by L. P. Dover
We follow Max to a door on the left, but he stops with his hand on the knob, his gaze on mine. “You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, but Chris thought you’d enjoy it. I wanted to go ahead and warn you now.”
My heart thunders in my chest. “What exactly will I be doing?”
He nods toward the room. “This is the viewing room. We have a dancer all picked out for you, but your friends have requested to have you up on stage with him. Basically, all it’ll be is a lap dance.”
“And we get to watch,” Sara pipes in. “But I’ll be happy to switch places with you.”
Chris puts his arm around me. “Nope, this is something she has to do. It’s time she lives a little bit.”
As Max opens the door, I take a deep breath. I’m ready.
The viewing room is a wide-open space with a stage on one side and a soft couch on the other. My skin breaks out in chills when I see the bed in the center of the stage along with a chair beside it. I have a strange feeling I’m going to be lying on that bed at one point or another. Sara, Elaine, and Chris sit on the long couch, sipping their drinks while I look around the room.
“Kennedy, do you mind sitting in the chair?” Max asks.
I turn to look at him and then focus on the chair. I can do this. After joining him up on stage, I take a seat.
Kneeling down in front of me, he smiles. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, all you have to do is say stop. We’re not going to do something you don’t want.”
“Okay.”
“Are you ready?” Closing my eyes, I nod. The lights dim but when I open my eyes, I can’t see the couch. The lights above have hidden them from sight, making it feel like I’m the only one in the room. Music starts to play and it’s no shock that “Pony” by Ginuwine is the song choice. It’s the perfect one to set the mood.
I can feel someone behind me and then their warm hands caressing my shoulders. The smell of his cologne drifts to my nose and I gasp. Is it the guy I talked to in the club? Heart racing, I wait for him to face me, but he stays behind me, his mouth so close to my ear.
“Are you ready, Kennedy?” he murmurs. I suck in a breath and freeze. It is him. He circles around me, his dark eyes full of heat. “Are you?” he repeats.
He moves closer, straddling my legs with his hard cock pressed between my breasts. Sliding lower, his body shields me from view as he settles between my thighs. His hand slides under my skirt and he smirks, knowing the others can’t see what he’s doing. What’s exciting is that I’m actually letting him do it. I want him to touch me. If the others weren’t in the room, there’s no telling what I’d allow him to do. My body craves a man’s touch.
He pushes his hand farther up my skirt, his middle finger skimming across my underwear. My skin’s on fire and I know he can feel the wetness between my legs. Groaning low, he gently nips my breast through my shirt.
“How ’bout we give ’em a show?” he asks, murmuring the words.
All I can say is ‘okay’ and then I’m in his arms. He carries me over to the bed and lays me down, covering my body with his. His hips move against mine as if we’re having sex and in my mind I can just imagine us doing it. With his back to my friends, he lowers his underwear so I can see his arousal. My whole body trembles and I want desperately to feel him inside of me. He slides his hands up my legs and pulls down my underwear, breathing in my scent. The song is almost over but yet I want more. It feels like I’m high, drugged up on sex and lust. When the music stops, the room is dead silent except for our breathing. Hunter’s chest rises up and down, his eyes wild and unsatisfied. At least he looks how I feel.
“Do you still think I’m gay?” he asks, whispering the words.
A small smirk spreads across my lips. “Maybe. It’s a shame you can’t prove otherwise.”
The lights brighten and he slides off my body. Grabbing his robe, he puts it on and backs slowly away. “Until next time …”
I watch him walk away, my heart pounding against my chest. I’ve never been so exhilarated in all my life. Thunderous steps pound toward me, and then Sara appears in my line of sight, fanning herself. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you did that. It was so hot.”
“Yes it was. And I really want to do it again.”
Chris and Max both chuckle. “She’s addicted now,” Chris says. “Looks like you have a new member.” He’s completely, and without a doubt, right. I’m addicted and I want more … a lot more.
The line outside Society X reminded me that it’s Friday and hands down the busiest night of the week. The women, and I’m sure men, come out in droves. It’s the work crowd. The people who need to let loose before going home to their mundane existence. The patrons tonight give new meaning to the phrase ‘happy hour’. They drink, we perform, and shit gets downright fucking nasty.
There is nothing more satisfying than seeing the look on a woman’s unsuspecting face when I pull my dick out of my pants and stroke it for her. She’ll lick her lips, the automatic response drunk and horny women give, showing me that she’s ready to taste what I have to offer. I’ll get real close and watch her eyes go wide and her mouth drop open before I back away and make some other woman’s panties wet. I love teasing them.
That’s how we work. It’s our modus operandi. Tease the fucking shit out of them until they’re squirming in their seats to create the friction their aching clits need to get off. And when I come out after my set, they’re all too willing to pay me for a lap dance. The only rule: they can’t touch, but you can bet your ass I’m touching them.
Once I step inside the locker room, I hit the shower. I like to be fresh when I take the stage. When I’m done and dry, I spray myself with my cologne and body spray so that it makes my body glisten under the fluorescent lights. It’s my job to make the ladies feel like they can live out their fantasies. I want them all to think I’m attainable, that they’re sexy enough to have a guy like me.
Most of the women I encounter in the club ask if I’m gay. More so, they assume I am. I think it shocks them when I tell them I’m one hundred percent hetero and enjoy having my dick sucked by a woman. However, a handful of my co-workers are, but they don’t go around broadcasting it. At Society X we’re all fucking equal and all here to do one job: bring pleasure to the people in the room.
“What are your skits tonight?” Donnie asks. Donnie and I have been dancing for a year, except he’s danced elsewhere before landing the job here.
“Fireman, some bath scene, and a few group things. What about you?” Donnie and I stand side by side, with just our jeans on. The underwear we have on is club issued. They’re white with Society X printed on the waistband. The owner, Bryce, is a stickler when it comes to his club, which is probably why it’s the hottest nightspot in town. Even though this is a sex club, it’s clean. So clean I’d bring my grandmother here, but then she’d ask how I know about this place and I’d have to lie.
I live on the third story of a pretty decent apartment complex in a one-bedroom bachelor pad. It’s nothing high-end, but it’s affordable, clean, and it’s mine. I tried living with a few of the other dancers before and it was nothing but a sex-fest. And considering my grandma likes to go to church on Sundays and insists on driving, the last thing I needed for her to see was someone’s cock hanging out or some chick with her tits bouncing in the air. Grandma doesn’t know that my income is based on how well I can take my clothes off at night or how well I might stroke my dick. It’s not something you bring up at dinner. The last thing I want to do is give her a heart attack. Or have her think I need to repent. I do enough praying when I’m banging my flavor of the week.
“I have a bride and groom scene, two appointments in the viewing room, and I’ll be out there with you during the group shit,” Donnie says.
The viewing room is the place to be. That’s if you’re lucky enough to get booked. I’ve been in there a few times, but Donnie has regulars and those are hard to get. A lot of people can’t afford the membership rates and thos
e that can usually have their favorites. On my nights off, I like to come in and watch what’s going on in there. It’s not always open for anyone’s viewing pleasure and the sign on the door will tell you if you can go in. That’s the only time staff is allowed. We’re not allowed to be members, and even if we were, we wouldn’t be able to afford it.
Most of us have day jobs and whatnot, but there are few who live solely off Society X. Take G Money, aka Gary, for example: he’s been here since it opened. Started as a bouncer and moved into dancing. This is his only job and he is booked most of the time for private parties. The man is a walking god among women and totally bats for the other team. Still, he does all the bachelorette parties, private parties, and whatever else the patron’s want and makes a killing. Some of us only strive to reach his status level.
Poking my head out, I watch the women and a few men continue to filter in while G Money dances around the stage. The women who are up close are going fucking nuts for him and his surgically enlarged dick. Most of the time I don’t pay attention to who is coming in, but then there are other times I’ll find someone that I want to focus on during my performances. It’s funny to watch them scramble to tip me even though that’s not why I do it. There’s always one in the crowd that needs extra attention.
That’s when I see her. Her red hair catches my attention. She’s sophisticated—that much I can tell from here—and also new to the club. I’ve never seen her before.
“I’m going out,” I tell Donnie. He nods, but doesn’t look up from the trashy romance novel he’s reading. He’s always trying to copy the sex scenes for his stage show. I don’t blame him, but I like to do what comes naturally. I just fuck the crowd.
The minute I walk out of the back room I have a harem waiting for me. They’re my regulars, not that I know any of their names but some I may have carnal knowledge of. It’s a hazard of the job. Not that I’ve picked them up here, it’s usually at Starbucks or whatever, and there’s always the awkward conversation of “hey I saw your dick the other night” and they sit there licking their lips instead of having a real conversation with you … so you show them what your cock can really do when hundreds of women aren’t looking at it.
I stand along the bar and watch the redhead. Her skirt is fucking tight, accentuating her ass perfectly and I imagine my hands palming her cheeks. That vision quickly changes to her riding my dick with my hands gripping her ass. I shake my head and ask our bartender for a ginger ale. I need something to get rid of my suddenly dry mouth.
My dick jumps when she turns and looks at me. Her gaze is penetrating—it lingers, as she looks me over, calculating the steps she has to take in order to get to me. I give her a smirk and make sure she knows that I’m looking at all of her as my eyes sweep up and down the length of her body.
When she turns around, I know I have to do something and as I step toward her, the women flocking me follow, but I ignore them. They can’t touch me so the sooner they get the hint, the better.
I step behind her, taking a deep whiff of her perfume. “Looking for me?” I murmur in her ear. She turns and her hand accidentally brushes against my dick.
Her mouth opens in shock and it’s fucking inviting. I want to taste her, to thrust my tongue in so deep until she’s screaming with pleasure. When I look into her eyes, I realize it’s a huge mistake. This woman is rocking the hottest green eyes I have ever seen. They’re sucking me in, daring me to get swept away by their magic.
“You’re a little full of yourself, aren’t you?” she states boldly, knocking me off my game. She’s a little vixen. I like it.
I shrug and can’t help but smirk. “Not really. I was just hoping you were. My name’s Hunter.” I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I’m Kennedy,” she says breathlessly when I let go of her hand. It falls limply by her side as she mumbles, “It’s my first time here. Apparently, my colleagues thought it’d be a good idea to celebrate my divorce.”
Fucking single. I can’t help but smile at that little tidbit. “And the night is getting better. You don’t look old enough to have been married. Must not have lasted long.”
“Five years,” she says. “We were just two different people. And I’m not as young as you may think.”
I take a step back and give her a once over that turns into me lingering at her goods. “You can’t be more than thirty.”
“Thirty-three,” she corrects me. “And you’re what … twenty-one?”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Twenty-five. How old was your ex-husband?”
“Thirty-six, why?”
I step in closer, bringing my lips within inches of hers, and share the same air. “Just thought I’d see if you’d be interested in someone younger. I’m positive I could make you feel things your ex-husband couldn’t.” The words are out of my mouth and I don’t want to take them back. It’s been ages since I’ve seen someone that I want to get to know and not the other way around. Being a stripper has its advantages. I don’t have to come on to anyone. The women I meet are fucking eager to get on their knees and show me a good time. But this woman … Kennedy … fuck me if I don’t want to spread her out on the table and dive into her pussy and taste her.
When she looks at me like I’m joking, I stare back at her with my most serious expression. Kennedy trembles and starts fidgeting with her hands. She’s nervous. I make her feel this way. She steps back, putting too much distance between us. Her friends are giggling as they watch her fumble.
“Thanks for the offer, but aren’t most of you gay?”
This time I do laugh and use the distraction to touch her hair. Picking up a strand, I wrap her silky auburn hair around my finger. “I’m not gay, Kennedy,” I whisper as I step closer. “If you stick around long enough, maybe you’ll find that out.”
With that, I leave her standing there in the middle of the room with her mouth slack open. As soon as I step into the backroom I’m trying to catch my breath. I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering, What the hell am I thinking? I’ve never done anything like that, but one look at her and I had to know her … I had to touch her. But now that I have it may not be enough.
When Jared walks in, I straighten up. For all I know he caught all that on the floor and probably has a list of rules I’ve fucking broke. If he fires me, I’m going out there and scooping Kennedy up and taking her with me.
“Hunter, you have a schedule change. You’ll be in the viewing room next.”
“Thanks, Jared,” I say, nodding to him. I should be happy, but I’d rather go out there and eye fuck Kennedy all night long than grope someone else.
Getting a gig in the viewing room is what I always strive for, but it takes everything inside me to get geared up. I’m ready to get the shit over with and find Kennedy again. Once my client is situated in her chair, the lights are dimmed and my music starts. The song is “Pony” by Ginuwine—the most overplayed song in strip clubs, but for whatever reason the women wet themselves for it so we keep playing it.
I can tell there are people watching, but I can’t see their faces. All I know is it’s a group and not just one person. When my eyes find the woman in the chair, I pause for a quick second. I can’t see her face but I recognize her red hair. It’s her. It’s fucking Kennedy. I promised her a good time and that’s what I’m going to give her. With a smile on my face, I drop my pants and step behind her chair.
“Are you ready, Kennedy?” I murmur against her as my hands caress her shoulders. She tenses and I love that I make her nervous. If she asked me to fuck her right there on stage, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’ll make her come like she’s a fucking porn star and make her feel things she could only imagine in her wildest fantasies.
When she doesn’t answer me I step around to the front of the chair so I can look into her green eyes. “Are you?” I ask again as I straddle her, pulling my cock out of my Society X underwear so she can get a good look. She sucks in a breath when
I place my dick between her breasts. What I wouldn’t give to fuck her tits right now. Sliding lower, I situate myself so her friends can’t see as I settle between her thighs and slide my hand up her skirt until my finger grazes her damp underwear.
She trembles and I take that as an invite to do more. I gently bite down on her fabric-covered breast and she groans, sending a clear signal to my dick.
“How ’bout we give ’em a show?” I ask as my finger continues to run up and down the front of her panties.
“Okay,” she says, barely audible but enough for me to hear. I have her consent to do what I want, until she tells me no.
She’s in my arms before she can change her mind and my body is covering her the moment I lay her on the bed. My hips move into hers on their own volition and before I know what’s going on, I’m harder than a fucking rock.
Her hips meet every one of my thrusts until I pull away, afraid I’m going to blow my load and get her pretty little skirt wet. I slide my hands up her legs and grab her panties, pulling them down her legs so I can see how fucking wet she is. I lean down and breathe in her scent, committing it to memory.
As my music ends I realize I’m in a trance. My chest is heaving and this is the do or die moment. I can fucking fall into her and find out what it’s like to have her pussy squeezing my dick or I can get up and go do my job.
“Do you still think I’m gay?” I ask, leaning into her.
The devilish smirk on her face makes me want to fuck her even more. “Maybe. It’s a shame you can’t prove otherwise.”
I don’t know if that’s an invitation or what, but the lights flickering back on save me from making a fool out of myself. I leave the warmth of her body and step back. It pains me to leave, especially when we have a perfectly good bed to put to use, but I have to. She didn’t ask for sex in the viewing room.
“Until next time …” I say before disappearing behind the curtain. I stand there, listening to her move around while I try to control my breathing. The woman is going to fucking kill me.