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I held up the stuffed elephant and looked at it, then dropped it to the floor, folded my arms on the back of the chair, and rested my chin on them as I sang with a pout. “Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow. Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow.” I made a big show of sighing. “I’ve got a little cat, and I guess I’m fond of that,” I said, nudging the stuffy with the toe of my boot. Then I gazed at my audience with a young girl’s misery. “But I’d rather have a bow-wow, wow-wow, wow-wow.”
There was much clapping as I launched into the second verse, this time leaning back on my hands and swinging my feet forward to plant my heels apart on the rug.
“We used to have two tiny dogs, such pretty little dears. But Daddy sold ’em ’cause they used to bite each other’s ears. I cried all day. At eight each night Papa sent me to bed. When Ma came home and wiped my eyes, I cried again and said.”
I leaned forward again with my chin on my arms and gazed directly at Alastair this time, pretending to be a sad little boy. “Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow, Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow-wow, bow-wow.” I blinked my eyes at him, slowly, like a cat. “I have a little cat, and I guess I’m fond of that, but I’d rather have a bow-wow, wow-wow, wow-wow.”
The current flowing between us was white hot. Alastair parted his lips, and I sat up slowly, getting off the chair to much applause. I picked the stuffed elephant off the floor and launched it into the audience, where Dr. Agabwe plucked it out of the air as I descended from the stage.
I met Mr. Kenney’s gaze again but then looked away. I had to play it cool, to prove I wasn’t completely desperate for what he could offer me, even though I was.
As I brushed by him, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. I looked at it in shock, and he immediately dropped it, then glanced at Jacob, who hadn’t seen.
“Sorry. Only, that was…quite a performance,” he said, meeting my gaze sheepishly.
His cheeks were flushed, and I could tell he had a boner.
“Yes, well it’s all a part of the job,” I said, smiling with pleasure.
“You’re very good at what you do, Toby. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you. Would you like another drink?” I asked, gesturing to his empty glass. “You enjoyed that one.”
“Yes, I did,” he said in a subdued voice, as if he wasn’t just referring to his drink. “That would be great. Thank you.”
By the time eleven rolled around, the crowd in the parlor had thinned. It was Wednesday, and most of these people had jobs to get to in the morning. The Youngbloods were enjoying themselves in the Bordello.
Sebastian and Jacob had shown it to me back when I’d been hired, but other than peeking in that one time, I’d given it a wide berth. I had no issues with kink or with kinky folks, and I had had my share of kinky fantasies, but in terms of using actual implements or furniture, I was a neophyte. I hadn’t even been spanked properly. It all seemed a little out of my depth.
I sprawled on the green velvet settee in the corner under the window, with one leg hooked over the broad arm. My foot in its sweet leather shoe dangled as I stared at the ceiling and dozed, listening to the crackling of the low fire and the murmured hum of dwindling conversation. My other foot was braced against the floor, so I didn’t fall off my narrow perch.
I worked hard, and Jacob didn’t begrudge me the occasional downtime. In fact, lying in such a scintillating position tied right into the atmosphere we were attempting to recreate. Even if Patrick, Robin and I weren’t actualtrollops—the verdict was still out on Robin—we were encouraged to convey the air of pretty young things on display.
A ragged sigh above me caused me to open my eyes. There was Alastair Kenney, holding his third Sazerac, a rosy glow to his skin and a satisfying warmth to his gaze. I hadn’t heard his footsteps. He’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal shapely forearms dusted with dark hair.
His smile held notes of melancholy and hope. “Hello, Toby.”
I laced my fingers together over my corset, and gazed up at him, blinking my eyes with exaggerated innocence.
“Mr. Kenney,” I purred, “what can I do for you?”
He ran his gaze over me and lingered on the puffy white bloomers with the lace at the edge and the pink ribbon running through, then paused on my calf in its midnight black stocking and finally fixed on my soft leather shoe.
“Your shoe is undone,” he said, gesturing with a finger.
I glanced at the lace in question. It wasn’t completely untied, but it had loosened and looked on the verge of coming loose. I met his gaze, about to say it was fine and that I’d fix it in a minute. But his smile widened, lost its sadness and took my breath away.
“May I?” he asked, with a gentleness I’d not expected.
I glanced at the bar. Jacob wasn’t there, probably sorting things in the kitchen for closing.Technically, it wasn’t allowed. But there was nobody close enough to care, and I certainly didn’t mind. And hehadasked for my consent.
“You’re not really supposed to touch me,” I said, blinking up at him with exaggerated naiveté. “But yes, you may.”
I smiled, then, to let him know I appreciated the kind gesture.
Mr. Kenney glanced behind him to see if anyone was looking. He angled his body so that it blocked me and my shoe from Patrick and Robin, who were talking animatedly about something by the fire, Patrick nodding and giggling as Robin gestured wildly.
He tugged the end of the lace to pull it fully free, his fingers trembling ever-so-slightly. I don’t know why that was so hot, but it felt like he’d untied the back of my corset instead of my shoelace.
