by Lenox Hills
Friday
The next morning, more like afternoon, I got up and decided to go out for a latte. When I looked into my workbag gathering my stage tips, I saw the envelope the champagne manager had given me. I had completely forgot about it last night. I felt the orgasm was payment enough. I pulled the cash out to count it; it came to $940 dollars. I had given Samson 60. That means that Jonathan had tipped me a thousand dollars. Wow. I took two hundred and left.
Deep down I know I hoped to see a black SUV outside my door, but I did not. I grabbed my coffee and a bagel, and popped into the drug store on the corner. I bought new triple blade razors, shaving gel, a clay beauty mask, clear deodorant, a dark grey glitter nail polish, and rich body lotion. I intended to do a day of pampering and close shaving.
I feel smooth and sexy when I get to work. Samson works to make me stunning again. My hair is flat-ironed and straight with a little flip in on the ends. I told him I was wearing white and red, so he did a nude smoky eye, with soft red shiny lips. He called it a vixen look. I looked hot again, thanks to him. Just as I was ready to go out and check in with the DJ the manager raps on the locker room door, and peers his head in. Samson and I stop fidgeting with my dress and look at him; “Lenox, I need a favor.”
“Sure” I tell him.
“We need a girl down at our other club, it’s hopping, and they are short staffed. We aren’t going to be busy tonight with the fight going on in AC, so can you be a dear and go work there tonight?”
NO! I scream in my head, I can’t! What if Jonathan comes in? I have no way to tell him. OMG OMG OMG! The manager must see the panic in my face.
“I’m afraid it’s really more of a command than a request,” he tells me.
Oh. I guess I have no choice if I want to keep my job, and I have to keep my job so I can see Jonathan again. This is going to be the only way I know to see him, so I can’t lose it.
“My pleasure,” I smile. Better to go along and get along.
“That’s my girl, and in return take tomorrow off. There is a cab waiting for you when you are ready.” With that he left the locker room.
I gather my things into my work bag, and Samson gives me a small little make up kit with some powder, lip-gloss, and eyeliner to refresh my makeup. I decide to not change since I am going straight there. Outside there is a cab waiting, and I carefully put myself in as inappropriately dressed as I am, and we head off downtown. If I look shocking to the driver, he makes no notice or mention of it. Nevertheless, this is New York City, I am sure he has seen stranger.
We pull up in front a club that looks a lot less classy than mine. Girls! Girls! Girls! In flashing lights outside the club. Everything is in neon with trashy looking catch phrases. I am afraid of what I agreed to. The cab driver turns to me, “It’s ok miss. It really is. This is just an old club that has been around since they allowed go-go bars in the city. They keep it like this for the history, it’s kitschy.” Kitschy, that word actually relaxes me a bit. As I get out I hand him a twenty.
“It’s been paid miss.” He tells me.
“I know, but this is for giving me piece of mind.” I smile.
“Thank you,” and smiles back at me. “Good luck.”
I grab my bag and get out of the car, there is no doorman here, and as I swing the heft of the door with my left hand I see a familiar sight. Parked almost in front of the club there THAT black SUV with Marcus standing in front of it drinking a cup of coffee. My heart sinks down to my toes. Jonathan is here. Not possible I tell myself. He must be in a restaurant nearby, or in an office building at a meeting. No, please not here. I feel instantly saddened and despondent. I have to go in. Or do I? I don’t know what to think. I am confused and heartbroken. Heartbroken already? I feel stupid for thinking it. Whatever, I can be strong, if he is in here, he is, who cares? I can deal, fuck him. I head inside and see they don’t have a cashier or any curtains. The club is smaller and like a large L shape. It is very light and completely different from the other club uptown. It doesn’t take me long to spot him, he is in the middle of the L, getting a table dance.
I can’t believe that I am looking at Jonathan getting a table dance from another girl. I feel both fury and wounded. Did I really think he was different? I did. Maybe it was the stripper ho that seduced him into it, but she looks like a nice girl, just like the rest of us. I am weighted to the floor and unable to move. I get an idea and walk over to the big guy sitting next to the DJ booth on my immediate left.
“Hi I am Lenox from the other club. I’d like to go onstage immediately please.”
“Nice to meet you, thanks for coming down, we have a…” the big buy says to me.
“I’d like to go up immediately please.” I insist.
“Well, there is a…” he tries to talk but I keep interrupting him.
“Please,” I plead, “Please, I need to go up now.” I have raised my voice and started tapping my foot in my shoe. I am screaming in my head LET ME GO ONSTAGE FUCKER!!!!
“Ok, but…” the big guy trails off as I stomp away towards the stage stairs.
The stage here is along one side of the L shape, with three poles intermittently placed, and the entire back wall is a long mirror. There is no sitting at the bar in front since the stage is raised so high up, but tables and chairs are set up far enough back that guys don’t have to crane their heads to look up at you. I walk on before the DJ says my name.
“We have a special guest for you tonight, here visiting us from our sister club is LENOX!”
He starts some song that I cannot hear since I am fuming and yelling at Jonathan in my head. I am a fool for liking him. I am a jerk for thinking he liked me. How could I be so stupid? I don’t even wait for half the song before I take off my dress and bra. I am dancing wildly, whipping my hair around like a video vixen, and shaking my tits & ass. I never look over where Jonathan is sitting; I don’t want to see who is dancing for him now. I don’t want to look at him. I hate him. I have turned around to face the mirror, closed my eyes and sway my hips from left to right as I raise my hands up my sides and into my hair so it comes up and then falls down my back. I am a sexy goddess. I am an angry sexy goddess.
I spin around and there he is, at the bottom of my feet, standing up against the stage. He is smiling his sexy crooked smile and holding out a crisp one hundred-dollar bill. Jerk, I don’t want his money and sashay to the other end of the stage. Continuing to hold the bill out he moves down to where I am. Then I think, you know what? Screw him and I snatch the bill out of his hand, and head back to the other end. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk back to his table, with some other guys, and almost all the girls in the club. They all have drinks and are drinking and laughing. Everyone is having a great time. Fucker.
I cannot take this torture and already plan to get off stage after the song and tell the manager that I am sick and I need to go home. I am afraid I might even cry. The song ends, and I walk off the stage and straight back over to the big guy. I can feel Jonathans eyes on my as I walk across the club back over near the door.
“Lenox” I hear, but keep going.
“Lenox” again, but I don’t turn around.
I get to the big guy, “Hey, I’m sorry but I have a really bad…” and there is a tap on my shoulder. I ignore it. I continue, “A really bad headache, and I’d like to go home.”
There is another tap on my shoulder, “Lenox, turn around.” I hear Jonathan tell me, but I ignore him.
“So, can I leave?” I ask the big guy.
“Fine have it your way.” I hear Jonathan say. Good, leave me alone. Suddenly he is standing next to me; he grabs my wrist and twirls me towards him. Ugh, I hate him. Holding onto my left wrist, he bends down a little, puts his head under my right armpit and throws me up and over his left shoulder. WHAT? What the hell is he doing? I am now bent over his shoulder and he is holding me around the back of my knees and walking away from the big guy, who is smiling I see when I look up. Great, no help there. I can’t beli
eve that kidnapping is ok here. Nobody is doing a thing. Jonathan walks across the club like he is carrying groceries. He takes me into a back room, behind some red velvet curtains and puts me down in a corner. This must be the champagne room here, very different, dark red and a bit brighter.
Jonathan puts me down so I am standing in front of him, he keeps a hold of me by grabbing both my wrists and holding them down firmly at my sides.
“You have some nerve picking me up like a sack of potatoes and I…” I begin to tell him off, and he looks at me for a moment before covering my mouth with his. I clamp my mouth shut and don’t move. I wriggle against his tight grasp but he has me in a stiff lock down, arms at my sides. Damn him. He keeps kissing me, trying to use his tongue to pry my lips open. I hate him. God he smells so good. He has this musky forest smell that makes me want to inhale him, bottle him and spritz it on my pillow so I can fall asleep to this scent. The more I smell him, the more I want him, and it gets harder to fight. When he kisses me, it burns hot licks of flaming desire deep inside my core that radiates out my fingertips and toes. I stop fighting him and open my mouth. Immediately he plunges his tongue in and invades me.
Once I have opened my mouth to him, he keeps his grip on my wrists, but moves them behind my back so he can put his arms around my waist. I love that it makes me feel overtaken by him as he pulls me in closer. I can feel his hard on through his pants, and it gives me satisfaction that I can get him like this from kissing me. My previous ire has turned back into passion for him, and I push all my anger onto my tongue. I open my mouth wider and swirl my tongue around the tip of his, I pull it into my mouth and pull on it hard with a suck that lets him know what my mouth is capable of. I need him to know what I can do for him; I need him to know that no other girl can kiss him like this. I need him to know how much I like him, without telling him. That’s right Jonathan; there is no other mouth like mine that can please you like this.
Abruptly Jonathan puts my wrists back by my sides and yanks on them to pull me out of his mouth. We are standing as close as two people can without touching, except for his hands above my wrists. I look up at him and he looks down at me.
“Hi,” he says and smiles a smile with the corner of his mouth bent up.
“Hey,” but I am playing it casual. I want him to know that I am still mad regardless of the kissing.
“That was some entrance you made tonight. Took me a bit by surprise.” He tells me.
“Ha,” I snorted, “yeah I’ll bet.” Jonathan cocks his head to the side a little bit as if he doesn’t understand my snide comment or where it’s coming from.
His smile quickly turns into a slack line across his lips and his brow furrows.
“Are you mad about something? What did I miss here?” he sounds confused.
“Me? No, I am not mad at you. Why should I be mad? Because I walk in here and see another girl dancing topless between your legs? I mean what ever right. It’s cool, we had some fun. Thanks for the new clothes.”
I thought I was playing it cool, but kind of blew it with the jealous statement. Crap. I hear Jonathan start to chuckle. The chuckle turns into a laugh and the laugh turns into a howl. I feel like an ass. This fucker is laughing at me; I pull my wrists to get away. I want out of here now. This is just too humiliating. I want to run home and hide under the covers.
The problem is that he still won’t let go of me. I scream in my head, LET ME GO AND LET ME LEAVE BEFORE YOU SEE ME CRY PLEASE!!!!
“Lenox,” he softens his tone, as he knows I am close to an emotional edge. “Kitten, listen to me.” Kitten again, hearing that makes me melt inside into a gooey cookie. Is there anything sweeter than being called Kitten? He takes one hand and lets that wrist go and brings it up to my chin, with the knuckle of his thumb he pulls it up so I am looking at him. My eyes are glistening and I am biting my inner lip to keep it all locked up inside me.
“Kitten, I think you have this all wrong. I SENT for you.” What?
I must look utterly confused because he goes on. “The guys and I have been working for almost 24 hours straight on the server glitch. I always treat them to wherever or whatever they want after working so hard and they picked here. As soon as we got here, I asked the manager if it was possible to get you down here. Lenox, I WANTED to see you! I paid them to send you down here to me!” With his admission he reaches back down to my right hand and pulls it up to him, he turns my palm to his face and places three soft quick kisses on it.
What an emotional rollercoaster and I am glad the ride is over. I sink to a settee behind me, and put my head in my heads. I acted like a jerk, I don’t even know this guy, and I let myself get so worked up over something that I have no right to. What it is about him that makes me so crazy in two days? Two days! I am feeling things I have never felt before. I am head over heels and in over my head at the same time. Jonathan is a virtual stranger to me and yet I feel so close to him at the same time. I love our time together; I love his touch and kisses that turn my temperature to a boiling point. This is all too crazy, and too much for me. I feel him standing there, staring at me, and I know I can leave, I can quit, I can disappear, but deep down I know I won’t, I can’t, I want more. I need more of him.
Jonathan moves from standing in front of me to crouched down with his hands on my knees, waiting for me to reemerge from my slide. I look up at him, embarrassed and tongue-tied. He takes his index finger and wipes softly under both my eyes, “Better?” he asks.
“I’ll be ok.” Giving him a weak smile.
“Listen, you go freshen up, I’ll order us a bottle, and we will meet right back here…ok?” I nod in agreement and we both stand up.
I had left my bag up at the front, and I headed back to retrieve it. All of Jonathan’s friends and companions watched me as I walk across the club, they smile, but I was oddly not embarrassed. At the front, I give the big guy a shrug as he hands me my bag. “I tried to tell you.” He said to me, and I nod in acknowledgment. I hear him say, “Women, what can you do?” to the DJ as I walked away. Yeah, what can you with us.
Finding the locker room/ladies room, I fix my makeup. Thank God Samson had given me the little kit to fix my face. I adjust my outfit, brush my hair, and head back to the room. Their champagne room was much different from ours; it has more of bordello feel to it. Heavy red curtains, large crystal chandeliers, red velour loveseats, and it is all out in the open. I wondered where the “private” dances went down. As I walk in I see Jonathan is sitting in a corner love seat waiting for me with candles lit on the table in front of him, an ice bucket with a bottle sticking out and two flutes full of bubbly. As I walk over to him, I am beguiled, and pulled into him magnetically. It’s as if he gets more striking each time I see him.
Tonight he is wearing dark grey suede loafers, no socks (again tempting to touch) dark grey slacks, a black leather belt, and a midnight blue silk shirt that is unbuttoned at the color. No jacket tonight, but a big silver and blue Rolex is on his wrist. He has his short soft black hair tousled and kind of going in different directions. I can tell it is from running his hands through it. Does he do that from stress or reflex? I walk over to him as sexy as I can, trying to look tempting. When I approach him, he stands up and hands me a glass.
“It’s Proseco, they do things a little bit more casual down here.”
“I have never had it before,” I take a sip and like it. I seem to like everything he hands me that has bubbles.
“As long as you are happy Lenox, it’s all that matters.” This time I get a full wicked smile. I like that one. It tells me something sinister is going on in his mind.
“Where are all the other people,” I inquire. “I mean if people want privacy back here what do they do?” I am careful to not mention specifics, but deep down I am thinking about him touching me, and how visible we are. Jonathan points to curtains that I didn’t see in the walls, on each sides of the loveseats, then he points up to the ceiling and you can the track that comes out and around in a big cir
cle. Similar to the ones they have in hospital rooms for privacy. Aha. Now I know that if we want a private moment, we can have one.
I don’t really know what to say after my emotional showing, so I just sit, drink and stare at his strong jawline and soft dark velvet stubble. Jonathan is casually leaning back as he usually is, looking as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. A billion dollars buys peace of mind I’ll bet. Finally, I break the silence. I need to know.
“Can I ask you a question?” I venture.
“Of course, I am an open book.”
Open book? Interesting, but I want to stick to the one thing I need the answer to.
“That girl, the table-dance. I mean, did she ask you for one? How is it…I mean, you never asked me to dance for you, and I was, well, just curious. Is that what you like? Is that what you want when you come in here?” I feel flustered asking, this is after all a strip club and I do after all work in one. So what goes on down here, or in mine, is how it is.