by Marni Mann
The business voice I had gotten so used to was gone. There wasn’t any softness in her tone either. It was all edge and lust.
I fucking loved it.
With her face pointed at Layla, the stripper looked over at me. “I heard you like to be watched when you fuck.”
I’d told Layla that when we were at the grow house. For someone who didn’t like cock, it surprised me that she had remembered and that she’d told the stripper.
I pushed my back into the banister. “I do.”
The stripper knelt on the balcony and reached her hand under Layla’s dress. “I want you to watch me.”
Her entire arm was now buried under Layla’s dress. By the way Layla was breathing, I could tell the stripper’s hand was touching her pussy. She was enjoying it; they both were.
But Layla still hadn’t given me an answer.
“Layla, tell me what you want.”
Her head tilted back, and her mouth opened, another moan traveling all the way over to me. “Beard,” she breathed. She held on to the banister, like someone was about to throw her over the fucking edge.
“How am I doing?” the stripper said.
I’d now asked Layla the same question twice. If she wanted me out, she would have told me.
“I can’t see because the dress is in the way,” I said to the stripper. “Show me her pussy, and I’ll tell you.”
The stripper lifted the dress and tucked it under Layla’s bra. She wasn’t wearing any panties, and nothing but cunt was in my vision. It was one of the most perfect ones I had ever seen. Tight lips. A clit hidden in the middle of them, wedged between two thighs that were spaced apart by a thick gap. One of the stripper’s fingers was deep inside Layla’s hole.
My dick was hard as fuck. My hands were having a hard time staying on the banister. I wanted to take some of the wetness that I heard every time the stripper’s finger plunged inside and wipe it over my cock. I wanted to see how Layla looked on my skin, how hot and sticky her juices were.
But I wasn’t going to get that chance, so I’d have to settle on giving the orders. That was what the stripper had asked for when she wanted my opinion. If I couldn’t touch Layla, then I’d make sure the stripper got her off as good as I would.
“Add another finger,” I demanded.
With Layla’s head still tilted back, I couldn’t see her eyes, but her moans became even louder.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
“Make sure those two fingers go all the way in. Turn them when you reach your knuckles, so your skin twists against her.”
Layla’s head moved straight, and she ground that fucking lip between her teeth. It looked like it was about to bleed at any second. “Beard.”
From the sound of my name, I felt the bead of pre-cum leak out of my cock. My balls tightened.
Shit, what I wouldn’t give right now to have her humming that word over my dick.
“Give her your tongue,” I ordered.
The stripper smiled at me and turned her face toward Layla’s pussy, sticking her tongue out and swiping it all along her clit.
I was so jealous.
I wanted that pussy on my tongue. I wanted that taste coating me. I wanted my nose buried there, so all I could smell was her.
“Move her lips apart,” I barked. “Flick her clit with the end of your tongue.”
The way the stripper’s head bounced told me she was giving Layla long, vertical strokes, and I knew she still had two fingers inside Layla’s pussy. Layla felt good. Her expression, her sounds—it all told me that. But I knew she could feel better. The stripper wasn’t licking fast enough; she wasn’t sliding her fingers in and out the way she should.
Layla needed speed. More friction. She needed strength and power.
They were things the stripper could give her.
But they were things I could give her better.
“Add another finger,” I said. I stepped closer but still stayed out of their space. “And move your hand in and out—more speed on the way in, slower when you come out.”
Layla’s eyes widened as the stripper took my direction. Her breathing turned louder, her hips grinding to meet the stripper’s fingers. “Fuck,” she groaned. “Just like that.”
Bi, lesbian—whatever the stripper was, this wasn’t her first time eating pussy. I was sure of that. But something about my orders was turning her on, and it was sure as hell turning me on. However the stripper normally did it, she was now going to do it my way.
“Flick her clit faster,” I said. “I want you to switch it up with a few licks sideways and then up and down. Then, I want you to suck it into your mouth and tickle just the end with your tongue.”
“Yesss,” Layla moaned. She spread her legs a little wider, still clinging to the banister but grinding her fingers over it.
She was close.
I could hear it in her voice. I could see it in the way her hips moved, trying to buck it out over the stripper’s face.
“Harder,” I commanded.
“Beard…”
There was that voice again. Thick with need. Rough with desire.
“Faster,” I ordered.
“Oh my…Beard,” were the last words Layla said before I saw the orgasm ripple through her stomach. The shuddering started in her navel and traveled up to her chest, causing her tits to bounce in her dress.
My dick strained against the inside of my jeans, the tip rubbing against the zipper, begging for a fucking release. The sound of Layla moaning my name as she came would be in my head for the rest of the night. I’d replay it when I got back to my hotel room and again in the shower when I rubbed one out.
I had finally found a sound that was almost as good as the screams.
Layla’s eyes connected with mine for just a second before she looked down. Then, she released the banister and pulled at her dress, letting it drop to the floor to cover herself up. Her face was flushed. I knew it was from more than just the orgasm.
She was embarrassed.
She had no reason to be. What I had just watched was one of the sexiest things I’d seen in a long time.
“Get over here,” I said to the stripper, who had just gotten off her knees.
When she reached me, she tried to put her hands on my chest. I stopped her by grabbing her wrists. I then dipped my head forward and sucked her fingers into my mouth—the ones that had been inside Layla’s pussy.
“How does she taste?” the stripper asked.
I felt Layla’s eyes on me. I heard her breathing speed up as I sucked the cum off the stripper’s fingers, and I saw the flush on her face turn to a feral heat.
“She’s sweet.” I pulled her fingers out to lick my lips, and then I put them right back in for a second dip.
“Isn’t she?” the stripper asked. “Just like sweet tea.”
I wasn’t much of a tea drinker. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even had some, but the description was dead-on.
“Thank you, Beard,” the stripper said.
“For what?”
“For getting my girlfriend off. If your tongue is anything like your orders, I know you’d have me squirting in seconds. But, Layla? She’s just a screamer.”
The stripper was a squirter. That didn’t surprise me at all.
But hearing that Layla was a screamer made my dick even harder.
“She can have my tongue anytime,” I said.
The red on Layla’s face deepened.
We were talking about her like she wasn’t even in the room.
I liked that.
Something told me they both did.
The stripper stretched up to reach me and kissed my beard. Her lips were still wet, and I could smell Layla all over them.
“For you,” she said. “So you can take a little with you.”
I should have been the one thanking her.
She was giving me a piece of Layla, and I needed to make sure it lasted.
If only she were into cock, I’d hav
e even more to take home with me. But the only thing she was into was our investment. Our relationship ended there.
Maybe it was better that way.
I dropped the stripper’s hand and walked to the sliding glass door. “I’ll text you.”
“I hope you do,” Layla answered.
Tyler
Five Years and Ten Months Ago
I was now an employee of The Achurdy. At eighteen, a freshman in college, a small-town girl in a big-time city, I didn’t know the gravity of that statement. I didn’t know what I was actually signing up for or the rules I would soon learn I had to follow. But I liked the promises Mina had made to me, and I trusted Wynter.
Since giving Mina my verbal agreement, my life had already changed. I no longer worked at the campus coffee shop. I had clothes now—a full closet’s worth and ones that fit the way they were supposed to. Wynter had acted as my stylist and had taken me shopping. There was no spending limit. She never said no when I eyed something I liked. There was only yes and more when we had been in those stores. I’d never owned a dress before, and now, I had over ten. I had flats and heels and boots. I had cute accessories to wear in my hair. I had panties with lace on them and bras to match, ones that even made my boobs look bigger. I had clutches that would go with all my dresses. I had a lightweight jacket and a heavy one. And, now, I had more perfumes and body products and face lotions and makeup than I knew what to do with.
Our dorm room was filled. Not just her side, but now, mine, too.
It all made me smile.
But the materialistic things weren’t the only cause for my smile. It was also from the love of my new family. There were twenty of us who worked for The Achurdy. Then, there was Mina, who was part mom, part sister, part best friend. For me, she was comfort and guidance. She was honesty when I needed it. We’d gotten so close in such a short time.
Being a newbie, I got most of Mina’s attention. There wasn’t any jealousy from the other girls or any fighting because of it. Everyone understood that I required direction and training. Every day, there seemed to be more of it. Wynter assured me that every girl went through the same thing, and it had taken her over a month before she was given her first mark. Mina had made Wynter shadow one of the other girls until she was ready to go out on her own.
That wasn’t the plan for me.
Tonight, I was all on my own. At least for the start of it anyway. Once I got the mark out of the club and into The Achurdy’s car, Mina would be meeting me. I didn’t know where she would be showing up or when exactly. I just knew she’d be there…and she’d be watching me.
I was nervous as all hell.
Because, even though most of the process had been described to me, there were still so many things that I didn’t know. The last thing I wanted was to disappoint Mina or have her regret her decision in having me join her company.
I wanted to impress her.
And I would.
So, to make sure I looked all right, I had Wynter help me get ready. She picked out the dress she thought I should wear and the style of my hair, even the color of the shadow on my lids.
Once I was set to leave our dorm room, she offered to drive me to the club and coached me the whole way. She reminded me of all the pointers she had recently taught me—things she had learned over the course of her employment that made the job easier. I rehearsed them over and over in my head, trying to remember them all.
When Wynter pulled up to the club, parking by the side door, I recalled the last thing Mina had said to me when I spoke to her this afternoon.
“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, yerekha. Tonight is only going to make me prouder.”
She called all the girls yerekha.
The more Mina spoke, the more random Armenian words she’d throw in, and I’d have to decipher what she was saying. I didn’t mind. I actually enjoyed looking up the translations and saying them back to her when I could.
“Don’t worry, lady; you’ve got this.” Wynter turned toward me while I clung to my clutch.
I wished this were the club she had taken me to last time, the one where I had met Mina. At least I would have known the layout and the location of the back door. But this was a different one.
The Achurdy had several clubs they used around town, and they were all owned by the same man. It was a deal Mina had negotiated quite a few years ago when she needed a place where all her girls could work, especially the ones who were underage. When she’d found out that this owner had more than one club, it was the perfect setup. All of his bars had back exits and secluded VIP areas, and he would allow her girls in without a hassle or an ID. In return, I was sure he got a cut of something, but that part of the deal was never explained to me.
“Are you sure?” I asked her, moving one of my hands to the door’s safety bar and holding on to it for dear life. “I’m really worried I won’t get it all right.”
“You did so awesome during your role-play. So, yes, I’m sure, you’re going to be amazing. Just remember, it takes about fifteen minutes for the powder to kick in, so plan around that.”
I nodded, adding that point to the others that were swirling around in my head.
“I’ll see you when you get home,” she said.
“You’re off tonight?”
“It’s about time, right? Eight nights in a row to cover the girls who’ve been sick. Wake me if I’m sleeping. I want to hear all about it.”
“Okay.” I opened the door, not moving from the seat. “I know I’ve told you this a million times already, but thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet because, if you break my record tonight, I’ll kill ya.”
We both laughed, and I got out of the car, walking toward the side entrance.
“Name?” the bouncer said after I knocked on the door.
“Tyler.”
He checked his tablet and allowed me in. Then, he pointed to the right of where he was standing. “Elevator’s down there. Hit the top button. Have a good night.”
Following his instructions, I found the elevator at the end of the hallway and pressed the button he had told me to. As it rose, I checked myself out in one of the mirrored walls. I was wearing so much more makeup than usual, the shadow giving my eyes a smoky look and the contouring making my cheekbones really stand out. Wynter had styled my hair straight, teasing it just slightly so that it framed my face with volume, and she’d put on an extra coat of gloss so that my lips really shone under the light.
I barely recognized myself.
That made me happy.
Tonight, I didn’t want to be the Tyler who was easily forgotten. I didn’t want to worry about everything I needed to accomplish so that I wouldn’t have to return to the town I hated. I especially didn’t want to be ignored.
And I wasn’t.
From the moment I stepped off the elevator, all eyes were on me—my dress, my legs, my boobs. Where they stayed the longest was on my face.
I can do this.
Now that I was in the VIP area, I held my clutch against my side and moved through the room until I found my mark. I easily spotted him. He was at the corner of the bar, and it appeared as though he was waiting to order a drink.
I rushed over to the same corner and leaned my body into the small space next to him, making sure my arm brushed against his.
“Hey—ugh,” I huffed as the bartender turned his back to me. I hadn’t spoken loud enough to get the bartender’s attention. Just loud enough that my mark, Dean, would know what I wanted.
When I felt Dean’s eyes on me, I turned to my left. He was a little more handsome in person. Still not nearly enough to be described as hot. Especially not in a club where beautiful people were everywhere. His file had said he was thirty-eight, and because the photo was so recent, I’d already known he had curly dark hair. Tonight, he wore a button-down and jeans with shiny black shoes. Nothing he had on screamed money. Maybe his watch did, but I didn’t know much about jewelry brands.
“They ne
ed a few more bartenders,” he said. “This line is inexcusable.”
I softened my voice. “Have you been waiting long?”
I remembered something Wynter had told me when she was putting on my gloss, so I took her advice and chewed the corner of my lip. It made them puffier, and it caused Dean’s attention to turn there. I wanted him to picture what my mouth was capable of. Then, I flashed him a bit of my tongue, so he could take the thought even further.
“Long enough,” he finally said.
“I hope it moves fast. I’m so thirsty.”
“Well then, let’s make sure we get you a drink quickly. I don’t want those pretty lips to be parched.” His gaze shifted to the bar, and he yelled, “Bartender!”
I’d have to give Wynter an extra thanks when I got home. Her lip trick had clearly worked.
The bartender closest to us walked over. “What can I get you?” he asked.
I looked at Dean, giving him a chance to order first.
“Tell him what you’d like,” Dean said to me.
“Pinot grigio. A reserve if you have one,” I said.
That was something I had learned from Mina. During the role-play we had done, I had pretended to order a white wine. That wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted me to specify the grape and always ask for a reserve. For our kind of marks, she’d said that was important.
“I’ll take an old-fashioned,” Dean said.
While we waited for the bartender to make our drinks, I made sure at least half of my body was pointed toward Dean. The dress hugged my breasts, and his height gave him the perfect view of my cleavage. I tucked my clutch under my arm and played with a cocktail napkin, twisting it and running my fingers over the tight roll. That was another one of Wynter’s pointers. From the way he watched my hands, I could tell it was doing what I needed it to.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tye.”
He held out his hand, and I dropped the napkin to shake it.
“Dean.”
I gave him the smile I’d been working on. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean.” I pulled back my hand from his gentle grip and continued holding his stare.