HIS VIRGIN STRIPPER (A Billionaire Romance)

by Bella Grant

  Eliot

  I knocked quietly on her door and waited patiently for her to open it. My stomach was a bundle of nerves, although I knew I hid it. Only those who knew me well—Art and maybe Grace—would notice. When no answer was forthcoming in the first thirty seconds, I knocked a little harder, wondering if she were playing music or had the television on while she dressed.

  I glanced down at my attire—black slacks with a vividly blue polo and black shoes. Simple, casual, but nice enough for a date. Mom would have approved my choice, I mused, though she probably would have seriously questioned me going on a date with a stripper. But Randi was more than just a stripper. Despite my promise to myself, I had checked her finances, which Jake had sent to me without being asked. I’d almost put them in the garbage, but curiosity had won out.

  According to her bank statement and the deposits she’d made, the woman averaged approximately fifteen hundred a week. That didn’t include what she kept out in cash. She made regular payments for bills, including her student loans, which were outrageous. I calculated and assumed she probably paid her bills, bought groceries, and not much else. She rarely ate out.

  I admired her for her work ethic, for the fact that she would do whatever she needed to do so she could finish school. And a nurse. As a lab rat, I worked with formulas, numbers, and chemicals to create medicines that helped people, but I didn’t work with those people. I didn’t want to be around sick people. Her choice of professions was certainly admirable.

  Just as I was preparing to knock for a third time, concerned I had the wrong apartment, she opened the door. She was breathless, as if she had hurried to the door, and my breath was stolen. I let my eyes drift down her body to her bare feet, then returned my eyes to hers.

  “Wow. Randi, you look amazing.” I pointed down, smiling teasingly. “But I think you forgot something.”

  She huffed out a breath and smiled. “I can’t find the shoes I want.”

  “I’m perfectly fine with bare feet, but the restaurant might refuse service,” I said, returning her smile. “You do look beautiful.”

  “Oh… um, thank you,” she replied, blushing furiously and giggling quietly. She opened the door further and gestured for me to step inside. “If you’ll give me five seconds, I’ll be ready.”

  “Take your time. Our reservation is open,” I called as she disappeared down a hallway and through a door.

  “What do you mean, open?” she called. A small crash sounded, she cursed, and then said, “Ignore that!”

  “Okay,” I murmured to myself as I looked around at her tiny apartment. So enclosed, I mused. “We can show up at the restaurant at any time this evening, and they’ll have a table for us.”

  I heard her curse again and wondered if I should offer my help, but she yelled, “What about the plane?”

  “It belongs to my company. Doesn’t leave until I’m on it,” I told her, feeling a little like a braggart. I assumed she had realized I had money based on the amount I’d tipped her at Burlesque, but unless she’d done some research on the internet, she couldn’t know the extent. Which was fine by me. I wanted her to like me for me, not my money, which didn’t explain why our first date included an airplane and the most expensive restaurant in Miami.

  While she apparently dug around in her room, I looked around her apartment. Interested in the pictures on her refrigerator door, I meandered into the kitchen, only a few steps for my long legs. I recognized the Hispanic woman in one of the snapshots from the strip club. She and Randi smiled brightly, happy to be wherever they were, which looked like a zoo. She and several with people wearing scrubs posed in a clinical setting. I assumed they were in her nursing classes.

  As I perused the door, I found another picture of her as a teenager with two people who must be her parents. Sadly, this was the only picture of them, and I hoped she had more tucked away somewhere. Then I remembered I wasn’t supposed to know yet that she was an orphan and hoped I didn’t accidentally mention it.

  She stepped into the kitchen, her shoes adding three inches to her height. When she saw me looking at her pictures, her expression tightened before a smile lit her face. She gestured to the fridge and saved me from any mistakes without knowing it.

  “Those are my parents. They died when I was a teenager,” she said with a sad smile.

  “That’s terrible. Did you live with another family?”

  “Um, no. I took care of myself,” she said with a shrug. My surprise must have shown on my face because she was quick to justify her remark. “What I mean is I have no other family, so I took care of myself. I was sixteen, almost seventeen, so I didn’t have to do the whole foster home bullshit for long.”

  “How did they die?” I asked as I leaned back against the counter.

  Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “Car crash.”

  I realized she wanted to share no details about that part of her life. “I’m sorry. I’m starting this date off completely wrong.”

  She waved her hand and smiled at me. “No, no, you’re fine. Better to get it out now and put it away. Let the fun begin!”

  My admiration for her inched up another notch. A tragedy of that magnitude, and less than ten years ago, but her positive nature refused to let her dwell on it. “And fun we will have, I promise!”

  Her smile brightened. “My clutch, keys, and phone are by the door.”

  *****

  After an hour flight and twenty-minute drive in the chauffeured Lincoln Town Car, we reached the restaurant situated on a dock on the ocean. Randi and I talked non-stop, and her reserve, which I had sensed from the moment she opened her door, fell away. She spoke intelligently about many topics, proving my belief that she was so much more than a stripper. The stereotype I’d created in my head was dispelled, and I vowed she would never know I had thought of her like that.

  The sea was calm, flat as the marble floor on which we walked as we were led to our table. The moon, a crescent-like smile, was low in the sky and barely made an impression in the dark sky, and even less on the water. Quiet music—a salsa, if my ears didn’t deceive me—played in hidden speakers around the restaurant as well as on the deck, where our table was reserved.

  The tables were separated from each other by several feet for privacy and were set with expensive china and real silver cutlery. The chairs around the tables were cushioned for comfort, and the pristine white tablecloths were the perfect length and didn’t lay on one’s lap once seated, a pet peeve of mine. A flat, circular mirror sat in the center of the table, reflecting the three white candles sitting on top of it as well as the lovely light fixtures above the table.

  The waiter pulled out Randi’s chair, and she gracefully lowered her body into the seat, thanking him graciously in her lovely voice. Her eyes were a little wider than they had been before we walked in, and I wondered what she was thinking.

  Randi

  I felt a little like a country mouse in the big city. The restaurant, though semi-casual, was the fanciest place I’d ever been to. The table was beautifully set, the ambiance in the restaurant romantic but not overtly so. Couples sat at small tables around us, though not close enough to eavesdrop, a favorite pastime of mine when waiting on food at a restaurant or café.

  I glanced up at the light fixtures, thinking to myself that those probably cost more than my crappy car with the shoddy air conditioner, which I still hadn’t paid to have fixed. The waiter who had pulled out my chair had been dressed as if he were the one on a date in black slacks, a white button-up and tie, with a small apron tied discretely around his waist.

  “Good evening. I’m Charles, your server for this evening.” He held out a book bound between soft leather sheaves. I glanced at Eliot and took it from him. “The wine list is quite extensive, but if you have a preference, I can certainly make suggestions.”

  I looked from his waiting expression to Eliot’s small smile and decided the truth was the most appropriate thing to say. “I know nothing about wine.” I extended the book to
Eliot, whose smile broadened, making me wonder if he was making fun of me. My back went up a little, and I lifted a haughty eyebrow at him.

  “Which do you prefer?” he asked, completely unaware that he might have been rude, indicating he wasn’t being rude intentionally. “Red or white?” He looked at me expectantly, the same smile on his face.

  “Red, sweet rather than dry,” I answered quietly, letting my eyes drift to the waiter, who waited patiently. “We might need a moment to go through the novel you handed us.”

  Charles chuckled, nodding. “I completely understand. It can be a bit daunting if you’re unfamiliar with our stores.” He glanced at Eliot, who had opened the book and was flipping to the reds. “Would you like a suggestion that might please the lady?”

  Eliot frowned as he read through the list. “Well, since it will take me nearly an hour to read the list, I think that is a great idea.” He closed the book and handed it to him.

  Charles nodded his head graciously. “Of course.”

  He rattled off the names of three wines, names in languages I didn’t understand. After each, he described them with words such as ‘softer’ or ‘having a slightly woody’ flavor and listing the price per bottle, all of which caused my stomach to clench. One bottle was the price of all my utility bills combined, and another was close to double that.

  Eliot listened closely to each description and asked, “If you were drinking one, which would you choose?”

  With a smile, Charles leaned in. “Honestly sir, I’ve only tasted one, the Melbac, and it’s delicious. I recommend the others because they are favorites among regular customers.”

  “What do you think, Randi?” Eliot asked me.

  The Melbac, I remembered was the most expensive. “I have no idea,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I buy whatever is at the grocery store for at home.” My face reddened a little because I sounded like such an idiot.

  Eliot told the waiter the Melbac was the choice, and again, I wondered what Eliot did for a living that he didn’t bat an eyelash at the cost. When he returned his attention to me, his smile was mischievous.

  “Two things: I usually buy the box wine because it lasts longer and fits perfectly in the fridge.” We laughed together, and a sense of relief passed through me. “Secondly, you’re beautiful when you blush.”

  My relief at his confession vanished as embarrassment filled me. My pale skin didn’t hide even a little bit when I blushed. My face could turn so red I looked like I was choking and in need of oxygen, depending on my level of humiliation. I felt the heat spreading across my cheeks and chest as he smiled and pointed playfully at me.

  “There! Just adorable,” he said with a flirtatious wink.

  “I’ve always hated it when I blush. Got made fun of in school for it,” I admitted with a smile.

  “Idiots, all of them,” he announced, waving his hand as if dismissing an annoying employee.

  A moment of silence passed. I liked him—his style, his charm, everything about him. Even the judgmental look he wore. “So, Eliot, what do you do for a living?”

  “Want to guess?” he asked playfully.

  “Um, not really. I mean, you can’t possibly be a lawyer with your hair like that,” she giggled.

  “You don’t like it?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and pretending to brush hair off his shoulder, even though his was pulled back in a neat ponytail.

  I listened to myself giggle like an idiot teenager and nearly rolled my eyes at myself. “I do like it, and please ignore that ridiculous giggle that leapt out of my mouth.”

  His smile was radiant. “It’s cute.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I replied, deciding the eye-roll was now appropriate. “So, what do you do?”

  “I thought you were guessing.”

  “Ugh, okay, fine.” I studied him for a minute. “Well, you mentioned something about a formula at the club, and the plane is owned by your company, which must mean you’re… a… pharmacist who started a pharmaceutical company?”

  He chuckled, laughter making his eyes light up. “Close. I do own a company, and we do specialize in medicines. But I, with my lab techs, create the medicines, not fill prescriptions.”

  “Wow. I’m studying to be a nurse,” I announced with a shrug.

  “Our professions are somewhat related then,” he nodded. “Although I don’t like people much, and definitely not sick people. Any specialty?”

  “Adolescent oncology,” I told him.

  His eyes widened, and he leaned towards me, placing his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand as he watched me. “Wow. That’s a difficult choice.”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Why children? And children who might die?” he asked me, awe in his voice.

  “Well, I was in the system for a little over a year, and one of the kids in the foster home with me had bone cancer. She died about two weeks before I left the house, and she left an impression on me,” I told him sadly. The waiter cleared his throat, interrupting a silence that had stretched for longer than was comfortable.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here, Charles. I’ve killed the evening with a sad story,” I joked, wiggling my eyebrows at Eliot, who laughed.

  “I rarely am thanked for interrupting.” Charles chuckled. “But you’re welcome. I have your wine and will take your order if you’re ready.”

  He poured two glasses and placed the bottle within reach. From his pocket, he retrieved his notepad and pen, poised to take our order. I opened my menu and quickly scanned the pages, and Eliot asked for the specials. I listened closely and heard so many delicious items, as well as read many more, I struggled with my decision. I gestured for Eliot to order first, then I chose one of the specials.

  The delightful wine and delectable food were excellent, and enjoying it with Eliot added a measure of perfection I’d never experienced. He was handsome, charming, funny, intelligent—everything a woman might want in a man. My unnatural fear of being alone with men had dissipated the moment he had picked me up. When he’d taken my hand before dessert, I hadn’t flinched away nor felt uncomfortable. Several times, he’d touched my face gently, and the only reaction happened in my loins—which had shocked the hell out of me. Men rarely affected me in that manner, probably because I didn’t allow it.

  Eliot was different, though, and I was a little scared of the feelings my heart wanted to feel for him after only one evening. I so enjoyed talking to him, and not once did he mention the club, why I worked there, nor anything else that would have ruined and/or ended the evening. He understood, without my telling him, that my job was off-limits as a topic of conversation. Which is what I liked best about him.

  After paying the bill, he held his hand out to me. “Shall we walk on the boardwalk for a few minutes before returning to the plane?”

  “Um, not to be a party-pooper, but what time is it?” I asked, concerned. I wasn’t the least bit tired, but I didn’t like missing sleep. It made me grouchy.

  Eliot smirked at me as he glanced at his watch, an expensive Tag Heuer. “Ever the responsible one. It’s 9:30.”

  I pursed my lips and tapped them with my finger, pretending to think. “Well, my usual bed time on school nights is 10:30, but I guess I can stay up a little later tonight. It’s a special occasion, after all.”

  “A special occasion?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  With a put-upon sigh, I shrugged and said, “First date.”

  “Hopefully with many to follow,” he replied as we stepped out and walked around the building to the boardwalk.

  “As of right now, I’d agree to a second date. But the night isn’t over yet,” I joked. I wanted to hold his hand, but he wasn’t making that move. Tentatively, I reached for his hand. He smiled down at me and squeezed, and we walked silently down the boardwalk.

  The ocean moved gently against the pier, almost soundlessly, and because of the late hour, the area was nearly deserted. A couple passed us, completely absorbed in each
other, and two teenage girls sat on a bench, one comforting the other who sobbed loudly, disrupting the serene atmosphere.

  Eliot glanced at her and leaned down to whisper to me. “Boy troubles?”

  “I hope that’s it,” I whispered as I looked over my shoulder at her as we continued our silent walk.

  He stopped and stood against the rail, looking out over the ocean. “Gorgeous night.”

  “Yes,” I murmured as I joined him at the rail. Our hands were clasped, and he lifted mine to his lips as he turned to me.

  “A hesitancy I sense in you.” His Yoda impression was dead on, and I choked with laughter.

  “Brilliant!” I laughed.

  “But seriously, I do feel a hesitancy in you,” he hinted. “I hope I haven’t caused it.”

  “No, no,” I assured him, looking up at him. “I haven’t been on a date in… gosh, I don’t even know the last time. I’m not good at it, you know.”

  “I think you’re pretty good at it. I’ve had a wonderful time with you this evening,” he replied, his gentle smile and eyes calming any nervousness I felt over the subject.

  “I’ve had fun too. You’re easy to talk to,” I told him, smiling.

  He looked down, as if suddenly shy, and asked quietly, “May I kiss you?” His eyes moved to mine, twinkling. “I’ve wanted to all night, and really since that night at Burlesque.”

  The first time he’s mentioned it, and not at all crudely, I thought. “Since then? I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “Distracted is the right word. And honestly, I’m more interested in you with your clothes on,” he murmured. His finger brushed my cheek to the corner of my mouth.

  “Um, wow,” I stuttered, completely incapable of rational thought as his finger played near my lips. I wanted to kiss him, so I stretched my neck, reaching for his lips with mine. He cupped my cheek and leaned down the few inches that separated our lips.