The Vaudeville Star

Ruby said nothing as they made a turn and Ford held her in his arms. Like so many things, he was an expert dancer.

“What? Nothing to add? I answered your question about the dress,” he said.

“Yes. You did.”

“Didn’t you like the answer?”

She looked at a passing couple and saw Zeta with a smile on her face in the arms of Vernon. Another couple passed by, and she saw Bessie in King’s arms.

“Hello there!” he called out to them jovially.

She smiled brightly at King as they passed him. “You don’t need to try so hard. He’s already crazy about you,” Ford told her.

“Is that was this is about?”

“What?” he asked.

“Your comments. Your looks.”

“What looks?”

Ruby looked away. “You look at me . . .”

“Yes?”

“As if . . .” She tried to find the right word.

“Go on.”

“You look at me as if you want me.”

“Ruby, darling, I’ve ha

d you,” he said with a grin.

Ruby felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Maybe it was the dancing or the theatrics that seemed to surround her, but she felt dizzy. The way he said darling in his Southern drawl made her ache for him, and his hands seemed to be everywhere. She felt his hot hands on her breasts, her belly, her thigh, and his mouth in places no man should ever be.

“Besides, we both know you wore that dress for attention, and you got it. Whose attention you want remains to be seen.”

“Meaning?”

Every word and every gesture coming from Ford seemed to be geared to annoy her.

“Come now, Ruby. You like the attention. King fawns over you. You have poor young Archie drooling. You want to add me to your stock of men as well, darling?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Darling?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm,” they made a turn and he smiled, “I think I called you darling that night.”

“I don’t remember,” Ruby said tartly.

“I told you not to be frightened.”

“And I told you I wasn’t. Not then. Not now.” Ruby threw a glance at him.