stayed, I'd later learned, was that this was a better venue for all sorts of other shady business he conducted.
Still, Simon had a sharp eye and knew what a good dancer I was. He'd been on me for years to come work for him.
'We need to talk,' I explained. 'Business.'
'It's what I do.' With a sweeping gesture, he pointed to a doorway beside the bar. 'Let's go to my office then.'
His ‘office' was barely a broom closet, but it had a stool for me to sit on. Resting my heels on a mid-level bar, I brought my knees up to my chest. It made my gray linen skirt slide up a bit. Simon watched with an interest that was more professional than personal.
'Fuck, woman. You come dance for me, and I could make a killing.' He shook his head and collapsed into a rolling faux leather chair. 'A succubus on my stage. Fuck.'
I tilted my head to the side. 'It's funny you mention that because that's kind of why I'm here.'
I think my innocent tone set his alarms off. He eyed me suspiciously. 'I thought you said you didn't want a job.'
'Not me. We just got a new succubus, and she's looking for a gig. Didn't you hear?'
'No…' He frowned. 'And she wants to dance? Here?'
'Yep,' I said glibly. 'She can't wait to take her clothes off.' Wasn't that the truth.
Simon leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the desk. Casual pose or not, he was still on guard. 'What's the catch?'
'Why does there have to be a catch? You should be excited about this. We're doing you a favor.'
'You're offering to drop a succubus into my lap. That sounds too good to be true, so it is too good to be true.' He paused, still thinking. 'And why are you here instead of her?'
'I'm altruistic.'
'Georgina,' he said warningly.
'Okay,' I admitted. 'She's kind of…new.'
'How new?'
'Really new. Still under warranty.'
'There's still a catch here somewhere.'
'Well…she's…' I spun through my mental rolodex of adjectives. 'Inept.'
He raised one narrow eyebrow. 'Inept?'
'She's still learning how to get men.' Since Simon probably wanted sexy women working for him, I figured it wasn't worth mentioning that Tawny wasn't so much learning as she was still trying to find her way to class. 'And she's a, um, bad dancer.'
'How bad?'
'Bad.'
'Can you be a little more specific on what level of bad we're dealing with?'
'Remember Gigli?'
'Jesus. So, why do you think I'd want to take on a shitty dancer?'
'Simon,' I exclaimed. 'All your dancers are shitty.'
'Not all of them,' he said. 'And it's not like I'm trying to get more. We have standards.'
I gave him a pointed look.
'Alright, alright.' He ran a hand through his gelled black hair. 'What do I get in return?'
Now I was the indignant one. 'What do you mean? You're getting a succubus dancer. What else do you need?'
'I'm getting a succubus charity case. I'm the one doing you a favor.' His eyes were shrewd. Yeah. He'd make a good imp someday. He was this close to breaking out a contract. 'I want you. Dance for me two nights this week.'
'No.'
'One night.'
'Simon, there is nothing in this world that's going to get me to dance here, not even a succubus charity case. Pick something else.'
'Okay, fine.' He pondered. 'You. I want you.'
'Hey, I just told you—'
'No, no. Not as a dancer. As in right now. On the desk.'
I sighed. That kind of want.
'Look, if I've gotta hire a bad succubus, I might as well fuck a good one.'
'Interesting logic. Aren't you worried about your soul?'
He looked at me like he couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to ask such a thing. It was similar to the look I'd given him when he said Low Blow had standards.
'Noted.' I stood up. 'But not this body. Pick another shape.'
Simon snorted. 'You think I'm interested in a pinup girl crossed with an Ann Taylor model? Fuck that. I want a sixteen-year-old version of Liza Minnelli. In a school girl's uniform.'
I stared. 'I have no idea what that would look like.'
He started undoing his pants. 'You're a smart girl. Figure it out.'
Sighing again, I shape-shifted, taking on a small body with a black pixie haircut. Baby smooth skin. Green plaid skirt with matching vest. Simon grunted his approval.
Turning, I rested my hands on the desk and bent over, thrusting my ass out toward him. I hoped it would be over soon. If I could just get the weasel comparison out of my head, this would probably be a lot easier.
I felt his hands slide along my legs as he pushed the skirt up. Suddenly, he froze.
'A thong? Are you insane, woman?'
'You're a sick bastard,' I told him. The thong changed to white cotton panties.
'Don't I know it.'
He pushed the panties down and thrust forward. Well, I guess it was a thrust. Simon wasn't that well- endowed. I was on the verge of saying something like, 'Are you there yet?' Alas, the Tawny situation was too dire. I couldn't risk Simon changing his mind about her for the sake of a joke, no matter how funny.
But, whatever Simon lacked in size, he made up for in enthusiasm. He gripped my hips, nails digging into my bare flesh as he pounded away. I had to keep a fierce hold on the desk. Eventually, seeking variety, Simon flipped me over to my back. He unfastened my blouse and bra, exposing small, perky breasts that had just 'blossomed into womanhood.' Eyes on them and not my face, he grabbed my legs and spread them so that my ankles practically rested on his shoulders.
He returned to the task at hand, and when he finally came, I have to admit I welcomed the energy burst. It wasn't a lot—the guy practically worked for Hell already—but I needed it. Simon pulled out of me, and I sat up, mildly sated from an energy standpoint, if not a physical one. I honestly hadn't done much but lie there the whole time, but he regarded me as though we'd just gone through the entire Kama Sutra.
'Definitely worth putting up with an inept succubus,' he said happily, pulling his pants back up.
I wanted to say that he might want to withhold judgment until he actually met Tawny, but instead, I just smiled. I knew when to keep my control switch on.
CHAPTER 11
Simon hadn't had a lot to give me, but just like every other time I'd gotten an energy fix recently, I had the dream.
It played out the same as always, starting with the dishes, going all the way up to when my dream-self looked into the living room to smile at the little girl. After a few more moments, my dream-self returned to her dishes. Silently, I screamed at her to look back. I couldn't get enough of the girl. I wanted to drink her in. I could have watched her forever, taking in those long-lashed eyes and wispy curls.
Then, as though she could hear me, my dream-self glanced back into the other room. The girl was gone. My
