Page 11 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“And that is the answer. Now do you want a dance or not? I’ve got money to make.”

“Come on, you’ve turned me down a thousand times.”

“And because I turned the Adonis, Liam O’Shaughnessy, down, I must be muff diving?” I ask cocking an eyebrow..

“I already know the answer,” he laughs. “I asked ya man behind the bar.”

“What did he say?”

“Kieran said you were a barren wasteland in that respect. And likely had turned completely a-sexual from overexposure and that I should give up.”

How could someone be so attractive and repulsive at the same time?

He tilts his head back from me. His gaze drops to my mouth. “Dance for me for the whole night?” He asks.

“Fine by me, handsome,” I purr, leading him by the hand to one of the private booths at the back.

As we walk, I watch the blue and red lights dance illuminating the divots in the copper bar top.

When we enter the room, I walk towards the music station to turn up the volume. Just as I do, the words I usually desperately despise are spoken. “Can we just talk for a minute?”

Liam had given very little away in terms of body language, but it seemed to me that if he had recognised me from today’s raid, he would have been more twitchy about engaging with me, so perhaps talking was my opportunity to clarify. I walked towards Liam, crossing my legs, pulling my core in and knitting my shoulder blades together. His eyes track my every step until I sit down seductively in the chair next to him. Crossing my legs and licking my lips.

“What would you like to talk about, handsome?”

“I saw you today,” he says.

Fear trudges through my veins like treacle, threatening to run so slowly the blood supply to my heart will be cut off.

“Where did you see me?” I ask, reminding myself of my training: I am extremely adept at preventing irrational thoughts.

“You were at the St Marys on Cuthbert Street.”

I breathe out a long, slow exhale. “Is going to church a crime?”

“Do you know the expression, sweating like a whore in church?”

I rise from my seat. “Do you know the expression: This dance is over. Take your money to another whore.”

“I’m sorry Ciara,” he says. “Please, I’m really sorry. Really. I’m acting the maggot because I missed you, and it doesn’t seem like the feeling is mutual.”

“Do you remember telling me about the outfit you love me to take off the most?”

He smiles, his lips pulling up at the corner. “So you wore this for me tonight?” His head is slightly down as he stares at me, giving him an even more sinister look.

Changing the subject, I say. “I should be giving you my condolences. I’m sorry to hear about the death of your ol’ fella.”

“I’m not,” he says, completely straight faced.

“I’d like you to take your clothes off for me now.” His eyes travel down my neck to my boobs which are pushed up together in my red bra.

Using the control I turn the music up. Britney’s slave fills the room.

Liam spreads his legs and motions for the music to be turned down.

I turn it down.

“You know what I find strange?”

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