Free The Art of Sin by Alexandrea Weis Page A

with a wink.
         “Yeah, but you struck out.”      
         “I did not strike out,” Doug sourly refuted. “I found someone else.”
         “If you had another chance, would you?”
         Doug shook his head. “She’s not my type; too smart. I like a woman who makes things simple.”
         “Does Beverly make things simple for you?”
         Doug sighed and shook his head. “Anything but. It’s been going on with Bev and me for close to two years now, and I’m still trying to figure it out.”      
         “I don’t think we’re ever supposed to figure it out with women. When I was married, I did everything I could to make my wife happy, only to discover I had failed miserably. Ever since then, I’ve stopped trying to figure out where I stand with a woman.”
         Doug playfully slapped Grady’s shoulder. “Yeah, but you sure knew where you stood with Cathy last night.”         
         “I think the whole building heard where I stood with her,” Grady griped.
         “I was told she’s kind of loud in bed. Hey, you get all kinds in this city. It ain’t the Midwest.” He made a move toward his apartment door. “When are you going to see her again?”
         “Cathy? Never.”
         “No, when are you going to see Al again?”
         Grady thoughtfully pressed his lips together. “I’m not sure about that.”
         Doug nodded to his injured hand. “You can’t dance with your fingers taped up like that. You’ll have to get it re-taped after every show.” He grinned. “Seems to me like you’ll have plenty of excuses to see her again and again.”
         “You could be right about that,” Grady concurred, smiling.
         “Man, you’ve got it bad.” Doug headed to his apartment door. “Let me know what happens,” he called out over his shoulder. “I always love a good melodrama.”
    *     *     *
         That night at The Flesh Factory, Grady was waiting to go on stage. Decked out in his flashy silver outfit, he inspected the Velcro seams on his pants once more … nothing like a costume coming apart before the break away. Then he gingerly touched his swollen pinkie. Having removed the tape, it appeared badly bruised and worse than it had earlier in the day. The dull throb he had experienced with it taped was now turning into a continuous sharp explosion of electric jolts. 
         “Nervous?”
          Grady turned to see Matt Harrison standing next to him. “Always at a first show in a new place.”
         “They’re just the same hungry women you see in every strip joint, Grady. Shake your ass, flash your abs, and you’ll knock ‘em dead.”
         Grady didn’t bother to enlighten the man to the fact that there was a hell of a lot more to his dances than that. Hours of choreography and practice went into each one of his routines. Luckily, his music roared to life from the speakers over the stage, saving him from any further conversation.
         “Go get ‘em,” Matt encouraged with a slap on his back.
         Ignoring the club owner, Grady shoved aside the red velvet curtains that led to the stage and strutted into the bright lights.
         The screaming hit him first. Like the backwash from a jet engine, the screams vibrated against his body. The women were packed against the edge of the stage, and as he moved out from beneath the white lights, he got a better look at the pit.  
         Matt had been right. The faces, the screams, the whistles, all looked and sounded the same as every other town he had been in. He had hoped this time it would be different. Why had he expected more?
         Beginning his routine, he rolled his hips and occasionally made eye contact with a few of the women, searching for his orgasm girl. A small blonde, not far from the stage, caught his eye. She instantly reminded him of Al. She had the same petite figure and pink lips, but