The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

34

"You want to what?" Angelo asks, his hand stopping my movement against his crotch.

"Go back to work?" I asked, knowing that his answer would be no, in a hundred different languages.

"No." He says.

"No?" I ask, my voice soft and sultry, fingers sprawled against his groin, feeling his already evident erection.

"No." Angelo replies, voice firm.

"Can't it at least be, I'll think about it?" I ask watching the man push himself away from me, grabbing his suit jacket from where I kept it.

"No." He replies.

"Angelo-" I sigh watching him turn and leave toward the stair no, doubt on his way to shower.

"Don't be so inexorable." I argue stomping toward the bedroom behind him, where he was headed.

"I'm not being, inexorable." He says throwing the Armani suit jacket on the freshly made bed.

"I'm strictly against it." He adds, undoing the buttons on his white shirt.

Now, this was turning out to be harder than I thought.

Not being able to work was getting into my head.

I'm all alone, apart from the dogs and Bertie, of course.

God knows, what he does in that small outhouse all day and all night.

And mostly, the dogs hang out with Bertie leaving me alone, and cleaning the house everyday hardly is interesting.

Beside, I miss the face of the kids at the ballet academy.

I miss Minx, by a greater margin.

I miss Blaire and I'a date and the dancing, the music.

"You can't just say that you're strictly against me working." I stand tall, on my ground, crossing my arms over my chest, focused.

"I just did, Ariel." He says, with his eyes raised, his shirt hangs open from his shoulders.

If sex wasn't going to be enough to persuade him, I didn't know what will.

"This is not done." I say shaking my head.

"You can't decide if I get to work or don't. If I want to work, I will." I add.

"You won't go back to minx, doing what you did, Ariel." He warns, the tone of seriousness in his voice.

"But I do want to." I say throwing my hands in the air. "Is that so much to ask?"

"It's extremely too much to ask, to go back to the club and strip for men." He says.

"So that's what bothers you." I say.

"Isn't it supposed to?" He asks.

"Is it?" I ask. "What I did at minx was my job. Striping and dancing was my job not my pastime to please married perverted men."