STRIPPED

Home > Other > STRIPPED > Page 12
STRIPPED Page 12

by Tarrah Anders


  “Wait, Jacks isn’t here is he?” she asks, suddenly stopping all her movements.

  “Even if he was, love, he would stay gone. Keep going, this is a wet dream,” I say, shaking my head and leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

  She finds her groove again and continues the rocking of her hips, using her knees to move up and down. My cock is straining against my zipper, likely creating an indent of the chain along my shaft. Apparently, I chose the wrong day to go commando as I watch her reach behind her back and try to undo her bra.

  “You know, love, there will be no real nudity like this, so yours are the only tits that will be seen in this establishment. And you know what, they belong to me,” I growl, standing up and putting my hands on the top of the stage.

  “We won’t have any nudity,” she repeats.

  “Correct.” I nod, licking my lips.

  “And this will be the only time that there’s nudity in the club?” she inquires

  “Aside from anytime I want to bend you over a desk.” I rearrange my cock within the confines of my jeans.

  “Promises, promises,” she says, while trying to not laugh as she unsnaps her bra, finally.

  “Don’t stop, Peach, I’m enjoying the show.” She throws her bra at my face.

  “Hey, guys! I’m sorr—” Jacks stops mid-stride, frozen in place, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the ground the moment he sees what’s happening on the stage.

  Beck falls flat to the stage as I move up the stairs and sit in front of her, blocking Jacks’s view while handing her the discarded clothing behind me.

  “You said he wouldn’t come in,” she seethes from behind me.

  “He wasn’t here before, but yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know this was a one man show tonight. But um, nice rack, Beck.” Jacks smirks.

  “You didn’t see her rack, dicksickle,” I threaten.

  “I ain’t gonna lie to you, man, I saw.”

  “Let’s just pretend you didn’t though, you know, for the sake of our friendship,” I say, my voice dripping with venom. Jack’s hands go up in surrender and his cocky smile is gone.

  “Sorry to barge in. I figured you guys would be here, so I took a chance. I got the stuff for promotions and marketing. The boxes were delivered to my flat this morning. Our mixologist will be here tomorrow morning to teach the bartenders and our street team will be here in the afternoon for a meeting on how we want them to proceed.” Jacks gets down to business as if he didn’t just walk in on my own private strip tease.

  “So, we’re like… there?” Beck says, finally emerging from behind me fully dressed.

  “Seems that way. We can officially tell Exposed that we’re venturing off,” I say with a smile on my face.

  “One month. We open in one month!” Jacks says proudly.

  “I can’t believe it’s so soon,” she says, smiling.

  “My last weekend with Exposed is this weekend,” I announce as Jacks’s head swivels toward me in shock. “I spoke with Mick a few weeks ago and told him I was going off on my own. I said nothing about your intentions, Jacks, but Mick made mention that you’d likely be the next to go.”

  “Is he pissed?” Jacks asks.

  “Not at all. We’ve put in our time here, we’ve earned this,” I assure him.

  “So why so soon?” Jacks asks.

  “Well, I want time to focus on last minute craziness before we open. I also wanted to surprise this one” — I gesture to Beck — “with a trip somewhere before we opened, so surprise!” I wave my hand like a magician.

  “A trip?”

  “That… will still remain a surprise.”

  “If you can help me grab the boxes out of the car, we can take a gander at the marketing materials,” Jacks says, getting back to business.

  I am pleased that the promos we receive are tasteful and not as explicit as the flyers you see littering the sidewalks of the Las Vegas Strip. The faces of some of the dancers who will be working here adorn a few of the flyers. The cocktail menus and the signage for the tables look perfect and suddenly, now that this last bit of the project is finished, I feel like we’re ready to open. We have several interviews with local news outlets, magazines, blogs and newspapers about our opening lined up over the next three weeks, so I know we still have a lot of ground to cover.

  I watch Beck peruse some of the materials with a sparkle in her eyes and I feel a rush.

  God! I love her.

  I look to Jacks and realize I couldn’t be happier to be starting this new journey with my best mate and my best girl.

  These are my people.

  Chapter 14

  Rebeckah

  “I mean, have you seen him? His ass is perfect, his waistline is perfect, his arms are perfect, his jawline—”

  “Let me guess, perfect?” the brunette says sarcastically.

  “So much so! I mean, I would give anything to have him between my legs,” the blonde gushes, fanning herself.

  “He has a girlfriend,” the brunette says, as if the conversation bores her.

  “Who cares? Guys like him won’t stay tied down for long. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I’m gonna make a play for him,” Blondie says, as she pulls her hair into a ponytail.

  “Good luck with that. From what I’ve heard, he’s not like that. He’s a one-gal guy, a man who doesn’t stray from his woman. You won’t be the only one who’s made a play and he’ll tell you the same thing he’s told the others, that he’s not interested.”

  “Every guy is like that. I haven’t had very many men say no to me,” Blondie states, as they leave the room.

  I squeeze my temples and let out a sigh. They didn’t specifically say who they were talking about, but this is the third conversation I’ve been privy to along those lines.

  I’m better than this. I am not insecure. Malcolm wants me. Malcolm loves me. I repeat my mantras in my head over and over again, hoping they stick.

  “Hey, love.” Malcolm enters the office and halts when he looks at my face and then rushes to my side. He bends down and turns my chair so I’m facing him. I look anywhere but at him until his palm cradles my jaw and directs my gaze to him.

  I take a deep breath and focus my eyes. Blondie was right in all she said about him; he does have a perfect jawline.

  “What’s eating you?” he asks, concerned.

  “Nothing that I can’t handle,” I say, trying to push down my feelings.

  “I call that a crock of shit.” He smiles.

  “Really, Mal. I can handle this. It’s just some female hormones or something.” Jealousy. I hate that word.

  “Tomorrow, we go away for a couple of days. Then we can reset.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Perfect. Now, my lovely woman, I want you to go home and wait for me. I’ll come over and make all those female hormones a thought in the back of your mind,” he promises with a wink.

  “It’s not even five yet,” I argue.

  “I’m the boss, and you know what that means?”

  “That you can fire me for being insubordinate?”

  “It’s means I get to tell you what to do.”

  “Look at you, being all alpha and shit.”

  “Do you like it?” He tilts his head in question.

  “It’s not you,” I simply say.

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Head home, and I’ll be there in a few hours. I have a quick rehearsal to observe the new ladies choreographer and then I’ll be home.”

  “Observing?”

  “YI want to make sure that she doesn’t have the girls doing straight up stripper moves.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say, my voice void of emotion. I’m trying to hide my insecurity regarding him watching the girls practice, knowing full well that they’ll pull out all the stops to get his attention.

  “Love you,” he says. Something in his voice sounds worried.

  “Ditto,” I say in return, as I close up my
computer. He lingers, sitting on the desk, watching as I go through the motions. Right as I grab my keys, he pulls me gently by the arm, wraps his arms around me and brings our lips together. I hesitate to return his kiss, feeling the way I do, but soon I’m melting in his embrace. Our tongues sweep against one another erasing my earlier jealousy.

  ***

  You ever see that episode of the motorcycle club show, Sons of Anarchy, where Jax Teller is nailing one of the biker chicks in his bed, and he's using his thighs to push up into her and it’s one of the hottest things out there? You’ve probably seen several of the dozen or so gifs out there of that scene alone. Remember Jax’s ass and those delicious movements? Yeah, that’s what’s happening right now, and I am on the receiving end.

  Mal’s cock is sliding in and out of me, our bodies are moving together as one. Both his hands are grasping mine as he thrusts with grunt after grunt. Our bodies meet at the perfect time on each stroke. Labored breathing and light moaning escape my lips as he releases my hands and then places a hand on my hip as leverage.

  He’s fucking me as if he’s giving me a lap dance. Moments like this, I’m glad that my boyfriend has a background in dancing.

  “Baby, I need you to touch yourself right now. I’m gonna blow,” he says tightly, his jaw clenched.

  I do as he asks. Our eyes meet then look down at where our bodies are joined.

  “Fuck, your pussy is milking me so good. I love watching you take me,” he says in awe.

  “Mal, I’m gonna… I’m gonna.” I arch and push my head into the pillow as my hips meet his thrust for thrust.

  “Come with me, baby, just like that!” he shouts.

  My skin prickles with goosebumps, my toes curl and I feel like my breath has been stolen from me. My eyes squeeze shut, as noises I can’t even hear are coming out of my mouth and I see colors – so many colors – behind my eyelids. Malcolm presses his pelvis against mine and stills as he arches his back and groans loudly.

  When I come back to Earth, Malcolm is kissing my neck lightly. His cock is still planted inside me and his hips are rocking moving. I’m sated and unable to move any of my limbs, except my fingers, which are feathering the nape of his neck.

  “I need to remove myself from you, but you feel so warm, and I just want to keep fucking you,” he mumbles against my skin.

  “Who says we can’t do that again?”

  “The dry-mouthed demons and the penis gods. They know that once I pull out of you, I will need to recuperate and recharge. As long as my cock is still in you, semi-erect from the goodness of your pussy, I may have another chance to do you properly again.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Mal. You can do me properly as often as you’d like.”

  “You promise me that?”

  “Always.”

  “With much unhappiness, I’ll go to the kitchen and grab us some water.” He pulls out and I feel empty as he moves off of me and out of the bedroom. I watch his naked body as it disappears out of my sight.

  Feeling lighter than I did earlier, I make a sheet angel in bed and smile.

  Time off with my sexy boyfriend couldn’t come sooner!

  Malcolm

  I stand in front of the mirror with the group of guys behind me, watching my moves. I swivel my hips and thrust as I pull up on the side of my gray sweats on the very last beat of the song.

  These guys are good, they aren’t rookies by any means and this isn’t their first dancing gig. However, for the most part, this is their first dancing gig that wasn’t just for taking their clothes off. We hired a few regular strippers, two guys who had only dancing experience, and two guys who had previously worked in an all-male revue atmosphere. They were thrilled with my format of choreographed numbers and the possibility of numbers with one of the ladies of the club, which was something outside of their previous experience.

  When we held auditions, we asked random questions on top of the normal ones, along with watching them perform. For the women, I had Beck involved with each interview for liability reasons and asking the questions that might make the women feel uncomfortable coming from a man, such as their ultimate real fantasy. We’ve since come up with a few routines based on these real fantasies to add into select shows. This will create an element of reality for all patrons, at least we hope so.

  “So, how am I supposed to look like I’m doing dishes and folding laundry, all while dancing?” one of the guys asks.

  “We’ll have a set. You’ll have props and it will be a solo.”

  “And chicks will dig this?” another guy asks.

  “We took surveys, and got feedback from women on staff.”

  “So we are catering to the more realistic fantasies of women?”

  “Yes, and we will also have the standard fireman, military, and those kinds of routines as well. We’ll still provide those favorites,” I assure him.

  “I’m not sure those everyday things will be appealing to someone,” another guy chimes in.

  “If anything, we’ll try it. We’ll watch the audience, pay attention to their reactions, check the word on the street, and see what unfolds. The everyday-women fantasies could pan out, or not. We’ll try whatever we need.”

  “So what about the male fantasies?”

  “Men are easy creatures. Give us some tits and ass and we’ll be panting,” someone else jokes, bringing the room to laughter.

  “True, but just like women, men have some recurring themes to their fantasies too. Of course, they’ll be streamlined, and we’ll have to add our own flavor to them.”

  “We still have two weeks before we open. In that time you guys will have some rehearsals with the women and we’ll see who works best with whom. We won’t just pair you up without figuring if you will be compatible as partners. Jacks is going to take over the rehearsals while I’m out of town. If there isn’t anything else, we can call tonight’s rehearsal done.”

  “What’s the policy with company fraternization?”

  “To be smart, don’t hook up with your co-workers because that could get sticky, especially if you have to dance together.”

  “What about the office chicks?”

  Not liking where this is leading, I try to feign disinterest. “Same rules apply. I would rather you guys hook up with chicks who do not work here.”

  “So that Rebeckha chick is totally off limits?”

  “She could be our boss, dude, like hell she’d date one of us,” one of the guys says seriously. I like him.

  “What’s wrong with us? We’re attractive guys,” someone else says.

  “Beck is off-limits. To everyone here,” I growl, shutting down the conversation. All eyes go wide, and I think at that moment I just let the cat out of the bag about our relationship a little sooner than I was hoping.

  ***

  “Good evening, sir. Welcome to the W hotel. We hope your stay here is as pleasant as possible,” a man with a deep voice says to my right, as I round the car and take Beck’s hand in mine.

  “Thank you,” I say politely, as the chilled air hits my skin.

  We enter the lobby and approach the front desk to check in. Once we have our keys, we are directed to the elevators, where I properly corner Beck against the wall and kiss her mercilessly. When the doors open on our floor, we walk hand in hand to our room, open it and I soon have her pinned against the wall again. She kisses me back just as furiously then places both hands on my chest and pushes away.

  “I want to eat. We can resume this later.” She smiles.

  While I want to take advantage of all the time I can when we’re not working, we need food to keep up our energy. And we need energy for all the fucking we will do this week!

  I take her to a nice restaurant in an area of San Diego known as Little Italy. It’s a cozy place with the perfect ambiance with amazing food. While Beck is in the bathroom, I am checking the notifications on my phone when someone takes Beck’s seat across from me.

  “You’re that guy!” a petite redhead sa
ys excitedly as she sits down across from me.

  “Pardon?” I ask.

  “You’re that guy in Vegas! You’re in that show.”

  “Oh. Um, yeah, I used to do that,” I say, unsure how to act. I can’t deny that I danced, but I’m not doing that anymore. Something this stranger apparently isn’t aware of.

  “You brought me on stage, and you ran your hands down my body like I’ve never been touched before.” She smiles and I start to feel uncomfortable.

  “All right. Well, I hope you had a great time. If you don’t mind—”

  “You straight up made my panties so wet that I probably masturbated to that night for weeks. And here you are, in San Diego, the man of my dreams.”

  “Listen, I’m happy to hear that you had a good time.” I’m trying to be polite. “My girlfriend and I are trying—”

  “What’s going on here?” Beck stands over the table, her hands on her hips looking back and forth between the two of us.

  “She was just leaving,” I say with a harsher tone than I intended.

  “This guy, he’s amazing,” the redhead says, not moving out of the seat.

  “I’m well aware of that. He’s my boyfriend.”

  As if the redhead didn’t hear Beck, she remains in the seat gazing longingly at me.

  “You need to get out of my seat,” Beck says with anger radiating off of her.

  The redhead slowly turns and gives Beck a look of hatred. “Or what?” she sneers.

  “Or I will make you get up.” Beck stands firm.

 

‹ Prev