Page 22 of My Not-So-Secret Santa

“I know you’ll do the right thing,” Nick says.“You’re a good man.”

He disappears before I can correct him, leaving me frantic to cover as much of my face as I possibly can before setting foot onstage.

How can I describe the exquisite torture of dancing for Liv without actually dancing for Liv?

From the moment I step in front of the crowd, I’m hyperaware of the fact that she’s out there somewhere, her eyes following the lines of my body as I move.I’m not sure what exactly Nick did, but the stage lights are lower tonight and dominated by blues and greens and reds instead of bright white, which illuminate our bodies while keeping our faces slightly more obscured.

It makes me brave enough to perform like I usually do, full out, holding nothing back, moving without concern for my muscles and ligaments and joints.I know for a fact that my audience loves those fluid motions, that they’re wild with curiosity about whether my moves are equally smooth in bed.They are, of course.And as eager as I used to be to show them off to a chosen woman after a show, it’s been ages since I had that urge.

Tonight, though, I’m nothing butwant, and it’s all for Liv.My face may be hidden, but with every slide of my hips and undulation of my torso, I’m telling her how good I’d make it for her.How I’d use my body to worship hers.How I’d ruin her for any other men.

But the crowd doesn’t know that.Each person squirming in their seat thinks I’m dancing forthem, and I’m glad of it.I may be thinking about one person, but I’m here for all of them, teasing and grinning, focusing on the tables ringing the stage.Judging by the screams and the bills being tossed my way, it’s working.

I do eventually spot her and CJ at a table that’s dead center and halfway back in the crowd.CJ’s waving her arms over her head, screaming her approval, but Liv… she’s lost in me.Even through the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I can see the haziness in her eyes, the way her tongue darts out to moisten her lower lip.It makes my movements even more sexual as I picture that tongue exploring my mouth, my chest, my cock.I almost groan onstage at the thought of my gingerbread angel falling under my spell.

I’m practically in a fugue state when I stumble offstage after my first set, but Deke snaps me out of it by dramatically fanning himself.

“Dude, I think you gotmepregnant with that.”

“Ha.”I snatch the towel he holds out and yank off the hat, beard, and sunglasses to mop myself off.

“You got a girl out there or something?”He chuckles at the thought of it, then breaks off when he notices my stricken expression.“Oh shit,doyou?You got a girl, Jonesy?”

“No.”I chuck the towel into the hamper that sits backstage for that exact purpose.“I mean, there’s a girl, but she’s not…” I gesture helplessly, not sure what to say or how to describe this woman who has me twisted into knots at both of my jobs.

“Ah.”Deke nods.He gets it, how fucking hard it can be to balance what we do with maintaining a new relationship.“Lemme know if I can help.”

I grimace.“Just be cool with me wearing this shitty beard all night.And for god’s sake, don’t call me Jonesy around her.”

“I would never.”He drops his Diesel grin to cross his thick index finger over his heart in ahope-to-diepromise.“You ready to get back out there?”

I know I can’t have Liv tonight, which means I’m going to need so much brown liquor to calm down after the show.But until then, I have a performance to give, even if the thought leaves me feeling exhausted and a little empty.

I push the weird mood aside and tug my sweat-damp Santa hat back on.

“Hell yeah, I am.”I readjust the itchy monstrosity around my ears and over my chin and head back onstage.I may not get to take Liv home, but I’ll make goddamn sure she thinks about me when she’s finally alone tonight.

Eight

Liv

The only person less awake than me this morning is Jonesy.

“Are you gonna make it?”I ask the lump of humanity that is everyone’s favorite coworker.He’s on the break room floor, propped against the wall of lockers with his limbs sprawled out like they aren’t functioning yet.

All he manages in response is a grunt.

“Should we be worried?”I ask June when she bustles in to hang her coat and bag in her locker.Last Sunday Jonesy was a little sluggish for the first hour of service, but today is something else entirely.Heck, CJ and I were at the Crimson Lounge until super late last night, yet compared to Jonesy, I look ready to win the Boston Marathon.

“Nah.”She spares Jonesy a glance.“He doesn’t usually work Sundays, but when he does, it takes a while before he’s fully human.”

The husk of a person who used to be Jonesy grumbles, “My ears still work, y’know.”

“Then make better weekend choices,” June says with no trace of sympathy.

I squat next to him, careful to tuck my skirt under my knees so I don’t accidentally give him a show.

“I think you need this more than I do.”I press my ginormous, mostly full cup of gas station coffee into his hands, and he accepts it with another grunt.Then he lifts it to his lips and drains it in a series of greedy swallows that June and I watch in both horror and amazement.When it’s empty, he drops the cup on the linoleum next to him and sucks in a long, ragged breath.

---