Page 22 of Ruining Hattie

HATTIE

T he way Bastion’s looking at me makes me feel a certain type of way I’ve never felt before. Beautiful, sexy, desirable.

But as soon as that thought floats through my mind, I shut it down. I shouldn’t be thinking things like this. Shouldn’t be feeling them. It’s not right.

“I wanted to see what you thought of this,” I say.

His eyes practically devour me, sending goose bumps cascading down my arms and legs.

The clothes aren’t sexy if you’re looking at them on the hanger, but the black pencil skirt fits me like a second skin, and the white blouse dips down further than anything I’ve ever worn in my life.

And I’ve never worn heels this high. I hope I don’t break my ankle before getting used to them.

It took all my nerve to come in here and get Bastion’s approval.

“I think you look phenomenal.”

His words caress my self-consciousness, and a smile blooms on my face. “Thank you.”

His eyes continue to roam over me, and his gaze turns heated. Have I… have I turned Bastion on? The idea is both frightening and exhilarating.

“We’ll go figure out another outfit, and I’ll come show you.”

He nods in approval, and when I turn to leave the room, I swear he groans.

Outfit after outfit, his reaction is the same. He expresses only his approval, and with each one, his looks grow more tense and passionate.

Or maybe I’m seeing what I want to see. Maybe I’m seeing things I subconsciously wish were happening and aren’t.

But by the time a few hours pass and we’re saying goodbye to Ivy and her team in the foyer, I feel as if I might come out of my skin.

It’s not a sensation I’m used to. Not a sensation I’ve really had before.

After he closes and locks the condo door, Bastion turns to face me. “Happy with your new outfits?”

“Very, but I can’t let you pay for them.” I mean it, but truthfully, I know I can’t afford any of the new items lining my closet. It was apparent from the designer tags and the fabrics that they’re way above my pay grade.

“You can and will, Hattie. It’s nonnegotiable.” He steps past me and heads toward the kitchen.

“That must have cost you a small fortune. I’m sure I can find something on my own that can work. Why would you go to so much trouble for me?”

He grabs a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and faces me. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He says it as though it’s a perfectly reasonable question.

“You don’t owe me anything. We’re only just getting to know each other.”

Bastion shrugs and removes the cap from his drink. “That’s reason enough, don’t you think?”

“No.” There’s no other way for me to put it. No niceness I can add in. It’s all so much, and the friendship I thought was blooming before I got here has changed.

Taking a sip of his drink, he steps closer. “I see something in you, Hattie. You’re a good person, and I just want to help. Will you let me help you?”

With his free hand, he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. My breath comes hard and fast as our eyes meet. Our gazes lock and hold, and I should look away, the tension building between us feels like a volcano set to erupt, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

To my surprise, Bastion is the first to look away. “If you want to return the favor, you can come with me to an event next month. It’s boring as fuck, but I have to go every year and would love the company of someone I enjoy spending time with.”

Heat races up my neck and settles in my cheeks. I want to ask if it’s a date or just a friend helping a friend. “Okay, you have yourself a deal.”

He nods, and I return it before heading over to one of the cupboards to see if I can find something to drink.

This cupboard has a bunch of powders and drink mixes.

I tried a watermelon one the other day and thought it was pretty good, so that’s probably what I’ll have again.

I peruse for a moment, but I don’t see the watermelon one I was hoping for. Maybe Bastion finished it.

“Here.” He steps up behind me and reaches over my head, grabbing something from the top shelf.

My breath catches when his pelvis brushes against me, and the scent of his cologne wraps around me like a warm hug. The heat from his body radiates into my back, and it’s all so much.

Though I shouldn’t want to, the urge to move back, just a little, is so great that I have to lock my muscles into place so I don’t do anything stupid. I won’t ruin this opportunity for my parents and me.

“I grabbed you some hot chocolate since I know you don’t like coffee.” His warm breath tickles my neck as he sets a canister of hot chocolate mix on the counter in front of me. It’s even the one with marshmallows like I prefer.

I turn around to thank him but draw back from his closeness. The words die on my lips.

There can’t be more than a few inches between us, but Bastion doesn’t step back. I’m already against the counter, so he pretty much has me caged in. Not that I’m complaining.

“Thanks,” I say in a hushed tone.

Once again, the tension between us pulls tighter and tighter, feeling in danger of snapping.

Bastion clears his throat and steps back. “I’m going to retire for the evening, but I was hoping I could steal some of your time this weekend. I’d like to show you around the city.”

“That’s nice of you, thank you. Saturday would work for me.”

“It’s a date then.” He nods, turns, and leaves the kitchen.

I stare after him, knowing he didn’t really mean the word date, but wishing he did.

Stupid, stupid Hattie.

The next day, I wear one of the outfits Bastion bought me to work, and he’s right—I do feel much more comfortable walking through the doors of the club.

There’s nothing super sexy about the white shorts and black blouse I’m wearing, besides the fact that the shorts are about six inches shorter than I’ve ever worn outside of bed, but it does come off as classy and sensual somehow, just like Ivy said.

I notice that some of the dancers I haven’t met yet take the time to introduce themselves when I come across them in the kitchen or the bathroom that day, and they don’t give me the once-over like everyone else did earlier in the week.

It feels silly to think it’s because of the clothes—I’ve never really given my wardrobe much thought before—but the outfit does change my attitude and makes me feel more confident than I would feel otherwise.

Feeling braver than normal, I decide to work a little later than I have been.

I’m trying to finish up something before the weekend.

But I need a little boost, so I go make myself a hot chocolate in the break room and decide that rather than drinking it alone in my office like I have been all week, I’ll take a break in the main part of the club.

Maybe if I spend more time there, I’ll realize it’s not as big a deal as I’m making it in my head.

Besides, I gave myself until the end of the week to decide whether I could hack this environment or not, so I have to know what I’m really getting into.

I can’t just hide from it and pretend it isn’t happening.

I take my mug and find an empty table near the back of the club where I’m out of the way and hopefully no one will notice me. Destiny is up on stage. I met her earlier. When she told me her name, I didn’t have the guts to ask whether it was her stage name or her real name.

All the men are watching her with rapt attention. There’s even what appears to be a couple here, based on the fact that the man and woman are holding hands as they watch with delight.

Destiny gyrates to the music and slowly pulls off her shirt before dropping it on the stage. Her full breasts sway as she dances and makes her way to a set of stairs she uses to make her way into the crowd.

I sip on my hot chocolate, feeling uncomfortable watching this in a room full of strangers, but I force myself to remain where I am.

Several men holler at Destiny to come their way, holding up cash to make it more enticing.

The first few slide the bills into her G-string, and she gives them a sultry smile in return.

As I watch her, I can’t help but wonder what it must feel like to be secure enough in yourself to command a room like this while half naked.

What must it feel like to have that type of power, to know that all admiring eyes are on you?

Destiny moves to the other side of the room and has a short conversation with a man sitting at a table by himself. There’s an exchange of money, and she lowers herself onto his lap, her back to his front.

So, that’s a lap dance.

I’ve never seen one before, and my gaze is glued to them as she rocks her pelvis back and forth. He’s lounged back in his chair, legs spread wide with a lazy grin on his face, clearly enjoying himself.

About halfway through the song, she straightens and turns around, straddling him so they’re face-to-face. His hands are tucked into fists as if it’s taking all his control not to touch her.

Destiny sets her hands on his shoulders and rocks her pelvis against his.

My skin grows tight, and I hold my breath as I watch her simulate sex with him.

Then she reaches for his face and brings it down between her breasts.

She arches and flings her head back as though she’s in the throes of ecstasy as she moves his face back and forth over her naked flesh.

I’m horrified, but worse than that, I’m turned on and unable to stand from my seat.

The space between my legs thrums, and I feel the distinct urge to shift and press my thighs together. As the notes in the song climb and climb, thrumming closer toward a crescendo, so do her movements. I, as well as the others, watch with rapt attention.

It’s only when someone walks through my line of sight that I snap out of my daze. I blink slowly as if coming out of a stupor.

“What am I doing?” I bolt up from the table with my mug in hand and hurry across the expanse of the club to the relative safety of the door leading backstage.

My breaths come fast and quick as I hustle down the hallway to the office, rushing inside and closing the door behind me. Thankfully, Bastion isn’t here.

What is happening to me? I was watching that man and that woman, and I was enjoying it. The thought of what my parents would say, what the people at my church would think, has bile racing up my throat. I swallow it back and collapse into my seat.

I was more than enjoying it. I craved more of the feeling watching them gave me. My body physically responded. I… I’ve never had that happen before. I may not be a virgin—something I hate to think about—but I’ve never felt arousal like that before.

This is exactly why my parents and the church warned me away from places like this. They’re constantly testing you, and not everyone passes the test.

“I can’t work here anymore.”

I swivel my chair to face my computer. If I send Bastion an email with my resignation and thanking him for giving me a chance, maybe I can be out of here and packed and on a plane back to Wisconsin tonight.

I pull up my email to begin my resignation, but my gaze snags on the first email in my inbox—NOTICE OF DIRECT DEPOSIT. I open it to see that I’ve been paid for my first week of work, and my mouth falls open.

It’s not that I didn’t know how much this job paid, but seeing it in black and white hits different. This is practically what I made in a month at my old job.

My eyes close, and I slump back in my seat. This money could help my parents so much. And me—I could establish a real nest egg. Then in the future, if anything else happens with my parents, I’d be able to help them.

I don’t know what to do. Will I become morally corrupt if I remain in this job? Is it selfish to quit when doing so won’t let me help my parents? If they knew where I was really working, they’d tell me to be on the first flight home regardless of the fact that it would hurt them.

Then there’s the idea of leaving Bastion… something about that doesn’t sit well with me even though we’re nothing more than colleagues and friends. And roommates for the time being.

When I think about him showing me around Seattle tomorrow, that bubble of excitement enlarges. Wasn’t this what I wanted? To have a new adventure because I felt like something was missing in my life?

Maybe that’s exactly why I’ve been led here. Perhaps it doesn’t have to mean anything that I was aroused watching the show out there. Isn’t that the whole point? I just won’t expose myself to it again, and it will be fine.

I can still remain the Hattie I’ve always been, regardless of the temptation surrounding me.

There’s a brisk knock on the door, then it whips open to reveal an attractive woman at least a decade my senior. She scowls at me. “Who the hell are you?”