Work Text:
It was freezing on the strip today; even with the hustle and bustle of tourists to her left and right, Pomni was shaking under her long, fur coat.
Ragatha had given it to her as a welcome gift; Pomni hadn’t really thought it was her style, at first. It was a little too luxurious for her tastes, but it really did provide a lot of warmth. And it was made of beautiful, real snow white fur– she had made it herself, just like nearly all of the clothes Pomni wore around the workplace.
The new job was… Growing increasingly interesting by the day. Ever since she’d given up waitressing to become a dancer, work had become much more tolerable. People greeted her when she entered, she got drinks on the house, and her uniform was way more comfortable– if you’d call nearly fully naked ‘more comfortable’. She was making way more money than she had been as a server, too. She even got to take home some cash tips most days; while she was repaying a debt, she still enjoyed having a little bit of spending money.
She had been sent out to pick up some makeup Ragatha had been requesting for tonights’ performance, and the receipt crumpled up in her pocket had a price on it that made Pomni’s head spin. No wonder she’d had to walk all the way across town; they had true high quality standards at this place. Not that Caine couldn’t afford it; he was probably one of the richest men on the whole damn strip, even if people didn’t realize quite why.
She takes the trek down the long, damp alley that leads to the backstage door; it was less frightening to walk during the day, she had discovered. She swings it open, scampers out of the cold and wipes the soles of her platform heels on the welcome mat. She had to practice walking in the stupid things, and what better way to practice than trekking sixteen blocks across the city?
She hangs the fur coat up gingerly, lets her hair loose from her old, bedraggled beanie. It was one of the only pieces of clothing she’d kept from her old life. Now, everything felt like glitz and glamor, what with Ragatha’s constant influx of new outfits for her to wear and the get-up that Caine would pass along the line for social events. Her small dormitory closet would overflow, at this rate.
But that was part of adjusting to this lifestyle; new job, new you.
She makes her way back to the dressing room, weaving around dancers preparing to go on stage or bustling their way off, makeup smeared with sweat and… Other things.
Pomni had only just started to really get into floorwork, as she had spent most of her first few weeks on-stage or with another dancer at her side. But now that her training was coming to a close, she was going to have to interact with customers solo, and the thought intimidated her a bit. There were all sorts of weirdos that came through this place– it’s why most of the dancers carried actual weapons on them. Just in case someone decided to act up a little too much.
Luckily, she’d had a little bit of practice with ‘servicing’. It’s not that she didn’t have a general idea , she was just nervous she wouldn’t be any good at it. But if her practice partner’s flushed face had been any indicator, she was a little bit more of a natural than she thought. And that was saying a lot, considering Jax had been the one to extend a helping hand.
He wasn’t necessarily unkind, but he certainly had the confidence and brashness of a man who had seen a lot of dancers work at this place; he would tell her to her face if she wasn’t any good. But he hadn’t. In fact, he had been looking at her like he wanted to eat her up. It made her feel hot just thinking about it. He was tall, confident, and knew how to make a mean margarita; how could she not want to fuck him?
“Welcome back, Pomni!” Gangle greets her from her seat at her vanity when she enters through the dressing room doorway. She’s tied up in her corset already, waving at her eyes with her hands like she was waiting on her lash glue to dry.
Pomni gives a small wave back, making her way past to deliver Ragatha her wares. She had seemed pretty frantic about having it; apparently tonight was some kind of “glow themed” night, and she needed the best glow-in-the-dark paint money could buy. It seemed a little silly, but apparently event nights like these brought in lots of patrons; all of them piss-drunk and ready to throw exuberant amounts of money at the dancers. Pomni still hadn’t quite grown numb to seeing people throw their lives away in here, but at the end of the day she had a debt to pay.
“Hey, Ragatha, I’ve got your stuff,” Pomni calls. Ragatha appears from behind a giant rack of clothing immediately, smiling when Pomni holds the bag out to her. She’s quick to snatch it from her, rummaging around to check that everything on her list had been fulfilled. She smiles, and Pomni takes that as a sign that she had completed her mission as she had been asked.
“Thanks, Pom! I would’ve gone myself, but there was too much to do around here for tonight,” she says, heels clicking across the tile floor back to her own vanity mirror. It was the most well-decorated, well-loved dresser in the room; Pomni hadn’t asked how long Ragatha had been at the Copper Spice Cabaret, but she had to assume it had been longer than most of the other folks here.
“Oh, um…” Gangle says, “Pomni. I think Jax was looking for you.”
Pomni’s heart does a little leap in her chest. She had been waiting to see him since the last time she’d practiced with him. By the time she had been seated fully in his lap with her hands on his shoulders, she’d realized that she wanted him. It had hit her out of almost nowhere, admittedly; she had just been dancing on him, trying to listen to the brief, breathless tips he would give from time-to-time. But instead, she’d been hit over the head with the realization that she wanted to ride him until her legs went out. It didn’t help that when she ground down on him for the first time, he had been hot and hard under his dress pants. She almost regretted giving him the command not to touch her; maybe she could have gotten him to break and fuck her over the table.
“Oh, okay. I… I’ll go check in with him after I’m dressed.”
She pulls on her garb for the show tonight; that signature bunny costume that Ragatha had presented her with back on her very first day. It felt fitting, in a way, since she was officially a fully-vetted dancer. Ragatha comes by to do her makeup, with the fun addition of some blacklight-activated paint for the stage. She turns off the lights and places a handheld blacklight up to her, and Pomni has to admit, it does look pretty great. It all disappears when she snaps the light back off, and Pomni is face-to-face with her normal self again. Or, new normal.
“You’re tenth on the setlist, so you’ve got some time to kill,” Ragatha informs her, “Just don’t be late to your cue.”
Pomni gives her a nod and stands, steadying herself on her stilettos. With one last glance in the mirror, she huffs out a breath and starts looking for Jax.
It doesn’t take long to find him– if he’s not up at the bar, he’s typically back in the lounge. He’s nursing a drink in his hand, assumedly he’s going to be on the clock fairly soon. He’s lounged back in his chair with a leg kicked up on the table, a lit cigarette burning in the ashtray next to his foot. God, he’s fucking hot. Why hadn’t she noticed before she had been half-naked in his lap? She had worked as a waitress for a couple months, and for the most part he was just another bartender that would chat her up. It had been his idea for her to audition as a dancer, and she hadn’t really thought much of it then.
He spots her before she reaches him, flashing her a lazy smile.
“Hey, short-stuff. Heard you’ve been runnin’ around the city today.” She rolls her eyes, but sits in the chair across from him, regardless. “It’s your first night hittin’ the floor by yourself. Nervous?”
Pomni shrugs. “Not really. Though, I wish I’d gotten more practice.”
Jax quirks a brow at that, taking a sip of his drink. He holds it out to her in offering, and she accepts; the bitter taste makes her shiver. Of course he’d be an old-fashioned kind of guy.
“Yeah, well, I think you’ll be just fine,” he says, swirling the dark liquid in his cup, “Besides, you’re one of the hottest girls in the room. Hard to mess up too much when you’ve got such a pretty face.”
Pomni almost topples right out of her chair.
“Don’t take it too personal,” he mutters, “I’ve just seen a lotta dancers come and go here. You’re one of the better newbies I’ve seen.”
She doesn’t miss the dusting of violet on his cheeks– figures he’d try to play coy.
“Well, thanks, I guess.” Pomni smiles, reaching out a hand to place it on his knee.
Jax’s eyes dart from her to her hand, then back up to look at her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was a little flustered.
“And thanks for letting me practice with you,” she flutters her lashes like she had been rehearsing to do with patrons, “I’ve got some time before I go on. Care to help me out one more time?”
She had never been much of the seductress type before this; not that she didn’t want to be, but the opportunity to do so hadn’t really come up much in her life. She’d spent a lot of her time working, caught up in her own thoughts and projects. It was kind of fun to give it a try, and if Jax’s tightened grip around his glass was any indication, she was getting pretty damn good at it.
He leans forward, hot breath ghosting on her ear.
“Meet me in the back-of-house lounge. Count to thirty and take the back route; ain’t about to get in trouble because you’re tryin’ to ‘practice’ during work hours.”
He stands, readjusting the cuffs of his button-up. He places the crystalline glass back on the table, snuffing out the cigarette still glowing in the ashtray. He gives her a wink, walking off toward the aforementioned lounge. It was the least used of the private lounges; no one would walk in on them there. Caine doesn’t seem to mind staff having a little extra-curricular fun, but Ragatha would kill her if she found out she had snuck off while her set was coming up. She was a kind woman, but a strict show director. She had a job to do, too, after all.
Pomni counts to thirty in her head, palms sweating against the black leather seat. Holy shit, this was happening. She’s shaky on her feet like a baby deer when she finally stands, following his instructions and taking the long way around behind the bar. She’s looking over her shoulder despite herself, keeping her eyes out for that familiar red hair. Pomni just started this job, she couldn’t afford to go back to waitressing again; she’d be stuck here forever.
And yet… She was willing to risk it all to fuck some bartender. She had never excelled in self-preservation, anyway.
When she reaches the VIP lounge, she slips in, shutting the door quietly behind her and turning the lock. The rooms are small and dimly-lit; the dimmers really only light up so much, so even on full blast it still looks like a damn dungeon in there. A tea light burns and flickers on the single table in the room, casting dancing shadows against the opposite wall. One, singular armchair chair sits behind it, large and plush. Jax is already seated, tapping his fingers impatiently on the armrest. He’s already loosened his necktie, leaving it loosely dangling around his neck. It was fairly obvious that he knew why she had asked him to come here– she hadn’t been subtle by any means, to be fair. A red, fluorescent light shines in the corner of the room; one of Caine’s cameras. It made her feel a little gross, knowing he could see them here. Not that he hadn’t already seen her naked, anyway.
“Ya made it,” Jax snarks, “Thougt’cha might get lost on the way.”
“And disappoint my client? I’m nothing if not professional, sir.”
He laughs, seemingly charmed by her response. He pats the table in front of him, as if inviting her to take a seat. She does so, placing herself on the sturdy hardwood piece on her knees. She stretches her arms up over her head, adjusting her posture to thrust her bust out further. The first time she had done this, Ragatha had practically tried to bend her like a pretzel; her limbs were sore for a week after, but the importance of body awareness wasn’t lost on her. Having a strong, commanding figure was crucial in this line of work, and Pomni had worked hard to show off everything she had to offer.
“Can I offer you a dance, sir? I’ll give you this one for free.” Pomni tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, stares at him with half-lidded eyes that show off the copious amounts of red and blue glitter Ragatha had pat onto her eyelids. He’s staring with his mouth slightly agape, running his eyes down her body like he’s examining a piece of art. He licks his lips, centers his gaze back on her eyes with a crooked smirk.
“Mm, must be my lucky day.” He uncrosses his legs, relaxes his posture until his knees touch the end of the table. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, plucking one from the carton and slipping it between his lips. He lights it up, inhales deeply before puffing out a thick plume of smoke. “Go on, sugar. Show me what you’ve got.”
Pomni smiles, feels a blush heat up her cheeks. She likes when he calls her that, she decides. Or maybe she just likes when he compliments her. As much of an abrasive, smug bastard as he can be, something about hearing those sweet words from him made her heart speed up. Maybe it made her feel special, or maybe she just liked knowing she was doing a good job. Whatever the case, it emboldens her to lean back a little further, looking down at him from under her lashes.
As if on cue, a sensual, jazzy number plays softly through the speakers around the room. Perhaps one of the surveillance people had been watching, or maybe Jax had started up the music with the remote when she wasn’t looking. Regardless, she sways her hips, gives him a smoldering gaze that had most clients fishing out their wallets from the get-go. His grin widens, taking another drag of his cigarette.
The woman works her own hands across her body, trailing from the fragile skin of her neck down her ribs, squeezing at the plush skin of her own thighs. As new as Pomni was to this form of performance, her body seemed to move of its own volition, swinging her hips like it was an automatic response. Her hands work back up her body, keeping her eyes trained on his. She grips for her own breasts, only clothed by a thin, sleek piece of fabric; she lets out a saccharine little moan, tossing her head back and feeling her own hair tickle the cut-out in the garment on her back. Jax gives a smug whistle, mimicking tossing a few bills at her. She giggles, leisurely reaching her hands behind her. It only takes her a moment to undo the snaps on the back of her brassiere; she hears Jax’s breath catch in his throat, and she pauses, holding up the loose garment to her chest.
“Something you’d like from me, sir?”
“Little brat ,” he says without venom, sharp teeth glinting in the candlelight, “Is this how you talk to your paying customers, huh?”
She gives him a pout, sticking her lip out for dramatic effect. She lets part of the fabric fall through her fingers, revealing just a little more of her chest for him. “You’re not a paying customer, though, sir.”
He ponders the thought, ashing his cigarette onto the hardwood floor below him. “Fair enough. Well, then,” he leans in a little closer, close enough that she smells the cigarette smoke on his breath, “Lose the top, sweetcheeks.”
Pomni’s cheeks flare, heat pooling low in her gut. He’s looking at her hungrily, and it’s enough for her to cast the brassiere to the side, leaving her in only her heels and panties. She exhales shakily, watches the way his leg starts bouncing in anticipation. She gropes herself in her hands, leaning forward to put herself on display for him. Jax hasn’t reached out to touch her yet; she needed to fix that. She knew she had told him he couldn’t touch her before, but this time she was admittedly craving much, much more contact.
“You seem tense, sir. Anything I can do to help?” She feigns a concerned expression, crawling forward toward him on all fours. Her demeanor is clear, rocking her hips while she stares up at him. She reaches forward, one hand caressing her breast while the other reaches out to lay on his shoulder. She feels his shoulders tense under her hand, like he’s holding back with every fiber of his strength.
“Ya’know,” he husks out, “Rags is gonna kill us if she finds out you’re ‘practicing’ in the private lounge.”
Pomni smirks, stands up on her knees to look down at his dark, lustful eyes. He’s a moment from snapping, she can feel it. All he needs is a little push.
“So?” she puts on her most syrupy voice, “You can touch me this time, bunny boy–”
He grabs her by the waist with his free hand, dragging her to straddle his hips. He’s gripping her hard, and his hold isn’t the only thing that’s hard.
“Say less, buttercup!”
He inhales a long drag of his cigarette, snubs it out on the leather armrest– Caine was gonna be pissed about that if he caught it on camera, but Jax really doesn’t seem to care– before flicking the leftover filter away. He caresses the back of her head, smiling as he pulls her in to kiss her, connecting their lips.
Pomni feels like she’s going to explode. His lips are soft, sweet with the taste of whiskey. He tugs on her hair and she groans, lips opening against him; he takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke into her mouth, twining his tongue with hers in a kiss that steals her breath away. The acrid, dark smoke fills her lungs, the nicotine rush leaving her head spinning.
When they pull away, she breathes the smoke back out, watching the plumes dance between the two of them as they dissipate into the air. Jax blinks at her, and she blinks back.
The distance closes between them quicker than she can keep track of, lips, teeth, and tongue clashing in a desperate flurry. It had been a long time since she’d kissed somebody like this– even longer since it was someone she had actually felt this carnally needy for. His hands move to squeeze her ass and she groans into his mouth, nearly choking on his tongue when he pushes it deep into her throat. She hadn’t realized just how long his tongue was until she was nearly gagging on it, drool dripping down her chin.
She hoped to God she hadn’t ruined Ragatha’s makeup; it would be a dead giveaway if she hopped on stage to perform with her lipstick smeared all over her face.
Pomni’s hands scramble for the buttons of his shirt, unfastens as many as she can reach with shaking fingers. She touches along the exposed area of his chest, shocked by the amount of muscle she finds there. He was ripped. It was crazy how much a button-up and suit jacket could pad out the figure. Her hips grind down against him, feeling his dick against her thigh. Fuck, he was big, too. She’d hit the jackpot with this one, and she hadn’t even been trying before tonight. The thought was thrilling; this new her really knew how to get it.
Jax pulls away from her and she gasps in a breath; he’s panting, too, eyes half-lidded and wild with desire. He’s looking down at her like a piece of meat he was about to devour, and Pomni could feel the slick pooling on her inner-thighs. Christ, she hadn’t done this in awhile. He lifts her off of his lap, settling her knees on the arms of the luxurious leather chair. Pomni looks down at him and he grins back up at her, resting his forehead on her collarbone.
“Y’know, last time you came to me for a practice sesh, I was thinkin’ about this the whole time,” he admits, hands running lazily up and down the back of her thighs. “First time I saw you dance, I wanted to rush you off-stage and fuck you. Wanted to make you scream so loud everyone could hear ya.”
She moans when he grabs her, pulling her closer to him. “Y’looked so pretty I had to take a bite. As a matter of fact…”
He does just as he says, biting down hard on the soft swell of her breast. It sends little sparks through her veins, hips bucking for some kind of solid contact. His hands scrabble for purchase, one hand gripping her ass while the other supports the small of her back. She feels locked in place, tense with the thrill of having his mouth somewhere so sensitive.
He unlatches his teeth, licking and kissing tenderly over the spot; Pomni whimpers out the most pathetic little noise, and he chuckles.
“That’s gonna leave a mark. Better get some good makeup, doll.”
She tries to quip back a response, but before she can he’s kissing his way down her chest, licking a hot stripe on her nipple. She whines when he starts to suck, giving a little nip that makes her jump in his hold. She’s so hot, everything feels so hot. She felt like she was running a damn fever, feeling the scorching arousal left behind by Jax’s tongue on her.
“Fuck,” she gasps, “Slow down–”
He interrupts her with another bite, right along the bottom of her breast. Pomni keens, feeling her legs go weak. Jax’s hands keep her from collapsing, gripping harder when he sucks a bruise into her skin. She was going to need so much makeup to cover this up; maybe it would be a worthwhile investment, assuming this was going to happen again.
“Sorry, babe, we got jobs to do,” he teases, releasing her hip to reach down in his lap and unzip his fly, “Besides, I don’t wanna wait anymore. I’ve been waitin’ since you first walked your pretty ass in here to do this.”
She can’t tear her eyes away from his exposed boxers– she knew exactly what was waiting for her and knowing Jax was impatient made her impatient, too.
He manhandles her back onto his lap, sitting her down on his thighs.
“Take it out,” he orders, “Wanna feel your hands on me.”
Pomni obliges like she’s been possessed, hands flying to free him from the confines of his pants. He’s hot and hard, throbbing when she finally feels his bare flesh under his clothes. She pulls out his cock and swears she’s not drooling; she has the impulse to drop right to her knees and take him down her throat. She knows she doesn’t have the time, but she catalogs the thought for later, when she can take her time mapping out every inch of him. Instead, she gives him a few determined strokes– precum beads at the head of his dick, and Pomni takes the opportunity to taste him, swiping it up with her thumb and pressing it to her tongue.
“Fucking hell,” he growls, cock twitching against his stomach. “You’re so hot.”
She smiles, gives him a wink like he loves to do to rile her up. His eyes are feral, like he really might try to rip her throat out. It makes arousal race through her, pooling in her core.
“Fuck me,” she says, hoping she sounds more sultry than needy.
She could have sounded any way in the world and he probably still would have frantically tried to remove her underwear, getting them caught on her heels. She shimmies them off and onto the floor, leaving it discarded with her top. She moves to unstrap her heels, but Jax grips her wrist to interrupt her.
“Leave ‘em on,” he demands, “I like it. Makes you look a little dangerous.”
She’s not sure why that turns her on so much, but she won’t question it. Not when Jax is readjusting her in his lap so that she’s perfectly aligned to take him in. The head of his dick kisses her entrance, and Jax’s hands tremble.
“You’re fuckin’ soaked down here,” he groans, “Gonna ruin that outfit of yours before you can even step on stage.”
“I don’t care,” she says bluntly, “They can make a new one.”
Jax cackles, grinding up against her so he brushes her clit on each little thrust. “What a diva. You’re adjustin’ to this way better than I thought you would.”
Pomni laughs too, leans forward to kiss at his neck. She’s rocking in time with him, trying to match his movements; she’s dripping all over his stupid suit pants, and she can’t even find it in herself to care about it.
She feels him halt his hips, gripping at her hips to push into her. The stretch is agonizingly wonderful, splitting her open in the best way possible. He has his head thrown back against the backrest of the chair, eyes pinched shut like he was trying not to blow his load right then and there. It’s cute how eager he is. It makes her feel just the tiniest bit less self-conscious knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“I don’t have all day, sir,” she smiles cheekily, rocks her hips so that she sinks down onto him just a little more. He opens his eyes, a smirk growing on his face.
“You’re cute when you try to tease, Pom.”
He slams her down on his length all at once and she cries out, arching her back entirely against her will. It feels so good, it sends her head spinning. She knew he would feel amazing but this was so much more than she had expected; she couldn’t remember a time she’d felt this full.
“Too bad it all comes crumblin’ down the second you’ve got a dick in you.” He smiles slyly, lifts her up by her hips before forcing her back down, ripping another scream from her throat. “I know your type, sweetheart. You’re all confident when you need to be, but I know you’re a needy little thing deep down.”
She feels exposed, panting and sweating on his lap. He can read her so easily, it almost unnerves her.
“Grab the back of the chair,” he says through gritted teeth, “And hold on tight.”
She obeys, gripping hard at the black leather of the armchair. Then he starts to move, and it’s like all of the thoughts in her head turn to gibberish. He starts up at a brutal pace, hands gripping her ass tight enough that his fingertips will probably leave a litany of little bruises. She likes the idea; she wanted to be marked by him so that every time she stepped on stage, people would see that someone owned her. It makes her legs tremble, nails digging into the plush leather couch.
“Ah, shit!--” Pomni is glad these walls are definitely soundproof; there really was no point in having private sex rooms if they didn’t offer customer privacy. She could scream her lungs out and no one else would hear it. She tries to match her hips to his thrusts, the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin drowning out the soft, jazzy ambiance. He’s so deep, she can feel him in her stomach; it made her feel woozy, hoping that he’d choose to fill her up when he came. It would be a bitch to clean up before going on stage, but she needed it.
They weren’t going to last long– it was par for the course with this sort of desire. As much as Pomni wanted to fuck him until the two of them were exhausted, she knew there wasn’t any room for round two. She was already so close herself, she was afraid her orgasm would sneak up on her any moment.
“Fuck, Pomni,” he pants, teeth bared in a feral snarl, “I’m–”
“Cum for me,” she moans, “Please, sir–”
He growls, biting down on her neck. He fucks up into her so hard she’s scared she might actually break, but then he stills, holding her down against his hips until warmth floods in her belly. It pushes her over with him, convulsing and shaking while he cums deep inside of her. This is exactly what she wanted; to be pressed against him, cumming hard under his hands. She hoped this wasn’t the only time he would indulge her like this– she had been given a taste, and it was going to be hard not to have him again.
He gives a few weak thrusts into her before stilling completely, releasing his teeth and once again soothing the wound with his tongue. She sighs thankfully, feeling the last of her orgasm bleed out of her before she collapses against him. They sit there for a long moment, both of them fighting to catch their breath. She can hear his heartbeat, thumping like he had just run for his life. She draws idle circles on his chest, enjoying the soft texture of his fur; it really was pleasant to the touch. All of him was pleasant to touch.
Pomni sits up, hands wrapped loosely around the man’s neck. Jax looks up at her like she’s an angel. She’s smitten.
“Hey,” he says lamely, smirking exhaustedly.
“Hey,” she echoes back, cracking a smile of her own.
He’s moving again, pulling out of her with a soft squelch. Christ, this was gonna suck to take care of before her performance. She looks down between them, blushing at the mess she made of his work trousers.
“Shit, I’m sorry–”
“Nah, don’t apologize,” he waves her off, tucking himself back in his pants. “S’worth it. I can run back to my room and change.”
She feels a little better knowing he won’t be walking around with post-sex pants on; not that it was necessarily out of place, but they had to have some semblance of professionalism around here. Says the woman who just fucked her coworker on the clock.
“Speakin’ of, you might wanna hurry that cute ass up.” Jax presses a chaste kiss to her lips, giving her hips a squeeze, “We’ve been back here for a minute. Don’t wanna miss your first solo set, doll.”
Pomni groans, but can’t deny that he’s right. She searches under the table for a clean-up kit– essential to every VIP room for obvious reasons– and finds one stocked to the brim with wet wipes and towels. Bingo.
She tries not to feel embarrassed about cleaning herself up in front of him, but if his wandering eyes are any indication he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. It probably gave him a sick sense of self-satisfaction; it kinda turned her on, if she was honest. Confidence really was key.
Once she’s sure her work is sufficient, she pulls the costume back on, being careful not to rip the panties on her heels when she gingerly works them back up her legs. Jax has her brassiere, and once again motions her to come closer. She does, clicking her way across the hardwood floor to turn around and let him help her re-dress. She hears the snaps pop back into place, and she runs a quick hand through her hair, careful not to knock the ears off. It was a miracle they hadn’t slid off during their escapade; Ragatha really was good at making sure their headgear stayed put.
He turns her back around to face him, standing up to his full height so he can lean down to kiss her goodbye. “I’m around anytime you need to ‘practice’, ‘kay?”
She feels herself blush despite herself. “Better be careful with that offer. I think I could use a lot more practice.”
He looks like he wants to kiss her again, but settles on playfully shooing her toward the door. Reluctantly, she pulls away, scampering her way out of the door to make her way toward the stage.
This job was shaping up to be interesting, indeed.