Sunnyside Christmas

by Jacie Floyd

  “What do you think?” He took her hand and pressed it against the boner behind his zipper. “He was being a jerk.”

  So. Liam was turned on. Not mad. Interesting. “What part of that conversation was a turn on?”

  “The list is long. Maybe we can discuss it later. In detail.”

  Tara returned with a new glass of wine for Jillian. She picked it up and sipped, hoping to cool down. But she reminded herself to take it slow. She didn’t want this to turn out like Thanksgiving night where miraculous things may have happened, but she couldn’t remember any of them.

  “Sorry about that loser, Jillian,” Tara said. “I should have warned you away from him.”

  “Not your fault. And I came in to witness what The Kitty Kat’s like for all of you, the good and the bad.”

  “Handling aggressive clients is the worst part. Taking the stage is the best. You going up there? It’s not amateur night, but since you’re the boss, Liam would have to make an exception for you.”

  “Lord, no. I don’t have the skills, desire, or temperament for it.”

  “She’s shy, I guess.” Tara winked at Liam. “Maybe another time.”

  Shy? Jillian never thought of herself that way. Reserved, maybe. Contained, perhaps. Or sexually repressed?

  She hadn’t been confident about her body since high school, but she worked in a tough industry with a lot of crude men ready to take advantage at any sign of personal weakness. She’d learned to not give them an opening, to stay buttoned up, and to go home alone more often than not. Dancing on a stage while taking off her clothes and encouraging men and women to gawk at her? No way did anything about that scenario sound appealing. She wasn’t sure she could sit there and watch someone take their clothes off in public, let alone voluntarily do it. But the show was about ready to kick off.

  On stage, two guys positioned a dressing table and mirror mid-stage with a bench in front of it. The crowd cheered as a slutty Mrs. Claus dressed in a Santa cap and long lacy red dressing gown appeared. The scene began with the woman seated at the table, centered in a bright spotlight. Her long skirt fell open, revealing sexy red stilettoes and gorgeous, shapely legs in hose and garters.

  With her image reflected in the large mirror, her skin practically glistened. She lifted her arms to take the pins from her hair. The top of the gown gaped open, revealing full breasts encased in a sheer red cami. Mrs. Claus plumped each breast in a palm, then plucked the nipples, before shrugging out of the dressing gown entirely.

  The slinky garment fell to the bench, exposing her perfect back, the swell of her hips and the dimples at the base of her spine. Jillian had never seen butt cheeks form such perfect globes of flesh that begged to be pinched and patted. Mrs. Claus herself admired and caressed them, scoring them with her sparkly fingernails, before dipping a large puff in powder and dusting her silky shoulders and breasts with the fluffy object.

  With her back to the audience, she stood and twirled the gown like a matador’s cape. She sailed it across the stage with a flourish, revealing her luscious body cased in the second skin of the almost transparent camisole, red satin thong, garters and hose.

  Jillian gulped. The woman’s undulating moves across the stage and around the stripper’s pole held her mesmerized. She found herself straining not to miss a movement, trying not to blink so she didn’t miss a second of the performance. Her skin had goose bumps, her nipples tightened, and her breasts tingled with excitement. Pressure was building between her thighs.

  Heat radiated off Liam’s body beside her, and she discovered she was gripping his thigh. But when she turned to him to see his reaction to the dancer’s performance, he was watching her instead of the stage. He’d put his arm around Jillian and his fingers were tucked under her arm where he fondled the side of her breast. Oh, God.

  “You like this?” The warmth of his breath against her neck was enough to make her shiver.

  “No!” Embarrassed to admit the truth, she dodged it instead. “It’s torture.”

  He lifted a challenging eyebrow. “Good torture or bad?”

  “Good.” Surrendering the truth, she slid his hand beneath her sweater as her gaze returned to the dance. His nimble fingers headed straight for her nipples, and she shifted forward, leaning into the contact.

  On stage, a spritely female elf, dressed in two red and white striped gravity-defying silk scarves, approached Mrs. Claus. One fabric strip barely covered her breasts in the front, the other skimmed her hips and almost completely covered her pubic mound. Both strips were tied in bows at the back that looked like they’d drop open with the slightest tug. A pair of jingling elf boots and a perky hat completed the costume.

  Mrs. Claus gyrated around the pole and in and out of the elf’s reach. The elf danced impishly, tickling, teasing, and taunting Mrs. Claus, slowly working through the removal of the cami, hose, and garter until she was left in nothing but the thong and the stilettos.

  Jillian assumed the dance had reached its conclusion when the elf retrieved the dressing gown from the floor and draped it around the other woman’s shoulders. The audience groaned with disappointment, but Mrs. Claus spread her arms in invitation and opened the fabric wide. Eagerly, the sprite dropped to her knees in front of Mrs. Claus and placed her hands on the seductress’s hips to pull her forward. Mrs. Claus crossed her arms and hid the elf under the gown.

  The audience roared their approval as the elf stuck out an elbow or a jingling boot from the confines of the gown while Mrs. Claus shimmied her chest to the musical beat. But then, a new spotlight revealed a hunky bare-chested Santa at the side of the stage. Surprising his wife, he wrapped himself around her from behind and joined her in stimulating her breasts.

  After a few bits of clever choreography, Santa tossed aside the gown, exposing the elf pleasuring his wife. Stomping toward the elf, he used his boot to scoot her to the left and took her place on his knees in front of his wife. The elf reached for Santa’s belt, he untied the scarf covering her breasts, and then the stage darkened to a single spotlight. Mrs. Claus twirled the bejeweled thong on her finger. She tossed the souvenir into the audience, and the stage went black.

  Jillian grabbed Liam’s neck and planted her lips on his. He didn’t hesitate to give her his tongue to suck as he pulled her from the booth. They were half way across the room when the lights went up. The three dancers appeared in minimal clothing and danced along the edge of the stage accepting their tips.

  “Wait, wait.” Jillian dragged her feet. “I want to tip them, too.”

  “Later.” Enclosing his hands around her waist, he lifted her up to hurry her along.

  She clasped her arms around his neck and hung on as her feet skimmed the floor. “Where are we going?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Hurry.”

  He took the stairs two at a time. She crossed her ankles behind his hips with her crotch riding an erection that threatened to burst through his zipper. The trip up the stairs was an example of extreme foreplay, teasing the sensitive areas of her wet crotch with every stride. His chest created a taunting friction against breasts that were desperate for attention.

  Her hands unfastened his jeans before he had the door closed behind them. His mouth captured a nipple so fast she didn’t know how or when he’d shoved her sweater up and her bra down, but she went with it, arching her back to give him better access. She reveled in the swirling sensations and disjointed exclamations as he pressed her against the door. Incoherent words spilled out of her mouth as their hot and fast synchronization spiraled out of control.

  “Oh, God,” she said as he entered her. “Yes.”

  “Hell, yes,” he murmured against her neck, as her heat surrounded him.

  “Do that,” she instructed as he pulled out slow and slid in fast. “Do that again,” she said about she hardly knew what. “Please.” Groan. “Harder.” Gasp. “Faster.” Teeth sinking into his shoulder accompanied the command. “Now, now, now.”

  And then it was all ove
r but the shouting, and there was definitely shouting. Him. Her. Both of them. The shouts echoed in the space around them and somewhere deep inside her.

  The first thing she noticed when she got her breath back was that they were both slick with sweat. While he nuzzled her neck, she rested her head on his shoulder and slumped against him. “Oh, God,” she said when she could finally get words out. “What just happened?”

  He pulled back and looked at her. Incredulously. “You were on fire to have sex, and I obliged.”

  “Big of you.” She wanted to punch his shoulder but was too exhausted. “And you weren’t on fire to have sex?”

  “I was on fire, too, so that worked out well for both of us.”

  She rubbed her forehead, aware that the fire was still burning. She’d never been so turned on in her life. She didn’t understand it. Couldn’t think about it now. Except… “I just have one question.”

  “What?”

  “Are you ready for Round Two?”

  He threw back his head and laughed, a sound she hadn’t heard from him in a long time. “Hell, yes, baby. As many rounds as you want. That last one was fast and furious. Any requests for the next?” He turned and took her with him the few steps to the bed.

  “Slow would be good.” Mind-numbingly, excruciatingly, soporifically slow would be fine with her. “Extremely slow.”

  “You got it.”

  Her body was already starting to hum with desire and her nipples stood at attention. She pictured Santa caressing Mrs. Claus from behind while the elf went down on her in front. That’s what she wanted. Both of those. Not at the same time, of course. That would be impossible without outside participation. And she knew no matter how much that little scene on the stage had turned her on, a ménage would always be beyond her comfort zone. Fun to contemplate; impossible to implement. Liam was more than enough for her.

  Tossing back the duvet, he placed her in the center of his mattress, in the middle of his sheets, inspiring a deeper level of intimacy she hadn’t expected. He pulled off her clothes, and then his, before he nudged her knees apart legs and stroked an exploratory finger through her wetness. And then, instead of joining her in the bed, he stood back and crossed his arms, taking the time to stare down on her. In admiration. With desire and affection, and maybe a tinge of regret. She soaked up those various emotions for a minute, letting his gaze heat her up and stir her passion until she needed his touch more than she needed oxygen.

  She rolled over and went up on her hands and knees. “Start from the back and work your way around, okay?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A light shining in Jillian’s eyes woke her from a comfortable sleep. Liam’s very fine naked ass disappearing into the bathroom flashed into view and then the bathroom door closed behind him, returning her to darkness. Almost darkness. Her vision adjusted as the giant neon Kitty Kat sign from outside the window seeped into the room along the edges of the blinds.

  This was her second trip to his minimalist quarters, but she’d only caught a glimpse of the space both times. She gazed eagerly around now. Tidy and sparse, without even a headboard on his bed. Functional. Much like his office at the fitness center. Except this was where he lived. Where he slept. It should be more personal. She hoped she wasn’t one of many women he’d brought here, but that was probably a futile wish.

  This was a strip club where he was The Boss. He probably had his choice of the women on the premises. And good Lord, their bodies and talents and lack of inhibitions were on display every night. He’d told her before that he had honed his skills over the years, and he certainly had. But now she wondered who those partners had been and what they had meant to him. If anything. He seemed to do a good job of closing his emotions off from people. Except for Adam. And Zach. And the little family he had left. Missy and Pops. Jimbo. He probably counted Leah in that group as well.

  But her brain was mush and her body practically boneless, so she’d have to consider the mysteries of Liam’s psyche when she wasn’t lying sated in his bed.

  Thinking of the elf peeling Mrs. Claus’s sheer cami down her body, nuzzling her face against the woman’s ample bosom and creamy stomach, and then switching to Santa had topped the charts as one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen. Not that she’d seen that many erotic things in her time—her repeated views of Liam’s body being the notable exception.

  She still couldn’t feel good about owning a strip club, but she understood the dynamic better now. She’d have to ask the girls, but it didn’t seem as if they were powerless in the exchange. Or not as powerless as she had thought.

  Outlined by the dim light, he emerged from the bathroom and crossed the room to the small apartment-size fridge. Her eyes followed him as he retrieved a bottle of water, tilted his head back, and drank it down. Every muscle, every movement a study in sensual efficiency. He turned and caught her staring with her head propped on her elbow.

  His smiled and held up the bottle. “Water?”

  “Sure, thanks.” She pushed herself up and piled her pillow behind her, pulling the sheet up to cover her chest.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The bed dipped as he climbed back in and rested his back against the wall beside her.

  “I need to get going. It’s almost midnight.”

  He nodded. “I need to check on things downstairs. There are always issues.”

  “Wouldn’t they call or come get you if they needed you?”

  “Yeah, but as the night goes on, things can get out of hand fast. It helps keep order if I make my presence known.”

  At this moment, she saw a different side of him—the capable manager her father must have seen. This wasn’t the job he’d been educated for, not the powerful position he’d intended to have, but it was the job he had, and he did it well—for Bert, for the employees, and for himself. “You do a good job with it. From the little I saw, it seems really well run.”

  “Thanks.” His mouth lifted in a half smile and turned to trace his finger along the sheet covering her breasts. “I was surprised to see you come in.”

  “You invited me to come and watch.”

  His mouth grazed her shoulder and sent sparks down her body. “I didn’t think you would. What did you think of it?”

  “I’ll allow that you were partially right, and I was a little bit wrong. It seemed like any other bar until the dancers came on, and even that wasn’t seedy or raunchy.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “More bump and grind? Pasties and G-strings? Feather boas. Whips and chairs and dog collars?”

  He chuckled. “There’s all of that. Each of the girls create their own dances and costumes. Betsy’s are a little more artistic, more creative, especially for Girl’s Night Out. I’ll tell her tonight’s routine was a hit. And I’m personally grateful for it.”

  She stared at him. “That was Betsy?”

  “Didn’t you know? She didn’t have on that much makeup.”

  Embarrassed, she pulled the sheet over her head and slid down in the bed. “I was so distracted by the performance, I didn’t even notice. It could have been Barb Gentry and I probably wouldn’t have recognized her.”

  Lifting a corner of the sheet, he peeked inside. “You would have recognized Barb. Different body type completely. Not nearly as much boob and way more ass.”

  “You’ve been checking out Barb Gentry?”

  “Only as an amateur connoisseur, not in my professional capacity as a strip club proprietor. But she did come out and dance on amateur night one time.”

  That brought Jillian upright again. “She did not.”

  “Sure she did. I think she did it on a dare. But not everybody’s squeamish about showing off their body, you know.”

  “I’m not squeamish about my body. Or anyone else’s.”

  His gaze dropped to her naked chest and her nipples responded with enthusiasm. “You shouldn’t be. Yours is phenomenal.”

  She couldn’t help but preen. “Profess
ional opinion again?”

  “Professional and personal.” He leaned forward to kiss her… stomach next to her bellybutton. Which was nice. Sweet, really, but she’d been hoping for something else. Something more… sensual. Like a nipple between his teeth. Or a swipe of his tongue between her thighs. But he trailed his fingers up her body and cradled her breast in his palm. “I was knocked out by how much that turned you on tonight.”

  Okay, time to duck her head beneath the covers again. “Obviously.”

  “Tell me what you liked about it.”

  Images flashed through her brain. “I’ve never seen women share their bodies so freely before. So proudly. They weren’t hiding. They wanted to be seen. And touched. And there was no judgement about what should or shouldn’t feel good. A woman’s touch could be just as pleasurable as a man’s. Maybe more.”

  His gentle explorations came to a halt. He touched her chin and turned her face toward his. “Are you interested in being touched by a woman?”

  “If I say yes, are you going to go get one for me?”

  Judging by his eager expression, he looked ready to leap off the bed and start the search. “Hell, yes.”

  While his enthusiasm was stimulating, the possibility was intimidating. “Then, no. I liked watching them, but—”

  He settled back, wrapped his arm around her, and cradled her to his side. “Be honest. Your reaction was more than like.”

  She poked him with her elbow. “Okay, I loved it, was mesmerized by it, and fascinated, but I had no urge to participate. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what they were doing, but I wasn’t interested in joining in.”

  “On-stage or in private?”

  “Neither.” This line of questioning was leading her to believe he was open to a much wider array of activities than she had experienced. “Why?”

  He smiled and toyed with her fingers. “Just establishing your level of exploration.”

  She stopped the finger-play and searched his eyes in the semi-darkness. “Are you disappointed?”

  “Nothing we do together in bed will ever disappoint me.” The implication that she had disappointed him outside the bedroom seemed clear, but he’d have to get in line for that one. “Besides, watching can be fun.”