by V. Theia
ELEVEN
How in hells grace can I feel like I’m oversexed when I’m not having any sex whatsoever? My blood hummed around the clock lately, my thighs hot, making them ache, my breasts tender all the freaking time, my poor nipples constant pebbles and my lower abdomen is all clutchy as if prepared for receiving something large and pleasurable. It’s as though I’m having continuous sex without the actual sex. It’s bizarre and annoying because if I have all the symptoms of overuse of my lady bits then I sure as heck want the pay-out first.
Annoyed, I pack my bag for the day, throwing in two apples, you know, for nutrition shit, followed by two packages of cookies.
Sex gave me the munchies, was the excuse I was sticking to.
I needed all my wits about me today, and that included all the coffee and plenty of snacks.
I made the blunder of telling Noah of the weird interaction with Gray on the phone last night. First, he’d been eerily silent. And then. “He’s old.” He’d informed.
“I don’t know. Early forties isn’t that old these days.”
“Too old for you, kitten.”
“Age is but a number.”
He’d snorted. “Did he take you home in his buggy and horse? Did he ask your daddy’s permission to kiss you goodnight? Tell me, kitten, did he offer you a dowry?” the amusement laced his voice and slid into my ears so erotically I had to swallow a groan. The conversation went in the same vein for twenty minutes.
On my way to work he messaged.
KingOfManhattan: Did the aging lover ask you for a second date?
SouthernBelle: It wasn’t a date! Also, he’s my client.
KingOfManhattan. Office romance. Don’t let him bend you over any desks, kitten.
SouthernBelle: Why not????? I like desks. I’m also incredible with floors.
KingOfManhattan: Noted.
KingOfManhattan: Did he ask you out?
SouthernBelle: A lady never tells.
I didn’t confess I failed at picking up Gray’s flirting. I was a masochist to put in front of him another man in hopes it made him jealous. Instead my ploy backfired with Noah’s joking. I swallowed a gulp of Coke and got my ass into the elevator.
KingOfManhattan: He’s an ass.
KingOfManhattan: An ancient one at that.
SouthernBelle: Hush. He’s handsome. We call old distinguished nowadays. And rich and very charming. And he has a cheek dimple!
KingOfManhattan: Nothing good comes from the boss wanting you to take dictation…
SouthernBelle: Ha Ha! You speak from experience.
SouthernBelle: If I’m late home you know I’m doing overtime… for the boss ;-)
KingOfManhattan: ……
SouthernBelle: On my knees. Oh, yes, sir. Whatever you want, Sir. ;-)
KingOfManhattan: Come home!
SouthernBelle: Ha. Ha. I’ve arrived at work. Later, lion. Xx
Nothing more personal happened with Gray. He brought me coffee and we chatted for a few minutes, other than that it was strictly business. I didn’t know whether I was pleased or disappointed. It felt like yet again I’d let a decent guy slip through my fingers because of the yearning for another.
I was seriously getting sick of my own self.
But, but, but. There’s always a but, isn’t there?
But what if I was brave enough to risk that conversation. Would Noah tell me friction was friction, Sena and any mouth would do? That would be the reasonable answer. The most painful answer.
I chose the coward’s way out and pretended like all is okay.
I better buck my fucking ideas at some point today, because I was heading to Inferno Palace tonight for its grand re-opening. Noah bought his first strip club and I had a fist full of dollar bills to tuck into hot guys G-strings.
Not to mention my bestie would be there, naturally, looking mean and moody lord of the manor and my ovaries were already screaming little bitches in anticipation of seeing him.
Oh, boy. Today was going to be a bundle of computer wizardry and nerves.
TWELVE
Ican understand why some people hate New York. it’s constant noise and smells, there’s always elbows to jab into your ribs whether on the sidewalk or crammed into the subway, the persistent activity and not to mention it’s dirty. The thing I learned quickly about Manhattan is you must become an aggressive walker, or you get nowhere, you’d just shuffle along in the rabble. It was nothing like back home, the city went at a thousand miles an hour never stopping, it sure made people watching interesting.
But I love it. You learned to grow a thick skin swiftly too. I might have been corn fed when I arrived, but it only took several drunk men pissing in the street yelling for me to move my fat ass for me to realize I was not Dorothy in Kansas anymore. I was in the big, bad, sometimes ugly world.
I loved it the moment I arrived, and that shine hasn’t worn off four years later.
I truly believe I was meant to land my fake Valentino shoes here.
I may not be a native. I might still have my southern twang, as people tell me, but I am wholly a New Yorker. I’m eating a hot dog right from the street vendor at 10pm for Christ sake, how much more New Yorker could I be?
I took the subway to Avenue C 7th street and heard the music from Inferno Palace long before I turned the corner.
Noah always did like a show, I thought, approaching the crowd of people gathering outside as bluesy music pumped from inside the red bricked building and greeters handed out fliers on the corner dressed as go-go dancers. Who queued around the block to get into a strip club? Noah Fierro drew crowds of people wherever he went. I accused him of being the pied piper of NY nightlife. Where Noah touched, people wanted to go. I suppose that’s why he strived for bigger and better. His fleet of clubs were never enough, not when there was more to conquer and call his own.
“Hi.” I told the doorman. Expecting to see Miles standing outside who would usher me past the crowd without question. I belated remembered his wife had given birth to a baby son and he was off playing papa. I’d sent flowers from Noah and I for his wife and I’d drop off the baby gifts sometime this week.
I didn’t recognise this guy.
“Hello, darlin’. Name?” His finger scrolled on a tablet. Tonight’s reopening, was invite only. The well to do’s and rich perverts alike, along with the press.
Noah kept his private life lowkey but went all out when it came time to promote his empire. He’d treat his strip club as he would any of his other places, just because a woman danced with her tits out was no different to his high-end clubs for the rich Instagram famous kids.
“Sena Black.”
A minute later he gave me the stink eye. “Sorry, you’re not listed, darlin’. It’s invite only.”
“I know. I’m invited. Can you look again?”
He repeated the same thing, this time with a little more irritation, like he thought I was lying to him while standing in front of him in my blood-red jumpsuit and five-inch ankle breaking spike heels, my red tipped hair piled on top of my head.
Screw you, list.
I glowered. The crowd of people looking at me in the same accusatory way. This never happened, all the doormen knew to let me in any of Noah’s clubs.
This wouldn’t be going on if Miles was here.
What a time for him to be on paternity leave. So selfish.
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “Look, I’m friends with Noah Fierro.”
He sketchily snorted. This upstart ass laughed in my face like it was the worst lie he’d heard tonight. “Of course, darlin’. They all are. Come back tomorrow when it’s open to the public.”
It’s not as though I want to play the ‘do you know who I am’ card. I’m not conceited, but I’m best damn friends with the owner! This would never happen to a Queen Kardashian. I was irritated having to ask this guy to call through to Noah.
He of course refused, pushing me aside a little, he began to check his little fucking list and allowed others in wh
ile I was left standing like day old chopped liver in my epic jumpsuit with the tiny belt cinched at the waist.
Hell no. I did not take an hour to paint my face and pour myself into this contraption to stand out in the street. Didn’t he know the agony a woman went through by wearing a jumpsuit when it came time to pee?
That was dedication to fashion.
I texted for rescue.
SouthernBelle: Your guard dog won’t let me in.
SouthernBelle: I’m outside like a street hooker. I can’t even get into a strip club. See the irony??
KingOfManhattan: The fuck? I’m on my way.
He appeared a minute later. Larger than life, striding like a dark god out to rip souls from innocent humans. He clashed eyes with me and I shivered from the force. Dressed completely in black with a hint of blue on his shirt I nearly swallowed my tongue and then licked Noah from head to toe at the same time.
He pinned the doorman with a stare as he reached me.
“Let her through and make sure she’s on the fucking list from now on, you got it?”
The doorman visibly blanched at Noah’s violent rusted tone, not to mention withered a little under his vicious stare. It’s understandable, anyone would, he had a reputation for not taking any bullshit.
“Got it. S-sorry, darlin’.”
I smiled and accepted his apology. “No problem. Have a good night.”
Noah grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, he didn’t let go as we got inside.
“How long were you out there for? You should have called me. Fucking new kids. Miles knows to add you.”
“Not long, he was at least thorough not allowing gate-crashers in.” I reasoned, taking in my first sight of the club. It wasn’t my first time at a strip club, I can’t say they were my favorite night out, I was too embarrassed to ever have a lap dance, by a woman or man, so it really wasn’t my scene, but I wanted to support Noah.
It boasted three platform corner stages. All of them with a pole in the center, each had a dancer gyrating and a crowd surrounding. Along one far wall was a winding bar, and it was crammed busy already, each seat occupied.
From first inspection, it was a good opening night for Noah.
“Come on,” he told me. “I’ll give you the tour.” I recognized a few sports stars among the crowd. Three football players. Baseball and a few hockey players. And there was that reality star who fucked that girl and got her pregnant. My eyes widened like saucers. “What do you want to drink?” My hand still in Noah’s, he had me tucked into his side, his head bent to speak by my ear over the music. “Have you eaten?” For a second my brain fogged out with his cologne assaulting my nose, he smelled damn good.
“I ate already. But I’ll have something red.” I smiled. To match my outfit. I did like to coordinate.
He gave me an indulging look, mouth twitching. His hand dropped mine but slid his arm around my waist guiding me through a sea of people toward the bar.
I goggled at more famous people popping up.
The barman recognized Noah and rushed over.
“Make the lady a Rossini, Denny.”
“Sure thing, boss-man.” A minute after he handed me a flute of strawberry champagne. I tasted its lush sweetness. He always knew what I liked.
Noah gets me on a bone-deep level but I’m afraid to say what I really want to say, so instead I fill the space with talk of my impression of the club as he showed me around, oohing and ahhing in the right places. Some rooms we couldn’t go into because that’s where the private lap dances are held, and the rooms were already in session.
Inferno Palace looked amazing. So much more welcoming than I’d expected. I’m so happy for Noah’s success, he worked harder than anyone else I knew.
“Are you good to sit and watch from here?” He questioned bringing me back to the bar. “I need to talk to the press a little.” He looked as happy to do that as he would be extracting his eyeballs with a taser. He’d endured a slight irritation with a certain bitchy journalist a few years ago, a bad boyfriend turned sour who’d made it his mission to target Noah with bad press for about six months trying to discredit his reputation. Noah as per his personality rose above it and did what he had to do get the guy off his back…chiefly, he ruined the guy.
Now Noah was jaded against all press people but knew how to use them for his benefit. I spied a pack of them circling, gathering their article information while he’d shown me around on both levels.
He was like moody Moses parting crowds wherever he went.
“You can wait in the office if you prefer?” He offered. His eyes intent, body pressed closer as I sipped my second Rossini.
“No, you go. I’m about to watch that blond honey-bear shake what his mama gave him.” I winked and saw his lips twitch. He brushed a kiss to my cheek, my whole body swelled, and I resisted gulping his scent. It was a hard feat. “No touching the employees, kitten. I’ve seen that hungry look before.” Every thick, dark word dripped with insinuation and caused a ripple to rush over my skin, heating me so fast, putting memories of my orgasm in my head, my face flushed and thank god for the low lightening because he’d see I was as red as my clothes.
“Go play with the media hounds, be nice, they’ll write good things, remember. Leave me to mentally undress the dancer. Oh, wait, he’s already there. Yum.”
He laughed and ran his hand down my back in a slow sweep.
I was sure he was never aware of the tactile touching he did or how it affected me.
“I won’t be long. Tell Denny anything you want.”
I want you. Can I have him, Denny?
THIRTEEN
“I saw you with Fierro. Can I get a sound-bite from you?” A nasally voice requested behind me. “Are you one of his dancers?” My brows rose incredulously. Not the best opener based on the whiplash sidelong look I pierced at him. Is my red jumpsuit in any way lap dancer like? Okay, it did have a few sequins and it looked like it was painted on, but still. Come on, man. Maybe I ought to take it as a compliment this sleazebag smirking at my boobs assumed I have titties to shake in my spare time.
“Eh. No. I’m—” who was I? Customer? Somehow that sounded wrong, as though I should be up front waving dollar bills to prove my existence in the dark nightclub. I gripped my glass tighter and smiled. “What kind of soundbite are you looking for?” My voice lifted over the swell of the pumping music, though I wasn’t even sure he could hear me adequately.
Music that bears a resemblance to to sex. I could feel it in my bones and every time I caught Noah’s eye the music combined with the glance did something wet between my legs.
The man, closer to fortyish, if I had to hazard a guess, dressed in a thin dark jacket with his shirt collar open, his hair dark brown, thick and wavy at the temples, leaned in closer, his breath smelled of peppermint, his elbow resting on the bar showed he was holding a recording device in his left hand, eyes trained on me like an assassin. It’s slightly unnerving until he smiled showing off perfect teeth.
“If you’re not a dancer, what brings you here tonight, sweetheart? And what do you think of the place?”
I smiled in return. I wanted to say something amazing to promote Noah’s new adventure, something blogs would repost for months, but my mind was blank, and I mentally sang along to the lyrics of Goodies by Ciara when four dancers take to the stage, glitter on boobs and everything.
God, I’d kill for those long legs. Perfect toned and tanned. I was not hit favorable by the leg fairy.
“My momma would say I’d go to the opening of an envelope.” I told him, and he flashed me an amused look. “But look at the place, it’s gorgeous, a feast for the senses, who wouldn’t want to be here on opening night? As for what I think. It’s going to be the hot-spot everyone comes to, talks about. It’s hot, sensual, but best of all it’s welcoming to both sexes. Most strip clubs are sleazy, you need hand sanitizer before you walk through the door, this is pure class...I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
&
nbsp; “Call me Jack,” he switched off his device, appearing satisfied with what I’d given him, and he leaned in to speak over the music, his eyes aimed on my face.
“Was that a good soundbite then?”
“Sure was. But you never did say, who you are…”
“She’s none of your business, Jack. Concentrate on the club. My manager is waiting for his interview.” Issued Noah in a tone so dripping with warning it practically pooled around poor Jack’s boots as the club owner stepped in behind me. His fingers touched the lower portion of my spine.
I took a gulp of my drink to stop from gasping from pleasure.
Stupid erogenous zone.
Jack the reporter merely smirked. “You recall my job is to ask questions.”
“Then do your job. She gave her soundbite, pester someone else now.”
Jack, sensing he was not getting anything more switched tactics, first by winking at me then turning his attention to the owner.
“It’s a ballsy move from your other clubs, why a strip joint?” his recorder flicked back on, he held it out in front of Noah’s chest. Me, I let my eyes move around the club, watching people, the dancers truly were amazing, so what if they had bare breasts, they moved on the pole like they were in erotic water.
“The venue is big enough to hold events, I wanted to branch out from a mainstream nightclub because every strip bar has a reputation of being less than, and worse, for selling sex and I wanted to change that, to make it about entertainment. Ladies nights are popular right now after the rise of the Magic Mike franchise. I’d be a fool not to capitalize on their enjoyment of a safe environment to enjoy harmless dancing.” He told the reporter.
My head flipped around with a grin. “Ohh, Magic Mike. Save me front row.”
Noah answered with his own smirk and brow lift to Jack as if to say told you so.
Jack went to do his job and talk to other people, it was hours later he found me before he left and handed over his business card.