Page 88 of Off Limits
I lose patience and march past him, knocking into him on purpose as I go. I walk to the same bedroom that I changed in before. Yet the moment I see what’s on the pristine bed, I come to a halt.
Laid out flat is some bondage-style underwear. Black leather strips punctuated with silver, metal-edged holes.
Next to it: a CMC uniform.
He wants me to dress as a cheerleader, then take it all off for him.
I turn on my heel, and march back out to Brody, who has hung up my coat somewhere and is now waiting for me in the living area, a drink in his hand.
‘No,’ I say with force. ‘I’m not doing it.’
Then he does something I don’t expect. He starts laughing. ‘Do you know what the best thing about it is? It’s not even fake! That there is a genuine, bona fide CMC uniform. You know who it belonged to? That bitch who put pictures of her booty on the internet.’
‘Persia Takeda,’ I whisper in surprise.
‘That’s her. And now, they’re all scrambling around, thinking she stole it from the Mutineers family. No, I knew I had to have it. She got smaller tits than you but… no matter. I like a tight fit. You know, I urged my mother to fire her? For the sake of the brand. That’s what I love about you, Serenity, you’re so good at keeping all this so… private.’
‘You have no morals,’ I hiss.
‘Says the girl who takes her clothes off for a living. Go on, now… run along and get dressed. You know what happens if you don’t.’
I stand my ground, my chest rising and falling. I have the urge to flee the apartment, but the driver clearly works for Brody, and I can’t leave dressed the way that I am now without my coat.
‘And if I still refuse?’
The humor from a moment ago drains from his face. He takes a step closer and places one long finger against my chin, pressing upwards so that my face is tilted toward his. His eyes meet mine. ‘Then let me just check I’ve got Kathleen Lafferty’s number in my cell.’
We remain like that for a few seconds. He wants me to know he’s not bluffing, so he casually reaches for his phone in his pocket. He looks down and begins scrolling through his contacts.
I push his finger away and look down. When his thumb hovers over Kathleen’s name, I relent. Reluctantly, I walk back to the bedroom.
It takes me a good ten minutes to get dressed.
When he sees me in the CMC uniform, complete with the boots, his expression turns lustful. ‘There she is,’ he breathes.
He’s sat on the couch, one ankle resting on the opposite bent knee. His gaze roves over my body hungrily. ‘It’s a good fit on you,’ he then says. He lifts his hips a fraction and leans further back into the couch.
I stand there and feel like a fraud. I’m bringing shame onto the CMC. Persia’s shorts are snug on my hips, and Brody was right about the top with the big ‘M’ emblazoned across it, which is too tight, making it sit higher up my midriff. The bondage-style underwear has no coverage; it’s all straps, so the curves of my breasts peek out from underneath.
‘I should have brought you a pair of poms,’ Brody muses.
‘I’ll need some music,’ I say flatly, keen to get this over with.
‘Don’t worry, sweetie,’ he says, swiping something on his phone before I hear the opening bars ofGirls Girls Girlsfill the apartment.
I cock my head to one side, give him a look that saysyou cannot be serious.
His lips twist into a sardonic smile. ‘I want high kicks,’ he breathes.
I loathe everything about him. He twirls his finger midair as if to sayget moving.
For a brief moment, I close my eyes. Steel myself. It has to be a dance that incorporates both cheerleader and private dancer. I have to conjure up the essence of both somehow. ‘Could you start it again, please?’ I ask.
Brody Conway sips his drink. ‘Focus, Serenity,’ he responds in an impatient tone, as he restarts the track.
As I dance for Brody, I think about Jake. It’s the only way I can get through this. To imagine I’m dancing for him and that he’s the one admiring my body. His game is tomorrow night. I wonder what he’s doing right at this moment.
I work my hips. My hands go into my hair. I block out my surroundings, and Brody’s shameless admiration of my moves. I flick my hair, pretending there are poms in both my hands. He cocks his head for the high kicks, because he wants the view between my thighs.
