Imagine you're a dancer Part 1
You looked yourself over in the mirror, checking for anything that was out of place. Only a few minutes remained before the leader of your little troupe would come in and tell you that it was time. You glanced to your right. The newest girl had joined less than a year ago, but she had managed to come into her own.
You turned back to your reflection. It had been a few years since you first started, but your experience was an advantage. You knew that trying to earn money on the side was a pointless endeavor. Many of your former coworkers thought that sitting on laps and pulling man into private rooms would only come with tips. Every single one of them ended up pregnant and fired from the company. Your leader only had one rule; anyone that couldn’t do their job would be fired. Otherwise, everyone was able to do as they pleased. It was quite a lucrative career when you were one of the favourite dancers.
“Alright, ladies,” Your boss, a short and plump woman, clapped her hands. She waited until the room was quiet and all eyes were on her to continue, “This night is important to us. We are performing for one of the most exclusive parties in the city. Everyone needs to bring their best. I normally don’t encourage this, but feel free to make friends.”
You fought the urge to scowl. So she was openly endorsing fraternizing with the audience in order to earn more money. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was getting greedy and wanted a cut of the profit.
You got up, walking with the other women. The sheer material you wore fluttered behind you. The gold discs on your waist and trailing down your hips clinked against each other. The newest dancer was whispering nervously to yourself. You didn’t get nervous anymore. You just did your job and then took your payment at the end of the night.
The small party was held in a room lit by candles. Most guests had a glass in their hands, though you could tell that some of them had been drinking for hours. Without looking directly at them, you made a mental note of each man you should avoid as soon as the party ended. It was a common occurrence for one or two men to follow a dancer as they left in order to get a bit of private time with them.
You positioned yourself on the left-hand side of the small stage, waiting for the music to start. The more eager girls took the front. You almost scoffed. Some thought that they were going to become famous if the right person saw them dancing. Others merely wanted more money by taking the spotlight. It didn’t matter to you. Every dancer was paid the same amount at the end of the night. Tips were just a perk of the trade. You saved enough money doing what you did best.
The first note broke your spell. You began to dance, hips rolling and arms moving slowly and gracefully. Intricate steps weren’t necessary. All you needed was the right pace and angles to drive men wild. Your gaze remained on the back wall, your expression lustful to no one in particular.
As the night continued, you became aware of a stare that weighed heavily on your body. It had persisted, even as some of your fellow dancers went out into the crowd. You used your peripheral vision to try to find who was so interested in you. Even after so many years, you hated looking at your audience.
The man in question was sitting the furthest from the stage, a glass of something dark in his hand. None of the servers approached him to refill his glass. He seemed to be languidly sipping the same drink for the entire night. He was older than you, his temples dusted with grey, though the rest of his hair was dark. His body was lean, carrying a certain power as he crossed one leg over the other. A quiet confidence. Well, he was certainly better than other men that had been obsessed with you.
You glanced to his face. He was rather handsome, admittedly. His eyes were-
Even as you blinked, you found it impossible to tear your gaze away from his. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The sound nearly drowned out the music. The candles seemed dimmer now, like the room itself had sensed something changing.
You moved to the front of the stage, descending the small set of stairs that separated you from the rest of the party. Each step caused the golden discs on your outfit to rattle softly, though you could barely hear it. The unoccupied men in the front row moved their hands away from their laps, thinking that you were going to dance on them. You walked right by, your eyes still locked onto the man furthest from the stage. The audience was rather small, so he was sitting in the middle of the room. The way he sat made you wonder if he owned the building you were standing in. He looked like he owned the entire city, actually. With the way he was looking at you, it felt like he had already bought your soul and was simply collecting what was rightfully his.
You stopped in front of him, hips swaying as you continued to dance. Your hands trailed over your body, missing the important places by mere inches. Teasing was a part of the job, after all. You could feel other members of the audience staring at you, but you paid no attention to them. You were still focused on the man taking another sip from his drink, his eyes trailing up and down your body.
He set his drink down on the table next to him, licking his lips slowly. He uncrossed his legs. An invitation. Going against everything you believed in, you accepted it. You straddled him, knees pressed against the wood on either side of his hips. His hand immediately moved to your back, resting gently on your skin. You could feel the metal rings he wore, a bit cold compared to the temperature of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders in order to keep yourself steady as you rolled your hips.
He said nothing. His expression was neutral, but you could see something lurking in his eyes. Something dark. He merely allowed you to continue, his hand pulling you just a bit closer.
What were you doing? You never did this. You hadn’t touched a member of the audience in all of your years as a part of the troupe, and now you were on some man’s lap. But it could ruin things if you got off of him now. You would have to wait until he grew tired of you or the performance ended. Then you would have every reason to fluidly slip from his chair and return to the room saved for the dancers.
He tilted his head to one side. You kissed him, hands trailing down his chest. The softness of the material beneath your fingertips told you that his clothes were expensive. At the very least, he had some sort of title. Even as you withdrew from the kiss, you wondered why you had done such a thing. Kissing a member of the audience was frowned upon by most dancers. On any other day, your boss would have given you an earful. But with such rich clients, she was making an exception.
His hands slipped between your bodies, trailing down your stomach before settling between your legs. He stroked you through your smallclothes, causing your spine to arch a bit and your fingers to clutch his clothes. Your hands descended, blindly unbuckling his belt and moving his trousers just enough to free his cock. You were still focused on his eyes as your hands returned to his shoulders. He pulled your smallclothes to one side, exposing you to the cold air. You couldn’t help but shiver. His other hand grabbed his cock, rubbing it against you.
You pulled yourself closer, biting your lip as it began to push into you. He let go, his palm on your back. He guided your waist. You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from making noise as he filled you. No one in the crowd reacted. Your clothes hid everything. The only people aware of what was truly happening were you and the man you were straddling. You moved with the music, arms trailing through the air. To everyone else, it looked like you were just dancing on his lap.
Your breath hitched as you continued. He leaned back in the chair, watching you move. His eyes strayed from yours for a moment, trailing down your body. Your pace slowed. Why were you doing this? You were supposed to be dancing on stage, not having sex with him.
His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, teeth bared in a low growl that rumbled against your chest. He was getting close. His grip on your waist was almost bruising. Your hands were almost glued to his shoulders. You can’t fathom letting him go. Not when he made you feel this good. It didn’t matter if he came inside of you. You just wanted a bit more time with him. Just a few more seconds of feeling his body against yours.
An unfamiliar warmth pooled inside of you. You kept moving, even as your walls twitched around him. He leaned toward you, his lips and teeth tracing over your neck. You bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound. You couldn’t get caught. Not now. A familiar melody played. The last song of the night.
He pulled your body from his, adjusting his pants and your smallclothes. You could feel droplets of liquid running down your thighs. You would have to be careful when walking back to the dressing room. His attention shifted to his glass, lifting it and taking a slow sip.
Your mind was still fogged from the sex as you stood and slowly danced your way back to the dressing room with the other dancers.
Your mind had cleared completely in days, so you realized quickly that your performance that night had consequences.
At first, you had thought that you had contracted some sort of illness. Nausea plagued you. You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t dance. You remained in the dressing room, shivering as you tried to will away your nausea.
Within a few moons, you knew that something was wrong.
You sat on your bed. Given your reputation in the company, you were allowed to have your own room. You were thankful for it now that your body had changed. Your stomach had only a gentle swell at first, but now the weight rested on your thighs. None of your companions had noticed, but you knew that it would become obvious with time.
It seemed that your luck hadn’t run out yet. A new dancer had joined, which caused your boss to give you some time off while she was trained in the ways of the troupe. You took the temporary vacation graciously, but it didn’t solve your problem.
Your stomach fluttered. You tensed, still not used to the sensation. You cautiously pressed your palm to your belly. It was too late to visit a physiker. A witch would only cause you problems. You couldn’t stay with the company. Once they discovered your pregnancy, you would be fired. They couldn’t afford to pay dancers that couldn’t dance. They certainly didn’t want to deal with a fussy child during their performances.
You steeled yourself. You decided to leave the company without a word. You had enough money saved up that you would be able to rent a small room at a cheap inn until you could rejoin another dancing troupe. As for your child, you were sure that you could find someone more than capable of caring for them. You didn’t have the funds or the time. Your profession required all of your attention, especially if you were doing solo work for a few months.
You packed up your things and left. A small town would be the best option, which meant a short trip by horse. You found one of the main streets. It was rather dark, even with the many hanging lamps. There were some narrow alleyways, but you better than to get too close, lest you be robbed at knifepoint. Given the money you were carrying, you need to stick to the crowds while keeping an eye on your coin purse. But the early hours of the morning were approaching. The crowds were dying down considerably.
After walking through the main square, it became apparent that no one had a horse for sale. You would have to renew your efforts in the morning. You stopped, trying to remember the location of the nearest inn. Your stomach fluttered once more, harder this time. You winced. You doubted that you would ever grow accustomed to such a sensation.
A gentle creak alerted you to one of the alleyways. A sign was hanging from the wall. An inn. Your attention shifted to the alley itself. There was a bend in the path. Someone could be lingering around the corner. Your gaze fell to the ground. There were hanging lights in the alleyway, leaving the shadows of the brick and other signs. Even as you cautiously drew closer, the shadows gave no hint at someone lurking.
You strode toward the inn, becoming confident that you wouldn’t be attacked. You looked down the branching path. There was nothing there. You smiled a bit. It seemed you would make it to the inn unscathed.
You paid for a room, then trudged up the stairs. The added weight to your womb made it a bit more difficult, but you managed. You locked the door and took a deep breath. Your journey seemed to be going smoothly.
“I’ve been looking for you, pet.”
You whirled around to face the rest of the room. A man was standing in front of the window. He took a step forward. Your blood ran cold.
It was the man from that fateful night. Even as he moved closer, the room was bathed in moonlight. Something was wrong with him.
You reached back to unlock the door, only for your hand to freeze. You had made eye contact with him, your body no longer obeying your commands. Your fingertips were touching the lock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move it. Despite the fear in your mind, your body relaxed.
His attention strayed to your stomach before he ensnared you with his gaze once more. He was standing before you now. His hand reached past you, something on the door snapping. When he withdrew, he was holding the lock’s latch. He had broken it with strength alone. He crumpled the latch in his fist, “A good pet doesn’t leave her master, _____. Especially when she’s carrying her master’s child.”
“Now, you’re going to dance for me.”
“I-I…” It seemed you still talk this time, “I don’t-“
His eyes darkened, your mind instantly fogging, “Take off your dress.”
Author’s Note: Hello! Keira Metz here! This is a bit of a slow start, but I promise much more dark romance to come!
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