Sights on the SEAL: A Secret Baby Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he husks out in a deep voice that’s all conviction and truth. He’s not bullshitting me. Not that he has any reason to, dishing out twenty buck stage tips. He’s got that VIP dance on lockdown already.

  No, it’s the way he says it, the way his emerald eyes sparkle as he eyes my every movement and appreciates my body. This man is smitten. “I’d follow you to hell and back. So bring on the VIP section,” he declares with a wry, uneven smile that only makes him all the more appealing.

  I gotta admit, my stone-cold business attitude is fading the more I look at him. The more I listen to him.

  It’s not just the tips.

  Honestly, he’s the type of guy that’s so hot I’d be way too shy to approach outside of the club. In here, it’s my sanctuary. I am my persona. I am Aphrodite, blonde bombshell with the extensions and fake lashes and an easy smile.

  Outside these walls, I’m a much more simple Alice, who spends her time mostly with her Kindle and her rescue cat that has six toes.

  My stage name, my elaborate outfits and makeup, they’re like my superhero mask I pull on, and once I pull them off, no one knows who I am. I prefer it this way, most of the time.

  Until I see a gorgeous guy and wish I’d met him outside the club, because holy hell I would love to wake up next to him.

  I nuzzle his cheek and give him another smile. “You got it, baby. Just let me finish this song, and I am all yours,” I say sweetly, dragging on the words.

  “I’ll do my best to sit politely by and wait. But no promises,” he says with a bright grin and a wink. He’s a charmer. Big, bulky, all muscle, his shirt red but the cuffs and collar a lovely accented piece that’s got curious patterns. Most guys in Vegas look like uncaring tourists or guys who don’t feel compelled to compete with uncaring tourists. Though honestly, he could be in a sweat suit and I’d still be into him.

  I walk towards the pole again and grab it in my hand, pulling myself up as I begin to spin. As I said, I like to feel like a superhero, and performing elaborate pole tricks is one of my powers. I always feel rejuvenated and powerful as I contort my body, letting people stare at my long legs and ample curves.

  I keep it slow and sensual as the sounds of whistling fill the air. More cash fills the stage, and my mystery hunk is captivated as I invert my body, holding myself in the air before letting myself plummet back to the stage gracefully. I stop my descent just inches before my head would’ve hit the ground, and I strike a pose to much applause.

  It’s such a rush, and knowing I already have a dance lined up helps motivate me to give a better stage show. I always feel more confident knowing I’m not going to have to be approaching a dozen guys hoping one will say yes to my offer.

  And then the song finally winds down, and the DJ announces, “That was the beautiful Aphrodite! Don’t forget, you can get $20 dances on the floor, or take one of these luscious ladies up to the VIP for some real fun for just a little bit more!”

  I grab my top and the bills around the stage, stuffing them in my purse before going to the only man that matters in my life right now: Military stud.

  He even offers me his arm like a gentleman, that thick forearm of his bulging with muscle and protruding veins, more than happy to escort me on up the stairs to the VIP room.

  “I can’t believe there’s women like you in the world, in or out of the club,” he says to me with that deep, appreciative voice of his. He has a way with making me feel like the only woman in the world that matters. “You must work at it 24/7 or been blessed by God above to look half as good as you do.”

  I laugh, trying to play cool, but already a flush is rising to my cheeks. Oh, he’s a charmer alright. And maybe it’s just the fact that he’s so damned hot that his compliments are getting to me like they are. It’s not like I haven’t heard every line in the book, but usually it’s from someone that is either twice my age, or just not my type.

  “Hi Tom. This gentleman and I are going back for...” I say to the VIP host before looking at Military stud, waiting for him to answer.

  “Until my wallet runs dry, if I’m being honest with my estimate,” the stud says, forking over the cash. “Put me down for at least a half hour, huh?” he remarks, flashing me a look from the corner of my eyes. “Not one for strip clubs, but… now I wish I’d stumbled in here sooner, just to meet you.”

  “Well it’s my lucky night,” I say, and yes, I’m being honest. Making money is why I’m here, but enjoying making money? That makes me very, very lucky.

  I pull open the purple curtain, revealing the rounded bench with velvety fabric and a small drink table in the middle. I close it behind us, and a new song comes on, some softer rock music than the techno and heavier stuff downstairs. I like the VIP room. It’s private, comfortable, and pays my rent.

  “When was the last time you were in a club?” I ask as we both settle in.

  “It’s been four years,” he says without missing a beat, and if I needed another clue, that was it. That’s the maximum tour length for military guys, and I guess that makes me his first stop back. “Been away working, needed a reminder of what it’s like to look at beautiful women. Wasn’t counting on an overdose though, so be prepared to call for assistance carting me out,” he jokes.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” I say as I straddle his lap.

  But for a second, I forget where I am. It’s almost like a skip in time, and I’m staring at this gorgeous man, feeling his body against mine, wrapping my arms around his neck, and it all just feels right.

  Like it’s fate. Like it’s meant to be.

  I know it sounds cheesy. I’m not really one to believe in signs, or at least, I never did until now.

  I shake my head to try to chase away the strange shock, but I’m still staring at the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I gotta be honest.

  It feels a little like love.

  I know it’s not. I don’t even know him, but if love at first sight exists, this has to be what it feels like.

  “I never got your name,” I say softly, still stunned by the weird experience.

  “Viktor,” he says, and he doesn’t mind in the least that I’m not really dancing for him. His two big, rough hands rest on my hips, not groping where he shouldn’t but squeezing me ever so slightly. “My dad was a Ukrainian immigrant, that’s where the name comes from. Just so you know I’m not the creator of Frankenstein,” he says, his nostrils flaring, taking in my scent as he stares. Soaks me in.

  That makes me genuinely, earnestly laugh. I never expected him to have a bit of literary humor in him, and I have to cover my mouth as my eyes still sparkle at him. Why couldn’t I have met him out of the club?

  “That’s terrible. But I’m Aphrodite. And I really am the Goddess of lust and romance.”

  “Knew it without you saying a thing, and don’t doubt it for a second,” he says without missing a beat, and again, I know he means it. Not the least of which because I can feel the real results of his desire beneath me as I sit in his lap. A hefty bulge right there in my perch. “From the moment I walked in the door, I knew I was in the presence of divinity. If I was a smarter man maybe I would’ve hightailed it out before you could turn me into your newest and greatest worshipper.”

  “Greatest, mmm?” I purr in his ear as I begin to lightly grind in his lap, my hand stroking through his wheat-blonde hair. “And what will make you my absolute greatest worshipper, Viktor?”

  I got a low groan from him, a satisfied husky sound that’s delightful on the ear. But the way I bring this mighty, mountain of muscle to a quiver is the best part.

  “I don’t wanna say and spoil the moment,” he says, his voice deeper, more gravely as he wraps those arms around me and holds me tight, letting his palms rest just at the edge of my ass below.

  “You can touch lower,” I whisper, biting my own lip to hide my excitement.

  Honestly, I’m already soaking my little b
ikini bottoms, and I’m almost nervous he’s going to notice soon. I’ve never felt like this, dancing for a client. It’s like the rest of the world has simply fallen away, leaving us in its wake.

  He’s a gentleman, doesn’t touch where he’s not supposed to, but he’s no fool. And the moment I give him go ahead, those big strong hands sink down, cupping my ass cheeks, sinking his powerful fingers into them as he gives a delighted, rough groan.

  “I don’t wanna be that sucker client that oversteps his bounds and makes shit weird. I don’t wanna say anything that’ll send you running,” he tells me, letting his eyes nearly shut as he looks me over, enjoys the sensation of our bodies together while the music plays. “I’d love to ask you on a date, but instead I’ll just say I hope this night never ends.”

  My heart is beating faster in my chest, and I’m trying to remain professional, but I can hardly believe this hottie wants to go out with me. I know the stereotype is that strippers are all full of themselves, but most of us are as self-conscious as other women, we just hide it better.

  “You’re hoping time stands still?” I ask seductively, but my mind is going back to when I first touched him and how it felt as though time did exactly that.

  “Up here with you? Absolutely.”

  I let out a soft moan, and I grind into him again before I feel a shiver go through me, and I know if I keep going, I’m going to come in his lap.

  I’ve never came in a client’s lap.

  But those big strong hands of his knead my ass cheeks, those thick, muscular forearms bulge and squeeze in against me on either side, egging me on, grinding me atop his lap and that impressive bulge. He’s turning me into everything I’m not. Everything I never thought I could be.

  Those handsome looks, that natural charm, the rugged experience from a hard life serving, it all makes him hard to resist. And then, to top it all off, he leans in and murmurs in my ear. That rough, low voice of his like a verbal vibrator, stimulating my brain to climax.

  “If I met you anywhere else, I’d make it my life’s mission to win you over and make you my girl,” he says, wetting his lips slowly as he gives a low moan from the lap dance. “I’m just glad I never met you four years ago, or I’d have gone AWOL to chase you like a dog in heat.”

  A jolt of electricity goes through me, and even though I want to hold back and suppress this exquisite pleasure from going through me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  I’m grinding him more aggressively as I come in his lap, my breathing peppered with moans against his ear as I ride out the explosive high.

  It’s an overwhelming sensation, but he guides me through it. Those big, muscular arms keeping me rocking even after my mind has long since lost control of my body. His chiseled jaw, just lightly stubbled, brushing my cheek as he helps guide me through the earth-shattering climax.

  “Fuck you look even more gorgeous when you come,” he husks into my ear, his first time crossing that boundary from client to something more. And he didn’t do it unprovoked. Nobody could accuse him of being inappropriate. It was me who had lost my cool and did something I shouldn’t have.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper, embarrassment suddenly taking over me. This is so unprofessional. How did I get so carried away? But I pull back and look at him, and I’m smitten all over again. I can’t bear to look at him and I duck my face away. “Oh god, I’m so... I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to...”

  “It’s okay,” he assures me, his grip relaxing, no longer holding me into that tight, delightfully carnal embrace. “Don’t worry. I don’t presume nothin’. Trust me, it was a show worth more than what I have in my bank account,” he says with a charming smile. “Besides, if I’m being honest, I’m just relieved it wasn’t me who popped his load from this. You’ve got me on edge, babe.”

  “I’ve never, ever...” I swear, but I can’t actually bring myself to say it. He’s completely torn down my walls, my Aphrodite personae slipped away. I’m just simple Alice in his lap, even with the fake ‘lashes and six-inch stilettos.

  I bite in on my lower lip, gnawing it for a second as I stare at him.

  “It’s alright,” he says in that thick, assuring voice of his. And though he’s still rock solid hard beneath me, he just gently caresses my sides. He has self-control in spades. “Fuck, trust me, it did nothing but assure your place as the Goddess of romance and lust in my mind,” he says with that disarming charm of his again.

  “Did you mean what you said about wanting to ask me out?”

  I’ve managed to stun the handsome Viktor, making him hesitate a moment. And though I worry, he wipes that all away fast.

  “I would fight every man in this club for the simple shot at asking you out,” he says, his deep emerald eyes sparkling as he gazes at me, so full of desire and a tenderness not common to big, muscular brutes like him. “Will you go out with me?” he asks.

  We’ve been back here for so long that the VIP host pulls aside the curtain before I can answer. “You guys still going?”

  It’s been a half hour, and I haven’t moved from his lap. I’m still wearing my bikini, and I just had one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

  “Ah, I think Viktor has to go. We’re just finishing up, Tom. Thanks for checking,” I say.

  “Ah shit,” Viktor says, reaching for his wallet in his pants pocket. “Lost track of time with you. Feels like it’s only been a minute,” he says, pulling out a fat wad of twenties. “What do I owe you? Fuck it, this is probably enough, right?” he says, forking over way more than enough to cover it.

  I nod and hand Tom his tip, and he leaves us alone once more.

  “It’s late enough that I can leave now. If you’re ready for that date.”

  He looks taken aback. He must’ve been thinking I was dismissing him, because his stunned look slowly transforms to one of pure excitement.

  “Fuck yeah, I am,” he says. He stands, lifting me as effortlessly as when I grab my purse. Well… more accurately, he lifts me as effortlessly as I lift the coin purse inside it. “I can take you to a nice restaurant, well… might be too late for a lot of those, but we could find something.”

  “It’s Vegas, honey. There’s always something open,” I say with a small roll of my eyes. “Or we could head back to my hotel for room service. It’s nothing flashy,” I warn him. What am I saying? What am I doing? Inviting him back to my room! The Alice part of me recoils in horror.

  “I’ll do ya one better,” he says with a playful boastfulness. “You can come to my hotel. I splurged for one fancy ass room; you’ll love it,” he says, squeezing my thighs as he holds me up in his arms. “Figured I’d make the most of my time in the city. Suddenly glad I did.”

  “How can I say no to that?”

  Anyone would say I was crazy to go home with a stranger from the club. If I turned up dead in the morning, a bunch of people would cluck their tongues at reading the story of how and say, “serves her right”. That’s one of the biggest drags about my job. A man could kill me and it’d be ‘my fault’.

  But this spark between us is real. It’s not something I can walk away from. The entire time I’ve spent with him, I’ve felt like it’s been something special happening, and I could desperately use something special right now.

  He’s staying at one of the newer hotels right near the strip, a very swanky three-tower complex that shimmered gold in the Vegas sun during the day.

  He stops at the front desk on the way up to order a bottle of wine and a fancy meal, and I’m so grateful, because I’m famished. The taxi ride here felt like time was standing still, but not in a good way this time. We could barely keep our hands off one another, and as we step into the elevator, I wonder if I can resist him for even a second longer.

  I’m so grateful when the doors finally open and he leads me to his room. He wasn’t kidding when he said he splurged, because it’s about ten times more room than a single man would ever need. It has it all: from a gorgeous balcony view overlooking the city
and desert, to two bathrooms, and a spacious ensuite that was bigger than my whole hotel room put together.

  I’m barely finished ogling at his room before the room service arrives and he’s popping the cork on the wine.

  “This is more money than I’ve spent on myself in probably five years, at least,” he says with a chuckle, pouring us up two glasses of champagne.

  “Well you earned it, you might as well spend it, right?” I smile. Though honestly, now that I’m back here, I don’t really know how to act. I’m not the one-night-stand type of girl. I’m not even a sex on the first date kind of girl. And the lights feel so bright now, away from the muted darkness of the strip club or the interior of the cab.

  Standing in front of him with my skinny jeans, tank top and 6” heels, I can’t help but giggle at how out of place I feel. I take the glass of champagne, and we clink our glasses together.

  “To finding that spark in surprising places,” he says with a knowing smile.

  Neither of us can hide our overwhelming attraction to one another. And I guess now we don’t have to. We’ve already taken the big steps, finding ourselves alone at last, and that energy is starting to bubble up within me. It feels like being such a bad girl, something that the Alice part of me is definitely not used to, despite my job.

  He drinks down the glass of champagne in little time before topping us both off.

  “I’ve never done this before, you know,” I say nervously as I sip the second glass, letting its bubbles soothe me. I have to admit... I’m out of my league. I don’t know what people are supposed to do on one-night-stands. Am I supposed to just start kissing him? Or is he supposed to kiss me first? It’s 2012, and I’m all about female empowerment, but I still have no idea what’s normal.

  Though he’s been overseas for 4 years. He might not know either.