Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque) Read Online Free PDF

only drank carbonated beverages, period. Sometimes she even brushed her teeth with seltzer water. Another girl at the Blue Angel, Poppy, shared her affinity for bubbles. Poppy had gorgeous long legs, and Violet had hit on her one night, but apparently she was in a committed relationship with her hideous dyke girlfriend.
    He pulled out a bottle of Krug.
    “Cool,” he said. “I didn’t even know that was in there.”
    He poured her a glass.
    “Ready for the tour?” he said. Violet did want a tour—was dying to see the place. But she didn’t want to become any more impressed. She was losing too much power as it was. She gulped her Krug. It tasted amazing, and she wondered if it was very expensive.
    “Why don’t you just make yourself comfortable and point me to the bathroom?” she said.
    “The big one is upstairs, but come here for a sec. Check this out.”
    Reluctantly, Violet let him steer her to the back of the loftlike first floor to the home theater, complete with a DVD library of what seemed to be hundreds of films.
    “Holy shit,” she said. She loved movies. She used to collect DVDs but had realized it was a huge waste of money—so much more practical to collect sex toys. But this ... It was the most luxurious thing about the suite. More movies than she could sift through.
    “Very cool,” she said, pulling out a selection from the “classics” row. “They have The Blue Angel .”
    “Who’s in that?” Ryan said, pulling it away from her, no doubt wondering if it was something his agent should have gotten him a part in.
    “Marlene Dietrich,” she sniffed. “It’s the favorite film of the old lady who owns the Blue Angel. Her inspiration.”
    “This is really old,” he said.
    “I know. But it’s amazing. Really.” The film was German and from the 1930s, about a guy who falls in love with a beautiful cabaret performer named Lola Lola. He was a very rigid and in-control guy, but Lola Lola awakens this mad passion that ultimately destroys him. That was the thing about passion—it felt amazing but would kill you in the end.
    She thought about her own Lola Lola, and that was the last thing she wanted.
    “Where’s the bathroom?” she said.
    He looked up from the DVD, as if suddenly remembering that he had a woman in his suite who had promised him an alternative to the Slit. He tossed the film onto a chair.
    “You are insanely hot,” he said, moving closer to her with a smile. He slipped his hand under her top, running his thumb over her nipple. She didn’t feel especially turned on.
    I’m hooking up with Ryan Ellison , she told herself, trying to get some mental heat going.
    They locked eyes, then he kissed her mouth. He kissed like a college boy, overeager and a little sloppy. She pushed his face down to her breasts, and he kissed them over her shirt, cupping them hard and pushing against her so she felt his stiff cock against her waist.
    “The bathroom,” she repeated.
    “What?”
    “Where is the bathroom? The master one.”
    Time to get down to business. She already had an idea about what her “performance” would be. It was something she had been planning for next week at the Angel, and she couldn’t do it twice in the same week. But tonight was clearly a better use of the particular creative expression she had in mind. Besides, it was probably something that would make Agnes completely furious.
    “Upstairs.”
    She took his hand and led him up the steel and glass stairwell in the center of the floor. Turning to her left, she saw the Empire State Building glowing green and purple, the rest of the city splayed beneath it like a tableau created solely for her personal viewing pleasure. She was tempted to stop right there, to fuck Ryan Ellison in front of all of Manhattan. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that it always, always paid to delay gratification.
    But Ryan Ellison was clearly not with that program. His arm circled her waist, and he started unbuttoning her jeans.