StriporTreat

by Jana Mercy

  The man nodded, his jet-black pompadour swaying with the movement. “Music. We need music. What kind do you like?”

  “Country.” He had a hankering for Willie Nelson and Toby Keith. Or the honky-tonk sound of Montgomery Gentry.

  “Country?” Elvis looked genuinely surprised.

  “We are in Nashville,” Gray reminded.

  “Any particular song rock your world? One that makes you want to whip your pelvis back and forth?”

  Gray thought a moment, trying to imagine dancing to the beat of any of the songs he could readily recall. None of the images fit. “You pick something.”

  “Okay but it ain’t gonna be country this afternoon, boy. I’m a rock and roll sugar daddy who likes to shake his thang like a dog with a flea gnawing on his tail.” Elvis disappeared behind the curtain.

  Gray glanced around the empty club. A stripper. He shook his head and wondered for the millionth time what he’d been thinking when he agreed to this. Was any case worth this?

  Music blared into the empty club and Elvis stepped back onto the stage.

  “You’ve been here a few months so you have to have some idea of what the ladies expect. They want to be shocked, seduced, made to feel special. Every woman in the audience needs to feel like you’re stripping just for her. Like you want to love her tender and never let her go,” Elvis advised. “Like you want to rock her jailhouse all night long. Above all else, you have to enjoy what you’re doing. If you aren’t, it’ll show.”

  He had to enjoy this? “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Sure you can. You just have to focus on the women and give them what they want.”

  “What they want,” Gray muttered. Wasn’t that what men had been trying to figure out for centuries? Had he missed the big announcement when the secret had been unveiled?

  Elvis shook his hip to the beat and slid across the stage in slow motion. “It’s all in the execution.”

  “The execution.” Gray felt like he was at his execution. One with a noose around his neck.

  “Don’t look so worried. You can pretty much get away with anything as long as you maintain eye contact with the ladies and keep moving.” Elvis dipped his shoulders back and shimmied up. “Let the music into you, get all shook up and just dance.”

  Gray mentally filed Elvis’ every word. He needed all the help he could get. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to pull off a grand finale strip. Surely, taking off one’s clothes on stage shouldn’t be so difficult?

  “Just move to the music,” Elvis prompted when Gray still hadn’t budged. “I’ll give you pointers on what you’re doing right or wrong as you go.”

  Gray stared at Elvis dancing rhythmically around the stage. The man really was in awesome shape. “Uhm, what do you mean, just move to the music? I thought you were going to teach me how to strip.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. Dance. You can’t just stand there and pull off your clothes. You have to move, boy. Love the audience tender, love it true.”

  Gray ordered his body to move and it did but the look on Elvis’ face assured he’d have been better off if he stood perfectly still.

  “You’re pissin in a pea patch if you think that’s gonna fly.”

  Gray grimaced. “That bad?”

  “You’re serious?” Elvis wheezed then blew out a long, exasperated breath. “Whoa Nellie, we have our work cut out.”

  Chapter Six

  Sophia snuck into the back of the club to watch Elvis instruct Gray on the fine art of stripping. She expected to see good-natured Elvis smiling while Gray swayed to the music in seductive motion.

  Instead, the older man’s face blazed red and he threw his hands in the air. “You’re hopeless.”

  Hopeless? Her heart quickened at the resigned look on Gray’s face. Had he been that bad? She couldn’t believe it.

  “Try again.” Elvis instructed.

  Gray did.

  Sophia winced.

  Gray—she searched for the right word—jerked? Lurched? Spasmed? Oh! He was hopeless. And funny.

  The sight of Gray, who she knew to be full of finesse and utter bad-ass-ness, wiggling on stage as if someone glued his butt cheeks together was too much. She burst out laughing.

  Both men’s attention whipped in her direction.

  Gray’s face reddened under the stage lights.

  Elvis shook his head in sympathy. “You’d have done better with one of those girly guys. Erickson has two left feet and the cadence of a neutered cow.”

  Gray actually flinched at Elvis’ description of his efforts. Sophia tried to tamp down her laughter as her heart went out to Gray but she failed miserably. “Aw, Elvis. He just needs to practice.”

  Elvis’ bushy, dyed black brows met in a vee. “I don’t think the boy will live long enough to get in all the practice he needs. He’s worse than a man with an itch on a fuzzy tree.”

  “Don’t soften your words too much. Wouldn’t want to deliver the final blow to my trampled-on ego,” Gray mumbled, his silver gaze locked with Sophia’s. “Did you finish your paperwork?”

  Now Sophia flinched. She’d finished all right. The results of hours of poring over her aunt’s books convinced her of two things. This club was highly profitable but someone who had access to the accounts was robbing her aunt blind by funneling money out through all the bogus employees and bills. Extortion? Or was her aunt embezzling from her own company?

  No doubt about it, someone was committing tax fraud on numerous counts.

  Either way she should notify her boss and instigate an inquiry. Not notifying her boss would cause major ethical and legal issues and like Nate warned, possibly even put her career in jeopardy.

  The club was being used as a cover for something. But what? Simple embezzling? Drugs? Illegal arms? Terrorism? She had to figure out what and who was behind it. Because she refused to believe Aunt Genevieve was the guilty party despite all account columns pointing in that direction.

  “Paperwork?” Elvis’ usually congenial smile faded. “What kind of paperwork?”

  Was it her imagination or did Elvis look uncomfortable?

  “Just trying to keep my aunt’s books up-to-date so she won’t be behind when she comes home from the hospital.” Sophia walked over to stand next to the stage, hoping how she watched Elvis’ expression wasn’t too conspicuous.

  He slid on his jacket, straightened his sequined white collar and shook his head. “There ain’t no need for you to worry your pretty little head with those books. Your aunt doesn’t do her books. Hasn’t for the past couple of years.”

  “Oh? Who does?” Odd. She hadn’t found any records of someone being paid to do her aunt’s books. Apparently the only person not being paid by Heavenly Hunks.

  “Some accountant friend. James Hooper.” Elvis’ attention returned to Gray, who was listening to the exchange with great interest. “Maybe you can help your Strip or Treat delight learn how to seduce a woman with a twitch of his rear and a flick of his clothes. I’ve got to go home to get a few hours’ sleep before tonight’s show.”

  Sophia temporarily tucked away her worries over her aunt’s books and bade goodbye to Elvis before smiling at a frustrated Gray.

  “You know,” she began. “For a whole multitude of reasons, I’m probably not the best person to teach you.”

  “Why?” Interest flared in his expression.

  She ran her gaze over his broad shoulders, trim waist, muscled thighs, then flicked back to his face. “Because just looking at you seduces me.”

  “Really? I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job resisting my charms.” His midnight brow lifted and a small smile crept onto his face. “Maybe I should follow the King’s advice and practice.”

  Unlike his jerky movements from moments before, Gray moved with sensuality and purpose when he closed the distance between them. Like a sleek jungle cat on the prowl.

  Sophia swallowed and watched the twinkle in his eyes build parallel with the sexual tension sizzling betwe
en them. Life around Gray Erickson sparkled. Like her Pop Rock candy and she wanted to feel every sizzle and experience every pop.

  “After all, practice does make perfect.” He continued the slow sway of his hips, promising her great pleasure when those hips finally locked with hers.

  Oh, this could be fun.

  Dropping back into a front row chair, she dug into her ever-present pocketbook and found what she looked for. Grin in place, she waved a dollar bill in the air and whistled. “Over here, big boy.”

  The music changed to “Whip It” by Devo. Gray’s eyes glazed over with mischievousness. He closed the final gap between them and thrust his hips in sexy seduction. Not to the beat but sexy all the same.

  With fingers that trembled, she traced down his chest. The tightening of his abs and the intensity in his eyes suggested she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. At his indrawn breath, she tucked the folded dollar into the waistband of his shorts.

  “Sophia.” A strong hand closed over hers, holding her hand against his body. His skin was slick and smooth beneath her fingertips. She longed to bend forward to discover if he tasted salty. With exaggerated slowness he eased her hand lower. Lower. Lower. Until she pressed against his impressive ridge, a mountain against the flat planes of his abdomen.

  “I thought you were supposed to seduce me.” Her voice came out a rough whisper, barely audible over the “Whip it. Whip it good,” lyrics blaring in the background.

  “You’re not seduced?” He shifted beneath her palm, bringing her in full contact with his erection.

  She’d been seduced from the moment they met. She leaned toward him. Just one little lick of his abs. Just to satisfy her curiosity of the way he tasted.

  “Mmm.” Ambrosia. Pure masculine food from the gods.

  She licked her lips, cherishing the lingering salty taste and stroked her finger up and down his hard length.

  “Maybe I need more practice?” he asked.

  “You could say you’re growing on me.”

  He snorted at her pun and tugged her to her feet. “I missed you this morning.”

  “I was only gone for a few hours,” she reminded.

  “Hours?” His hands cupped her bottom, squeezing and molding her to him. “That’s too long.”

  Sophia bit back a moan at the delicious sensations lapping through her body. “Too long? There’s no such thing.”

  His pelvis ground against her. “I think we’re talking about two different things.”

  She closed her eyes, enjoying being in Gray’s arms and swaying to the beat with him. His movements matched hers perfectly. Being in Gray’s arms felt good. Right.

  “Whip it. Whip it good.” She sang along with the song, feeling freer than she had in years. Despite the club’s tax fraud and the fact her body ached for Gray.

  His mouth lowered, touching her lips gingerly, then with deep possession. Back and forth they moved to the music. Lips locked, hips cocked, bodies bumping, hearts thumping.

  Maybe now was the right time for her and Gray to make love.

  She lifted her head to tell him what she wanted, what her heated thoughts were.

  “Now that’s rhythm.” Elvis applauded, causing Sophia to jump out of Gray’s arms. Well, she attempted to but he held her close and scowled at the grinning older man who snapped his fingers to the beat.

  “Did you forget something?” Gray demanded.

  “Yep.” Elvis didn’t elaborate, just beamed at them.

  Gray’s hand pressed against her spine, providing a reassurance their touching was undeniably right and he dared anyone to say otherwise. “Well?” Impatience dripped from him.

  “Well.” Elvis’ hands went to his love handles, as he affectionately called them. “I’m not going to give you any more strip lessons.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Yeah, she’d like to know the answer to that one too.

  “Because I can’t get you to move the way Sophia does. She’s the one you need instructing you. Obviously her curves inspire you in ways mine never will.” He gave a mock offended look.

  Gray’s gaze narrowed and it surprised Sophia to see that he seriously considered Elvis’ suggestion.

  “He’s crazy,” she insisted. “I don’t know the first thing about teaching a man how to strip.”

  She couldn’t believe Gray would even give the notion of her instructing him any credence. Until her aunt’s stroke, she’d never stepped foot inside a strip club. Her stripping experience was limited to Demi Moore’s performance in Striptease and somehow she didn’t think that qualified her to teach Gray.

  “Look at you. You’re actually moving without looking like a chicken with his head cut off.” Elvis accurately pointed out. “All afternoon I tried to get you to loosen up and the best you could do was pretend you didn’t have a corn cob up your crack. Sophia’s who you need, not me.”

  “I don’t know how to strip,” she insisted. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Nor did she like how the two men ignored her denials.

  “Then I should teach you and let you teach him, because my instructions to Gray are like water rolling off a duck’s back. Ain’t a thing sinking in.”

  “You’re right,” Gray agreed. “Sophia should teach me.”

  She glared. Uh-huh. “Maybe I should find another dancer. Or let one of the other guys headline the show.” She hedged. They’d already been through this but she couldn’t teach Gray.

  “Every single one of the star strippers already has a segment in Strip or Treat. You need a headliner.” Elvis leaned against the bar. “Someone the ladies will oooh and aaah over for weeks. Gray’s your man. Besides you’ve already sent the new flyers promising ‘Delicious’ here to the copiers.”

  “For the record, I still don’t like that name,” Gray reminded them. Not that he hadn’t been quite vocal about the choice when she and Elvis had come up with the ridiculous stage name.

  Sophia ignored Gray’s interruption. “We could go on without him. We’ll just make more of a big deal out of the amateur competition. We’ve had several pay the entrance fee in advance and Aunt Genevieve says there’s always a slew who sign up on the day of the show.”

  Elvis eyed her as if she’d gone mad. “Your aunt always has a special treat. This year Gray’s it.”

  “But,” she started but both men shook their heads.

  “Give it up, Sophia.” Gray tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I told you I’d do this and I will.” His jaw clenched. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

  “Nooo,” she began, wondering if she should tell him the truth. That she felt rotten he decided to do Strip or Treat because she believed their relationship played too strong a role in his three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turnabout on the matter. “Have you considered that I might not want you taking off your clothes in front of hundreds of other women?”

  Gray’s expression eased and his mouth curved in a sexy smile. “Really? Think they might want a piece of the action?”

  “Uhm, I’m out of here.” Elvis shook his head at them, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Don’t forget the crew will arrive in about an hour for tonight’s show. You two kids have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

  Sophia barely acknowledged Elvis’ farewell while she stared into Gray’s glittering eyes. “You’re a free man. If you want to give another woman a ‘piece of the action’, I have no right to stop you.”

  “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to other women,” he whispered. “You’re all I can think about.”

  Shivers of awareness ran along Sophia’s spine. Guilt too. Why did the sneaking suspicion persist that he might think she’d used him to do Strip or Treat? Probably because she couldn’t think of one other good reason he would change his mind.

  “Gray,” she whispered.

  He placed his finger over her mouth. “Just feel what’s happening between us.”

  A
hot flush dampened her skin. “What is happening between us?” she dared to ask.

  He didn’t speak, just replaced his finger with his mouth. The tenderness of his touch, the demand, answered her question in ways words never could.

  “Gray,” she breathed when his lips lifted.

  “Shh.” He kissed her again. Deeper. Not deep enough.

  All thought except those of Gray’s touch dissolved into nothingness. She skimmed her hands over his shoulders, relishing the strength beneath her fingertips. Lower over his biceps. Lower still until her fingers laced with his.

  He raised her fingers to his mouth and kissed each one in turn, his mouth hot and wet as he sucked her pinky. “Have you ever made love on stage before?”

  “Yeah, right. You must have me confused with someone who’s lived an adventurous life.”

  But with Gray she was someone else. She was snap, crackle and Pop Rocks Sophia. With soda poured on top.

  Excitement bubbled.

  He smiled and took a step toward the stage. “Time to rectify that because you are one adventurous lady and I think we need to explore that aspect of your personality.”

  Gray led Sophia onto the hardwood stage. Not that she protested. Obviously she’d crossed some invisible line when she first kissed him, because she knew her former person would never contemplate sex on stage. Especially not for her first time with a lover. The new Pop Rocks Sophia embraced the naughtiness.

  The music changed to Randy Newman’s “You Can Leave Your Hat on” and Sophia smiled. “This would be a great song for you to strip to.”

  “A fan of The Full Monty, huh?”

  Assuming he referred to his full monty, Sophia nodded and danced to the music. Gray swayed with her, matching her movements. All of which were meant to heighten the sexual awareness between them. Not that she needed any help in that area. The heat in his eyes said he burned just as intensely for her. Any moment she expected the stage to burst into flames.

  She dipped her head back, exposing her throat. As she hoped, Gray took advantage of the easy access and lowered his lips to graze over her tingling skin.