Private Dancer
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Nevea Lane
Private Dancer
© 2010 Nevea Lane
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this story may be copied in any form without permission from the author.
ISBN: 978-0-557-71957-0
Published by LuLu.Com
To reach this author:
nevealane@yahoo.com
Dedicated to my friends, family and fans… you truly keep a woman going and keep her writing.
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Private Dancer
Chapter One – The Dancer
Concentrate Marise, she thought, as she slithered up the pole staring at the cracked ceiling. If I count the water spots on the wall, I can forget about the numerous eyes staring at my body. I can pretend the thick smoke from cigars and cigarettes is fog. If only could tune out the thundering bass of this song, I will get through this. If only I could tune out everything. She slid down the pole with her eyes closed. Marise James tried to ignore the leering patrons of Harem Adult Bar and Club, the seediest, most despicable strip club in the city. She tried to audition at the higher end clubs, where bikini tops were required. Tucked away in the warehouse district of downtown, Marise prayed that no one would ever see her opening the bright red door to the strip club.
Every day, as she walked the blocks from her normal, respectable day job as a secretary, she prayed no one would find out about her second ‘job’
As the tempo of the song increased, Marise rotated her hips in time to the music.
“It’s just you and the music, keep it together.” She muttered to herself, sashaying down the long rectangular stage. The red, blue, and white lights lining the edges of the stage blinded her. She would never complain about the lights in her eyes. She knew what those lights kept her from seeing. They protected her from seeing one of the strippers giving a customer a blowjob in the dark corner by the bar. The lights shielded her from seeing the details of the faces of all those men that were staring at her half-naked body.
Even as the music blared from the speakers tucked in the four corners of compact club, she could still hear the drunken blabbering of the regulars, screaming at her to ‘show some tits’. It had taken months to learn to ignore the catcalls and whistles of the pimps, old men, young college boys, and lesbians. Her skin still crawled at the shouts to “take it all off”.
Marise snorted to herself. She knew better now. At her audition eight months ago, she paid too close attention to the howls and whistles. Listening to the lecherous requests of the regulars, Marise had nervously pulled off the top to the red bikini and exposed her breast. The house-mother and retired stripper stomped on the black lacquer stage, and yanked Marise off by her 3 | P a g e
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elbow. Marise’s brown eyes glazed over as the women berated her for being so ignorant. The state would shut them down if they knew they served alcohol and naked women were parading around. Marise didn’t know that serving alcohol meant absolutely no full nudity. Even as she wiped away the tears from being rebuked, Marise knew needed this job. She begged for a chance and apologized for her ignorance, even though she was internally grateful that there was no full nudity. Marise would take whatever grace she could get.
She reminded herself every night of this self-imposed sentence was her choice. The nagging notion that it was her only option always made her pause. Song after song, night after night for eight long months, she endured this humiliation to save her husband. If she didn’t come up with the rest of the money soon, Lenny would cut off Darryl’s hands. She didn’t want an amputee for a husband if she could prevent it.
Marise shook the self-pitying thoughts from her head. Darryl had been good to her in their five years of marriage, and now, she was just trying to be good to him. His gambling problem may have gotten them into this, she thought as she twirled and slid into a split, she knew this was the way to get them out of it. I only need a little more money to pay back all the money that Darryl had borrowed from Lenny.
The song stopped, the last notes lost in the banging of glasses and high-pitched whistles. Marise bent to pick up the bills tossed on the stage. A few five-dollar bills and a lot of singles didn’t amount to much for a song.
Just as Marise was doing a mental tally of the amount of cash she just made, a twenty dollar bill, folded neatly down the center, stared at her the end of the stage. What? Who tips a twenty for a stage dance? Marise thought. Even as Marise pushed a lock of the red wig from her eyes, she hoped she was not mistaken that a twenty lay on the stage. A high tipper, great! She would be able to pay her cab fare and still have enough left over for the jar at home. Marise crawled on her hands and knees to the end of the stage, carefully dodging the roaming hands trying to touch her legs and breasts. The cool smooth stage felt like ice on her heated skin. Although Marise’s mind was not there, she could not control her traitorous nipples from peaking at the touch of the 4 | P a g e
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cold lacquer. Stifling an inward groan at her body’s misleading reaction, she picked up the twenty. As she was tucking the crisp bill into her cleavage, she heard a low, primal growl. She knew it wasn’t her; her growls were only saved for those getting too close without paying.
Slowly, she looked up, afraid that some type of dog was on the loose. As her pupils adjusted to staring beyond the red bulb in front of her, saw two tan hands in front of her, pressed so hard on the stage the knuckles were white. Her gaze traveled upward, past the sleeves of a suit jacket, and Marise tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew something was wrong before she saw the thing she feared. She was staring into the cold blue eyes of her other boss.
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Chapter Two- From Kasen Eyes
As Kasen Montgomery stared into the wide eyes of his assistant, he thought, without her glasses, I can see the flecks of hazel in her maple colored eyes. Sucking in his breath, Kasen shook his head and reminded himself where he was and why he was there. His administrative assistant, Marise was here and he didn’t know why. His hair in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, proper and shy assistant was shaking her stuff up and down on a stage. His Marise could not possibly be stripping. He could not stand by and let his secretary moonlight like this, could he? Kasen couldn’t stop the thoughts as they crashed into his mind. The moment their eyes met, despite her disguise, he knew it was Marise. His Marise could not possibly be stripping. Kasen had to shake himself. She was not ‘his’. Yet, he could not stand the thought of his secretary moonlighting like this. What if his clients find out? Of course, he didn’t think any of the marketing executives and the advertising agents he worked with would come to this dump. So why was he here?
If it were a laughing matter, Kasen would’ve chuckled as he watched Marise’s eyes transition from wide shock to thin angry slits. He watched as she backed up, doggy style, off the stage.
Why would she back up off the stage? Probably not to give you a full view of her curvy backside you pervert. His inner conscience was warring with his baser self. A small part of him wanted to look, to remember every curve of her lush body to warm him when he was alone in his bed at night. The other part of him wanted to punch any guy that looked at her square in the nose.
A garbled voice battled through the clanking glasses and the bass music.
“Give it up for Destiny everyone. That was Destiny, the newbie; y’all go ahead and clap now.” Kasen growled deep in his throat when the last of her flaming red wig disappeared behind the heavy black curtain on the side of the stage and stormed to the bar like a man possessed.
Slamming down s
everal Franklins from his billfold, he stared down the bartender until the cocoa 6 | P a g e
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colored man turned to him. The blonde hair of the bartender stood out against his black leather vest. His skinny fingers slid over Kasen’s as he fingered the money.
“What can I do for you, handsome?”
“I want the VIP emptied out in five minutes. I want Destiny to come and give me a private dance.”
The bartender whistled low and fingered the hundreds again, his eyes never lever Kasen’s.
“It will cost you more than three hundred bucks, high roller.” Kasen swore that the bartender licked his lips at him. Kasen quickly flicked open his wallet, and pulled out the rest of the bills he’d. He plopped the crisp bills on the table and stared the bartender.
“You know, Destiny is new here, but we have some more, er, experienced dancers that can give you way more,” the flirty bartender said, sweeping his arm in an ark to draw Kasen’s attention.
Kasen had already seen what the bartender had in mind. In the short time that he’d been there, he’d seen two women lead three men into the alley. He’d also seen numerous hand jobs and a few blowjobs.
“No, I want Destiny, now.” Kasen turned his back and walked to the entrance of the VIP
lounge. As he waited for the half-dressed women to scamper out of the room, he looked at the floor. Didn’t I just vow this morning to stop thinking about her? She was married and off-limits.
Unfortunately, Kasen knew in his heart he could not stop thinking about Marise. It was easier to forget about breathing. Kasen didn’t realize he was pacing until he ran into a petite dancer. She looked like a porcelain doll with her dark eyes and jet black hair. She gave him an inviting smile and looked him up and down as if he was the main course at dinner. Nothing like my Marise.
Marise is at least 5’10”. Damn, I’m doing it again. He knew she wasn’t his; every woman he was around could not measure up to Marise.
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His current girlfriend called him just that morning to cancel their lunch and to tell him that he’d an unhealthy attachment to work and to his secretary. As Claire ranted and raved on how it was silly and inappropriate to call his secretary before and after lunch to let them know he was running late, Kasen remembered why he started calling Marise before and after lunch.
One of his meetings had run over, and when Kasen finally waltzed into the office three hours after he should’ve been back, Marise looked up in him with a look of relief. She stood up and wiped her tears from her eyes.
“I’m so glad you made it back!”
“Why? Did something happen?” He couldn’t help but to smirk at her emotional state.
“Yes, a bridge collapsed, I didn’t know if you were on it or not. It was close to the place where your meeting was scheduled.” Kasen had dropped his briefcase at her concern for him. Since then, he’d been hooked on making sure she knew he was careful.
Kasen shook himself out of the pleasant memory. Good riddance to Claire, I was getting tired of her. I’m not an unhealthy sexual deviant and I’m not infatuated with my secretary. So what if I like a little spanking or being in control? He groaned and kept pacing, ignoring the obvious invite from the woman he’d collided with. If he kept thinking about Marise and spanking, his docile manhood would awaken. The hovering women would close in like vultures. He knew he’d acted stupid and waved a stack of crisp bills at the bartender. He knew he was already the prey from walking into to cloudy club in a tailored suit. He would’ve to burn the suit; he would never be able to get the smell of cigarettes out of it. Kasen paced in front of the heavy red curtain, waiting for the last person to leave. Frustrated, he ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair again. He knew he looked like a wreck. His short hair was probably tousled and out of place, and he’d unhitched his turquoise tie after he saw Marise’s first provocative dance on the stage. Get a grip. You know she is too docile for your quirks man. And, she is married!
Screaming at himself mentally, Kasen wondered again, why am I here? I’m no masochist.
Again, his sane self answered, you are just concerned for her. Why did he feel there was a yeah 8 | P a g e
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right, hidden in that somewhere? He knew that she was not the one for him. Something within her was sad and he didn’t like it. It was the only reason he followed her to this place. For the past year, her face would be bright and happy while she worked. Her almond-shaped eyes would light up with laughter, although she never laughed aloud. But, when the clock struck five, that spark was gone and she looked depressed. Kasen felt her eyes were a window into her heart.
While Kasen wanted to comfort her, and be merely a concerned employer, he didn’t want to put himself in an already difficult position. Kasen could not help his curiosity. Curiosity always killed the cat.
He’d felt a surge of adrenaline and the need to protect her overwhelmed him. Today he’d decided he would know why her bright aura would blackout at the appointed hour. After she shut down and gave him a brief nod goodnight, he watched her intently as she got in the elevator. He counted to ten and then raced down the stairs of the building and was at the ground floor before she was off the elevator. He followed her, not to the garage as he thought, but down the side of the building to a small coffee shop. He waited outside in the alley until she emerged again. He waited for fifteen minutes and what came out of the coffee shop was not his efficient, ebony haired secretary, but a red-haired, scantily clad woman wearing red sneakers, and an onyx skirt that barely came to her knees. He would not think it was Marise and would’ve continued to wait if he’d not noticed her calves. They were well defined and he would know them from anywhere. He’d spent many debriefing meetings trying to avoid them as if they were diseased. He failed, he became mesmerized by them when she would walk away. Lucky for him, she never turned around to find him fixated on her legs. He knew she sported a pin sized mole on the back of her knee. That mole told her the woman in the red wig was indeed Marise.
He followed her at a distance and watched her walk six blocks from his office space to some dive with a red neon light. The word Harem flashed in front of him like a red flag. Rushing back to the office to close up, he wondered if he didn’t pay her as well enough. As he lurked in the shadows, waiting for Marise to come on the stage, he pondered why he should even interfere.
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Now, as he waited for his moment with her, he knew he’d just interfered in a big way. As the last person came out of the VIP lounge, a burly man in a flannel jacket, Kasen stiffened his spine. The brute snarled at Kasen and through clinched gold teeth, Kasen heard him grunt “Rich bastards think they own the place.” Kasen shrugged and smirked. One side of him wanted to explain to offended man why he was buying out the room; his possessive side wanted to know if Marise had sat on his lap before. Kasen didn’t anything but shove his hands in his pocket. The itch was too bad to punch the drunk bastard’s lights out. No, he would not let Marise suffer like this, he vowed. He’d to get Marise and leave.
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Private Dancer
Chapter Three – Into the Lion’s Den
Marise sat in the bright dressing room, staring at her reflection, wondering the man knew it was her. Marise scoffed at her naïve thinking. Of course he knows! When will I stop being so innocent? How did this happen to me? How will I ever face that man again? She shook her head as if she could shake her thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to pity herself. She needed to make a plan. There was no way she was going to go back to Montgomery Advertising. Eyeing her reflection up and down, Marise resolved that after Mr. Montgomery saw her like this, he would fire her anyway. Still, a small part of her sent up a small prayer.
“PLEASE God, if you hear me,
please don’t let him recognize me.” For eight long months she’d been at this and all was about to be lost because of him. Think, Marise, FUCK! Taking deep breaths to calm herself, Marise tried to be rational. She knew she didn’t look like her normal dopey, dowdy self. It would be impossible for him recognize me! He couldn’t have. I don’t not look like this at work. At her day job, she ensured her black and brown tresses were pulled back into a tight bun. She hid behind her tortoise shell glasses, and maybe a little lip gloss.
At Harem, her whorish alter ego took over. She looked at herself in the large wall mirror. Here she was Destiny, exotic dancer. The bright white bulbs surrounding the mirror mocked every line, wrinkle, freckle and mole on her face. Her makeup was so heavily applied she looked like a mannequin. Her jade green eye shadow contrasted with black kohl eyeliner surrounding her eyes. She added a dot of eyeliner to her upper lip for a misleading beauty mark. She changed her normal subdued burgundy lip-gloss to a garish deep red outlined with a black lip liner.
Oh yes, she looked the part of a stripper. She fit in with the rest of the dancers as far as her looks, but only she knew the real reason she was here. After looking in the mirror, she could always pretend that it was not her up there on that stage. It was her alter ego, Destiny, on the stage. She curled her lips in disgust, almost forgetting about the man out there, her other boss, and her destined downfall. She didn’t want to lose the money that she made working for 11 | P a g e
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Montgomery enterprises; it took both jobs if she was ever going to pay that loan shark back. But she knew she’d to quit. She could find a second job. She was a bright, college educated woman.