The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy)

The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

Book: The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Nikki M. Pill
the door to the dressing room flew open, its light silhouetting Lisa’s body. She wore a white, mens’ shirt open over her black lingerie: a simple black lace demi-bra, panties, and garter belt with stockings. No amount of rhinestones would ever make my butt as pert and perfect as hers. “Grant!” she said. She trotted out the door, followed closely by Monica. “Just the man I’ve been looking for. Do you have a hair tie?”
    “Uh,” he said. “Just… only this one. You can have it, if you don’t mind I’ve been wearing it.”
    “Yes yes yes!” she exclaimed.
    He pulled it out of his hair, which spilled over his shoulders. It looked almost black in the half-light. A strand fell in front of his eyes, and I ached to brush it back.
    She took the rubber band. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “I’m a little bit in love with you right now.”
    He sputtered a laugh and looked at his shoes. I knew he’d turned a deep scarlet. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” he choked.
    She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said, and dashed back into the dressing room.
    “Uh,” Grant said, running his hand through his hair and looking at me. I’d never seen his hair down before; it drew more attention to the bone structure of his face. I almost fainted. “I’m, gonna –” He gestured towards the house. “First night with the wireless sound – Gotta – Um.” He pointed in the direction of the sound booth, turned, and fled.
    Monica clasped her hands together and grinned, shoulders lifting, eyes closing, almost like a cat in a perfect sunbeam. “He’s so awkward,” she whispered. “It’s totally hot!”
    “It is,” I agreed, leaning against the wall. “Too hot.”
    “Well?” she said, looking at me. “Say something to him.”
    “
You
say something to him.”
    “Honey, I would
wreck
him,” she said. “I’m not gonna lie, I kind of want to, but he’s so skinny. There’d be nothing left of him. I need someone a little more solid.”
    “You’re awful,” I said.
    “I know,” she purred. Then she elbowed me. “You should say something, seriously.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t think he’s into me.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?” she said. “If I was you, I’d just crook my little finger and have my way with him.”
    I laughed. “You think he looks at me like that?”
    “You mean
more
than once per day?” she asked. “Jesus, yes.”
    “We work together,” I said.
    “So what?” she said. “You could be a hot duet, like the Dresden Dolls, or the Mezmer Society.”
    “You know that none of them ended up with each other, right?”
    “You could have cute little Vaudeville babies.”
    “They don’t even work together anymore.”
    “But none of them are you and Grant.”
    I thought again of the hair falling into his eyes, the golden house lights spilling around his shoulders, and the way he ducked his head as he hurried to the sound booth.
It is soundproof,
I thought.
I’m going to Hell.
    I groaned. “I hate being a girl.”
    She looked pointedly at my corset. “No one else hates that you’re a girl,” she said. “C’mon, let’s finish getting ready. If Tish is still talking, we’ll play Count the Histrionics.”
    • • •
    The last ten minutes before curtain always felt like an hour. Finally, it was time. The first number was a troupe chair piece to a brassy old song called “How to Strip for Your Husband.” Six chairs, three in each row, awaited us onstage. The lights dimmed and we made our way to perch sideways on the chairs. The lights came up, the music started, and the audience cheered.
    Burlesque audience interaction is freeing and fun. You can talk about the instant gratification of hearing people cheer for what you’re doing at the moment, or validation, or affirmation, sure. I like the connection, the absence of the fourth wall. Instead of a play where we don’t acknowledge the audience, we’re feeding
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