I stood quivering at center stage, fans clasped white-knuckled behind me, my typical composure broken by the knowledge that he sat somewhere in the audience. With a snap, the stage lights illuminated and the heavy velvet curtain drew back. The audience gave its typical round of applause, punctuated by the usual hoots and whistles. What else would you expect? I was standing on the stage of the club in little more than heels and a sheer, crystalline sheath of a dress, by body obscured by my large feathered fans. The music started and my nerves were brushed away. I'm used to the role, fluttering the feathers to keep myself covered while flirting with the darkened crowd. Their faces were invisible but I could feel their eyes following me. Any other night I would pretend I was dancing just for him. Tonight it was if all the other seats were empty.

And like a puff of smoke, it was over. I pulled on a silky robe and folded my fans. I watched the rest of the show from the wings, encouraging my friends. By the time the show was over and we had taken our final bows, I had almost forgotten why tonight was special. I entered my dressing room, mind occupied with that particular post-performance buzz and closed the door behind me.

"You did good kid" came a low voice from one of the dark corners of the room. He struck a match, the sudden flame illuminating his narrow face as he lit a cigarette. He towered in the shadow like a spectre, on my vanity lay a small bouquet of white roses. I put down my fans and smelled the flowers. Their perfume blended with the dust of the old theatre and the smoke in the air. I put them back on the counter and looked at him. He didn't always attend my performances, but enough that I could predict what would happen next. His hair hung loose, more relaxed than his typical knot, and fell to his shoulders, sleek in the muted light of the room. Bright eyes shone against his shadowed face like polished stones. The dark suit clung to his lean form, giving him the sleek predatory look of a panther. Stubbing out the remains of his cigarette in the glass tray on the sidebar, he took a sip from his glass, eyes never leaving me.

The tumbler clinked as he placed it down again on the marble surface. I sat at my vanity, pulling off my earrings and placing them in their box. Heavy footfalls indicated his approach before I felt his fingers delicately plucking the myriad pins from my elaborate hairstyle. Glancing in the mirror he looked pensive, loving almost, as he gathered the metal from my curls, careful not to pull, reverent in his delicacy. When they were all gone, he picked up the heavy soft-bristled brush that rested on the counter, dragging it through the brush through my hair until no tangles or hairsprayed chunks remained. He took such care and my eyes fluttered shut as he ran the bristles through everything one last time, brushing those sensitive places along the base of my neck. I stood and he carefully slid my robe off my shoulders, placing breathlike kisses down the side my my neck. I could smell the aura of whiskey and tobacco which lingered around him. His fingers, skillful despite their size, found my zipper and slid it down my spine, tantalizingly slowly. The heavy beaded fabric fell to the floor. I stepped out and let him collect it and hang it as I slid my stocking-covered feet out of my shoes. Removing his jacket, he placed it over my bare shoulders, enveloping me like a blanket in the soft satin lining, leaving him in the dark slytherin emerald dress shirt and tie. He loosened the knot to undo the top button, revealing a delicious sliver of pale throat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to show his surprisingly toned forearms. He swept me up bridal-style easily, and carried me to the plush couch which sat along one wall of the room. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling into his chest and inhaling deeply, the scent of his masculinity settling deep into my core.

This was always the best part of when he came to watch me. Not just a benefactor, he chose to be my caretaker and lover. He sat on the couch, allowing me to curl into him, sat on his lap. His large hands rested, one heavily on my head, the other along my back lifting my chin with one hand, his eyes shone in the dark like fire despite their deepness. Their heat warmed my face, turning my cheeks pink in their intensity. They flickered downward to gaze at my lips, as always, before pressing his to them. He tasted sweet, though tinged with smoke and drink, much like his personality. My fingers wove tightly into his thick hair, pulling him closer. His satisfaction rumbled from deep within his chest as his grip became more possessive. He traveled down my throat, running his sharp teeth along my chest. I buried my face in his hair, inhaling the deep scent that lingered there.

He lifted me again to straddle his legs and my hips were caught between his nimble hands, with those narrow, elegant fingers. They slid up my sides and then down my arms again, finding my hands and entwining his fingers with mine. A slight chuckle escaped his throat, as his hands encompassed mine, they were so much larger. I nipped along his jugular, leaving a soft kiss to soothe the sharpness, as his chuckles became gasps and then growls. With a sudden intensity, he flipped me over, pinning me to the cushions, holding each of my wrists above my head. I could feel the flush travelling down my chest as he looked at me, predatory. His teeth sunk quickly into his lower lip as he apprised me under him. It was a sort of game we'd play every time, waiting to see who would break first.

"What you gonna do about it kid?" he practically growled into my ear as I squirmed, rubbing my thighs together and arching my chest upward to find some sort of contact. He suckled the naked lobe quickly before nipping at it and moving to hover just millimeters from my lips. I stifled a squeal, giving him a look of mock annoyance and squirmed again, noticing how his eyes sparked when the jacket fell open over my breasts. In the dim light I almost glowed in contrast to my surroundings, incredibly bare but still safe under his heavy presence. Again his lips found mine, but this time there was no delicacy, no tenderness in his passion. Our tongues and lips danced together in a perfect, practiced rhythm, hidden behind the silk curtain of his hair.

Abandoning my wrists, his hands glided down my naked torso. The calloused tips of his fingers brushed roughly over my peaked nipples, coaxing them further, almost painfully awake. I plucked the buttons from their holes down the front of his shirt, wanting only more of his skin against me. Rising up on his knees over me, he carefully removed the black tie entirely, once again roughly grabbing my wrists above me. With a practiced ease, he bound them together with the length of dark silk, taking care to leave enough room for me to be comfortable, but not so much that I could slip away. Not that I'd ever want to.

His shirt came off next and was draped over the back of the couch. Subconsciously I ran my tongue along my bottom lip as I watched him. I knew the rules. He pressed hot kisses along my torso from my throat moving downward over each breast, a quick bite to each peaked nipple drew a moan from deep within me. He moved lower and lower, skirting around that place where I wanted him to touch me so much. Placing a kiss on my inner thigh, he carefully released my stockings from their garters, reverently rolling them down my leg before repeating the ritual on the other side. He ran his lips lightly along the top edge of my panties before smirking up at me and taking them between his teeth. His eyes were so intense, I gave another pained whimper as I lifted my hips up so he could slide down the scrap of silk to discard it, along with the garters.

Suddenly he stood, a deviation from our typical cadence. Deviation breeds deviancy, I'd come to find, in particular with him. I heard him walk over to the rack where I kept my clothing and then back to me. I stared up at him, pleading without words for him to touch me, to end the sensual torture without fully admitting my defeat. He held without mercy. Taking the sash of my robe, he covered my eyes, tying the narrow strip of fabric behind my head and pushing me into darkness. He placed a lingering kiss on my forehead before stepping away again. His presence moved back to the sideboard, refilling his forgotten glass with ice and liquor. Without my eyes, I could only imagine how he looked, watching me stretched out before him in the dimly lit room. The ice clinked against the glass as he took a sip. There, a rustle of fabric. Two heavy sounds as his shoes were removed. His gaze etched searing trails along my naked flesh. My heart hummed, beating a tattoo against the inside of my chest and my breath was coming in little pants from my slightly parted lips. A clink. He had to have set his glass down.

Cold, shocking against my heated skin. The slick ice cube held between his teeth traced a line along my sternum. I gasped loudly, mouth falling open even more. His hair brushed along my hyper-sensitized flesh. I could feel so much, it was so much. His hand continued to draw circles with the ice lower onto my stomach as his hot tongue traced its path. It dipped lower, lower… my thighs parted greedily, wanting him to touch me somehow. I could feel his lips quirk into a smirk against my stomach. He slid the melting cube along the juncture of my thigh and body, so close, across the top of my mons and down the other side. A dribble of cold water slipped down between my folds, teasing me even more. I whined at the slight stimulation and pouted as he pulled away completely. A dark chuckle melted through the room.

"You want more of that, love?" I nodded vigorously, not wanting to break the hypnotic charm that he seemed to hold over the scene. The ice grazed slightly over first my upper lips, then my lower, barely touching the surface before pressing directly onto the apex of my sex. I released a small scream, of pleasure or shock or pain, I do not know. I could never tell with him. His lips pressed to mine again, muffling my pleasure against him. He traced lazy circles with the rapidly shrinking cube around my clit and along my entrance, only offering glancing sweeps of his calloused fingers to soothe the sting. Bringing it back up along my torso again, he circled my nipples again before removing it all together, dropping the remaining ice back into his glass. His tongue gathered any remaining drips of water from my body before moving lower. He was sweet torture, teasing kisses along the inside of my thighs. I wished I could see him, or pull his head closer to my by that beautiful, thick hair, but I knew the rules.

Finally I felt his lips nuzzle against me, his tongue slipping easily between my folds, slick from the water and my arousal. One large hand held me down, covering most of my lower belly as he feasted, teasing my nub gently and barely entering me. I whined in frustration again, just wanting him, all of him. Replacing his mouth with a single finger, he moved up to kiss me. He tasted of whisky and sex, jazz and man. His finger came up and I pulled it into my mouth, cleaning myself from him with a swirl of my tongue, sucking slightly. He groaned deeply, his control slipping just a bit. Slowly, he pulled it free with a pop and brought it back to my dripping cunt and inserted it into me. My back arched once more, urging him further, more, yet he kept his pace languid. His breath was coming more raggedly now as he moved ever so slightly faster, crooking his fingers within me to brush the place he knew would cause me to come undone. The familiar tightness in my core was building but I knew unless he moved faster, I wouldn't be satisfied.

"Please"