Private Dancer. Kimberly Dean

their girls performed, but she appreciated art. She appreciated physical movement and expression. As a dancer, there would be empathy there.

      Strip away the nudity and the voyeurs. Ignore the money that exchanged hands and all the extra-curricular activities that happened behind the red satin curtains. At the heart of the Satin Club was movement of the human body. The female body. The beat, the rhythm, the instinctual response to the sound of music.

      The freedom.

      Oh, yeah, as prim and proper as Alicia Wheeler seemed, she’d respond to the core of what happened here. Good girl or not, she’d respond to the dance.

      ‘Let’s go introduce ourselves,’ Bas said.

      It was time to see what would happen if all that repression was unleashed.

      ***

      Alicia watched Sebastian Crowe and Remy Hunt approach like two black panthers stalking their prey. Whenever her father decided to stage one of these protests, she always made sure to do her homework. She studied up on the city’s laws on assembling and permits. She determined the most effective, yet safest places to gather. Most importantly, she learned all she could about the people they were about to aggravate – because people were always aggravated when her father started one of his campaigns.

      What she’d learned about these two had made her antennae go up.

      Despite appearances, she didn’t like confrontations. She hadn’t wanted to tangle with these two, but her father had insisted. A den of iniquity, he’d called it.

      The lion’s den was more like it.

      ‘Heathens! Lust worshippers! Bow down and repent before the Saviour!’

      Grimacing, Alicia worked her way through the crowd towards her father. She wished that Paul hadn’t bought the speakers. They had her teetering on the edge of a migraine. ‘Dad, stop yelling. They’re coming to speak with you.’

      He ignored her completely. ‘Admit your sins! Beg for forgiveness!’

      She cast a glance at Colin, silently asking for help, but he lifted his hands in defeat. She sighed. If anyone disliked confrontations more than she, it was her boyfriend. If she wanted to even call him that.

      That was another problem, but this one was more pressing.

      She wrapped her fingers around her father’s shoulder. ‘Please stop.’

      A frown momentarily settled on his face. He’d become thinner in recent months. The gauntness almost made him look fragile, but there was a glint in his eyes when the two representatives of the Satin Club began to cross the street. Eight days of this, and he’d finally got a response.

      Alicia clutched the top edge of her sign. Please be civil. Everyone, please be civil.

      ‘God knows,’ her father spat at the two men. ‘The Lord sees what you do in that depraved –’

      The words were cut off abruptly when the bigger of their two visitors reached out and simply took the microphone out of her father’s hand like a parent taking a toy from a naughty child. He shook his head and made a show of turning the device off. Alicia looked quickly at her father. Red was starting to creep up his neck. He opened his mouth to speak.

      ‘Reverend Wheeler.’ The man in the sunglasses shoved out his hand in greeting before he could get out another word. ‘I’m Sebastian Crowe, owner of the Satin Club.’

      The words were pleasant, but there was enough steel underneath to make a shiver go down Alicia’s spine.

      Her father looked at the outstretched hand in distaste. If he took it, he’d be consorting with the enemy. If he denied it, he might lose the chance to convert the misled. Conflict was clear on his face, but he accepted the handshake. It lasted all of a second before contact was broken.

      Sebastian Crowe folded his arms over his chest. ‘I understand you’ve taken an interest in my club.’

      Alicia edged further away, but froze when Remy Hunt’s dark gaze snapped to her. She stared at him, surprised and breathing a bit too hard. He was even bigger up close. Big, shadowy and daunting. She was unsettled that she’d captured his attention. There was something untamed about the look he was giving her, something primal and overtly … sexual. Her fingers tightened until the cardboard sign scraped her palms.

      Instead of moving on, his hungry gaze swept boldly down her body to settle on her breasts. She sucked in a shocked breath. Her nipples were still tight from her daydream. She hoped her bra hid the fact but –

      His gaze dropped lower to the sign and one dark eyebrow lifted.

      Alicia froze, that familiar sense of fire and ice sweeping through her. Oh, dear Lord. Had he seen her? All the way from across the street?

      Had he seen her – humping a stick of wood?

      Mortification washed through her, but he wasn’t even trying to hide the way he was looking at her. His intimate gaze was sleepy but steady, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. She might not have a lot of experience, but her feminine instincts recognised the prickling of her skin and the weight in the air between them. The look was one of lust. Pure, unbridled and white-hot. She swallowed hard when she felt her body respond. Heat settled in her breasts and her nipples beaded tightly. Low in her belly, she felt a clench.

      ‘Free to demonstrate,’ she heard vaguely. ‘But realise that there are other businesses you’re disturbing …’

      The conversation continued around them, but Remy Hunt just continued ogling her, practically making love to her with his eyes. Only he wouldn’t call it that. Something warm and heavy coiled tight in Alicia’s belly. This man hadn’t said a word, but she’d got the message loud and clear.

      This stranger wanted to fuck her.

      The word sounded coarse in her ears, but her body liked the rough sound of it. Her skin sensitised and thighs squeezed. She was so surprised by the intimate reactions it gave her the power to look away. Shaken, she stepped back.

      Only he took a step forward until he was only an arm’s-length away.

      Her heart skipped, and she cast a glance at Colin. Pink dotted his cheekbones, but he averted his gaze. A tight sound squeezed out of the back of her throat. She sent a beseeching look towards Paul, Steve, Jeanne – nobody seemed to notice what was happening between her and the club’s manager. They were intent on Sebastian Crowe and seemingly ready to pounce.

      What was an uncomfortable encounter was turning unstable. She needed to pay attention and defuse the situation – although she had no idea how to defuse a situation like Remy Hunt. The words ‘noise ordinance’ crept into her consciousness.

      ‘Father, they’re right.’

      The words were hoarse when they passed her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw the Hunter smile.

      She cleared her throat. She’d warned her father about this. ‘Anything above sixty-five decibels and we can get ticketed.’

      Her father’s mouth worked. ‘They can ticket me all they want. I follow the law of God.’

      ‘And they’ll impound the sound equipment.’

      Those words got through to Paul, at least. He’d borrowed the sound system from a friend. Her father’s new follower leaned over to whisper in his ear.

      Alicia flinched when she felt a hot touch to the back of her hand. She whipped her head around and found Remy Hunt still watching her, but now holding out the microphone.

      She looked at it in his hand. As she watched, his thumb moved suggestively up and down the side of the moulded plastic. It swirled around the silver knob atop the device and her lips flattened. There was no mistaking that gesture.

      She snatched the phallic symbol from his hand, but was horrified when she heard him chuckle. She looked at the death grip she had on the microphone and nearly dropped