by Tara Oakes
The ceiling is mirrored, offering a weird kind of fun-house vibe. Most of all, though, I notice a difference in caliber of the staff.
Every employee here-whether working the bar or balancing trays full of drinks through the maze of tables-is dressed to the nines. The men behind the bar are wearing what look to be tuxedos. The women who are waitressing are wearing tight little black cocktail dresses, with full makeup and hair blown out.
It’s a far cry from the strung out parade of girls who stumbled around in their stripper heels the last time I was here.
A good song is playing, one I recognize from the rock station I listen to at home. I begin to nod my head slightly with the beat, before the announcer interrupts.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the main event! Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Missy and Stacey are here to warm you up.”
The stage lights begin to rise, exposing what looks to be some type of boxing ring, before the theme song to Rocky begins to play through the sound system, one that is quintessentially recognized.
A blonde bombshell in a prizefighter’s robe enters stage left, wearing boxing gloves and heels. Right… because what boxer doesn’t top off their outfit with stilettos, right?
“Well,” I have to shout for Chris to hear me over the thunderous applause, “at least they’ve gotten better talent.”
“Come on,” he pulls on my hand, leading me over to the bar. “Let’s get a drink.”
I follow, but look over my shoulder as the blonde’s opponent is revealed. A dark brunette with flowing hair, and matching heels and gloves enters the ring, before both ladies disrobe to reveal the telltale stripper costume; a flimsy string bikini.
“Whiskey,” Chris calls out, regaining my attention as he speaks to the handsome barkeep across the shiny bar. “Neat. And the Lady will have a Cosmo.”
The bartender nods to Chris and smiles at me as he busies himself filling the order. Chris sits on the round barstool nearest us, but swivels himself around from the bar. He pulls me in to stand between his legs, resting his clasped hands down around my lower back to keep me in place.
“Excuse me?” I ask, widening my eyes.
He laughs before leaning into my ear. “Try and blend in, like a couple out for a good time. Don’t want anyone to get suspicious.”
For emphasis, he pats my ass condescendingly.
“For the lady,” the cute bartender slides my drink across the smooth bar surface toward us. “And for you, sir.”
I reach across Chris, careful to push my tits up into his face as I stretch forward for my drink. I may not be dressed like a stripper tonight, but I’ve got on a low-cut white wrap-shirt and a pair of black leggings with sensible heels.
I know forcing his mouth into my cleavage is the perfect little payback for that smack on the ass before.
Once my drink is carefully in hand, I straighten and am able to look Chris in the eye. His lids are heavy, his gaze fixed on me. There may be two nearly naked women on stage “fighting” for the attention of all the men here, but I’m about to put on my own little show.
I lift the glass to my lips and swirl my tongue around the edge, dipping it into the cold, sweet, drink before I purposefully tilt the glass a tad too far, spilling a drop down between my breasts.
Chris’s eyes immediately drop to the pinkish ball of moisture making it’s way slowly down between the two boobs before him. I’m close enough to him, pressed up between his legs, that I feel the immediate bulge harden against my thigh as he watches the sticky drink find it’s way down.
The sexy gleam in his eye, the way his lips part just slightly in awe at the tiny droplet leaving its glistening trail down my cleavage, is enough to make me burn. I can practically hear the imaginary sizzling of the cold alcohol on my scorching skin. My body reacts, and I feel my nipples harden against the thin shirt covering them.
Chris notices, too, stealing his eyes briefly from the watery line down the center. He glances up at me, standing in front of him, and his dark brown eyes lock with mine. He pulls me closer, and I feel a sharp breath escape as I’m held tighter. His eyebrow arches, and the corner of his mouth twitches.
Somehow, in the span of a second, he’s managed to turn the tables on me and take control. I may have been the one teasing him, but right now he’s made it clear in no uncertain terms that he’s the one in charge.
My breathing becomes erratic and my heart beats dangerously fast. I feel his fingers spread wide over my lower back, and grab hold of the top of my ass. Just as I’m about to jump in surprise, he buries his head deep between my boobs. I feel his red-hot tongue press at the base, covering what’s left of the diminishing droplet, drinking it up.
I gasp, before finding all breathing paused as his talented mouth moves upward, trailing his evil tongue up the watery path to my neck.
Holy shit.
I feel dizzy, faint even, as a crazy mix of emotions begin to battle with all sense, reason, or logic in my body. I subconsciously arch my head back, stretching out my neck as the bittersweet feelings take me hostage.
His blazing tongue doesn’t stop once it’s reached the end of the alcoholic trail. Instead it continues up my stretched throat, slowly, tauntingly.
I can hold my breath no longer, with the lack of oxygen only serving to bolster the unsteadiness in my legs. I gasp, begging for air, clenching my eyes tightly shut.
Chris ends his seductive path in front of my mouth. I can feel the warm air from his breath, the brief touching of our lips, as they’re only a millimeter apart.
I’m paralyzed.
“You should know better than to tease me, Princess. You should know better than to start something you can’t finish.” His deep, velvety voice oozes with sex right now.
He’s beaten me at my own game, forced me into a corner, to back down. That’s what he’s expecting, for me to concede that he’s better at this type of thing than I am.
I have no idea where the sudden surge of bravado has come from, but it’s here. It’s in me. I can feel it.
“Who says I can’t finish?” I drawl, my words slow and sultry.
I open my eyes, and stare at him, daring him.
In one quick, fluid motion his mouth crashes into mine, searching my lips, my tongue for the sincerity behind the words I’ve just challenged him with.
My mouth molds perfectly to his, the inner need that’s been building these past couple of days boiling to the surface and taking over as we claw at each other. His tongue tastes sweet of the Cosmo he’s just licked off me, and I devour it.
“Eh hem,” A voice clearing itself loudly from behind us makes itself known.
Chris releases my swollen lips as we both face the bartender.
“We have some VIP rooms upstairs, which are a bit more… private.”
Chris turns to me, in silent question as to how far we’re about to take this. I have no sense of reason left. I only have need. Need for him.
I nod my head yes.
The bartender smiles and reaches into a small box of keys, handing over a shiny key affixed to black tassels with a room number on it.
“Three hundred, sir.” The key is dangled in front of us.
Chris quickly grabs for his wallet and hands over his charge card to the waiting man, swiping the key in return.
I don’t even offer to use daddy’s expense card. It’s one thing for Chris to let me pay a small cover charge, getting a kick out of the Senator paying for something small and funny like that. It’s a whole other thing for Chris to let him pay for the room where he’s going to fuck the man’s daughter.
“Upstairs to the left, sir.”
Chris grabs my hand and we race to the stairs through the maze of drunken men getting off on watching two grown women play at boxing, seductively. The bell rings, signaling the end of the match, that there’s a winner.
It’s poetic in a way.
The game is over.
The game Chris and I have been playing since setting eyes
on each other yesterday morning. We were having our own little boxing match, each dancing around the other, taking a swing, ducking, until we couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t fight it anymore.
The animal attraction between the two of us is too great, can’t be overcome, and can’t be beaten.
In the end, it won.
CHAPTER SIX
CHRIS
I fight to hold my hand steady as I fit the key into the lock; turning it clockwise to unlock the only thing that separates me from the thing I want most right now. Princess.
I’ve got a raging hard on, a need that can’t wait to be filled, but I know I can’t do it that way, not tonight.
This has been building up for a while — even before walking into her office and back into her life. I’ve missed her, needed her for months, and have been kicking myself in the ass for having let her go.
This is it. This is my chance to make up for all the lonely nights, to make up for all the lost time. To make up for all the shit I did wrong. I thought I didn’t need her, didn’t need anyone. It took me losing her to realize just how fucked up I was.
But, I can do better this time. I can do it right.
I can do her right.
The string-like tassels on the decorative keychain flutter against the skin of my hand and send a little chill up my arm as I push against the door. Princess eagerly pushes against my back urging me forward.
She giggles as we both fall forward into the empty room.
“Whoa, Princess.” I reach for the light switch and hear the door close behind us.
The room is small, but neat and clean. A large leather couch is against one wall, with a stocked bar near it. In the middle of the room is a shiny stripper pole attached to some sort of platform.
Jess pulls wildly at my jacket, smoothing the material down my arms. I close my eyes and feel her fingers moving quickly. A sharp pinch as she bites on my shoulder shows me how eager she is, and I turn quickly, throwing my jacket on the floor.
I take her mouth once more, strong and slow. We both breathe deeply into each other as we fit ourselves into every curve of the other. I groan, deep and low, reaching down to slap my hands against the bottom of her ass, just where the back of her thighs are the juiciest. I pull hard, lifting her to wrap her legs around me. I rub my hands back and forth against the tight little black pants she’s wearing, up and down the outside of her luscious thighs.
She instantly gets busy, working on the trail of buttons down my chest, rubbing herself against me like a cat in heat. Once I’ve reached the sofa, I turn quiclkly, dropping myself down, letting her fall on top of me, and straddling her legs over my own.
I toss my head back as she leans down, kissing my neck, kissing my chest down a path that only gets me more excited. With each undone button, she places a wet, sexy, kiss over the newly exposed area.
I run my fingers through her thick wavy hair as her head disappears down into my lap.
I breathe deep through gritted teeth as I hear the zipper being undone, and hiss when she reaches in for my swollen cock.
Pushing her hair aside to one shoulder, I get a beautiful view of her lascivious tongue stroking up the length of my shaft, swirling around the tip, teasing me with the warmth of her mouth.
Her eyes look up, watching me as I watch her, knowing she’s fucking turning me on.
“Fuck yeah, Princess.”
I lift my hips inching my dick closer to where it wants to be, to where she wants it to be. Her mouth opens, her perfectly plump lips lock tightly around the head. I watch her cheeks hollow as she sucks, I watch her eyelashes flutter as she savors my taste.
God, this woman is so fucking sexy. She doesn’t even know it.
Her teeth scratch teasingly in a tortuous way, mixing both pleasure and pain together in a delicious swirl of torment.
There’s nothing like watching her bob up and down on me, getting herself off as much as me. I grow restless, knowing that she’s too focused to stop anytime soon, even if it means finishing me off.
“Princess,” I reach for her. “You gotta stop before I got nothin’ left.”
She whines like a spoiled brat having her favorite toy taken away. She pouts, her lips glistening from her saliva.
I glance over at the pole behind her. “Why don’t you show me a little somethin’?”
She follows my gaze to the shiny stripper’s tool. “You think I still got it?”
I feel my lip twitch in excitement. “I’d bet my badge on it.”
Jess giggles, moving to stand and walk sultrily over to the metal apparatus. Pulling at the place on her side where her shirt is tied, it opens wide and falls to the floor.
Her hips swing side to side and she reaches out for the pole, grabbing hold and swinging herself around. Her hair flies around wildly with the momentum, her tits bounce up and down, tantalizing me through the pretty black lace of her bra.
Her eyebrow arches as she catches me staring at her boobs, and she expertly bends one arm back around to unclasp its hooks, freeing her perfect tits. Her perky nipples are tight and hard, practically pointing to the sky.
Next she works on her belt and her tight black pants, adding them to the pile of clothes collecting nearby. The only thing left are her skimpy little black panties, soaked at the crotch.
I reach down and fist myself, feeling the tightness that I wish was her as I grab my cock and get it ready.
The loud music playing downstairs is pouring through the walls, through the door, and she takes advantage of every beat, using it to do something erotic with her flexible body, something that makes me drip with need for her.
I feel the bit of pre-cum escape onto my finger and I use it to lube myself.
“Get over here,” I crook my finger, bending it back and forth begging her to follow the direction.
She smiles wickedly and licks her lips dramatically, dropping to her knees and crawling over. Her hips lift a bit with each movement, the string of her panties disappearing between the rounds of her ass cheeks, right below the two little indents at the base of her spine.
My hand moves quickly, heating up from the friction. Once she reaches me, her hands settle on my knees, pushing them apart to wriggle between. She extends her tongue as far as she can, as if she’s ready to lick a popsicle.
The tip of that tongue touches under my hand, at the base of my cock, tasting me all the way up to the tip as she moans her pleasure.
She straddles over me and I feel the wetness from her core begin to spread over my skin where she’s brushed against it.
“Ready, Princess? You sure you wanna do this? There’s no going back.”
She steadies herself over me, lining herself up over my aching cock.
“Shut up and fuck me, Pretty Boy.”
I reach down between her legs and rip ferociously at the tiny swath of fabric covering her pussy, tearing the panties and clearing a way for my dick. I run my fingers through her slickness and then use it to coat myself before I push my hips up fast and hard while pressing down on her thighs, filling her in one swift motion.
“Fuck!” She cries out as I ease every inch into her.
I grab her hips hard, the slapping sound filling the room, and I return the phrase she’s just given me.
“Shut up and fuck me, Princess.”
~*~
“Don’t forget your panties,” I point to the little scrap of black lace on the floor as we collect our things.
Jess bends over, offering me quite the view of her ass, as she scoops up the mutilated lingerie from the hardwood floor.
“Thanks for not being a caveman,” she’s sarcastic as she dangles the torn fabric for me to see.
I relieve her of them, swooping them from her tiny little fingers and into my right pocket, just as I pull her close.
“Ah, Princess. No need to thank me. You already did, before … twice.” I kiss the tip of her perfect little nose and smack her on the ass. “Let’s get some work done.”
~*~
This place may have been given a fresh coat of paint, some new furniture, and a staff that looks legit on the outside, but I know better. My trained eye spots the things most wouldn’t notice.
We walk out into the main room from the VIP section, and I see a petite little waitress handing over a tray of drinks to a group of frat-boy looking patrons. Innocent enough, right?
Think again.
As soon as the last drink is handed over, she wraps her fingers awkwardly around a small stack of cocktail napkins, exchanging them for a good amount of cash from the guy closest to her.
Could he be handing her a tip? Looks to be about two hundred dollars, so unless he’s a rich sonuvabitch looking to burn through some bills, I’d guess she’s giving him a small packet of coke mixed in with those napkins, enough for him and all his friends.
Next, we skirt the outside perimeter of the large room, behind the main stage. There’s the blonde boxer from earlier in the show mingling with her “fans”. She’s sitting on the lap of some balding, middle-aged, computer-tech-looking guy, whispering in his ear.
She pulls back, he nods, and then she leads him by the hand in the direction of the VIP rooms we’ve just come from. There were at least ten doors from what I saw, and I’ll bet they’re going to make good use of one.
Strippers give private dances all the time right? They don’t usually make a habit of exchanging payment for that dance ahead of time, though. I’d bet anything that if I knocked down their door in about ten minutes, I’d either find that whore on her knees sucking his cock, or on all fours grunting and moaning, putting on a show that she actually enjoys her “job”.
This place hasn’t changed one bit once you scratch the surface.
“This way,” I remember the basic layout of the place from when we raided it the first time.
The manager’s office is down the corridor behind the stage, one of the last doors after the strippers’ dressing room.