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

each other. There’s no other connection like it; just the immediate experience, crackling with energy, communication without verbal conversation. As we danced, the audience cheered and howled, which gave us that extra bit of adrenaline and passion to give back.
    In my favorite moment, the girls from the back row joined us in the front row. Lisa and I each had one hip on the chair. We would make eye contact, and our touching shoulders would shrug up and down together. After that, I would get up, and she’d take the chair, knees forward. I would straddle her lap, and she’d put her hands on my bottom. Then I would do a deep, upper body circle to the back, allowing my hair to sweep the stage. Don’t get me wrong, that part was hot too, and I’m certain that plenty of guys liked seeing three pairs of women do it simultaneously. I liked the eye contact and shrug better, though. It looked like sharing a naughty secret.
    “It’s a pretty good crowd,” Sasha said in the dressing room.
    “They are,” I agreed. I heard Grant’s voice over the tinny speaker as the other girls trooped into the room. He did some stage magic and audience banter to give Pip time to change and the stage hands time to move the chairs.
    A good emcee is critical to educate the audience, sustain the performers’ glamor, and keep the show moving. Two of Tish’s beginning students, Trixie and Frenchie, wore cute lingerie and picked up the discarded articles of clothing. I always thought that was a nice touch. I found it depressing when burlesque artists picked up their own clothes after a routine. It totally shattered the illusion of the larger-than-life character.
    I moved quickly, struggling to keep my hands from shaking. Grant wouldn’t start the music without me, but I didn’t want to hold things up. Everything about my costume was black, which made it a pain to make sure I had everything in my bag. I slipped off the ruffled panties and pulled a lacy slip over my spangled G-string. I swapped my corset for a lacy bra that allowed the silver pasties to glimmer through, zipped up my skirt, and pulled on my babydoll t-shirt. I added strappy heels, grabbed the faux leather jacket, and made it down to the wings before Sasha danced halfway through her piece.
    I craved the solo time for the quiet in my head. When I really connected with the dance, the chatter in my mind stopped, and I was just movement, energy, perfect clarity. That’s what made an off night so frustrating to me. If the music skipped, or if something went wrong with my costume, if I forgot my choreography and couldn’t recover, it wasn’t the embarrassment that got to me. It was being within grasping distance of that silence and not quite catching it.
    My dad told me that meditation would give me the same clarity. I hated sitting still and noticing my thoughts going by. I wanted the electric serenity of melding with the music.
    Sasha’s music ended. The audience roared. She blew them a kiss and strutted off stage, patting my butt on her way past me. Grant headed onstage and egged them on, amping their energy. I rolled my shoulders up, back, and down, lengthening my spine, feeling the cat-that-ate-the-canary expression wash over my face.
    I always put on the character before the audience can see me. You’re not performing just during the music. You need to sustain the illusion the entire time you’re visible to the audience. They won’t buy a dazzling performance if you slouch onstage like a drunken sasquatch.
    “I love a good classical tease,” Grant said. The audience cheered in agreement. “I do, I love it. But let’s face it – there’s something great about a really dirty song.”
    They howled.
    “Next, we have a woman after my own heart—”
    You would say that, wouldn’t you?
    “Velvet is soft, but – let’s just say she’s good with contrast.”
    They howled again.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,
Velvet Crush!
”
    As they cheered more, he walked offstage. The