“Are you ready, Mr. NBA Two-Time Championship Team Owner,” Xiomara teased, looping her arm through mine after the last of the customers had gone and she had locked the doors.
“I’m ready, but not necessarily to head to my house yet.”
“Mine?” she asked, wearing a pleasing look.
Xiomara had finally moved out of her parents’ home to her father’s displeasure, but her mother had supported her decision.
“So, where are we going then?”
“Come on,” I said, grasping her hand and leading her to the window display.
Laughing, she replied, “What’re you doing, Lake?”
“I think we need to christen this window display,” I whispered in her ear.
Grabbing the zipper of her skirt, I pulled it up until I exposed her ass to me as she shrieked and tried to pull it back down.
“I love it when you go commando,” I groaned in her ear, my dick twitching at the thought of sinking inside of her.
“Lake, we’re in a window display. Anyone can see us,” she objected.
“No one’s watching. Everyone’s gone home for the night,” I said, pressing a kiss to her neck. “You know there’s no action in downtown Sunset Harbor on a Wednesday night. So, I just want to bring a little activity to the town. Liven it up a bit. Besides, I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“Screw in a store window?”
“Mm-hmm,” I muttered, licking her earlobe.
She moaned as I slid my fingers across her folds.
My moan joined hers as I licked her essence from my fingers. I continued to rub her as I reached between us and removed my dick from my pants.
Nothing felt as wonderful as slipping inside of her moist, soft heat. Something I looked forward to every time we were together this way.
“Z! You feel so fucking good!” I exclaimed in her ear, sucking on the lobe of it.
Her moans drowned out my heartbeat and my grunts as I drove inside of her.
Xiomara lost all of her reservations as she pushed back against me, her face and upper body pressed against the window. My hands gripped her hips as I plowed inside of her, swiveling in tight circles.
“Aww, fuck, Lake!” she screamed as my movements slowed, but my thrusts were more forceful and with a lot more intensity.
Only she had ever made me feel this way. I’d been with lots of women and tried everything that I could to duplicate the feeling of being with her for the first time, but I’d never found it again until we were together. And I knew that it was because of how I felt about this woman.
Xiomara used her fist to bang against the window, expressing the intensity of her emotions. The glare from her diamond engagement ring shone underneath the light, sparkling with a brilliant rainbow display of colors.
I smiled with delight at the thought of her becoming my wife in just a couple of weeks. With everything she had on her plate with her business opening and already having the second and third locations under construction, she still had planned a wedding.
I’d left all the details to her except for the location I’d chosen as Casa di Rosso, right here in Sunset Harbor. It was a beautiful vineyard and the home of an old friend of mine, Dante Bianchi, and his wife, Indigo.
“I’m...I’m about to cum!” she screamed.
“Come on, Beautiful. Give it all to me,” I groaned.
And she did, coming all over my dick. One day, I’d pump her full of my babies, but not yet. We’d agreed to adopt at least three children from the children’s home in Durham, much to Ariel’s delight.
I pressed a kiss to the nape of Xiomara’s neck as she clenched around me. I felt my explosion coming. My vision blurred as I heard bells ringing in my ears. My blood pressure intensified as I released my seed inside of her.
No sooner than I did, I heard her cry out.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, my gosh...those people are staring over here.”
“Where?” I asked, peering over her shoulder.
“Don’t. Move,” she said through clenched teeth. “Pretend, you’re a mannequin,” she ordered, remaining still.
I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help the guffaw that came from deep within my chest.
“I don’t think they’re going to believe we’re mannequins, Beautiful.”
“Why not?” she cried.
“Because you’re moving too much. And depending on how long they have been standing there, I suspect they’ve enjoyed quite a show.”
“Shit!” she cursed.
Laughing, I said, “Well, they didn’t see anything, really.”
Thanks to the design of her dress that Senait had created, nothing showed in the front. The most anyone could have seen was our back-and-forth movements, using their imagination to determine what we were doing.
“Besides, it’s dark in here...they can’t see our faces.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said, holding still while I closed her zipper.
When I stepped out of the window display, I reached for her hand and helped her down beside me.
Pulling her into my arms, I brushed my lips against hers and said, “If anything comes of it, it was meant to be.”
She hit my chest, wearing a wicked grin as she licked my lips, rested a hand on top of my head, and said, “You’d better hope it works out for my good.”
“It will.”
And it did. The next couple of weeks, there was a video trending of two people “maybe” having sex in the new clothing boutique in downtown Sunset Harbor. And while no one could identify the couple, rumors circulated that it may have been the owner and her fiancé, the Durham Dragons owner. The beauty of that was that it increased traffic and interest in her boutique for quite some time.
All that mattered was that we’d gotten our second chance at love.
SNEAK PEEK AT THE DANCE
“THANK YOU,” I SAY, accepting my vodka cranberry from the waitress.
“I can’t believe I let you drag me in here,” Sonja says, glancing around the club.
“They’d better not skimp on the orange and lime,” I mutter before sipping my drink.
“I just knew that Justin would save my ass from these shenanigans you’re dragging me along with you on,” she mumbles.
“Girl, please. Justin knows ‘sexy’ when he sees it. After your ass watches these girls dancing tonight, you’ll be going home jumping on him like you’ve lost your mind. Hot in the ass and horny! Your man is smart as hell,” I say with a slight lift of my eyebrows when I taste the drink.
I’m surprised. The bartender got it right. The lime and cranberry, although a tart mixture together, brings the perfect amount of liveliness to the drink to wake up my tastebuds. But it’s the orange juice that sets it off for me. The sweetness makes it perfectly delicious.
I’d requested that they add more vodka to the drink than the norm, and I was pleasantly surprised to find they got that right, too.
Yes, Prestige is an upscale, high-end club catering to the rich, and it didn’t matter if Prestige was the best of the best. I’ve been in establishments similar to this before, and they still knew how to fuck up a perfectly good drink.
I’m impressed by the clientele I see here tonight and the design of the strip club section. We haven’t been invited to tour the rest of the club, only this area. If all goes as planned, I will have a chance to check out the rest, although I’ve been warned that maybe I don’t want to.
Everything about this place is beautiful. It screams money from the staircase descending into the club’s main room, making attendants feel like royalty to the gold elements woven throughout the club.
The design is sexy and classy, and every feature is reminiscent of a woman’s body. From the curved tables to the long poles, you can’t help but think of a woman’s hips and legs.
Gold and bronze statues of nude women are positioned around the strip club. The dancers, waitresses, and bartenders are beautiful, shapely women.
The club opens to an outdoor space with a magnificent pool in the center of the action. Patio tables, day beds, and chaise lounges are positioned all around the pool for comfort, and a canopy of trees shades the area during the day from the sweltering sun overhead.
Dancers perform on the outside as well as on the inside. Waitresses and bartenders serve this area, and there are two bars for patrons' convenience.
When I first arrived, I was surprised to find that the outdoor area even had its own DJ. The music playing outside is different than what is played inside, but they don’t clash at all.
I glance up at one of the two cabana areas, and I spot one of the club’s owners speaking with a dancer and some other man.
“Are you ready for this?” Sonja asks, pulling my attention back to the moment.
“Girl, as ready as I’ll ever be.”
I swallow back any fear that tries to rise inside of me. No, this isn’t my usual flow, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, and there’s no shame inside of me. Besides, it’s temporary. All I need is a year to a year and a half to get my pockets up.
I drown out Sonja’s verbal assault on the club and what’s going on all around us to take in the dancers all around. Although the club has a lot to offer, their dancers’ performances leave a lot to be desired.
Dancing is so much more than shaking your ass and popping your pussy. There’s nothing wrong with implementing those moves into the routine, but there could be, scratch that, there should be so much more.
These women aren’t true dancers. And the few that are need someone to choreograph their moves. But I’m not here for that.
A tap on my shoulder pulls me away from the tired performances and reminds me of my true purpose for tonight’s visit.
“Are you ready?”
It’s the dancer that I saw on the second-level cabana speaking with the owner.
“Yes,” I say, standing and pulling my knit dress up my hips, over my head, and tossing it onto my seat.
“You’ve got this, girl. And if not, there are always other options!” Sonja shouts after me as I follow the dancer.
My worries aren’t whether or not I will get the job.
There’s no room for worrying in the world that I come from. People will hail you as the queen one minute and hate you the next. The only thing that holds is that no matter how much they sing your praises, they don’t love you.
With that in mind, I tell the DJ what I want him to play, and I take to the stage in my seven-inch heels to teach these tricks how to dance.
The beat thunders through me as a chill runs over my body, hyping me up. I become a beast whenever the music plays, allowing my alter ego to take over. It’s just the music and me on that stage, although I know I have everyone in this club mesmerized.
I can hear Sonja shouting from below, “That’s my bitch!” over Gucci Mane’s I Think I Love Her.
Out of my peripheral vision, I see people coming from inside the club to check me out, but I stay focused on the beat and my moves.
Spinning around, I bend over and touch the floor with my ass in the air, shaking before I come back up, rolling my hips from side to side. A quick, crisscross step and spin turns me back around to face the crowd.
Stomping my right foot against the hardwood floor, I arch my back and rock my body side to side. Throwing my hands in the air and clasping them above my head, I pull my right hand down again and smack my hip, rolling it and twerking my ass as I flap my right hand in front of my pelvis.
Dropping lower to the floor in a squat, I pop a couple of times before coming back up and hitting a few bucking moves.
I can hear the crowd screaming and the DJ chanting over the microphone, but none of that matters to me at the moment. The only thing I care about is dancing. Giving the people what they want with a little something extra.
Grabbing my pelvis again, I stomp forward as I rock my hips side to side.
This isn’t a routine that I’ve choreographed or practiced. But I love hip-hop, and it’s a hip-hop dance that’s edgy and sexy. It brings a certain edge that isn’t always seen in strip clubs, one I’m certain they haven’t seen here if the crowd's reaction is any indicator.
But I don’t worry about any of that. I just let the music dictate my dance moves. This is when I’m at my best, my purest, freest self, when I can allow the music to take over and dictate how I move.
Just before the music switches up to the female rapper’s solo, I “hit dem folks” and sashay into a salsa, swiping my hair back from my eyes.
When the lyrics, Well, my name is Susie and Gucci think I love him. That sucka think I'm loyal, but I fucks with all the hustlers, plays, I spin around again, popping my hips and slide into a half split with one leg pulled partially behind me.
Sliding up onto my knees, I crawl in a tight circle before collapsing onto my right hip, folding my left heel in towards my right thigh, and then kicking my right leg high into the air.
Of course, the men go crazy as I spread before them. My black thong with the silver studs that match my shoes slides further into my slit, exposing my lower lips.
Shaking my right leg in the air as the female rapper sings, Nigga, you don't love me, I make my pussy pulse to their delight. Rolling onto my back, I spread my legs apart, tossing my arms between my legs before pushing up onto my knees.
I roll my hips several times before jumping effortlessly from my knees into a low crouch as I let the music control every movement my body ushers out.
By the time my performance is finished, the outside area is packed.
“Kevin wants to see you,” the other dancer says no sooner than I step from the stage.
I nod and follow her, not bothering to return to the table with Sonja to grab my short knit dress. These men are used to seeing ass a dime a dozen around this place, and mine is nothing special. It’s all about the dance.
I know that I’ve snagged them, though, with that alone from the comments and head nods I get on my way inside the club. Yes, I get plenty of looks as my ass wiggles from side to side in the black leather thong with the silver studs.
I know there will come a day when I’ll have to remove the thong that I wear, along with the matching bralette. But tonight, I don’t worry about that.
Tonight is just a test, and it’s only my second time visiting this club. The first was an audition for one of the managers. He explained all the details of working at Prestige at that time.
But tonight? Tonight was about the members and their reactions toward me.
I stepped into the back office as Pippa, the dancer who’d escorted me back, closed the door behind her and disappeared.
Kevin Stokes, according to his nametag, the manager I haven’t met, is sitting on the edge of his desk.
“Have a seat,” he says, pointing at a club chair across from his desk.
I take a seat and squirm for a few seconds before settling down.
“As you can see, Prestige is a different club because we cater to a certain type of clientele. We don’t treat our dancers the way that most strip clubs do, as though you’re sub-human. We treat our dancers with class, dignity, and respect. Our dancers are here to do a job just like everyone else, and therefore they receive that same respect. But you...I don’t know your story, and I don’t know why you chose us, but I’m glad you did.”
“Thanks, Kevin,” I reply.
“That performance you did out there? Well, that was amazing!”
“Thanks,” I reply again, crossing my arms over my midsection.
“We’re always looking for ways to differentiate our club and give a little more. Now, I’m not foolish to think that everyone can get up there and do what you do. But Will Crerie and Loren Hastings, two of the three club owners, were impressed by your performance tonight. It takes a lot to impress them. They happened to be on the second-floor cabana entertaining guests when you took to the stage, and I was with them. Before your performance was halfway finished, Will sent me
downstairs, and he told me to do what needs to be done to bring you onto the team.”
“Okay,” I say, still wondering what’s the catch.
“I just need to know would you be willing to work with the rest of the dancers to get them up to par?”
“What do you mean?”
I know what he’s asking, but I want him to spell it out.
“Hold dance classes or whatever it is that you dancers do but help them improve their moves. Their style needs to be...I don’t know more than just sex. It needs to be an art form, entertainment the way that you did on that stage out there. That’s what I want. That’s what Will and Loren want, and that’s all that matters.”
“In addition to dancing?”
“Yes. For a modest fee, of course,” Kevin says.
“Of course,” I say with a slow smile. “We can work something out.”
“Great. You’ll be meeting with Angie, the house mom, tomorrow at two if that works for your schedule.”
“Sounds great to me.”
“Good.”
I turn to walk out of the door to get Sonja so that we can head home, but he stops me before I make it too far.
“Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”
“You can call me Charli,” I toss over my shoulder on the way out the door.
“All right, Charli,” he says with a crooked smile on his face.
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The Arrangement Page 18