Page 79 of Square Deal

The short flapper dresses turned into skimpy corsets with fringed bottoms. I kept myself from gasping when a dancer floatedby Isaac’s booth, giving him a wink and shimmying her voluptuous breasts.

“Isaac,” I whispered. “Is this?”

“Burlesque, sweetheart,” he said leisurely. His arm was stretched across the back of the couch.

Slowly, he tucked a wide curl behind my ear and trailed his fingertip down the side of my neck and across my nearly bare shoulder. It sent shivers down my spine.

“I think this might be a good experience for you. You might even enjoy yourself.”

The dancer closest to us swayed by a table occupied by a husband and wife. She flirted with them both, keeping perfect time with the band. They both smiled and watched as she moved her body with confidence.

I could dance, but I wasn’t that sexy by a long shot.

Isaac leaned down and murmured, “What do you think?” His arm snaked low around my hips, and he gave my ass a squeeze.

I sipped on my old fashioned, savoring the warm burn of the liquor. “They’re… Talented,” I choked out.

A dancer in tasseled pasties came close. I averted my gaze, studying the precise stitching on Isaac’s shoes, and ignored the slow fizzle of sparks I felt deep inside.

He chuckled. “You can look, Princess. That’s the point.”

“I just… This is… I don’t do this kind of thing,” I stammered softly.

His mouth grazed the shell of my ear. “That’s also the point. You said it yourself—you need help exploring. Opening up.”

I looked up, and then quickly down at my drink. My cheeks turned an unsightly shade of strawberry.

Isaac spread his knees wide and patted the small triangle of couch between his thighs. “Come here.”

Cautiously, I settled between his legs and leaned back against his chest. Isaac splayed a wide hand across the front of my torso.His thumb settled in the valley of my breasts. I sucked in a sharp breath.

He reached around and tipped my chin up to watch as the dancers, who had changed into feathered showgirl costumes, teased and tantalized the patrons.

“Do you think you’re a sexy woman, Hannah?” he asked, stroking his knuckles down my cheek.

Women, in various states of undress, danced around us. Maybe I felt sexy on nights like tonight when I was all dolled up and ready to be seen, but I wasn’t sexy like that—like them.

I could never stand up in front of a crowd and bask in their attention as every eye in the room judged my body. The thought alone terrified me.

“Sometimes.”

He kissed the soft skin behind my ear and then growled, “Wrong answer.”

My heart revved like a race car.

“Watch them,” he ordered, sliding his hand up the obscenely high slit in my dress. “Look. See that?”

A full-figured woman in barely-there lingerie waltzed in time to the music. She traded places with a silver-haired dancer who was a fellow member of the itty-bitty titty committee.

“Sexy isn’t how much you have on or how much you take off,” he murmured, sliding the strap of my dress off my shoulder. Isaac ghosted his fingers across my collarbone. “It’s not limited to a body type or an age.” His hand delved under my dress, and he squeezed my breast. “Confident women are sexy women.”

I gasped in shock. “Isaac, someone could see!”

“That’s right,” he said arrogantly, tweaking and twisting my nipple between his fingers. “They could, and that turns you on.”

Flames shot through every inch of my body. Never in my life had I been so aroused or so terrified of getting caught.

He slid his other hand up the slit to the apex of my thighs. “Dammit, woman, do you ever wear panties?”

---