her skirt.
“Thanks.” The urge to run away grew stronger.
“Want another drink?”
“I shouldn’t.”
Charlie laughed, that booming laugh that Elle had started to enjoy. “Yeah, neither should I, but when has good sense ever stopped me from anything?”
“Sure. Let’s have a drink.” Elle tried not to think too hard as she fiddled with the buttons on her shirt. It would always be a mystery to her that she could be so bold and commanding with sex and overthink every-fucking-other thing in her life.
Chapter 1
Post-pandemic. Summer.
The pandemic had been good to Elle. She cringed as the usual guilty flush spread over her skin whenever she thought that, but damn, it had been great for the interior decorating industry and especially her own business, D&Y Designs. It hadn’t been that way at first; there was something wildly ridiculous about launching a new business a month before a global pandemic hit.
She’d spent most of February and March of 2020 panicking; except she need not have worried. With everyone stuck inside their homes constantly, they’d all wanted to finally fix their shitty bathrooms and upgrade or change their living rooms. People were tired of staring at the same thing all the fucking time, and she’d made a boat load of money helping people refurbish. Her business had expanded and now she employed two stylists, and a full-time accounts person. She was thinking of putting on two more people to help her cope with the workload, because they’d just won a huge tender for a mansion in Kensington. Doing an apartment for the daughter of media mogul Mr Inoue had opened so many doors and she didn’t want to miss an opportunity because she didn’t have the staff to cope. And she needed someone to look after the rental side of the business. Recently, she’d started dressing people’s homes for sale, and had begun to collect items to use for creating beautiful photos. This side of the business was taking off too and she couldn’t do everything.
There was only one thing lacking in her life. A partner to share her success with. Her parents had each other, and her brother Hugh had his wife, Willow, and their toddler, Joey, to keep them company. On the few moments when she wasn’t run off her feet with work, she missed going out at night to book club or with her friends from her queer furniture making class. She missed them; between her new work and the pandemic, she hadn’t been in contact with them for over a year.
She used to be a lot more social; like her fortnightly evening with Charlie at Seraph’s Burlesque Club. For over a year, they’d had a glorious friends-with-benefits thing going on. It had been mostly just them fucking each other in all the different back stage rooms at Seraph’s, and occasionally having a drink together. After a year, Elle still didn’t know what Charlie did when she wasn’t dancing, and she’d never talked about her plans to start her own business either. It was weird to think of Charlie now. How long had it been since she’d seen her? Too long. She pulled out her phone and quickly looked up Seraph’s online. Oh, excellent, it had survived. And The Gloved Gatsby was dancing tonight.
“Fuck it. I deserve a night out.” Elle rolled her eyes. She was talking to herself now? Hell. She clicked on the bookings tab and bought a ticket before she could second guess herself.
***
Elle paced out of the tube and pulled her mask off. Technically, they weren’t compulsory anymore, but there was something about being on public transport with all those people that made her feel like she still needed the protection. Pandemic habits stuck hard. There was a bit of line outside the front of Seraph’s, with various people chatting to each other in groups. Being here by herself was weird.
Everything was weird, even that thought, since she used to come here alone all the time. She didn’t want anyone else getting in the way of her time with Charlie. She would come here to watch Charlie dance, have a drink and a chat with Charlie, and then have brilliant sex with Charlie. They’d never discussed being exclusive, and it hadn’t mattered. Neither of them wanted a relationship; just a good fuck every now and then. The arrangement had suited them both. Elle swallowed. She’d changed and she wondered if she wanted to be exclusive with Charlie now, or if she simply wanted to say goodbye to that time in her life. Charlie had never given any indication she wanted something different to their arrangement. Did Charlie miss the casual easy way they just fit together? Maybe Elle should just go home before she made this weirder.
“Welcome to Seraph’s. Can I see your ticket?” The Pacific Islander doorman was still the same, and some of the tension in her stomach eased. Some things hadn’t changed. Elle pulled out her phone and opened the app with her ticket. He nodded.
Inside the room, nothing had changed, and it was a bit like stepping back into history. Slightly jarring because it was all so familiar, and yet time had touched it somehow too. There were less tables, with more distance between them. Elle nodded to the white woman behind the bar.
“Hey. It’s been an age. Charlie’s friend, right?”
“Yes.” Elle hadn’t expected to be recognised but she’d been one of the regulars for a year, so it made sense even if it felt odd. “Please can I have a nip of whisky? On the rocks.” She waved her phone over the pay device, then took the glass. She hadn’t booked a table, never had since that first visit with Willow, and thankfully, she’d never seen Charlie do the champagne trick with anyone else. Huh! A pile of old memories threatened to overwhelm her and she gulped her whisky. The rich fluid burned her throat, getting rid of the bitterness on her tongue. It was illogical to be jealous of random people who might get the same dance move from Charlie as her. She leaned against the bar in her usual spot and waited.
Eventually the music lowered, and Charlie walked out on stage. She wore a spectacular blue dress that shimmered as she moved. A huge feathered headdress dominated Charlie’s outfit and the stage. It must be bloody heavy, and yet, Charlie didn’t seem to notice it. Her spine was tall and strong, and her limbs were just as lean as Elle remembered them.
Her fingers twitched against her glass. She took another sip, hoping that it would hide the faint tremor. Literally no one would notice except her; but she still wanted to cover it up. Damn it, she wasn’t the person she’d been before the pandemic; desperate to have some fun while working a shitty boring job. Now she was a successful business owner. She’d been profiled in some of the UK’s biggest interior design magazines, and she’d redesigned several homes for the rich and famous. She’d made it. Why did being here make her feel so irrelevant and small?
“Welcome to Seraph’s Burlesque Club. I’m The Gloved Gatsby, and tonight we have an extraordinary collection of dancers and performers for you to enjoy.”
Was it Elle’s imagination, or did Charlie pause a little as she cast her view over the audience? Probably her imagination. The stage lights must make it impossible for Charlie to see her from up there.
“Grab a drink from the bar, and if you have seated tickets, your option of cheese board or dessert is on its way. Tonight we are raising money for the wonderful health care workers who got us through the pandemic. It was a rough time, and we pay our respects to everyone who died.” Charlie bowed her head and a sombre silence fell over the club. After a moment, she lifted her head. “Make sure you round up your tab at the bar and we’ll collate all the donations for the NHS Charities. Now, let’s get into it. First up, we have one of Seraph’s favourites: Violet Alegría.”
The crowd applauded and the curtains drew back. A 1960s Mini sat on the stage; a whole fucking car, and Elle put her drink down to clap along with the rest of the astonished crowd. She’d been backstage here often enough with Charlie. How the hell did they get a car up there? The music started up, and the door of the car opened. Out stepped a beautiful woman in a bright red 1950s dress that billowed out from her hips. She leaned against the car, posing like a model in an old magazine, and slowly began to dance.
“Hey. I thought it was you.” Charlie’s whisper was hot against her ear.
Elle turned slowly. “Hi.” Her pulse sped up as she tilted her face towards Charlie, who had taken off the giant feathered headdress. The height of her heels made her even taller than usual, so Elle had to look up towards her.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back.”
She shouldn’t have stayed away for so long because the familiar warmth from Charlie’s body settled the riot in her belly. So much had happened since they’d last seen each other; would it be possible to carry on where they’d left off? Elle wanted so much more now. More than a quick fuck and a laugh; more than just the highlight of her crappy week. She had her dream business now and it made her greedy enough to want more in the rest of her life too. Maybe Charlie wouldn’t be the right person. Or maybe she would. They’d been friends with benefits on a shallow level. Would they connect on a deeper plane? Or would this be one final fuck before Elle moved on?
“Is this weird?” Elle tried to sum it all up with a whisper as Violet Alegría pulled off her glove with her teeth and cast it aside. The kitty ducked into the light for a second to pick it up.
“Is that Reiko Inoue?”
Surely not, Elle must be seeing things. Why on earth would one of her wealthiest clients work here?
“Yes. She works here.”
“But...” Elle clamped her mouth shut. It was none of her business where someone chose to work. Reiko certainly didn’t need the money. “Never mind, it’s not my business.”
“How do you know our Reiko?”
“I—” Shit. What could she say? What if Reiko hadn’t told anyone here about her life outside of Seraph’s? “Through work.”
“Are you at the university?” Charlie leaned closer, close enough for Elle to feel the warmth of her body, even if they weren’t quite touching. She tried to suppress the shiver that traversed her skin.
“No. I’m an interior designer.”
Charlie grinned. “Seriously? How did I not know that?”
Elle choked. “Um, we didn’t really spend much time talking, you know... before.”
The bark of Charlie’s laugh made Elle glow. Fuck, she’d missed that. Being able to make Charlie laugh was one of the things that had kept Elle going when her job was a drudge and her plan to start her own business seemed so far away.
“I’m glad you came back.” Charlie kissed her on the cheek, then disappeared.
Elle watched her as she disappeared behind the bar, careful not to pull the crowd’s attention away from the dancer on stage. Violet Alegría had dropped the dress onto the bonnet of the Mini, and was dancing to Elvis’ Jailhouse Rock in her corset and g-string. With a start, Elle realised that the dancer was her client, Yolande, Reiko’s partner. When they’d hired her to work on their new apartment, she hadn’t made the connection, but thinking back over her time at Seraph’s, she’d never seen Violet Alegría dance, so it wasn’t a connection she ought to have made. She was glad because it might have been weird doing their décor if she’d known. Even now, sitting here watching, her heart galloped at the idea that her worlds were colliding.
