“I’m tired.”
“All you have to do is sit there and watch.”
“No. I said no strippers.”
“Be quiet, pu**y.”
When we pulled up in front of my loft and studio building, I turned to Tyler. “You’re dropping me off at home. Is that the big surprise?”
We hopped out; Tyler told the cabbie to wait. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and began unlocking the door to the studio. The first thing I noticed was that the alarm didn’t go off.
“What are we doing? Please tell me you didn’t hire strippers to come here.”
“What are friends for? Come on, it would be a waste of money if you didn’t go back there and at least sneak a peek.” He patted me on the back and then pulled a flask from his jacket pocket. “Here, you might need this. It’s whiskey—only the finest.”
“Tyler, I don’t know about this.”
“Just go back there. Take a seat in the control room.” When I took the flask from his hands and entered the lobby, he said, “Have fun.”
“Wait a minute, you’re not going in there with me?”
“No way, this is all for you,” he said before abruptly shutting the door and locking me in. He strolled back to the cab, and then without looking back, he threw his hand up and waved good-bye.
TRACK 5: Breathe
I shook my head, took a larger-than-necessary swig from the flask, and began heading down the long hallway to the control room. It was so dark that I had to feel my way over to the light switch. I brushed the switch plate with my hand and noticed that someone had placed tape over it, preventing me from turning the light on.
Then I heard a female voice whisper, “Uh uh,” over the control-room speakers. I felt my way to the sound board and chair and sat down. I was squinting, trying to see inside the sound room, when the music began playing. Even though there were no lights blinking on the board, I still felt around for the buttons and knobs but quickly realized the equipment in the control room was off except for one microphone feed.
Whoever was in the sound room had control of the music. I recognized the song right away from the humming in the beginning. It was “Retrograde” by James Blake. The sound room remained dark until the first clapping beat of the song. What happened next is hard for me to put into words, but goddammit, I’ll try.
Right at that first beat, a small light went on overhead on the other side of the glass. The dim spotlight shone down into an empty space in the middle of the sound room until a woman very slowly and seductively stepped into the light. She was wearing a short, black lace dress, so short I could see the black garters peeking out from underneath. Feeling my heart rate increase, I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans and rocked back in my chair nervously.
She threw her leg up onto the piano bench and then ran both hands up her thigh, raising the dress even higher. With ease, she reached down and removed her black stiletto heel, setting it on the bench beside her foot. She raised her dress again and unbuckled the garter from the leg still perched on the bench. In painfully slow motion, she rolled the material down and off her foot before tossing it into the darkness. I could see bright red nail polish on her fingers and toes, the same shade of red she wore on her lips. It was like the overhead light created this illusion that the woman was in one of those black and white photos where only a few objects are colored in. Her skin was radiant and glowing against her dark, almost black hair. She put her heel back on and then repeated the same torturous motion on the other leg as I watched in complete awe.
Her beauty took my breath away and the way she moved and the music—I was about to come undone. I took another swig of whiskey. She approached the glass, slowly unzipping the side of her dress as she moved. Her eyes were fixed on mine. Her pouty lips were just barely open. Standing two feet from the glass, she slid the shoulder of her dress off one side and the whole thing fell to the ground. Her dark hair, curled in loose ringlets, fell back on her shoulders, caressing the tops of her br**sts. She turned around and, with her back to me, unclasped her bra, tossing it aside. She gripped her garter belt and thong on each hip and bent over to slide them down her legs. Her perfect ass was right at my eye level.
She strutted away from the glass, never turning around until she reached the piano bench. Her movements were so graceful and seductive, like she had been stripping for years. She turned to face me as she straddled the bench. I watched her expression change from alluring and provocative to playful. A sweet, knowing smile flashed across her face. With her legs spread, totally exposed, she pointed her finger at the glass and summoned me. It was my beautiful, lovely Mia, sitting there wearing nothing but her heels, waiting for me to take her.
I could barely walk I was so turned on. Still disoriented, I fumbled my way through the door into the sound room and past several instruments and chairs until I was standing over her at the piano. Her position, perched naked on the bench, looking up at me through her big, beautiful hazel eyes, was so vulnerable and sweet. Yet I knew Mia was very much in control.
“That was the f**king hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby.”
She laughed, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “I can tell,” she said, her gaze moving to the belt on my jeans.
“You have to play that song again so I can act out everything I was imagining behind the glass.”
She stood up, her feet still on each side of the bench. “It’s on repeat,” she whispered as she undid the buckle of my belt.