Crazy & In Love

(9) Show up, Shut Shit Down.

Partition ~ Beyoncé

I make it just in time before the show starts. My seat is in close range of the stage but my hard features are hidden in the dimming of the lights. No one will know that I'm here. This show is obviously very different from Udaya's others. There's a defined catwalk but it's more like a compliment, the compliment to the real podium. The stage is sheathed in dark purple hues and there's a Tetris-shaped platform taking up its space. Sultry sexy RnB music floods my ears and the curtains close for two minutes before they open, revealing several women in a range of lingerie lounging on the platform.

A woman atop of it, who I expect to be Rihanna, is wearing a red garter set with a microphone in hand. Her body is toned and it glistens under the lights. A smirk wears on her red-stained lips before she speaks while tracing lines against her chest with a manicured hand. "Enjoy the show Ladies and Gentlemen. And...no shame if you leave here, tonight, a little...aroused." With a wink, she disappears from the top. The music volume increases and the women amongst the platform start to move in synchronisation, caressing each other in rhythm to the erotic beats.

The catwalk lights up in sections and the first model appears from what seems like under the stage. Every minute a new model, male and female, appears in dark fitted nightwear or red shades of lingerie and walks the trail of the catwalk with a sultry grin. They make eye contact with the people in the crowd and seem to be seducing them with their stares. This goes on for a while before she makes her appearance in her first outfit.

Udaya stands at the start of the black floored catwalk momentarily, scanning the crowd with her own vixen tactics playing behind her eyes before starting her walk. She's wearing a black satin babydoll dress that is cradling her ample chest with lace over her nipples. It's short and fitted at the waist but flares from then onwards. Her curls are flipped, ever so effortlessly, to the side and her eyes are darkly shaded making her look even more fox-like than usual. Her complexion sparkles in the golden gloss coating her skin. She treads with calculated steps in glossed black court heels.
The crowds' heads turn as she passes, enchanted by her energy.

She is owning this show.

As time goes on she comes out another two more times, each outfit leaves me more bewitched than the last. Once in a full lace bodysuit strapped to thigh-high stockings and another time in a red matching set with her breasts spilling out of the satin material and her hair ruffled, and lipstick smudged, looking like she had just been fucked.
The show ends and all the girls take the stage as Rihanna thanks everyone and says her goodbyes. I take this as my opportunity to slip out of the doors and make my way back to the hotel, unnoticed. I send her a text asking her to meet me there.

As I lean by her room door, I wait patiently, anticipation growing in the cages of my ribs. The lift bell sounds and I wipe the sweaty palms of my hands against my jeans. She steps out of the lift with a smile playing on her lips as her eyes slide over my figure. She's now just in a regular pair of jeans and tank top but she wears it so well. Making my black dress shirt and pants look mediocre.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Wyatt?" Her humorous tone causes me to break out into a grin and stand straight.
With a palm over my heart and an exasperated expression, I answer her. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Mrs Wyatt, you're glowing." It's the truth, she really is. I guess when you know that your beauty is unmatched and unseen before and your expertise is heavily sought after, you just radiate in success.

Her head falls back as she giggles and I use the distraction to capture her lips in mine. As planned, she's surprised but soon returns the favour, pressing her front against mine and circling her arms around my neck. With her, I feel like sparks are constantly flying. My heart calls out to her and I just want to be around her all the time. She truly makes me happy. We stand with our foreheads touching and smiles on our lips, catching our breaths.

She speaks first. "So I'm Mrs Wyatt now?" I chuckle. "You were always destined to be Mrs Wyatt." I whisper with my eyes closed. I've never thought of myself as territorial. The women I've dated, I'd give them their own space. I'd be laid back and unbothered by any preying eyes. But she's changed all of that. A man that valued his life would never dare to look in her direction. With our time apart, the idea cementing of our relationship has only played on my mind more and I have a mission to make that vision real.

Opening her door she guides me inside her junior suite and I situate myself I the couch as she grabs a bottle of water and offers me one but I decline. "So why are you all dressed up?" I turn from facing the view of the city to watch her plump lips circling the nozzle of the water bottle. Jesus. I try to focus but my mind refuses as I remember how soft those lips felt on my dick. The little tricks she'd do with her tongue, forcing me to arch into her throat.

Nevertheless, I shake my head to rid my head of sin fuelled thoughts. "Get dressed, we're going out." I say. Her eyes widen but then her lips spread revealing her excitement. She rushes into the room shouting that she needs to shower first and I warn her to not take too long. Sitting in her space, I think back to a night similar to this one. We'd regularly go out the night of her accomplishments. For completion of a big shoot or a show, she'd just walked.
It was our little tradition.
Tonight we're rekindling all of that.

About twenty minutes after, she steps out of the room in an ankle-length black dress with buttons going down the middle. A few of them are undone showing off the curves of her breasts. The material is taken in at the waist and sits perfectly on her wide hips. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and she wears crystal pear drop earrings with an onyx gem in the middle. Her heels have big crystal-covered bows, draping her white toes with a plain black strap.

"Ready?" I ask and she nods her head, distracted, as she clips her clutch closed. We enter the lift hand in hand and it feels right. Like this was the way it would have always been if I didn't fuck things up so badly. I try not to dwell on the time wasted and how much I missed out on. Her daily rants about traffic or her trying to reason with me on why she should buy herself another pair of ridiculous pair of shoes. And it was all my fault.

As we fall quiet in the car after sitting down, I take the time to admire her features once more. The glow still hasn't left her skin and her lips are parted with a plain coloured gloss. Her cheeks are warmed with a light pink shade and her eyes are thickly winged. I lift her chin and pull her lips close once more. She tastes like mulled wine and...home. I really won't forgive myself if I fuck this up again. I sit back in my seat, leaving her confused and flushed. "What was that for?" I lift my gaze from her lips. "Have I ever tell you that you're beautiful?" Her cheeks heat up even more.

"You've said something like that before." She says as the corner of her lip lifts and her eyes sparkle. I lean over and buckle her seat belt before stroking her cheek. "Well, allow me to say it again." We stare into each other eyes intently before she shyly turns to look out the window. I start the car and pull out of the parking lot.

Yeah, she's the one.