Page 1 of Depraved Temptation

Chapter 1

Lila

The hum of conversations and the distant beat of music fade as I step into the dimly lit backstage area of Risqué. The soft glow of overhead lights casts shadows on the walls, transforming the room into a tapestry of contrasts. Pulling my fingers through the delicate lace that hugs my skin, I ensure it sits just right. Every strap of leather, every piece of lace I’ve chosen for tonight, has a purpose.

I glance down, adjusting the last buckle on my boot. It's more than just an outfit; it's a shield, armor that will protect me from the world beyond that curtain. I take a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs. Moments like this, right before stepping into the spotlight, are both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

But right now, dressed in leather and lace, I feel invincible, ready for whatever awaits.

Sitting at the vanity, I begin doing my makeup, the last piece of my costume. As I apply the finishing touches to my mascara, Cassie's voice, recognizable anywhere, breaks my concentration. She saunters over, her fiery aura seemingly lighting up even the dimmest corners of the room.

"Damn, Lila, you sure you're from the sticks? Looking like pure city glam tonight," she teases, winking.

I chuckle, "You think? Maybe I should've been a makeup artist instead." My eyes flit to the mirror, catching the glint of Cassie's wide smile.

She shakes her head, strands of her brightly dyed hair shimmering in the light. "Nah, then Risqué would've missed out on one hell of a dancer." She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "I mean, can you even believe we snagged this job? Invite-only? Big spenders? It's a performer's dream."

Grinning, I carefully cap my eyeliner. "Honestly? It's surreal. Back where I'm from, places like this are just stories. Sometimes, I still feel like a country mouse in this grand city."

Cassie nudges me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, country mouse, there's one place you fit right in."

I tilt my head in a mock-questioning manner, though I already know her answer.

She points dramatically at the stage beyond the curtains. "Out there, Lila. When you dance? You own that stage. You belong. Now, get out there and break a leg.”

As I make my way toward the stage, every step crackles with a distinct kind of energy. The music kicks in, and I transform into Lila Devereaux, the strong, sensual, in-command performer who rules the Risqué stage. This is the life I fought for, the escape I chose, yet it's marred by memories I wish I could shed like a snake discarding its old skin.

Cameron Harrington—my ex. His name elicits a twinge of something sour. Sure, he had a magnetic pull, a volatility that once seemed electrically charged and enthralling. But the same electricity left me singed, spent, and utterly drained. Cameron had a talent for dragging me into his erratic whirlwind—sudden decisions, emotional peaks and valleys—that more often than not left me disoriented, questioning my own worth and choices.

It's been six months since we broke up, and though he still tries to penetrate my life with his sporadic calls, I have zero interest in letting him back in. I might have lost bits of myself in the twists and turns of our rocky relationship, but that's in the past. I've stitched myself back together, different perhaps, but stronger. Every choice, every stumble, has sculpted me into the woman who now owns this stage.

As I shake off the specter of Cameron Harrington, I refocus on the here and now. This is my stage, my sanctuary. Whatever fragments of my past still cling to me, they have no bearing on the woman I've become, the woman about to step into the spotlight.

The sight of my dance partner, Miguel Santos, pulls me back to the present. With his tall, athletic build, he's every bit the dancer you'd expect, but it's his intense brown eyes that have always drawn me in. We first met at a dance workshop years ago, and ever since, our connection has been undeniable, both on and off the stage.

"Ready to set the stage on fire?" Miguel says with a wink, his voice filled with the familiar playful confidence I've come to rely on.

I laugh, nudging him lightly with my elbow. "Always, with you by my side."

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, grounding me in the present. "Let's give them a show they won't forget."

With that, the curtain rises. I take a deep breath, the rich scent of the stage's wooden floor filling my nostrils. As the first notes play, every other thought fades away. There's only the music, Miguel's steady presence, and the dance we've both lost ourselves in for weeks.

All eyes are on us as we move together to the beat of the music. We sizzle with electricity and fire, our steps syncopated and laced with sensuality. I can feel the heat of Miguel's body as we twirl and wrap around each other. Our movements mesmerize the audience as we draw nearer to one another, so close that it feels like I'm dancing for him alone. Our hands travel languidly and explore each other’s bodies as the music builds in intensity.

We perform an intricate striptease, taking off piece by piece of our clothing until only a few items remain between us. With each item of clothing removed, our hunger grows more intense until it’s almost palpable in the air. We continue to twist and twine around one another. Miguel's strong arms snake around my waist, pulling me tightly against him. Our bodies collide, the energy between us exploding with a force that sends shivers across my skin. I raise my hands, grasping the last piece of fabric between us. I pull my leg back and, in one fluid motion, hurl the lingerie high into the air. It spins gracefully, spiraling through the air before falling, a piece of lace and leather, to the floor.

That's when I lock eyes with a handsome older man watching from a private balcony. As our gazes connect, I can feel a vibration of energy pulse across the distance. The man doesn’t avert his gaze, and as it travels over my naked body, I find that I can’t look away, either. His eyes reach my face, and I’m enraptured by the intense desire I see reflecting back from them.

Miguel's hands become the man's hands in my imagination as they caress my body, sliding down it in a thrilling assault. I’m still on the stage, but my mind is elsewhere, caught in a haze of arousal. The man's hands climb higher up my body, sliding past my belly and up to my breasts. I let out a breathless moan as I feel the heat from his fingers through my skin.

The dance continues, the audience's arousal almost palpable as Miguel and I move gracefully around each other. As the song reaches its crescendo and our movements draw to a close, I look up into the balcony one last time before spinning gracefully away from Miguel. The man is still there, his gaze following me as I move across the stage and out of view. The intensity of his stare lingers on my skin as I slip into the wings of the theater and back to reality.

My dressing room door closes behind me with a soft click, enveloping me in a welcome moment of solitude.

Every performance at Risqué brings its own set of emotions, but tonight was different. The stranger's intense gaze has left an imprint, becoming a puzzle that beckons to be solved. I've never encountered anything like it before. The sensation of being caught in someone's gaze, the physical effect it had on my body, the feeling of being wanted and desired to that extreme... It's exhilarating.

The night's events play in my mind like a film reel—every leap, every turn, and that electrifying connection. Risqué has opened doors to many new experiences, but nothing quite like this.