Tiny Dancer [EverlyxSterling]

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"I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Lily."

Natalia had closed the door to the room and was sitting in the same chair as before, gazing at her friend. She was not somebody who believed that people who were unconscious or in life-threatening situations in hospital beds could hear and comprehend what was being said. There was too much evidence to the contrary, in her opinion. If they could hear it, why did they not wake up angry and accusing from the heartfelt confessions they had heard? Instead they were always confused and shocked when truths came out. No, she was not relying on Lily to know, but she did know the girl would listen without response. That was what she needed.

"Everything used to be so easy. Work, get high, work again. I know that your accident was my fault, and it was the first time you ever did anything like that.. It probably felt good for you. It always does the first time," she murmured softly. "After once, it's pain, Lily. It hurts your soul, eating away at you. The rush is nice, but it isn't fun. It's like being on some sort of fucking demon rollercoaster without breaks. You crash and it burns and then you have to get back on it even though you know it's going to kill you. You just keep getting back on because you have to, because your body demands it even when your mind wants to refuse. It doesn't matter how many people get hurt in the process. They just.. don't matter.."

Natalia fell silent for a few minutes, tears filling her eyes and spilling silently out onto her cheeks. They slid down without obstacle. There was no point in stopping them. Nobody could see her now, and she felt as though she could not move even if she tried. She needed this. It needed to come out, even to somebody who was not truly there. She looked down at her hands, watching her fingers tremble.

"I never told you why I was here. America. Land of the free and home to the greedy.. I came for schooling. I was a dancer, once. Not the kind we do now. There was a time not so long ago that I would have blushed and fainted if anybody suggested I get naked in front of anybody else, let alone do it for money. My mother.. My mother would have slapped me by now. She would have beaten me silly, Lily. Everything that I did here, I did for her. I got an education like she wanted and I tried.. I tried so hard to be a dancer like she was. It's all I ever wanted and all that she wanted for me, but I failed. I wasn't good enough. Money ran out and it got me here, making guys stare and jerk off and think I'm some sort of toy. I hate it, Lily. I hate what I've become but I don't know how to stop it..."

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"I met a guy. His name is Damien. Military type, on leave for some reason. He's polite. He even kicked a guy's ass for me. Can you believe that? Just.. stepped in and did it like it was some fucking normal thing to toss a guy out of a bar. I let him sleep over.. We didn't even fuck. I cooked for him twice and I didn't screw his brains out. It was.. nice. He was nice. He's the only reason you're still breathing, Lily.. He saved you, for now. He's a good guy, and I don't think I can ever see him again. He told me that he wanted me for himself. Me.. the broken ballerina with more baggage than a fucking airplane. I can't do that to him, Lily. I can't. He deserves the world and I can't give it to him. I can't be that girl that people actually want to come home to. I just wish.. that I could. I wish I knew how to dig myself out and be a nice lady again and call him like some normal person, but I don't. I have to let him go..

But I don't want to."

Natalia went silent again, sitting without budging a muscle for several minutes until she finally stood. She carefully wiped her face and picked up her bag, then left the room without looking at anybody else.
 
Damien waved to Jenny as she sped away in her silver Audi sedan. It was uncommon for Damien to arrive at work with a full stomach and not exhausted and perspiring. His work ethic debated the virtue of relentlessness on a weekly basis, and he wondered if the hardships of life kept one focused and applied toward peak conditioning. It was a catholic viewpoint, but, it seemed that when he slacked off from his rigorous routine, the vices of mediocrity crept closer from the margins of his earnestness. If Jenny drove him everyday, would he become weaker and weaker, slowly losing his mind and body to sloth. What the fuck do I know? He entered through a secured side-door, hoping to get straight to work on the electrical issue he began the day before. He found his locker and quickly changed into his overall uniform. When he closed the locker door, he was startled to find Mr. Alessandro standing patiently with a wry smile.

"OH! Mr. Alessandro ... where'd you come from."

Mr. Alessandro rubbed his hands together, a satisfied look on his face. "Damien ... this is my theater. I'm sorta everywhere, ya know. But, what interests me is where you came from just now."

"Yeah, I got a lift from a friend," Damien said.

"A good friend, eh? She was pretty, and gave YOU a winning smile."

Mr. Alessandro seemed pleased for some reason he did not say. If Damien wasn't so uncomfortable with allowing Jenny to drive him to work, he would have been more willing to entertain Mr. Alessandro's inquires. "Well, like you said, sir, the ladies just can't keep their hand off me, right?" Damien looked past Mr. Alessandro to the stairs and saw people he did not recognize near the stage. "Who're they?" Damien asked.

"Huh?" Mr. Alessandro turned toward the stage. "Oh! Doz guys? They're part of a new contract I signed last month ... did I tell you about that?"

"Don't think so," Damien replied, clipping his utility belt.

"They're the Harlan Company, a dance troupe from the East Side, and they've booked the Sullivan for performance every weekend next month."

"Pretty sweet for you, getting an advance," Damien said.

"Yeah, tell me 'bout it. The only catch is they're still auditioning. There's some special part, and their contract has a rider contingent on finding someone to fill the role."

Damien made a sour face. "It's not their business to dictate terms. Either they want the venue or not."

"Well, normally I'd agree with you. But, aging theaters are a dime a dozen in the City now. Getting these dancers on stage for eight nights next month, hopefully bringing in revenue, will be very welcomed. I'm not going to bicker over some piddy lawyer shit." Mr. Alessandro glanced at Damien. "You know any dancers, by any chance?"

"No," he said, "I don't."

"Well, if you find any, let me know." Mr. Alessandro left Damien to mingle with the Dance Troupe members, and Damien worked his shift. He spend an inordinate amount of time in the upper scaffolding, watching the performers, feeling they could be useful somehow.
 
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Natalia spent a solid hour simply walking around the city after she left the hospital. She stopped and picked up a few packs of cigs, then wandered for another hour until she went to a diner to grab lunch. Feeling unsatisfied but with her belly full, she walked out and glanced at a clock on the side of a bank. Still too early for work. She groaned and kept wandering around, going in and out of stores boredly and ignoring the odd looks she was getting due to her attire. This was ridiculous. She didn't want to go see Lily again because it just made her feel wretched. Damien was who-knows-where, and the club wasn't open yet. She had no friends to speak of to go visit, and nothing to do. Boring. Lonely. She frowned, simply wandering the city until it was time for her to go to work.

As she walked in, she decided that she would rather be drunk instead of high tonight. It was probably a wise decision since she didn't want Evan to chuck her ass out, and getting high after spending the night around Damien felt weird. She'd just wait until she got home. So, she headed backstage with a tray full of shots and started stretching. The other girls glanced at her occasionally, but they had long since gotten used to the fact that she could bend in ways that they could not. She slid down into splits as though they were the most comfortable thing in the world, ensuring that all of her muscles were nicely warmed up before the doors even opened. It was better this way, and safer.

Six shots of tequila later and the doors were opening. The music was starting and Natalia was feeling great. She pulled out her phone and the napkin, debating. Oh, why the fuck not?

Damien, you should come to the Kitty Club. I'll give you a dance, free of charge. I'll even throw in a drink.

Giggling to herself, she downed another shot and wiggled out of her 'proper' clothes, fixing her makeup as she prepared to take the stage.
 
Damien was walking down the front steps of the Sullivan Theater an hour later than usual. He'd stayed at Mr. Alessandro's request to meet the Harlan Troupe leader, a quiet, muscular man named Malcolm. Malcolm was a decent fellow, and wanted to personally speak with Damien about his lighting preferences, lamp types, and controls. The Sullivan didn't own some of the lighting fixtures Malcolm wanted, and Damien volunteered to ask around at neighboring theaters. The five or so converted theaters in the Boroughs agreed to a loose consortium, where they would offer any special devices or equipment to one another with the understanding the such favors would be reciprocated. The smaller theatrical venues were in fierce competition with the large stages and corporate movie-plexus, so cooperation made sense.

Before he left, Damien had asked Mr. Alessandro about helping with a special floral delivery, since he knew a fabulous local florist named Trudy. "Who're are the flowers for?"

"Well, they are for a friend of a friend. Her name is Lily Corrigan in 85-2, I think? Anyway, she's become a Jane Doe and her parents are suspiciously advocating to remove her plug after a severe accident. I hate seeing her alone, and thought some flowers might make anyone who stopped by know someone's thinking about her. Go ahead and cut from my check ..."

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Damien. I'll take care of it. Maybe, you can pay for the delivery?"

"That's great, Mr. Alessandro. Thanks."

"Eh, forget 'bout it. Get yourself home."

Damien was about to make the walk to the bus stop, when he saw two text messages on this phone.

Jenny Darden
Hi Damien! Let me know if you need a ride back from work. Thanks for lunch!

Natalia Veselovsky
Damien, you should come to the Kitty Club. I'll give you a dance, free of charge. I'll even throw in a drink.

Damien stood frozen with the choice that laid before him. The two messages could not have been more varied in content, meaning, or have come from more different people. Damien felt as if he stood at the head of a literal fork-in-the-road. On the one hand, Jenny was kind and supportive, established and together. Natalia was moody, distant, damaged, and altogether on the path to self-destruction. Damien knew what he should do; the problem was that what he should do was different from what he wanted to do. After referencing a phone book for the address, Damien started to jog lightly toward the Kitty Club. He had cab fare, but thought it would wiser to save it in case he needed to make a hasty exit.

An hour later, Damien tried to catch his breath as the thumping bass beat into his chest from the dancing club. Luckily, the night was cool and he milled about the entrance drying off. Damien hadn't really considered why he was here, or what he expected to happen. When he considered it more astutely, he felt certain that nothing but pain waited for him inside this rancid establishment. Still, she called and he obeyed. The implication of his subjection to feelings for Natalia struck Damien as poignant. She called and I came. The door had a purple, neon aspect to it's shine. He honestly did not want to go in, but Natalia was inside, and she asked for him. He entered Natalia's world knowing he would not be the same when he left.
 
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Natalia had already danced once and wasn't scheduled to go back up for another half hour when Damien was catching his breath outside the club. However, one of the other girls fell while going up the stairs and twisted her ankle. It wasn't broken, but there was no way that she could perform. Hoping to avoid Evan's wrath at losing cash, she begged Natalia to take her place. The woman had, surprisingly, agreed. Why not? Damien hadn't shown up and she had nothing better to do after downing another shot of tequila. She was not completely wasted, but pleasantly warm and rather prone to giggles.

The inside of the club was dim, though not terribly hard to see in. Several plush red chairs were scattered around small tables, most filled with men and a few women who were drinking and waiting for the next dancer. A fully stocked bar sat off to the side with two bartenders, both male. There was one stage set toward the back, with a single shining pole in the center and a ring of red chairs around it. About half of the chairs were filled. For some reason, people didn't like sitting near the stage when it was empty. Self-conscious, probably. Off to the left was a small hallway, branching off to five different rooms that had locking doors.. just in case. To the right were a set of bathrooms.

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Natalia fixed herself up and ran her hands through her hair. Alright, might as well get on with it. She smiled to herself and strolled up the stairs as if she owned them, soon stepping out onto the stage. The lights made the silky robe that she wore seem to glow, but she didn't keep that on long. A few steps onto the stage and she dipped, slowly coming back up as her fingers untied the sash around the middle. Despite being inebriated, she was still in perfect control of her body, enabling her to slide the robe off with grace and allow it to fall off to the side. She curled her fingers around the pole and began to dance. Her routine was one that was different from the other girls. Sure, she was still provocative and had a lot of the same moves that all strippers used, but there were also some unique to her. For example, when she spun around the pole, she never let the heels of her shoes touch the floor. It was something that she did not even realize she did, but the result of so many years in pointe shoes instead. When she slid her hands down the pole, her leg would come up in a perfect line, creating an upright split. She was able to twist and bend with ease, though this time she kept away from the men sitting around the stage. No need to end up in one of their laps tonight, unless it was the one she was waiting for.

She smiled a bit at the thought, finishing her dance by sinking down into an easy split that had several of her loyal fans whistling with delight. A few waved bills at her but she ignored them, giving them passing winks instead as she got up and strolled off the stage to go over to the bar.
 
The Kitty Club had an aura Damien had experienced before. It was unusual, in a cerebral way, how most dance clubs, regardless of location, conform to similar standards of design, material, and feel. Luxuriant sexuality possessed a common currency across cultures, it seemed. Some officer staff meetings while stationed in East Germany and Eastern Europe took place in locations that could have been carbon copies of the Kitty Club. Despite the vague sense of familiarity, Damien did not feel any more comfortable than before he entered the establishment. He showed his identification, and the bouncer nodded when he noticed the military chevron insignia of a commissioned Air Force officer. A side window issued tape wrist-bands and a perky Hispanic woman gave Damien a green colored one, which he put on. Damien thought that places like this were ... darker ... for some reason. But, it made sense that the dancers (as well as the bar-staff) needed to be able to see clearly in order to avoid injury. No one was on stage at the moment, and Damien decided to scan the area for a place to park himself and hide. He had no idea what Natalia had planned - though, that wasn't true, for her message clearly stated a dancing session and a drink.

Damien wandered to one side and found the fully-stocked bar ready and willing. He took a position just to the side of the bar, in a darkened corner before the standing tables began. He leaned against the wall and waited. Then, Natalia strutted onto the stage like she fucking owned it. It was simultaneously disturbing and exhilarating to watch Natalia on that stage. Damien held a fundamentally offensive view of Natalia prostituting herself in this capacity. However, the more he watched her, the more he began to appreciate the pure artistic dimension she brought to her erotic expression. Damien tried to fight the tingling sensation in his stomach and groin area, but he found himself uncontrollably attracted to Natalia when she moved so gracefully. She was gifted in some higher form of dance, it seemed, and he was simply observing her in low gear.

The dance ended, and Damien was surprised at the length of his daydreaming, and watched enticed as the blonde goddess climbed from the stage. Damien watched the sight of Natalia's frizzed, blonde hair migrate with a confident swagger to the end of the bar. Damien tried to contain his private excitement at meeting Natalia in her home environment. Damien walked up to her, then slid his hand on her shoulder and in one motion leaned against the bar with an elbow.

"Hi! Natalia ..." It was not hard for Damien to generate an enthused energy after watching Natalia's artistry. "Got your message ... obviously." He smiled and eagerly watching for her reaction.
 
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"Wow. I really didn't think you'd show up," Natalia said, surprised but pleased. She leaned back in her chair and gave him a smile, one hand toying with a martini glass. At this point she didn't even care what she was drinking. It fascinated her that Damien had actually come here. The text had been a whim and he hadn't responded to it that she had noticed. Whatever his reasoning, she was glad to see him. Her inner turmoil was put on the back burner and she gave him a genuine smile before taking a sip of her drink. He seemed.. happy. Excited. It reminded her of the smile he had given her the night before, when they were speaking easily instead of tiptoeing around each other. She missed it.

"I promised you a drink. Order anything you want," she invited, gesturing to the waiting bartender who would simply put whatever Damien ordered on Natalia's tab. After a moment, she tilted her head and trailed her fingers over his hand that was resting on the bar. "You know, you really should smile like that more. It's enough to drive any girl crazy."
 
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There was an erotic excitement bubbling in Damien's stomach just then. Watching Natalia perform was but an appetizer, and he was now hovering near the main course. The proximity made him unusually lustful, and he tried his best to contain his desire. He managed a very upbeat, non-emo persona when speaking with Natalia. Damien remained reserved and stern - simply more motivated and engaged. The pulsing of Damien's heart was affecting his breathing, which affected his speech pattern. Thus, Damien tried his best to carry on with a crooked smile, and embarrassing himself by talking like an idiot. Land sakes, ... Fuck, he thought -there was no way he'd let his Western accent get the best of him.

Damien heard Natalia offer him a drink, then felt her hand on his. "Alright, that's right kind of you ..." Shit. Stop it! Damien immediately turned to face the bar and assess his options. but more so to separate himself from the source of his linguistic degradation. Her touch was unearthly and magnetic. Hugging ... Damien, tried to recall his neighbor with brown hair - yes, Jenny - was simply calming and mildly arousing. Comparatively speaking, if embracing Jenny was like hovering over a gully, Natalia's touch was more like sailing over the Grand Canyon. The hundreds of liquor bottles all blurred together, and the labels might as well have been printed in gibberish; Damien was incapable of deciphering anything that required the right side of his brain. The bartender arrived and lifted his eyebrows expectantly. Damien went to his favorite fall-back liquor. All-American and ubiquitous. "Bourbon - neat, please," Damien ordered, thankful he still commanded the power of at least basic speech.

When his heart-rate returned to near normal, he turned to Natalia and gave her a boyish grin. "I don't think I've ever driven a girl crazy before." The thunk of a stout, glass shot glass came from behind Damien, followed by the swilling of caramel-colored liquid. "Thank ya, kindly." Fuck. He chuckled lightly to himself with that boyish grin again.

"Cheers?"
 
Natalia stared at Damien. A couple of things were blatantly obvious. The first was that something was getting to him, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the something in question was herself. He avoided looking at her for a little while, but not in a disgusted manner. It was a nervous manner. She could feel his erratic pulse through her touch on his hand, the tips of her fingers resting on his wrist. It was easy to feel his excitement, taking in the slight flush of his cheeks. Was he aroused? Oh, fucking hell, she hoped so. The more she looked at him, the more she wanted to just lay him down on the bar and make him moan.

She tried to focus on other things, but then he started talking.

Oh god. It was a well-known fact that ninety-nine percent of the female population has a 'thing' for accents. As far as Natalia had observed, this odd turn-on was damn near universal. It didn't matter that she had an accent of her own compared to everybody around them. Damien's was not only charming and adorable, it was also extremely appealing. She found that it was much better to listen to than his smooth voice before. His grin caused one of her own and she tilted her head, watching him intensely.

"Cheers," she agreed, gently clinking her glass against his before draining her martini and standing up. She grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the bar and then slid her free hand into his, guiding him across the club and over to the private rooms. "I believe I promised you a dance as well.."
 
Damien couldn't think straight. His hand lifted from the bar surface, as if by an angel, and guided him across the room with a confident ease. The ambient light became dimmer as they entered the hallway. Damien walked past tables and loveseats, which is where he'd preferred to be at the moment. A splash of clarity sobered his erotic high, and the hand Natalia led reached up and gently grabbed her wrist. He pulled back, and Damien moved his body carefully to press Natalia against the wall of the hallway. The hallway lights rendered a pale blue hue that made Natalia's eyes electric. Damien's hand was behind Natalia, and his body pressed gently against hers into the wall. Her breasts pushed up slightly, and Damien leaned down to her side. His nose ran across her jawline, and his mouth near her ear.

He whispered with slow, erotic force. "I didn't come here for a dance ... I came here for you." His lips grazed her ear lobe. "Why did you ask me here."
 
Natalia was about to lead him into an empty room when his hold changed. She fell back a step in surprise and turned to face him, just in time to get pressed up against the wall. What..? She blinked and looked up at him, feeling his warm hand against her bare back, keeping her heated skin from the unpleasant contact of the cool wall. His other hand didn't leave her wrist, but instead of feeling restrained, she felt comfortable. She closed her eyes, a shiver racing down her spine as he whispered to her. That was it. Her insides were officially melting. If this were some sort of children's movie, she would have fainted right then. Cue the swooning. Thankfully it was not a children's movie, and she was in control.

Somewhat.

"Because I wanted you here," she murmured, turning her head to force his gaze to meet hers as she opened her eyes. "With me," she added quietly, before pressing her lips against his in a kiss that was both affectionate and incredibly needy. All she could manage to think was 'finally!'.
 
Electric shocks surged through Damien's body when Natalia's lips pressed against his. He grew faint for a moment, but the adrenaline kept him mobile and alert enough to not collapse. He could feel the need in her mouth, and he returned his desire with equal measure. For too long, Damien has been a creature of giving, of sacrifice and suffering. He was here now, because he wanted to be; he was locking lips with a woman that genuinely moved him in way no other woman could. Damien slid his arm across the back of Natalia's shoulders, keeping his other hand on her lower back; he knew the wall would chill her, and didn't want anything disturbing their moment. His mouth no longer kissed lustfully, but passionately. Damien spoke of his intense desire for Natalia with wordless motions as his tongue glided loving across hers.

After nearly ten minutes, Damien's lips shifted and he kissed her cheek, then her cheekbone, and her ear.

"We can go back if you want, but I don't want a dance."

Again, with that damn sexy whisper.

"I want you to do whatever you want."
 
The euphoric high that Natalia felt while kissing Damien was enough to rival any drug she had ever swallowed or injected into her body. There was no surge of pain or burning that so often accompanied a needle, and instead of feeling a crashing downer at the end of it, she was left breathless. Her eyes were a sparkling silver compared to their usual dull grey, her pale cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink as she struggled to catch her breath. She could feel her heart beating even faster than his had been at the bar. It was as if she had just done a hundred jumping jacks in the middle of the summer, instead of simply kissing him for ten minutes. That was, she quickly decided, the best kiss she had ever experienced.

She took his hand and led him back to the main part of the club, releasing his hand once they were out of the hallway.

"Stay right here. Don't move," she said, giving him an excited smile before quickly going backstage. Whatever she wanted? Well, she didn't want to do anything here. As eager as she was to strip him naked in that hallway, she knew she'd end up regretting it later. Anything that happened in this hellhole was terrible. She was going to take him home. His or hers, it didn't matter. She fully intended to fuck his sexy little brains out, then cook him dinner. It seemed like a flawless plan.

"Evan, I'm leaving early," she called to her boss as he walked by. She was just tugging her jacket on, having finished getting dressed as fast as she could. He paused and scowled, turning to her.

"Excuse fucking me? You are not leaving early! Between you taking off early after Lily quit and your little stunt last night when I had to send your stupid ass home, there is no way you're robbing me of hours tonight!" he snapped, his pudgy face turning an ugly shade of purple.

"She didn't quit, you fucking prick," Natalia hissed, glaring at him. "She was hit by a car!"

"Either way, I'm short a dancer, and that means I'm losing cash! You walk out of here and you won't have a job to come back to tomorrow night!" he threatened.

"Fine!" she snapped back at him, fed up and still tipsy. "I quit!"

Evan growled in frustration and backhanded her across the face, making her stumble back a few steps while he stomped off, fuming about unreliable whores. She rubbed her jaw gently, glancing in the mirror to see her cheek was already a rosy red. Shit. That was kind of obvious. But.. at least she could hide it until it started to bruise. She quickly rummaged around in her bag, pulling out her make-up and adding a fresh covering to make her look well done up and all the same shade. Perfect. She gathered up her things and went back out to the main room, approaching Damien with a smile.

"Come on, let's go."
 
Damien felt like he was floating on air when Natalia returned. Her delicious lips broke into a smile that was bright and eager. Framed by her blonde hair, she radiated excited joy as powerfully as a supernova does light. He willingly took her hand, and let Natalia lead him wherever she desired. It was akin to her original beckoning - she called, and I answered. Natalia was almost frail in comparison to Damien, yet she enjoyed unbridled control over his every move. He let her lead him, he wanted her to take him in every possible way.

The air outside was crisp and fresh, and Damien thought it liberating to be outside and away from the sweaty, recycled air of the Club. Damien walked with Natalia, almost fiercely, away from the club. There was purpose in Damien's strides that consisted of more than the simple desire to sate his desire for Natalia. He wanted to leave the Kitty Club utterly, to repudiate its hold upon the woman he loved, the woman who needed him. Once down the block, he led Natalia against a wall. He needed to taste her once again, and ravaged her with his lips and hands, wanting to fuck her hard.

When their lips separated, Damien gasped. "Your place ...," panting, producing a wad of bills from his pocket, smiling. "I've got the cab fare."
 
Natalia curled her fingers through Damien's, enjoying the simple contact as they left the club without any obstacle in their way. The temperature difference made her tense up a bit at first, but then she relaxed. Despite being in a big city, it felt more fresh out here. She smiled and walked along with him, for now not bothering to ask if they were going to her place or his. It didn't matter. She only cared that she was with him. His pace indicated that he had an idea in mind, but she still wasn't expecting to be pushed up against a wall in a shadow cast by a set of tall stairs. It didn't take long before she was moaning against his lips, though she did try to restrain herself somewhat.

"Okay," she breathed in agreement, grabbing his hand and hauling him back to the other side of the sidewalk. That was one of the many perks of New York City - there was always a cab around when you needed one. She flagged one down and opened the back door, sliding in and rattling off the bakery's address for the driver. Her patience lasted all of two seconds once Damien was in the backseat with her. She managed to wait until he had closed the door, then she quickly scooted over to straddle his lap and press her lips back against his. Screw waiting. This was going to be one hell of a ride.
 
Damien had hardly closed the cab door when he felt Natalia's stockinged leg slide over his. She straddled him firmly, and their pelvises ground against one another as their lips locked passionately. Natalia was a sexual furnace, stoked hot, and Damien could not get close enough to her heat. Their mutual arousal made Damien's head swim, and the centripetal sensations when the cab took hard turns only added to the sex-induced vertigo.

Natalia's wove her fingers through Damien's hair, and Damien's hands explored beneath her coat. They began on her chest, then migrated to her back. His strong fingers kneaded her muscles, then began to tug at her skimpy garment, preluding their passion to come. Damien wanted to lay Natalia down in that cab and spread her legs, but knew a greater stage would soon arrive.

The cab stopped in front of the darkened bakery. Natalia could feel Damien's swollen erection beneath her, and he cupped her cheeks, whispering with what little breath he had. "Take me upstairs ... I want to make you mine."
 
By the time they stopped at the bakery, Natalia had managed to tug Damien's shirt off and was tempted to start shedding clothing herself. Instead, she slid her fingers into his pocket and tugged out a couple bills at random, tossing them over the seat to the grumpy cabbie before dragging Damien out of the car. She took his hand, tugging him across the sidewalk with a giggle. Almost.. there. She turned once they were in the alley, pinning him up against the wall and cupping the back of his head to pull his lips back against hers. He was just so delicious. Bourbon mixed with something sweet that she couldn't quite identify. She pulled away after a few minutes, pulling her keys out of her purse.

"Come on," she laughed, unlocking the outer door and running up the dark stairs. She fumbled with the keys a bit, finally managing to get the second door unlocked. As soon as she was inside, she dropped her keys, bag and jacket on the floor and turned to him with a lustful smile.

"I'm all yours, honey."
 
Natalia looked so perfect standing in her living room. Damien walked smoothly to her and removed her bra and panties, delivering loving kisses and tender grasps. Her pale skin shone milky like moonlight, and her aroused breasts bade Damien to claim Natalia for his own. Damien could have taken her on that leather couch, but he remembered the lump, and remembered the Kossack picture.

Damien took Natalia's hand and led her to the bedroom. Being naked and sexually euphoric amidst such grandiosity induced Damien into a near dream state. He laid Natalia down, but stood at the edge. Damien gently grasped one of Natalia's legs and began kissing her foot.

"I need you, Natalia."

... then, ankle.

"It's like I said before."

... then, calf.

"I want you to do whatever you want."
 
When Natalia woke up late the next morning, she felt as though she had been run over by a truck. However, instead of the ache making her grouchy, she could only smile. Three hours. Three blissful hours of pleasure. She had not expected him to be quite so good, but by the end of it, he had made her pass out. Not that she was complaining. They were both naked as could be in her bed, and she had both her arms and legs tangled around him like some sort of puzzle. Oh, what a wonderful problem to have.

For a few minutes she wondered if she had made a mistake. Last night had been incredible, and she knew she was going to want him again. But pursuing any real sort of relationship was unwise. She didn't know what to do. He was.. amazing. Succeeding where she failed. Sure, his life wasn't perfect, but at least he wasn't some sort of crack addict who got naked every night. Then again.. now she wasn't either. She blinked, remembering that she had quit her job. Fuck. How was she going to afford anything now..? She was already broke! Sighing, she brooded on that for a few moments, but her mood could not be dampened for too long when she had a sexy piece of ass wrapped up in her arms.

"Good morning," she murmured, kissing his cheek a few times to wake him.
 
The sun filtered in through paned glass and velvet curtains. The morning sunlight enlivened the already opulent bedroom and ignited the latent colors on the walls and fabric with a rich regality. Damien opened his eyes slowly, still convinced he was dreaming, and felt Natalia's hands feel their way across Damien's chest and sides. They were both naked, and though spent, the passionate memory of the previous night made Damien hard. He rolled to his side and swum his hands over Natalia's perfect body and wild hair. Damien was rough with her last night; not abusive, but very physically intense. He thought Natalia was a tough woman, and she more than proved it last night.

Damien kissed Natalia's exquisite face, again and again. His lips brushed across her cheek, until ...

Damien's face grew dark and concerned. He raised himself from the covers, though his hand still loosely grasped Natalia's neck and jaw.

"What the ..."

A rush of self-hatred poured into Damien's stomach. Did he do that to Natalia? He didn't think so, their love-making might have been contortive, but there was no abuse.

"Talia," Damien began, unsteadily, "do you know there's a bruise on yer jaw?
 
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