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The Sextet - Entanglements [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) by Cheryl Brooks, Mellanie Szereto, Bethany Michaels, Elizabeth Raines, Niki Hayes, Morgan Annie Page A
Authors: Cheryl Brooks, Mellanie Szereto, Bethany Michaels, Elizabeth Raines, Niki Hayes, Morgan Annie
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1
By the time Hannah Dunn was eight years old, she had developed an affinity for fishnet stockings, anything encrusted with rhinestones, and the total attention of anyone who would watch her sing, dance, act, or do gymnastics. Her mother, a secretary at the Regandale Nevada Stake, had been horrified and predicted that Hannah would end up dropping out of school and becoming a prostitute or working in one of those trashy strip clubs out on Route 15.
Her mom had been wrong, Hannah thought with some satisfaction, as a razor-sharp knife whistled by her left ear with only centimeters to spare. Hannah had gotten a job at one of the classy strip clubs in town right after graduating high school and had never worked as anything but a waitress.
Another pair of knives thwacked into the brightly painted backdrop very close to where Hannah’s wrists were bound with ropes over her head. A thousand spectators gasped in unison. And just look where she was now. Even her mom couldn’t deny the fact that Hannah had taken a big step up in the world when she landed her current gig. Stripping would have paid more, but performing with world-renowned illusionist Marcus Lorenzo was much more exciting, and she got to work in a brand-new, state-of-the-art auditorium at the Bombastic Casino, built especially for Marcus’s act, instead of a smoky, smelly club in which danger lurked around every barstool.
Two more knifes sliced through the air, embedding themselves on either side of Hannah’s sequined waist. One of them caught the seam of her costume, and Hannah sighed to herself, thinking of the time it would require to have the costume repaired. Marcus had been showing off all night, adding little touches to the act, which usually meant he was having woman trouble. The crowd loved it. Delighted gasps and a burst of applause punctuated the expertly crafted web of tension Marcus had woven throughout the whole 83 minutes leading up to the grand finale.
Unlike Marcus, most magicians on The Strip didn’t actually fling knives at their assistants. They only appeared to be throwing knives, while the whole time a stage hand used a simple slingshot-type setup to pop the knives through the backdrop hilt first. If the timing was perfect, the illusion was almost indiscernible to the audience. But almost wasn’t good enough for Marcus. These knives were real, and Marcus was really throwing them.
By the time all the knives had been thrown, Hannah’s scantily clad rhinestone silhouette was ringed by razor-sharp daggers. Marcus reared back for the final throw, and four blades simultaneously sliced through the four ropes binding Hannah to the backdrop. The whole auditorium exploded in applause, and Marcus’s theme music pounded out of the surround-sound speakers. The stage hands switched on the fog machines and the whole stage filled with brightly colored puffs of smoke.
Marcus met Hannah at center stage, and grasping her hand, he winked at her as they took their bows to their usual standing ovation. A delicious chill ran over her skin despite the bright stage lights. It wasn’t the thrill of performing in front of a packed house or the thrill of coming inches from a grisly stabbing death. It wasn’t even the rhinestones and fishnets that had her giddy. It was the thrill of being close to Marcus, holding his hand and letting herself be totally seduced by his charm, good looks, and talent the same as his audiences were night after night.
Lush, red velvet curtains swooshed closed as the announcer thanked the audience for coming out and the stage crew rushed to start breaking down the set. The applause gradually died down, replaced by the low murmur of voices and the shuffle of feet as the sellout audience made its way out the auditorium doors and back to the neon lure of sin, sex, and slots.
Marcus dropped Hannah’s hand and sketched a mock bow. “You were divine tonight, as always.”
“Yeah? Well you’re paying for the repairs to this costume,”
By the time Hannah Dunn was eight years old, she had developed an affinity for fishnet stockings, anything encrusted with rhinestones, and the total attention of anyone who would watch her sing, dance, act, or do gymnastics. Her mother, a secretary at the Regandale Nevada Stake, had been horrified and predicted that Hannah would end up dropping out of school and becoming a prostitute or working in one of those trashy strip clubs out on Route 15.
Her mom had been wrong, Hannah thought with some satisfaction, as a razor-sharp knife whistled by her left ear with only centimeters to spare. Hannah had gotten a job at one of the classy strip clubs in town right after graduating high school and had never worked as anything but a waitress.
Another pair of knives thwacked into the brightly painted backdrop very close to where Hannah’s wrists were bound with ropes over her head. A thousand spectators gasped in unison. And just look where she was now. Even her mom couldn’t deny the fact that Hannah had taken a big step up in the world when she landed her current gig. Stripping would have paid more, but performing with world-renowned illusionist Marcus Lorenzo was much more exciting, and she got to work in a brand-new, state-of-the-art auditorium at the Bombastic Casino, built especially for Marcus’s act, instead of a smoky, smelly club in which danger lurked around every barstool.
Two more knifes sliced through the air, embedding themselves on either side of Hannah’s sequined waist. One of them caught the seam of her costume, and Hannah sighed to herself, thinking of the time it would require to have the costume repaired. Marcus had been showing off all night, adding little touches to the act, which usually meant he was having woman trouble. The crowd loved it. Delighted gasps and a burst of applause punctuated the expertly crafted web of tension Marcus had woven throughout the whole 83 minutes leading up to the grand finale.
Unlike Marcus, most magicians on The Strip didn’t actually fling knives at their assistants. They only appeared to be throwing knives, while the whole time a stage hand used a simple slingshot-type setup to pop the knives through the backdrop hilt first. If the timing was perfect, the illusion was almost indiscernible to the audience. But almost wasn’t good enough for Marcus. These knives were real, and Marcus was really throwing them.
By the time all the knives had been thrown, Hannah’s scantily clad rhinestone silhouette was ringed by razor-sharp daggers. Marcus reared back for the final throw, and four blades simultaneously sliced through the four ropes binding Hannah to the backdrop. The whole auditorium exploded in applause, and Marcus’s theme music pounded out of the surround-sound speakers. The stage hands switched on the fog machines and the whole stage filled with brightly colored puffs of smoke.
Marcus met Hannah at center stage, and grasping her hand, he winked at her as they took their bows to their usual standing ovation. A delicious chill ran over her skin despite the bright stage lights. It wasn’t the thrill of performing in front of a packed house or the thrill of coming inches from a grisly stabbing death. It wasn’t even the rhinestones and fishnets that had her giddy. It was the thrill of being close to Marcus, holding his hand and letting herself be totally seduced by his charm, good looks, and talent the same as his audiences were night after night.
Lush, red velvet curtains swooshed closed as the announcer thanked the audience for coming out and the stage crew rushed to start breaking down the set. The applause gradually died down, replaced by the low murmur of voices and the shuffle of feet as the sellout audience made its way out the auditorium doors and back to the neon lure of sin, sex, and slots.
Marcus dropped Hannah’s hand and sketched a mock bow. “You were divine tonight, as always.”
“Yeah? Well you’re paying for the repairs to this costume,”
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