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“You okay?” he asked. Was he here because he sensed I was off, or was he just being a good boss? I wasn’t about to ask to find out.
I nodded, not trusting my voice not to shake as much as my legs.
“I have a VIP set up if you’d like it. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the band who played. Dash is the drummer and he’d love to meet you.” Dexen didn’t normally tell the dancers who’d they have in the VIP room, but he knew I didn’t readily agree to go in there. It was based on how I felt at the moment. I didn’t like surprises.
“Dash?” I got that out without shaking. Thank fuck.
“If you’d like. I’m sure he’ll be an excellent tipper.” I didn’t need the money. I danced because I enjoyed it.
Dash was sexy. I noticed him from the moment I entered the stage, but I played it cool until I started my grinding. I was drawn to him. To his gorgeous hair and those playful lips that would kick up into a smirk now and then. He could be a lot of fun, which was all I’d allow myself to have. Not here though. I didn’t fuck in the club. I definitely didn’t fuck the members, although Dash wasn’t one. If I’d spotted him in the club before, I would have remembered him.
“Sure,” I replied as steadily as I could.
“VIP two. Give him about forty-five, then he’ll be there. They have to finish with the dancers and pack up.”
“Sounds good.”
An assistant stopped in front of me to hand me the clothes I discarded when I was on stage. I needed to cool off before I put them back on. Trying to dress while sweaty was like trying to put clothes on after a shower without fully drying off. They stuck in places and chafed in others.
With that, I hugged the wall as I walked to my dressing room and closed myself inside. The others I shared it with were thankfully not working tonight. In fact, they were rarely here when I was. Maybe Dexen did that on purpose to give me space.
Dropping onto the chair in front of my mirror, I swiped my finger under my eyes to clean up the bit of smudges left from my makeup. I worked my ass off on stage. Sweat happened. Because I was selective about what products I used, this liner wasn’t known for its fantastic ability to be waterproof. I usually had to clean up after a dance.
I grabbed a towel and started blotting the sweat from my skin. I had to get as much of it off as I could before I put my clothes back on.
Time flew by and before I knew it, there was a knock on my door and a guard telling me they wanted me upstairs. With one last glance in the mirror, I stepped into the hallway and nodded at Simon. He was in a relationship with Sierra and Diesel. I didn’t mind being around Simon. He was one of the few guards I was somewhat comfortable with. Not that any of them did anything to me. The problem was wholly mine and my lack of trust in most people.
Simon escorted me upstairs and took his place outside the door. If the club was open, there were guards at the ready. Dexen took our security seriously. I wouldn’t complain about it being overly done. It was a reason I chose to work here.
The lights were dim when I entered the room and closed the door. Dash sat on the couch with his arms spread wide along the back. It was a cocky way to sit. Then again, he could be a cockyasshole. I didn’t know him. He was a drummer in an incredibly popular band. Cockiness was to be expected.
When our eyes connected, the air was suddenly drawn out of the room like it was when I was on stage earlier. I stumbled back, the panic attack hitting me harder this time. What the hell was happening? I had anxiety on a good day but never when I danced.
Dash was on his feet, coming toward me. “Are you okay?”
I tried to nod, tried to tell him I was all right, but what came out was a squeak. Dash put his arm around my waist and took me to the couch. It was where the member sat while I danced for them. Except I wasn’t dancing. I was hyperventilating. The panic attack getting worse thanks to him witnessing it. He judged me, he had to. I was supposed to put on a show for him and I could hardly stand. God, I hated when I got like this.
“You’re okay,” Dash soothed, while rubbing his hand up and down my back. He sat next to me on the couch, close without being completely in my space. “I have a relative who gets panic attacks. Breathe with me.”
We went through multiple counts of breathing in, holding it, and breathing out slowly. With every in breath, he told me to breathe in the good air, the positive energy. With every out breath, he told me to push the negativity, the worry from my body, to expel it from my being. Eventually, my breathing evened out, and the room wasn’t swimming in front of me any longer.
Shame crept in hot and fast. “I’m sorry. I’ve never… not while I’m supposed to…” Dropping my head, I buried my hands in my hair, hoping I could hide. I should have been dancing, not curling up in a ball. Not once had my panic closed in on me while in here, like it had just done.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice was calm, a balm to my anxiety-ridden soul. His level of understanding… Dash knew how to help me.
I shook my head and attempted to stand. We needed to get back on track.
“No, you don’t.” He put his arm around my waist again to keep me against him. “You don’t have to dance for me. Sit, relax. I won’t say a word to anyone.”
God, why was he so warm? I nuzzled closer before realizing what I was doing. My fucking nose was pressed to his pit. Jesus.
Quickly, I retreated, embarrassed for a completely different reason.
“Now I’m really not going to let you move.” He chuckled. “That was hot.”
A smile teased the corners of my lips. “That was inappropriate.”
“Who’s here to see us? Does Dex have a camera in the corner?”
