Follow My Lead (BBW erotic romance) Read online



  Follow My Lead

  Eva Lefoy

  Copyright © 2014 Eva Lefoy

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entire coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Follow My Lead

  Author Bio and Links

  Other Titles

  Blurb

  Follow My Lead

  Unemployed and living with her grandma, plus-sized Cassie applies for a job at the local strip club. When she’s passed over in favor of the skinny girls, she thinks all hope is lost. Until a sexy ballroom dancer shows her that her body is meant to follow an entirely different tune.

  Follow My Lead

  The door to the strip joint swung open easily, admitting Cassie to a darkened, smoky room. The place stunk like her grandmother’s house, and she crinkled her nose, praying it would quit working all together. Her sinuses would get no relief here, only more torture. But she wasn’t here for her health. She needed a job.

  Inhaling as shallowly as she could, she approached the man at the bouncer’s station. He looked her up and down, his appraisal stopping at her tits.

  “You here for the audition?”

  “Yes.”

  He directed her attention toward the stage with his gleaming, bald head. “Over there. Get in line.” A smile spread across his face. “And take your clothes off.”

  His lips were moist like he’d just licked them. She suppressed a shudder. I just have to get the job. I don’t have to like these people.

  After her unemployment ran out and she’d moved into granny’s, she’d come to the conclusion she had no other choice. Since the latest market crash had driven jobless rates to record levels, even getting menial work at the burger joint had become impossible. She’d tried. Since losing her retail job eighteen months ago she hadn’t been interviewed once. Stripping was her last hope if she wanted her life back.

  She swallowed and stepped to the stage, still wearing her coat and gloves. A man dressed in a white tank top and smoking a cigarette gave her a cursory glance. “Over there, sweetheart. You’re number eight.” He went back to his conversation with another man dressed in a polyester suit. Presumably an owner, judging from the garish gold jewelry dripping from his neck and fingers.

  Yuck. “Uh, thanks.”

  Taking off only her coat and gloves, she stood at the end of the line. From her vantage point she got a good look at her competition. Wearing only a bikini top and a thong, a bleached-blonde girl twirled around the bar as though she’d had practice. Lots of practice. Next to her, a woman with short spiky hair and a face slathered in makeup stretched and did tiny dance steps in her stilettoes. Number three in line did dance steps too, looking awfully quick on her feet. In fact all the women in front of her were prancing to the soft thump, thump, thump of the music. Knowing she should let go of her coat and get warmed up didn’t make it any easier to do. She shuddered at the idea of everyone seeing her large breasts, her thunder thighs, and her jiggly belly and laughing in disgust. All these girls are so skinny. I’m way too fat to do this.

  Her gaze swept the empty room and found the door. I should just go. No one will ever know I was here.

  She moved toward it but before she reached it, the door opened and admitted a tall man wearing a suit and tie. He shot a glance her way, his gaze holding, shooting sparks of unbidden desire through her limbs. For a few long seconds, neither of them moved.

  “Hey, lady. Are you gonna audition or not? We haven’t got all day.”

  Holding her coat tighter, she clenched her jaw and nodded to the guy at the head of the line. She dragged her gaze from the man by the door and focused on the reason she’d come. A job. Money. A way to get out of granny’s dingy apartment and back on her own two feet. This was her only option. She stuck her chin up and set her coat down. Facing the back wall she undid the buttons on her shirt one by one, and kicked off her flats. She didn’t have the nicest underwear. She didn’t have stiletto heels. Her hair was mousy brown and her hips and butt wide. Nobody in their right mind would pay to see her dance. But she had to try.

  The tank-top man clapped his hands and the music kicked up a notch. Something she recognized, a Maroon 5 song. The first girl swung around the bar and shimmied her hips as the strobe light flashed and Cassie focused hard on her moves. I don’t know how to do that – act sexy. What am I going to do?

  The blonde’s turn lasted about three-and-a-half minutes. At the end, she wrapped her legs around the bar and let her torso arch toward the stage. The manager clapped. “All right honey, that’s good. Sign up at the bar. You start work Friday night.”

  Cassie’s heart jumped. The promise of a job was real, and within her grasp. She only had to fake her way through the audition. She could learn the rest later. Okay, I’m going to do this.

  Girl number two took the stage and did a series of complicated back bends and twists. Her hips were small and skinny – she could see the hipbones sticking out of her underwear – reminding her so many were underfed these days. Everybody was starving, or stretching their pay too far. Nobody had extra.

  Out of curiosity she turned her head and spied the man from before sitting at a nearby table. He nursed a beer and from this close she could see his hair was black and his tan colored face well shaved. Even his clothes were neat and pressed. What the hell was he doing in this dump? Just another pervert probably.

  He caught her gaze and she snapped her attention back to the stage. But her body warmed, sensing his scrutiny glide across every inch of her skin, over her breasts, her hips, her thighs. Between her legs she dampened, her body tingling. No man had ever looked at her so intimately. Better get used to it, it’s part of the job.

  Biting her lip, she stepped up another rung on the steps and watched contestant number three do her performance. Cassie surreptitiously mimicked the moves, raising and lowering her heels and rocking her hips just a little. If she closed her eyes and pretended, the moves felt familiar, like maybe she was at a college dance party. That’s it. All I have to do is pretend.

  Four more girls pranced across the stage, each of them doing variations on the same theme. Some rubbing themselves suggestively against the bar, and one girl bent over at the edge of the stage, letting her boobs cascade out of her bra. Each girl’s three minutes seemed but a flicker in time. Cassie watched as one by one they exited the stage, leaving her standing on the edge alone. Shock jolted her back to reality when the tank-top man told her to get on with it.

  Heart hammering in her head, Cassie stepped to the bar. Cool to the touch, its temperature did nothing to stem her feverish blush. Every bit of courage she possessed fled when she faced the audience. Only a handful of men, but still… Her mouth went too dry to swallow. Hope and fear warred in her chest. I have to do this. I have to get the job. Hunger and need won out. Looking down at the floorboards she moved her hips a little and tossed her hair. By the end of the chorus, she’d swung around the bar in a circle, ending by tripping over her own feet. Flustered, she looked at the manager to see if he’d caught her blunder. Please, don’t fire me. Not yet. I need the job first.

  But the tank-top man and the owner weren’t even paying attention to her. The bouncer had his arm around the blonde, and wasn’t watching her either. Suddenly, the music ended.

  “Okay, thanks. That’s enough. Come back again after you get some practice.”

  Cheeks burning, tears filling her eyes, she stood there paralyzed, trying desperately not to sob. “But, I need this job…” God,
is my voice that whiny?

  The tank-top man and his boss stood.

  “Wait. Just let me try again.” Without the music this time, she struggled to make her jiggling body move to an invisible beat. But she felt like a struggling whale.

  The two men turned and left, not sparing her another second of their time.

  Shame effused her, filling every crevice so hotly, so intensely, she covered her face with her hands and fought back the sob threatening to drown her sure as a tidal wave. A soft touch on her arm made her jump. She uncovered her face and gasped. It’s him. Oh my God.

  “Here. Let me show you.” He smiled, removing his jacket as though used to handling fine things. With a flourish he swept the silk-lined coat over her shoulders.

  The warmth, the smell of the dark-haired man invaded her senses. Spicy and exotic, his cologne drowned out the cigarette smell, replacing it with a calming, yet enticing mixture.

  “Put it on,” he coaxed.

  He didn’t have to ask twice. She welcomed the chance to cover up. Standing on stage in her undies with all her imperfect bits sticking out made her want to shriek. Why did I ever think I could do this? Ducking her head, she pulled the coat on and held the lapels closed. “Th-thank you.”

  “Uh uh. Now, give me your hand.” He held out a palm, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

  Was this a dare? Or did he really want to dance with her? Well, he did give me his coat. I suppose it can’t hurt.

  The instant she placed her palm in his, he moved in. His arm curled around her waist, his face inches from hers. The heat from his body warm and toasty, like his jacket. His grip firm. He held her other hand high. “Look at me.”

  With her breasts pushed against his chest, she bit the inside of her cheek and met his gaze.

  “You and I are going to dance. I will show you how. Follow my lead.” He took a step sideways and back, then repeated the move with the other foot. With his arm he urged her hips to sway as she stepped, moving first one clumsy foot and then the other. They repeated the move on an endless loop until it smoothed out and he seemed satisfied. “Good. You’re getting it.”

  Humming softly, he continued. The quiet Latin style melody could have been the rumba, or maybe the samba, but the effect of the gentle rocking settled her nerves. She got a little more daring, swinging her hips a little bit on her own.

  “Good. Now this.” He spun her around, pressing his front to her back. His hands glided from her shoulders down to her waist and came to rest on the upper curve of her hips.

  Shock had her tensing, fear he’d touch her only to be repelled by her imperfection. “But—”

  “Shh!” He dug his fingers into her flesh insistently. “You can do this.” He hummed the tune again, right in her ear, the deep sound and his heated breath melting her bones.

  Care flew out the window and her body turned fluid. She let him push her hips where he wanted them to go.

  “Yes,” he groaned in her ear. The firmness of his erection pressed into her ass, evidence of his ardor. Ardor for her.

  Naked desire blazed a path to her core. She opened her legs to let the heat escape and his hand slipped lower. Not low enough to relieve the building ache, but close enough to tempt. His other hand floated up to just below her breast, the touch peaking her nipples taut. She arched into his embrace.

  “Yes. Perfect.” Without warning he spun her.

  She was falling, her head sinking toward the floor. She tensed and grabbed his shoulders, clutching them tight. “Wait. I’m too heavy."

  They paused in midair. She lay in his arms stiffly, awkwardly. Like a sideways department store manikin. Shoving down her embarrassment, she opened her eyes.

  He raised one eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d drop you?”

  “I’m … I’m too heavy. You can’t—”

  He sent her a look that dared her to question his manhood and she gulped. “You are not too heavy. I can hold you. Trust me.”

  She sucked her lips between her teeth and nodded, feeling thoroughly chided. But God, what if he did drop her? Should she tell him, right now, that she weighed closer to two hundred than one-thirty-five? If he threw his back out, she’d die of embarrassment. But something steely in his gaze kept her mouth clamped shut. Fine. I’ll let him drop me then we can get it over with and I can go home.

  He lifted her, swinging her up and around as though she was suspended on strings. Once more his front pressed into her back. Once more the heat of his body, his scent, his touch dragged shiver after shiver across her flesh. She wanted to beg for more.

  “Again.” He slid his hands back onto her hips and they started the rhythm all over again.

  This time, she spent every second waiting, dreading the big moment. Knowing he’d drop her, that she’d end up lying on the floor like a heavy useless blob. It was everything she could do not to break out of his grasp and run. But somehow, his presence held her back, demanded she comply.

  Finally, he spun her.

  She started falling. Her head zoomed toward the floor but she did nothing to prevent the force of gravity. She went limp in his arms, letting out an internal scream. This was it. Her biggest mistake ever. She’d never outlive the shame. And then the downward momentum stopped. She opened her eyes and looked past her heaving chest to his face.

  His eyes were closed. He drew in a deep breath, almost inhaling her. Was he smelling her? God, talk about sexy. Slowly his head lifted, his eyes opened, and his gaze burned fire through her. If he’d have been inside her, she’d have come that instant. Surrendering utterly to the deep intensity of his longing.

  She sucked in a surprised breath, the motion pushing her breasts toward him.

  His eyelids dipped, as though he’d swoon, then re-opened, his penetrating gaze seen only by her, for her. He drew in a deep breath and pulled her up.

  Standing face to face, she could see his height, feel his slim muscular build. The erection pressing into her upper thigh.

  “Very good. Much better. You have a natural talent you should not ignore.”

  She swallowed what saliva she had left. “You didn’t have to…”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It was my pleasure.”

  “Okay.” Feeling dumb, she groped for an apology. “I’m not as skinny as the other girls.”

  He scoffed. “Those dried up things? They were awful.” He traced a finger down the side of her neck. “You were the only beautiful girl in the room.”

  Cassie dismissed the compliment and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well I didn’t get the job.”

  “Lucky for me.” He took her hand and led her to the side of the stage where she’d left her clothes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I need a new dance partner.”

  “Dance? Like ballroom dance?” A picture formed in her mind. Yes, she could see him doing the fancy dances, the exotic ones with the elegant, beautiful women in pretty dresses. So not me.

  “You’ve heard of Blackpool, yes?”

  “Of course, but I didn’t realize…with the economy and all, that sort of thing still went on.”

  “In times of economic trouble, people need to be entertained more than ever.” He smiled once more.

  “What happened to your partner?”

  The smile died on his lips. “She had to leave and take care of her parents. They live far away, and…” He shrugged. “She won’t be coming back.”

  “So you came to a strip joint looking for a new partner?” Disbelief echoed through her words and she didn’t bother to hide it. It seemed a strange idea.

  “Yes. I never know where I’ll find someone like you.” He held out a hand again. “Dance with me. Say you’ll be new partner.”

  She shook her head and gathered up her clothes. What a ridiculous idea. “Come on, you’re just saying that to get laid.”

  “I give you my word as a gentleman. I will never take advantage of you. However, I will not lie. It is always better for a man to crave the wom
an he dances with. If he does not, his moves become mechanical, staid. They lose connection.” He stepped closer. “Connection is of utmost importance.”

  She clutched her clothes, regretting the fact she wore only his jacket and he could ask for it back at any moment. Even thought it was his, she didn’t want to part with it.

  “What is your name?” The sultry heat in his gaze hadn’t waned.

  “Cassie.” There wasn’t enough air in her lungs to give him her last name, too.

  “I’m Joaquin. My mother and I run a dance studio. Here is my card.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Come see me tomorrow, Cassie. We can start at eleven. You will have to work long and hard, but you can do this. I know you can.”

  “But I need a job!”

  “You can keep half of what we earn.” As though he read her thoughts, he added, “but first, we need to win. And we will win, if you trust me.”

  God, she wanted to. The money would come in handy as well. She glanced at the empty stage, weighing her options. She’d failed as a stripper, but could she dance with him? I’ll make a fool out of myself. “I can’t…”

  His arm came around her waist. “You can. You are not fat, Cassie, you are perfect. I need a strong partner, one who can learn quickly and match my speed. The other girls were too weak and spindly. They would not be able to last.”

  The heat from his hand spread through her core, turning her legs to jelly.

  “You don’t belong here, Cassie.” Joaquin’s expression held certainty. “You never did. Let me show you something better.”

  Giddiness bubbled up her chest, easing the locks on her heart. He said he wouldn’t drop her and he hadn’t. What if his words were true? All of them? The sudden urge to fly assailed her. “All right. How do we do this?”

  Joaquin brushed a finger against her cheek. “That part is easy. Just follow my lead.”