HIS VIRGIN STRIPPER (A Billionaire Romance)

by Bella Grant

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there by four, promise,” I told him. “Very excited to see you.”

  “Same here,” he murmured and hesitated.

  “Something else?”

  “Yeah, um, Art asked if I wanted to go to Burlesque with him tonight. I wasn’t sure how comfortable you would be with that,” he said slowly.

  My mind had spun into a whirlwind when he had asked. I sure as hell didn’t want him at the club, watching me dance. It would be weird now that we were dating, and his presence would make me incredibly uncomfortable. I’d probably fall off the damn stage.

  As I opened my mouth to respond, he was quick to reassure me. “Randi, I told him no. I just wanted to let you know.”

  “Um, good. I’m not comfortable with you watching me dance now,” I told him quietly. He was silent, I was silent, and I had to break the tension. “Unless, of course, we continue dating. Then I’ll dance privately for you.”

  A whoosh of breath echoed through the phone, and he said, “Dear God, I thought I had pissed you off. Never been so scared in my life.”

  “You’re scared of little ol’ me?” I asked, effecting my best southern belle accent.

  “Terrified. You’re the first woman I’ve wanted to see more than once who wasn’t a lab assistant or a lab rat,” he said cheerfully.

  I put my hand to my heart as if he could see me and exclaimed, “Be still my beating heart! So romantic! You want me around as much as a lab rat!”

  “Baby, for a scientist, that’s pillow talk,” he replied. “Four tomorrow?”

  “I’ll see you then. Text me your address, and I’ll text you the ingredients,” I promised.

  “Will do, hot stuff.” He laughed and ended the call.

  With a ridiculous grin on my face, I grabbed my bag and keys and hurried towards the door to my apartment. When I pulled it open, Mr. Jacobson, the super, was standing just outside the door, his hand poised to knock. I jerked back with a surprised yelp and nearly fell over. He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I growled loudly, my hand over my heart to cease its pounding.

  “Sorry.” His eyes had slipped to my hand pressed against my chest and took entirely too long to move back up to my eyes.

  Offended and disgusted, I glared at him when he looked at my face. “Can I help you?” I asked, letting the adrenaline add aggression to my tone.

  “First of the month. I change the AC filters,” he informed me, holding up two plastic covered filters.

  My lip curled of its own accord until I forced a small smile. “Sure. How long will it take?”

  “A few minutes. You don’t have to wait,” he told me in his monotone voice, his eyes again falling to my breasts.

  I glanced at my watch. With a plan to work on my next set of choreography this afternoon, I was actually leaving much earlier than necessary. With a sigh, I said, “Um, no. I’ll wait. Go ahead.” I stepped aside and watched as he passed by me. He didn’t touch me at all, not even close, but I shuddered. With the door wide open, I sat on the couch arm and watched him closely.

  The first grate was in the hallway, which I could see perfectly from my vantage point. As he climbed on the step ladder he’d brought with him, I saw him look into my open bedroom door. Snickers bounded out and ran towards me, so I scooped her up before she could run outside. He followed her path until she reached me.

  “Cute cat,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  He opened the grate and removed the dusty, dirty filter and replaced it with the new one. With the dirty one under his arm, he meandered into the kitchen to change the second. I tapped my foot impatiently, but not because I was in any hurry to get to work. I wanted the man out of my apartment. He creeped me out, though I didn’t know why. I had thought my innate fear of being alone with a man had been the cause, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. Something was off about this man, but nothing obvious, nothing I could complain to the manager about without sounding like a psycho.

  “All done,” he announced without emotion as he walked towards me and the door.

  “Thanks,” I said again. I followed him out and turned to lock the door behind me. When I turned to leave, he was still standing there, step ladder in one hand, dirty filters in the other. “Something wrong?”

  “No. Is the water heater working?”

  “Yes, thanks. Perfectly. If you’ll excuse me,” I mumbled as I sneaked past him and hurried to my car. When I plopped down in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition, I glanced up at my apartment. He wasn’t there. I rolled down all the windows and headed for work, Mr. Jacobson stuck in my brain. He could get into my apartment anytime he wanted when I wasn’t there. He had a master key. The idea of him in there was incredibly disturbing, but what could be done? He was harmless, as far as I knew. Just creepy. Which is exactly why my deadbolt, which had no outdoor key, was always locked when I was home alone.

  *****

  I scurried into the club, Mr. Jacobson's creepiness long forgotten. I had a couple hours to work on choreography before I had to shower and get ready for work. When I walked in, I heard voices and glanced immediately towards the bar. Mr. Carpenter and Rita were laughing, and it was clear Rita was regaling him with some story. I walked to them, smiling because the two were laughing so uproariously.

  “What is so funny?” I asked, looking from one to the other.

  “I was just telling him a story about my avo,” Rita said, her words smothered with laughter.

  I searched through my rudimentary Portuguese and remembered avo was grandmother. I had actually learned more Portuguese since becoming friends with Rita.

  “Do I know it?”

  Rita waved her hand at me, nodding. “Are you here to work on choreography?”

  I nodded. “You too?”

  “I worked for three hours the other night and have nothing good to show.” Rita shrugged.

  “Well, I’ll let you ladies get to it. I have work to do,” Mr. Carpenter told us. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” we said in unison, then giggled.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Rita grabbed my hand. “You won’t believe what Andre sent me! Come backstage for a few minutes.” She dragged me to the dressing room, giggling, and said, “It must have cost a fortune.”

  “What is it?” I asked, worried. If Rita went to Brazil, I had a feeling she wouldn’t come back.

  Rita unlocked her locker, pulled out a bag, and handed it to me. “I’ve opened it, but I want to watch your face while you do.”

  Shaking my head, I pulled a large square box out of the bag. The box was covered in pale pink silk and had hinges on one end. There was no brand or store name. I lifted the lid, which opened with a pop, and stared at the necklace inside. The necklace was of finely detailed platinum chain with a pendant that had a large, oval ruby surrounded by diamonds.

  “Exquisite,” I breathed, amazed.

  “You know who I feel like when I look at it?” Rita asked as she gazed lovingly at it.

  I stared at her. “Who?”

  “Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.” She sighed, clasping her hands under her chin as if that was the most romantic thing ever.

  “Honey, she was a prostitute. He paid her to escort him to functions,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but he fell in love with her.” I looked into her eyes, which were glazed with love. “Andre is in love with me, Randi. And I’m falling for him fast.”

  “Oh, Rita,” I said sadly. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” She saw the look on my face. “Oh, be happy for me. I think I love him.”

  My face revealed every thought that crossed my mind. “I’m just scared for you. Based on what I’ve read and seen on TV, he’s not a good person.”

  Rita’s face fell, and an angry sneer replaced the smile. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? I’m happy for you and your nerdy guy.”

  “I am happy for you. I’m just concerned he’ll hurt you,
” I replied, refusing to give in to the angry defense I wanted to throw in her face. Rita’s biggest talent was to get out of conversations by yelling. I was lucky she was still speaking English.

  “Aw, sweet amiga, no need to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’m ready to let someone else take care of me for a while.” Rita cupped my cheek with one of her hands. “Do you know what I mean?”

  I knew exactly what she meant as Eliot popped into my brain. “I do. I’ll support you if this is what you want. And I’ll be here no matter what happens.”

  She hugged me tightly, squealing. “So that means you’ll go with me!”

  I jerked back. “Whoa, whoa, that’s not what I said.”

  “You said you’d support me. I need you there to support me.” She pouted, a whiny tone slipping into her voice.

  I rolled my eyes. “I can’t agree to go yet. I’ll have to see how my semester is going.”

  “Fine, fine. But I won’t let you forget you said you would support me,” Rita said, winking.

  “Whatever. Let me change into my dancing shoes, and we can go choreograph some kick-ass routines,” I told her.

  She nodded as she put the necklace away and re-locked her locker. While I slipped on the ballet slippers I preferred to create a new set in, she watched me, lost in thought. She actually shook herself to rid herself of whatever thoughts had captured her. I put my hand on her knee.

  “Rita, are you okay?”

  She laughed the laugh of a person caught. “Of course I’m okay. What are you and Eliot doing for your date tomorrow?”

  “You’re a terrible liar, but I’ll play along. You always tell me the truth eventually,” I replied with a pointed stare. “I’m going to Eliot’s house. We’re going to cook dinner—well, I’m going to cook dinner since the man isn’t sure how to turn on his grill.”

  “Are y’all going to 'Netflix and chill' after?” she asked, grinning like a madwoman and using finger quotes over Netflix and chill.

  “Oh, good Lord. Don’t you think about anything else?”

  “Not when I’m horny and my man is two thousand miles away.” She guffawed loudly. “What are you cooking?”

  “Steak and baked potatoes with a garden salad,” I informed her. “Easy but tasty.”

  “And so American I wouldn’t need my green card,” she joked.

  Surprised by her joke, I hollered, “Rita! Isn’t that racist?”

  “Only if a white girl like you says it.” She rose and grabbed her phone so she could play music. “Come on. I have a new song and need your help putting moves to it. I think I need a prop.”

  “A prop? We’re not male strippers,” I deadpanned. “We don’t need props. Just tits and ass.”

  “And we got plenty of those!”

  *****

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Art called as I walked off the stage to make my rounds around the club. With a fake smile I hoped looked real, I sauntered to him after ending a conversation with one of my regulars.

  “Hi, Art. How’s the world treating you?”

  “Better than one could hope,” he replied, grinning. He slipped a twenty in my G-string, wiggling his eyebrows. “Good job tonight.”

  “You know I always do a great job,” I answered, uncomfortable with Eliot’s friend giving me cash. If he and I began a relationship, I would have to rethink my career until I graduated. Or I’d have to learn to deal with this kind of interaction.

  “Hey, listen, I’m so happy you and Eliot have started dating,” he said seriously.

  I frowned, suspicious as always. “Why’s that?”

  “Because he deserves someone who will make him happy,” Art said simply, probably the realest, kindest thing I’d ever heard come out of his mouth.

  “How do you know I’m that person?”

  “You’ve been on one date, right?”

  “Right…” I drew out the word and looked at him sideways.

  “He’s been acting happier in just the last couple of days. Even his assistants in the lab have commented, asking what the hell is going on with him,” Art laughed. He wagged his finger at me. “You must be quite the woman.”

  I had no idea how to reply to his statement, which I was sure was a compliment. I needed a joke, a self-deprecating comment, but nothing came to mind. I smiled at him.

  “Really, Rose, I mean it.” He could tell I was lost.

  “He didn’t tell you my real name?”

  “No. Told me you could tell me when he introduced you as his girlfriend, if you got to that stage.” He winked at me again. “Which I think you will.”

  I blanched at the word girlfriend. “Well, we haven’t even had a second date yet. So hold off on the whole girlfriend shit.”

  Art’s eyes widened, and he laughed like I had come up with a funny joke. “The two of you are perfect for each other!”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He said the exact same thing when I talked about his girlfriend,” Art told me, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “The two of you are in big trouble.”

  I shook my head, smiling. “I think you need to calm down, there, Art. Have fun!” I turned to walk back stage but stopped. I skipped back and leaned down close to his ear. “My real name is Randi, but if you tell any of these people in here, I’ll have your kneecaps shattered.” I winked at him when I straightened.

  With a grin on his face, he pointed at me. “That’s why you’ve always been my favorite. Rose.

  Eliot

  I chose the best steaks, though I was careful to choose the thickness Randi had specified. The potatoes I found were huge russets, and I added greens as well as tomatoes, cucumbers, celery, and other such fixings for a salad. I found the best salad dressing and wanted garlic bread to top off our dinner. She liked red wine, so I bought a chillable red in a box. She’d laugh about that. I gathered butter, sour cream, and bacon bits for the potatoes, and I almost forgot foil but luckily had to walk past that aisle to get to the bakery.

  I chose a cookie cake with decorative frosting artistically rendered to look like a beach scene. At one point during the evening, while we’d been walking on the boardwalk, she had mentioned her love of the beach over the mountains, so the cake was perfect for our second date. When she saw the cake, I would comment on the fact that she had mentioned the beach, which would charm the pants off her. I kind of hoped so, anyway.

  I had thought of nothing but her. Her voice, her smile, her lips, and God, her body. She was intelligent and could hold a conversation like a linguistic specialist. She knew about an array of subjects, but her favorite was medicine. I loved that we shared the same passion for healing people, though in different capacities. The woman was stunning, beautiful, magnificent, and the most intelligent woman I had ever met.

  I listened to my own thoughts and thanked the stars they were in my mind rather than aloud where someone might have heard. I glanced around when I realized that while lost in my thoughts of a beautiful brunette, I had stopped walking and stood frozen near the flowers. As if led there by providence, I found some lovely fall flowers in orange and yellow that I hoped she would like.

  With a smile on my face, I meandered to the checkout and flirted a little with the blonde girl running my items across the scanner. “How are you today?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” she answered with a giggle. Like the young girl she was, perhaps not even eighteen, she batted her eyelashes at me. “Looks like somebody has a hot date tonight?”

  “I do, I do, with the most beautiful woman in Atlanta,” I said, winking at her. “And I’m so lucky, because she agreed to cook for me.”

  She giggled prettily as she laid the potatoes on the scale and punched in the code for them. “Steaks, potatoes, and salad. And this is a very nice wine,” she teased.

  “You know, it’s funny. She prefers the boxed wine,” I told her with a laugh, shaking my head. “That’s why she’s so perfect.”

  “Damn,” she whispered, staring at me. “I hope I hav
e a guy who talks about me to random strangers the way you talk about her.”

  I smiled at her. “As cute as you are, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “You just made my day, sir,” she simpered. She told me my total and waited for me to slide my card through the machine, a huge grin on her face. When the receipt printed, she ripped it off and handed it to me. “I don’t need to wish you a good day, I bet. Thank you, and please come again.”

  “I certainly will,” I told her as I grabbed my bags and carried them to the car. A kid offered to help me with my bags, which made me feel a little old. I placed them in the trunk and hurried to the driver’s side. Randi wasn’t supposed to be there for another two hours, but I wanted to make sure my condo was perfectly clean.

  The woman I’d hired to clean his place once a week had been in the day before, but I still wanted to make sure everything was spotless. I’d asked her to change the sheets on the bed, clean all the counters in the kitchen, as well as sweep and mop. She had stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “Mr. Messer, are you unhappy with my work?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. You do a great job, Araceli,” I hurried to tell her. “And I’ve told you a million times to call me Eliot.”

  “That’s not appropriate, sir,” she said, shaking her silver-haired head. The woman was at least twenty years older than me but insisted on calling me sir.

  “Of course.” I nodded. “I’m sorry I’m telling you what to do. You’re the best person I’ve had. I’m just nervous.”

  “I understand, sir,” she replied with a smile. She had gestured with her arms full of sheets. “I’ll just get back to work.”

  I shook my head at myself as I drove home. My stomach was in knots, my thoughts were scattered, and I couldn’t calm down. I hadn’t been this nervous when I asked Debbie Angelo to prom because I hadn’t liked her much, hadn’t even tried to get into her pants at the end of the night. I liked Randi and could see myself falling for her hard. I had a picture in my head of us together on the beach, of us enjoying mai tais in the sun.

  I pulled into the parking garage, distracted by a new vision in my head. I parked on the floor on which I lived and told myself to remember to text her to park on the top floor in guest parking and I’d meet her there to walk her down. The vision popped into my head as I reached into the trunk for our groceries. I tried to shake it out of my head as I used my keycard to get in and walked down the hall to my apartment, unlocking the door one-handed because the other was full.