And with that, he hangs up the phone and motions for her to head back to the dressing room to change out of the ridiculously revealing outfit she is currently wearing. His gesture comes off as dismissive, but it actually stems from his body’s primal response to her. The thoughts, the fantasies, the things he wants to do to her… The things he is dying to do to her… That’s why he hurries her out of his office. He can’t tolerate staring at her dressed like that for another second without doing something he might regret.
Daniella strides back to the dressing room unsure, slightly confused, and maybe a little…disappointed? Yeah, she is definitely disappointed with the flippant reaction she received from Penn after he made the arrangements for her to cocktail instead of dance for the night. The man couldn’t have gotten her out of his office any faster if he tried. She’s surprised he didn’t actually push her out. What in the hell is with him?
Her mind traces over their conversation. The anger and rage that had set him off. The expression on his face when he saw her for the first time in his club. She thought Penn was going to drag her out of the room by her hair the moment his eyes locked with hers, but mercifully, he didn’t. He managed to maintain his fury and speak with her behind closed doors. She should probably be thankful that he didn’t send her packing. He is actually letting her stay at Wild Nights and plans to let her dance once he deems her ready. Whatever that means.
“Where were you all weekend, Danny?” Eliza asks with a curious raise of her perfectly manicured brow. Her fingers tap along the leather armrest in rhythmic movements.
Daniella sits beside her on the worn-down leather sofa in their small living. Eliza adjusts her body on the couch, her eyes now facing her friend. She’s really interested in Daniella’s whereabouts. It’s completely out of character for her to be gone the entire weekend. The last time Eliza or Sarah saw her was Friday morning, and now it’s Monday afternoon.
She hesitates to tell Eliza the full truth. She’s uncertain of how her friend will take her new job opportunity. “Uh…I got a new job.” She strives to hide the hint of nerves spilling from her belly.
“A new job? What?! Seriously? That’s amazing! Tell me everything!”
Eliza’s excited tone makes her wince. She has a feeling the enthusiasm will be deflated like a pin to a helium balloon once she comprehends what Daniella’s new job entails. “Well, it’s definitely a new avenue for me. I’m taking a shot at a job that’s not involved in the restaurant business—”
Eliza stops her mid-sentence and slaps her thigh. “Stop pullin’ my leg and spill the beans, Danny!”
Daniella takes a heavy sigh. She pushes the breath up past her eyes, loose strands of her hair blowing away from her face in disarray. “It’s a club. I got a job at a night club.”
Eliza claps her hands excitedly. “That’s fantastic! Sarah is going to be thrilled we’ve got a new connection at a night club in Houston.”
“I doubt you and Sarah will want to go to this club. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve already been,” Daniella mutters under her breath, but Eliza doesn’t miss a beat.
“Wait a minute…” she announces as her brow creases inquisitively. “What night club?”
“Wild Nights,” Daniella replies barely above a whisper.
Eliza’s eyes go wide and her mouth forms a tiny ‘O’ of surprise. “Wild Nights?!” she shouts loudly, her voice bouncing off the walls of the small apartment. “The strip club!”
Daniella inhales sharply through her teeth as her best friend’s shrieking tone pierces her ear drums. She nods and averts her eyes away from the shocked, laser-beam stare being thrown her way.
“Daniella Pruitt! You got a job as a stripper?! Oh my gawd! Oh my gawd! Oh. My. Gawd!” Eliza exclaims as her Southern accent becomes more apparent by the second. “I cannot believe this!” she screeches. “Your brothers are gonna kill you!”
Daniella winces. Her friend is one hundred percent correct. If Billy or Bobby ever find out she is working at Wild Nights, they will be on the first flight back to Texas. “It’s only for a short time, E. And I would really appreciate you not telling a soul about this.” She tosses a pointed look.
Eliza holds up both hands but still continues to shake her head in disbelief. “Okay.” She meets Daniella’s sharp eyes. “Okay, I swear on my grandmomma’s grave I won’t say a word. Are you going to tell Sarah?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell Sarah.” She knows there really isn’t an option. Eliza and Sarah are joined at the hip; if one knows, the other is bound to find out anyways. It’s probably better for her to hear the information from Daniella rather than through Eliza.
Eliza cocks her head to the side as she begins to process this outrageous information and then it hits her. “Wait a minute!” She grabs Daniella by the shoulders and looks straight into her eyes, refusing to release eye contact. “Who owns Wild Nights?”
“Huh?” She feigns confusion and immediately averts her eyes to the left of her interrogator.
“You’re working for Penn Wilder, aren’t you? Oh my gawd! I can’t believe it took me this long to put it all together!” The shouting begins again, and Daniella stands up, releasing her body from the strong grip on her shoulders. “You little minx! You got a job at his club!”
One drunken night two years ago, Daniella told her friends everything. She spilled all the dirty details regarding her and Penn, including the night that had changed her in a way she couldn’t avoid no matter how hard she tried. The night she’d given herself to her first love—and up to this point, her only love.
Does anyone ever really get over their first love?
It doesn’t seem like it. She’s never managed to really move on, and Eliza’s incessant questioning has her wondering if she got the job at Wild Nights because she was desperate or because…she wants to be close to him. Her irrational heart is telling her it’s the latter of the two, but the Type A, always-in-control part of her is saying no way in hell. That it would be crazy to get a job as a stripper because she wants Penn to see her as a woman and not a little girl.
Daniella has always seen herself as put together in a free-spirit kind of way, but maybe she’s doesn’t have it all together. Maybe she’s a little screwed up. Maybe she’s letting her irrational heart guide her decisions…
“I don’t really feel like having this conversation right now,” she informs Eliza as she starts to walk into the hallway. She doesn’t have the strength to discuss her decisions, especially since her motives for her decisions might be a little bit fucked up.
“What conversation?” Sarah asks as she walks out of her bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stops in her tracks, glancing back and forth between her two best friends.
Eliza clears her throat, grabbing her attention.
Daniella tosses her arms up in the air unceremoniously. “Fine!” she yells. Sarah looks at her inquisitively, quietly gauging her reaction. “I got a job at Wild Nights.”
Sarah’s jaw drops and her eyes grow in surprise.
She answers her friend’s question before the words can spill from her shocked lips. “Yes, Wild Nights, the strip club.” Sarah’s eyes manage to go wider and Daniella sighs heavily. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m going to my room.” And with that, she heads into her bedroom, slamming the door shut with a harsh bang.
As she throws herself down on the bed, all she can think about is the shocked reactions she received from her two best friends. If they were surprised, she didn’t want to imagine the kind of response she would get from her family…
Time has passed at warp speed over the last few weeks. Keeping up with classes and working two part-time jobs is harder than she could have ever imagined. Daniella spends her weekdays sitting in classes until three and then drives the thirty minutes to Cumbie to wait tables at her parents’ diner. By the time she gets home, she’s exhausted and has to practically pull all-nighters to keep up with her classes.
And the weekends, well… Those are filled with fishn
ets and cleavage-revealing shirts. She keeps busy cocktailing for patrons of Wild Nights from mid-afternoon until well past one in the morning. She hasn’t had as much contact with Penn as she originally thought she would. He’s actually been pretty distant, always traveling to various business meetings outside of Houston. Last she heard, he was in Albuquerque doing god only knows what.
As she’s walking out of her last class of the week, her phone vibrates inside her messenger bag. She grabs it from the front pocket and is shocked to see a message from him. This is the first time he’s ever contacted her. Yeah, his number might be programmed into her phone, but it’s only because he is her boss. Or at least that’s what she keeps telling herself.
Penn: Can you come by the club early tonight?
Daniella: Who is this?
Penn: SMARTASS
A stream of giggles escapes her chest.
Daniella: Hi Smartass. I can be at the club by 4. Does that work?
Penn: Yes. Be prepared to dance.
Daniella: Really?! I get to dance tonight?!?!?!?!
Penn: Not exactly. But I’m giving you an opportunity to prove that you’re ready.
Daniella: Fine. I’ll show Grant that I’m more than ready.
Penn: Not Grant.
Daniella: Huh?
Penn: Me
Daniella’s eyes expand in surprise at his last message. She has to perform a routine in front of Penn? Holy shit. She’s more than thankful that she’s managed a few hours in the dance studio this week, but that still doesn’t help squash the nervous energy buzzing throughout her body. A thousand bees float underneath her skin, wreaking havoc on every single nerve ending. Dancing has never made her nervous, but dancing in front of Penn? That has the unfamiliar feeling of stage fright pressing inside her gut. After a few deep breaths and a mental pep talk, Daniella is ready. Ready to blow his mind.
“Leave the boots on,” he announces huskily.
One look at Daniella in a jean skirt and cowgirl boots already has Penn foaming at the mouth. She is going to wear those brown, scuffed-up boots, and the selfish side of him is taking over. He already knows that whatever kind of dance she has prepared to perform for him won’t get her any closer to her goal—her stupid goal of stripping at Wild Nights. She is an intelligent, beautiful woman, and he will do everything in his power to prevent her from stripping in front of a crowd of strangers.
For one, Bobby would have his ass if he ever found out, and two, he just can’t stand the thought of it. It damn near kills him to even think about her up on that stage in front of a crowd of horny men. He fights the urge to throw her over his shoulder and drag her out of the club every single night she cocktails in that joke of a uniform. It doesn’t help that he’s the one who picked out those uniforms when the club first opened. The moment he saw her dressed in fishnets, lacy boy shorts, and the signature cleavage-revealing top, he was mentally kicking his own ass.
Daniella stands on the empty stage, late-afternoon daylight shining in through the windows and hovering over her in the most delightful way. She has her hands on her hips as one boot taps impatiently.
“Penn,” she admonishes. “I’m not wearing boots to dance. This is ridiculous. I want to wear what I planned on wearing.”
He shakes his head, eyeing her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Nope, darlin’. Leave the boots on. All of my dancers need to be prepared to dance in anything.” What bullshit, he thinks to himself.
She cocks her gorgeous face to the side, her brunette ponytail swishing across her shoulders. After a few seconds of gauging his reaction, she chooses to just go with it. If this is what will get her on that stage to make money from dancing, then she’ll do it.
“Fine,” she responds with irritation. “Where is everyone by the way?” she asks as she glances around the empty club.
“Who knows,” he answers immediately even though he knows where they were. He made sure all of his afternoon staff members were too busy with menial tasks before she arrived. No way in hell would anyone but him see her dance. Ever.
“Do I get to choose my music or are you going to choose that for me too?” her feistiness spits out fearlessly.
He begins to chuckle as an amused smirk spreads across his full lips. “What song would you like?”
“I’m not telling,” she says with pure sass as she hops off the stage and proceeds to choose her own music behind the DJ booth. His eyes follow her across the room, but before he can take one step in her direction, she demands, “Don’t even think about it, smartass. Get comfortable.”
His blue eyes shine with intrigue, but he doesn’t question. Penn sits down on the edge of one of the tables in front of the main stage, ready to watch her prove herself.
I’m N Luv (Wit A Stripper) by T-Pain begins to blare through the speakers. His jaw drops to staggering depths as he shakes his head at the outrageous song choice.
“Kidding!” she shouts towards him with a laugh. She strides in his direction with determination, pulls out a single chair, and sets it in the middle of floor, patting the leather cushion. “Take a seat,” she demands, and her confidence surprises both of them.
He sits down, his elbows propped up on his knees and his head rests in his hands as he waits patiently for her to move things along. After she rearranges a few tables and chairs, leaving Penn all by his lonesome in the center of the club, she strides back to the DJ booth and pushes play on the real song.
Closer by Nine Inch Nails.
His eyes lift and he shifts his body to lean back against the chair, his hands hanging at his sides. In sync with the industrial, rock beat, Daniella sways her hips and strides her long legs in Penn’s direction. The soles of her boots click in time with the music. She pulls the ponytail holder out of her hair, leaving her locks long and messy. Her body moves effortlessly, graceful even, as Trent Reznor’s voice resonates through the speakers. She’s not going to step onto the stage to prove her point; she will dance directly in front of him. Every inch of her body will be visible to his eyes and tempting his restraint.
I’m ready. I’ve always been ready. She runs her hands down her body, touching her curves seductively. Her brown eyes are hooded, lustful even, as Daniella allows the music to control her body. This routine isn’t choreographed, her movements only predicted by the heady beat.
Penn adjusts his growing arousal as she turns around and bends forward, flipping her russet hair over her face. The strands brush the ground as she rocks her hips back and forth hypnotically. His eyes latch on to the small white thong visible underneath her jean skirt. His cock protests against the now tight constraints of denim. Every cell in his body is affected. She’s more than proving her point. It might be a moot point, but she doesn’t know that.
She stands, tossing her gorgeous hair across her back, and glances over her shoulder at him as she pops the button of her jean skirt. It slides to the floor, leaving her luscious ass bare. He fights the urge to bite his fist. Only thirty seconds into the song and he is painfully turned on. His dick dominates his thoughts, desperately wishing he could throw her on the stage and bury his face between her thighs.
As her hips continue to rock in sultry movements, she removes her tank top, tossing it across the room. Her bra is next. She removes it with ease and places a hand across her chest as she holds out the removed article. His eyes follow the discarded piece of clothing as it lands unceremoniously on the tile floor. She turns towards him, the curve of her breasts visible to his gaze yet still covered by her arm. Penn is losing his mind at the sight of her. White thong and cowgirl boots. That’s all that remains on her perfect figure. His eyes scan every inch of her as she continues to dance for him, her long hair brushing her back and shoulders as her hips sway seductively.
His mind is lost. He pictures himself running his hands through her silky hair. His lips sucking along her collarbone as his hand pulls her hair back, exposing her delicate frame. His mouth licking every inch of her. Her neck, her jaw, her lips, her tongue. H
er perfect tits. Her slim, firm belly. He wants to run his tongue up the length of her lean legs and make his way to the apex of her soft, creamy thighs.
She begins to dance closer to him. She is consumed by the music. Consumed by him. Her mind is no longer fixated on proving a point. She is showing Penn all of the things she is longing to do to him. All of the dirty thoughts that have consumed her mind for the past three years.
She strides around his chair, her fingers brushing along his shoulders, her breasts now visible to his greedy, cerulean eyes. She kneels on the floor in front of him, each of her petite hands planted on his muscular thighs as she swings her head around, her hair brushing across his jeans and spurring them to become even tighter. His balls ache and his cock objects loudly underneath his clothing.
One of her legs slides over his lap as she straddles him, her face nearly touching his. Her hips gyrate above his hardened cock, so close yet not touching. He fights the urge to grab her waist and press himself into her. His body is frantic to slide inside of her.
Her breath hitches as she brushes against him, his arousal evident. And her wet panties push against her clit, lighting nerve endings on fire. Tingles race up her spine as she throws her head back, grinding her hips into him. Her dance is no longer appropriate, her movements crossing so many lines in the world of stripping.
A groan threatens to pass from his lips as he feels the heat of her pussy through the material of his jeans. His hands find their way to her waist, gripping tightly. She is no longer dancing and he is no longer observing. They are both participating in this heady game. Their bodies are giving and taking from each other; lust and want and pure white-hot need controlling their movements.
A shuddering moan spills from her full, soft lips as his fingers brush up her sides, running along her rib cage. They are both lost in the moment, giving in to the sexual attraction that pulses between them.
Southern Seduction Page 10