Bare

Chapter Six- Between the Lines

Their eyes interlocked as they waited desperately for the other person to either lean forward to initiate a kiss or pull back and keep it from happening-but this consistent lingering acted as torture for them both. Finally, their tension became sliced by the sound of a knock coming upon the VIP room door. With the music having now stopped and the ‘plan’ Gwen had, now being finished, it left for them to split apart easily without any loose ends. By the time Deacon addressed whoever it was at the door and turned back to speak to Gwen, she was gone. The section of the club where the dancer or stripper emerges into the room had been swaying from use, as she set her attention upon the stage and her patrons waiting for her. 

While making her way off stage from another sizzling performance that gave her a standing ovation, she began to fall lightheaded at the fact she no longer had anything left in her cocaine stash. She craved a hit, almost as much as she craved for that kiss with Deacon-but somehow, this had seemed like life or death to her. Due to that, she moved about the other girls, asking if they had any to spare-only to find them look to her as if she had recently gone insane or admitting they had taken it all when they got it. She grew more and more desperate by the moment as she wanted to claw out of her own skin. 

With it being a rather run down part of town, she knew how easy it would be to make her way onto the streets to score some-but it would be far more pricey than anything she could afford without access to her bank account. She grunted at the thought before Owen made his way into the back room to bring a crate used to move alcohol to and from the stockroom. 

“You alright? You ain’t lookin so hot…” He spoke to her, catching her as she nearly fell over in her high stilettos. As he kept her from smashing her face into the floor or the nearby wall, she acted as if she had noticed him working out-hoping to schmooze him enough to where she could take the edge off. “Have you been lifting more?” She asked with her perfect Betty Boop and Marilyn Monroe impression. She had this down to a science on how to manipulate men with seduction to gain what she wanted. But this scene was watched by Deacon from a darkened area of the club, out of her sight-as he saw the desperation in her actions. Before he could see the events that followed, however, Deacon moved to the bar, needing some time to breathe away from her, although his mind would linger thinking of her. 

“Why don’t we go back to your office?” She asked upon biting her lip, preparing to throw herself at her employer if necessary. He took this hint quite well and moved to a back room marked by a single black door and a makeshift sign reading ‘manager’ on the outside upon a piece of paper, remaining upright by a single piece of tape. 

With the door closing behind them, Gwen was careful to not rush into things too quickly as she took a seat at the edge of his desk, her gaze looking around at everything he had within this room. For an office of the building’s manager, she was disgusted with how cluttered it had been as she preferred things organized-or at least, her version of it. But his desk had been covered from unsigned documents and files that collected dust while his trash can was overflowing and the couch he had obviously been sleeping on had held remnants of the last few days, or possibly weeks being present. She ignored this, trying to keep her eye on the prize, as she turned to him, finding him to move behind his desk. 

“Is there something I can do for you, Gwen?” He spoke, knowing very well he was going to be seduced. Although he was unclear why, he knew this much for certain by the way she sashayed over to him-making him drink in her gait until she paused right before him. 

“I was thinking about some things…” She began to think aloud as he looked to her with a smirk. 

“What’s that?” He asked upon seeing her hop up on his desk, the only section not marked by lazy organizational skills, and crossed her legs so his eyes would fall to her polished stems. 

“I’ve been feeling a bit off lately, and I think it’s because I’m so tired…”

“Are you eating enough?”

She smirked. “I know what the problem is...but I feel guilty asking.”

“You’re my best girl...anything you need, I can get...just name it…” She moved to him, bringing her lips close to his, before ceasing as she tested if she had him in her sights. Watching his lips part and his arousal being known by his enlarged pupils, she knew she had him hook, line, and sinker. 

“Just a line to get me through tonight.” He paused for a moment before turning his head and clicking his tongue. Removing a key he had in the very middle console of the desk, he moved to the safe, setting it in the hole, and then punching in a code that was blocked from her view. He removed a silver tin, one that would be used to hold cigars, and brought it to the table. Inside, had been small baggies tied off and color coded to the amount inside. He then brought the sterling silver tray near the window, wiping it off with his hand, and setting the bag in a line before its contents poured on the surface. She paused for a moment until he set forward his wallet, bringing his credit card out to make it into a straight line before rolling up a single dollar bill and using it as a nasal straw for himself. As he pulled back, then dipping his finger in the bag to rub some on his teeth, Gwen became immersed in the sight of what could take the physical edge off. But just as she went to bring its contents to her nose, the door of the office came open and Deacon stood upon the threshold. He held anger behind his eyes as he looked to the scene before him, as Owen jumped up in fear of the man. When it came to comparing the two men, Owen was much more of a sidekick to someone than a front runner, but that didn’t stop him from acting too big for his britches at times. However, when it came to Deacon, his experienced muscles and frightening gaze allowed for him to ditch all ability to appear macho and leave Gwen to fend for herself. 

He moved to the tray that sat on the desk before her as she tried to retrieve the bag left behind before his physique blocked her from doing anything with it. 

“What are you doing back here!?” She scolded him, angry as she was taken away from her drug at his hand-once again. 

“Saving you, from the looks of it.” His accent, still sexy to her, was also acting as an annoying reminder of the moral error she would be making upon giving into her addiction yet again. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” She asked while growing increasingly frustrated with the fact her actions held no effect on him. However, as her eyes moved to the tray behind him to try and take it and run, he took hold of her hand, just as he had done moments ago. 

“What are you going to do, Deacon? Hit me? Force me over the desk and claim me as your w***e? It wouldn’t be the first time for either of those for me.” Hearing her words made his heart ache as he saw a broken woman before him, fractured from the wrong souls she placed trust in. It showed in his eyes before he removed her grasp. “That isn’t exactly my style.”

“What is? Stalking?”

“Real estate.”

“What?”

“My ‘style’ is real estate…” He spoke upon bringing his attention to a document sitting upon Owen’s desk. She noticed how it had been the deed to the club. “I’m it’s new owner.” She froze in shock, now understanding how she couldn’t escape him-not like she exactly wanted to.