AVERY (The Corbin Brothers Book 2)

by Lexie Ray

  After the third lap dance, which I discovered I excelled at, there was no question that I was going to earn my fifty dollar back. I was going to turn a real profit tonight. Lap dances were much easier than being up on stage. Behind the curtain, I could really turn it on. It felt better to be in private, too, pleasing a single patron.

  I resurfaced again just in time to see Casey go up on stage. Intrigued to see my roommate at work, I sat down at a patron’s table to watch.

  “She any good?” I joked. “It’s my roommate, and I’m wondering if I have any competition to worry about from the girl who taught me everything I know.”

  “Just watch,” the patron said, his eyes agog.

  A dark, sultry beat filled the club, its relentless rhythm infectious. I found myself wanting to get up there and rock the pole. The way other strippers were bouncing their feet, I could tell they wanted the exact same thing. Casey had a knack for picking the right song.

  She started by swaying her hips in time to the music but slower than staying on beat. Casey took hold of the pole and scaled it casually, hooking her leg around and pausing at the top. She flipped out her hair and spread her arms, leaning back and sliding back to the floor. It looked like she was freefalling in slow motion.

  When she hit the ground, she really started to move. Casey picked up the pace until she was at tempo, shaking her goods wildly. Her miniskirt came off, revealing her toned ass. It would have to be toned, I mused, with the way she could climb that pole. Patrons were already jostling for positions along the stage. I continued to watch as she made her dance personal for each man.

  “You said she taught you everything you know?” the patron asked me. “You should go up there. Here.”

  He gave me a dollar and sent me packing just in time for the second song. When Casey saw me waving the bill at the edge of the stage, she smiled and came over.

  “Now, this is out of pity,” I joked. “I don’t think you’re going to turn a profit tonight, girl, so shake it harder.”

  Casey grabbed me by the wrists and hauled me on stage. Her strength surprised me so much that I almost stumbled, but somehow kept my feet.

  “Let’s give them a show, Cocoa,” she said, grinning. “Lie down by the pole.”

  Trusting her, I did as she asked. She walked around me, dancing and ignoring all of the other patrons. I tried not to wince at the pounding of her stiletto heels around my body. She was much more capable than I was at this. I knew she wouldn’t slip.

  Casey took her bra off and used it to trail down my body, her pink nipples hardening at the cool air hitting them. She straddled me and rode me like we were lovers. Men gave up on her making it to them, but it just made Casey more desirable if she was unattainable. Patrons started tossing dollars up on stage.

  Without warning, Casey mounted the pole, going all the way to the top and spreading her legs. She held herself with just her arms, rotating slowly around so everyone in the club could get a good view. Then, she dropped.

  All I had time to do was gasp as I saw her falling toward me. Then, with a faint squeal of skin against metal, she stopped, her ass inches from my face. She stood up and gave a sweeping bow just as the song ended.

  The applause was, by far, the loudest out of any of the strippers. Casey helped me up and made me bow beside her. I helped her gather up all of her dollars — more than three times the amount I’d made while up here — and we went to the dressing room.

  “Where did you learn how to do all that?” I asked, gaping at her as we stuffed her cash into her locker.

  “I’m a pretty quick learner,” she said. “And I took to stripping like a duck to water. Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Maybe I should stick to stripping instead of becoming a nurse?”

  “Hell, no,” I protested. “The money’s good, I’ll admit that, but you don’t want to become a crusty old career stripper with rocks mounted on her chest.”

  We both burst out laughing as such a creature gave me the evil eye.

  “You’re right,” Casey said. “I don’t want to be a career stripper.”

  “Good girl,” I said, patting her sweaty shoulder. “You want to be something you can write home about.”

  “Right?” she said. “My parents think I earn all this money working at a coffee shop. I even have to send them a bag of gourmet beans that I get ‘for free’ every month to keep up the charade.”

  Casey hit the showers, and I hit the floor again. I fulfilled even more requests for dances because of my proximity to my roommate; my mind boggled at the amount of cash I was going to make tonight. All that cash was mine, too, and I wouldn’t be stowing it away in Mama’s safe, never to see it again.

  I made the rounds, getting happily exhausted, until I made it back to the very first patron I’d met, the one who bought me pineapple juice.

  “Pull up a chair, Cocoa,” he roared, two strippers already perched on his lap. Their gaze was a few degrees below freezing as I sat down.

  “A pineapple juice for the lady,” he instructed, catapulting one of the strippers from his lap with a spank. She stalked off to the bar to make it happen, I was shocked to see. This guy must be paying for the liberties he was taking. The bouncer was watching him, but didn’t seem ready to enforce any kind of code of compliance. Casey had told me that this sometimes happens. If a patron laid down enough money, he pretty much had free run of the place.

  How much money did this guy have to put down?

  I took my drink from the stripper and thanked her, but she only flipped her hair and walked away. The other one soon followed, so I was able to scoot a little closer. The man’s tie was unknotted and was draped around his neck.

  “Are you having a good time?” I asked, sipping on the juice.

  “Absolutely,” he said, nodding wildly. “Absolutely. You were great. That girl was great. You were great with that girl.”

  “Oh, that was Casey,” I said, having to decipher his words. “That’s my roommate. She’s teaching me how to work the pole.”

  “That’s just something you know how to do, not something you learn,” he said, his eyes bloodshot and his breath stinking of tequila. “Some girls have it, some don’t.”

  He was looking less and less recognizable the more he drank, but I still couldn’t ignore the feeling that I’d seen him before. He’d been nothing but friendly to me, so I tried not to think much of it.

  “You said you weren’t really partying earlier, but you could’ve fooled me,” I said, just to make conversation.

  He leaned forward and pushed his finger up against my lips, silencing me. “Let’s just have a good time,” he said. “Can I get a lap dance?”

  “If that’s what you want, I can give it to you,” I said, helping him stand.

  His gait was unsteady, and I had to grip his hand as he staggered a little. He pushed aside the curtain before I took pity on him and held it away, leading him to an unoccupied booth.

  “You just sit yourself down and let Cocoa take care of you,” I said, slipping into my nightclub persona. That Cocoa always referred to herself in the third person. It was easier to disassociate myself from my actions, then.

  The man sat and I began my routine, rubbing his face with my hands before shimmying with my breasts. I straddled his lap, one leg curling around either side of him, and wriggled on top of him. I made sure to grind my ass into his crotch, pleased when I got a burgeoning response.

  “You’re so sexy,” he breathed, his voice smothered by my boobs.

  “Thank you,” I said, bouncing rhythmically in his lap to the music. Lap dances — unless specified otherwise — lasted exactly one song. I wanted to make this one count for him. He’d been nice to me. It helped, of course, that he was sexy.

  The song ended, and I made a move to get up, but he seized my wrist gently.

  “One more,” he said, pulling a twenty from his wallet. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, frowning at my own giddiness. This was pure business. I couldn’t underst
and why I was getting so excited. My thong was getting damp in the front to match his raging erection.

  “You know, I don’t even know your name,” I said, batting my eyelashes at him as I moved.

  “It’s Liam,” he said, his eyes at half-mast while he held me by the waist.

  I narrowed my eyes, searching my brain for clues. With that face and name paired, I was certain I’d seen him before. But where?

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, leaning back and shaking his hand. His grip was as firm as it was at the beginning of the night, and I was feeling a lot more confident.

  “Likewise,” he said, almost as if it was an involuntary reaction. “I really am,” he added. “Sorry for being so drunk.”

  “Happens to the best of us,” I said, wiggling atop his boner.

  “And sorry about that,” he said, pointing to his lap. “I don’t know where my self-control has gone tonight. Well, that’s a lie. Of course I do. But it looks like you’re having to deal with the consequences.”

  “Believe me, this is one happy consequence,” I said, reaching between us and feeling him. I was surprised at the length of the steely shaft and rubbed it up and down through his pants.

  “Good for you,” I breathed into his ear. “I’d deal with this consequence any day of the week.”

  The song ended, and I got up, smiling as he groaned. “You’re going to leave me like this, Cocoa?” he asked.

  “Does that mean you want another song?” I inquired.

  He held out another twenty, nodding.

  I went back to him, tucking the note in my bra, and continued my incessant rocking. He held me as I danced in his lap, thriving at this aspect of stripping. Liam gripped me hard as I swayed and shimmied, his tortured gasp telling me everything I needed to know. I’d just made him come.

  The song ended, and I helped him up. He was still shuddering, his pupils dilated.

  “Well, I’ve made a fool out of myself,” he announced. “This is a first. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “I don’t think that,” I said. “I wanted you to come.” I realized that I was being partially truthful and was troubled. Was I attracted to this patron, a man I’d just met? It probably wasn’t very professional of me to admit that I was.

  Liam took off to the bathroom and I found it was time to take another shower and change my thong. Casey had told me to do so anytime I felt that I wasn’t fresh anymore. Something about those lap dances with Liam, and the fact that I’d gotten him to come on himself, made me horny. The feeling was foreign to me. I’d been so oversexed at Mama’s nightclub that very little turned me on.

  I was alone in the showers and touched myself, trying to relieve some of the pressure between my legs, but stopped as two other strippers entered, trying to wash the night’s work off of themselves, too.

  The rest of the night went very well. Liam invited more strippers to his table, but always made sure I was swimming in pineapple juice. I continued to make the rounds, pulling in more and more patrons to the curtained area.

  By closing time, I realized that I was poised to take home nearly five-hundred dollars. I could understand why Casey thought about making stripping her full-time career. You had to work for the money, but it sometimes flowed very quickly.

  Casey was just as giddy as I was when we met back in the dressing room, showering one more time before getting back into our street clothes.

  “I think you did very, very well for your debut,” she said. “Five-hundred bucks is a lot more than most of these girls make.”

  “How much did you rake in?” I asked. “I know you did better than me.”

  Casey leaned forward. “Almost a thousand,” she whispered.

  I jerked back, my eyes wide. “You know what, screw nursing,” I said. “You’re going to become a career stripper. Replace those titties with some rocks, girl, and spray tan until you’re orange. You’re going all the way.”

  “No!” Casey shrieked, giggling. “I’m too pretty to be a career stripper!”

  We weren’t earning any friends in the dressing room with the way we were acting, but I didn’t care. Casey and I were happy with our earnings and didn’t give a damn about what anyone else thought.

  When we were leaving from the dressing room, I saw Liam staggering out the front door, all by himself and rattling his car keys. He looked in bad shape.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, dropping my bag and running out the door after him.

  I didn’t catch up to him until he fumbled with his keys in the parking lot and dropped them.

  “Whoa, there,” I said, scooping up the keys before his clumsy fingers could find them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Gimme those,” he said, making a couple grabs at the keys I had dangling in front of his face.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “You’re way too drunk to be driving yourself home.”

  “Gotta,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “No other way.”

  “This is New York,” I said, laughing at him. “You can take the subway. You can take a cab. You can take a bus.”

  “Can’t leave my car,” he said, leaning against it. I suspected it was the only thing holding him up.

  For the first time, I noticed that it was a Porsche. I gave a low whistle, rubbing my hand over the silver paint job.

  “This is a really nice car,” I said. “Why’d you bring it to this part of town? You’re lucky it didn’t get jacked while you were inside the club.”

  “Didn’t plan on it,” Liam slurred. “Just happened.”

  “How about I drive you and your car home, if you’re that concerned?” I asked, rattling the keys. “You’ll get home safe and you won’t have to worry about the Porsche.”

  “Do you know how to drive manual?” he asked, his eyes closing and his head nodding.

  The funny thing was, I did. The boys in Granny’s neighborhood were obsessed with cars, and it wasn’t manly to succumb to the ease of an automatic. They liked control behind the wheel, revving their engines at each other along the street. A good friend in high school had taught me on his very own car.

  “I think I can manage,” I said, eyeing the sleek vehicle. In fact, it was going to be a pleasure to drive this.

  I helped Liam around to the passenger’s side and eased him in. The interior of the car was all leather. I expected as much as I leaned over him, buckling him in.

  “Cocoa?”

  I whipped my head around to see Casey, holding our bags and looking concerned by my compromising position.

  “Hey, Casey,” I said, jogging over and relieving her of my stuff. “Sorry about leaving you in there.”

  Casey’s eyes left my face and looked around me to the car, where Liam was waiting. I followed her gaze and watched as his head lolled. He never would’ve made it home if he were behind the wheel.

  “I thought you said you weren’t doing this kind of thing anymore,” she said, her brow knitted together in concern.

  I laughed, waving my hands as if to clear the air. “No, no, no,” I said. “I’m not doing that. I swear I’m not. I just saw him getting into his car. He was going to drive himself home, and I just couldn’t let him. Not in the state he was in.”

  Casey looked less than convinced. “I know what it’s like to think that some patrons are cute sometimes,” she said. “But whatever he said, whatever he offered you, you don’t have to go home with him.”

  “It’s not a matter of going home with him,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m done with that shit. I told you. He’s too messed up to drive. I just want to see him back okay. I think I owe him that.”

  “You don’t owe anybody anything,” Casey said. “And you don’t owe me any explanations. I just want you to be careful and not do anything you don’t want to do.”

  I gave my roommate an impromptu hug to reassure her almost as much to reassure myself.

  “Thank you for looking out for me,” I said. “I’ll be home before you know it.” />
  I hopped in the car with Liam, whose head lolled up against the window.

  “No falling asleep on me,” I said, patting his knee. “You need to tell me how to get you home.”

  I started the Porsche, the engine roaring to life. I touched the gearshift tentatively. It would be like riding a bike, right? I hoped so.