Page 10 of Burn With Me

Pulling the curtain closed behind me, I toss my jacket on the loveseat in the back of the room. My tie quickly joins it before I unbutton my cuffs and roll the sleeves of my white dress shirt as I sit. The mask on my face is itchy, but I don’t entertain thoughts of breaking the rules and removing it.

Wouldn’t want my uncle to find out I didn’t listen on more than one account.

A few more minutes pass, and I take the time to settle back on the couch, kicking a foot over one knee and spreading myarm out along the back of the loveseat, the other hand resting in my lap. When the door opens after a few more minutes, the security guard peeks his head in to make sure I followed his directions before moving aside for Ginny.

Her eyes seem to glow from behind her intricate mask as she peers at me for only a moment through the curtain. She turns and gives a slight nod to the guard. Her movements are unsure, as if this is her first time doing this.

But perhaps that’s just a persona.

Once the door closes again, she takes a deep breath before turning to face me.

Smirking, I settle intomypersona. Enjoying the way her eyes widen as I greet her.

“Hello, Little Ember.”

Ginny

I’ve been preparing for tonight for over a year. My best friend, Valentina, has worked here for a few years now, and she’s the one who suggested I try it. She doesn’t know about everything with Chris, but she knows enough to know I’m trying to take back my life.

Carmela and Mr. Tailor offered me the job the first night I auditioned, but it’s taken an entire year to work up the courage to actually do it. That’s the nice thing about this job, though; it’s entirely atmypace.

Since there’s a show tonight, I thought it was the perfect night to start. Get a feel for how things work. Watch the other girls during the show to see what they do and how they act. Then, when the time comes to get to work, I won’t feel like a fish out of water.

But the bookings aren’t supposed to happen until after the show.

So, when security approaches me and says I’ve been booked already, the anticipation hits me like a bullet train. The guard makes it clear that I can say no if I want to wait, but I hear myself say it’s okay, and before I know it, I’m being ushered through the Confessional wing door.

Electric shocks run from my chest to my stomach assecurity brings me to my room–the sound of my heels on the floor echoing in the empty hall. As I got ready in the changing suite earlier, one of the girls told me I’d go fast tonight because of my hair, because I look exotic in a sea of brunettes and blondes. I just wasn’t expecting it to bethisfast.

The guard opens the door and steps aside to let me in. Barely giving the man on the couch a glance, I nod to the guard, signaling it’s okay for him to leave.

When I turn around again, my breath catches in my throat.

Even though a curtain separates us, it’s sheer enough that I can see him clearly. This man looks exactly like the imaginary friend I dreamed up when I was a child.

It’s him—my stranger.

A plain black mask is covering the upper half of his face. He’s freshly shaven, chocolate hair neatly swept out of his face, but not gelled back. Golden brown eyes stare at me from behind the mask as his lips tilt up at one corner.

“Hello, Little Ember.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. My eyes widen at the nickname and his slight English accent, just like the man I’ve dreamed of all my life.

I’ve never considered myself a very sexual person. I’ve never had the chance to really explore that side of myself. However, there is something utterly gratifying and thigh-clenching about the way he’s looking at me.

“Good evening, sir.” Slowly, I make my way to the curtain, deliberately swinging my hips the way I was trained to. He smirks and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he watches the show I’m putting on.

It’s liberating.

My hands raise, running over my thighs as I slowly lift my skirt to give him a peek at what’s underneath–a simple lace thong–before continuing their journey up my body. “What brings you here tonight? Do you have something you want to talk about? Something you wish to confess?”

His eyes follow my hands, Adam's apple bobbing as heswallows. “I just wanted to admire the beautiful view for the evening. Tell me, Little Ember, is there somethingyouwish to confess?”

His question takes me aback. Carmela, and most of the girls who work in the Confessional wing, told me that the men here either like to talk like it's a therapy session or they like to confess their dirty secrets while watching the Angels touch themselves.

“It’s my first night,” I hear myself say. Why I think he needs to know that, I don’t know. My cheeks burn as embarrassment floods my veins, and I drop my hands back to my sides.

Suddenly, I’m self-conscious. It must show on my face because the man leans back on the couch and motions to the matching one on my side. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Why don’t you take a seat?”

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