Page 65 of Scent Of Obsession
I nodded when the door unlocked at the encounter of the card.
I exhaled shakily before skulking inside the room. I readjusted my dress, sinking inside the heated space. Illuminated by garnet-red LED lights, my gaze stumbled upon the wall of instruments facing me… Handcuffs. Harnesses. Some types of bondage elements. Rope. And something that looked like a big torture instrument.
The outfit Melissa was wearing made more sense to me. The rooms were dungeons. The scent of cigar and ashes masked every other scent. I swallowed, advancing carefully through the stage area with a fear growing in me and a bad feeling creeping down my spine. I clamped my fingers into my tender flesh, reassuring myself that all I needed to do was perform a three-minute dance.
“With your ownership as leader on the jewelry market, our partnership could fluctuate billions in revenue,” one man added louder than the other men he was having a conversation with.
My attention focused on a chair situated in the middle of the stage. Curtains, like those for an aerial dance, were shaped like a swing hung from the ceiling. A mix of circus and cabaret in a red room. I gathered my courage, positioning myself in the center. I remembered watching the girls at The Institute for Young Ladies reproducing secret choreographies of stars—not that it could save me tonight.
“I don’t gamble on probabilities. I want numbers. Your proposal is weak and my gains abysmal.” Radcliff. The sound of his voice prickled at my senses.
I reeled around, peering at the shadowy shape of the four men facing me. They sat on the royal black couch and armchairs. They were so drawn to the conversation, I couldn’t quite hear them. None of them had noticed my arrival yet.
One of them had enthroned himself with the force of an imposing god, his charisma echoing in the room. My pulse hammered—there was only one man who had this beguiling darkness. They all wore masks, but I’d recognize Radcliff’s soul anywhere.
It was my window to push him to his own limit. I wasn’t only pure Lily; he wasn’t only the Devil. We joined in the midst of our darkness and light.
I cleared my throat, and the infernal light sent me into the limelight. All of them gazed at me, suddenly quiet. Radcliff ground his jaw as we held stares in a warfare contest.
The sensual music started playing, but I remained like a frozen doll. I had no desire to put on a show for those repugnant men, but the stakes were higher.You do it for him. For you. For your perfume.
“Is this a joke?” the man seated on the chair complained with an angry, sharp move of his hand. “Do something!”
The other on the opposite chair finished his drink and snorted. “We didn’t order a schoolgirl, sweetheart.”
I dug my nails deeper inside my fist.
I needed sweet Lily gone.
I needed to let the woman inside of me take control.
Do something. Anything.
“Is she gonna do something? Show us what’s underneath your sweet virgin act,” the annoying chatty one complained once more.
I held my gaze on Radcliff. Only he and the man seated next to him remained silent.
I distinguished a white satin handkerchief on the chair. I grazed it, noticing it had enough transparency to allow anyone to see shapes through it.I’ll show you what’s underneath, asshole, I thought as I pulled the blindfold to my eyes.
I shot a last glance at the Devil and disappeared behind the blindfold. He remained poker-faced, so I went forward and tied the handkerchief in a knot.
I grabbed the drapes of the hammock, taking a seat in the middle of the swing they formed. I felt my feet leaving the floor as I started elevating in the air. I tightened my grip on the ribbons, knowing that I was going to have to come out of my chrysalis.
I wasn’t only sweet Lily.
A gasp escaped my mouth, and I let the thunder inside overtake me. I unbuttoned the top of my dress slowly, revealing the black lace lingerie underneath. The shadows of the men moved as they adjusted themselves in their seats.
Their gossip. The smoke rising. A lower lip bite to contain my nerves. All my sensations multiplied, a bolt of lightning penetrating my skin from an invisible force.
Despite the room smelling like ashes and death, I flipped my hair around in one sensual move. Dancing was the language of gods. If I had to dance on death, I would set myself on fire. I caressed myself from my neck to my collarbone, imaging Radcliff’s hands all over me. Right now, it was just him and I; the others were outsiders.
I crossed my legs, securing one of my hands on the hammock, and I stroked the skin of my thigh, teasing them with the view of my panties. I imagined Radcliff’s heart bursting with terror, his jaw knotting, his muscles stiffening.Yes.My other hand flailed above my head before I stretched one of my legs in an arabesque. I felt like an undead woman, each fiber of my body hurting.
Putting the pain away, I spun in circles, like a graceful tornado. My head looked heavenward, my hair falling on my back. Weak and devastating, I spun and spun. My feet curled inside the fabric of the curtain; I was imprisoned. My fingers tried to find salvation in each spin, to be saved. I turned again and again, finding the wildest of my own nature. The poisonous side of myself.
A black Lily.
I then held tight to each side of the hammock with a strong grip and let myself drift to the void.Skyfall.I moved my legs as if I was galloping on a field of invisible flowers. I was flying in the air, finding my freedom. The ground was beneath me, and I soared into the deadly air, in harmony with it.
