by Mia Miles
“You’re just full of surprises,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I told her.
“It definitely is.” She stared wide-eyed through my windshield as we pulled up the driveway.
My house was a wide two-story Southwestern ranch style home. It almost looked like a Spanish mission lifted from somewhere like Texas or New Mexico and relocated to a nice, lush, ritzy neighborhood. My lawn was perfectly manicured with a fountain in front of the main stairs leading up to the front door. The driveway circled around the fountain and branched off to the left to my three-car garage. I picked the layout of the house because it was open. I didn’t like all the closed off plans that so many of my neighbors had used.
Having been married and then divorced, I never wanted to feel confined again, by anything.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as we pulled around to the garage doors.
“Wait until you get inside,” I teased her.
“I can’t wait.” She actually sounded excited to see the rest of the house.
I had pegged her as someone who came from money. She was too clean, too untouched not to have come from a well-to-do family. Plus, they didn’t breed girls with bodies so perfectly proportioned on the streets where I came from. I started to think I had been right about the kind of money she did come from, though. She came from stiff, uptight money.
She must have done something naughty to get kicked out. I had a hardening desire to figure out exactly what it was. And I wanted to know if she was willing to do it again.
We got out of the car, and I walked her in through the front door.
“There’s a door right here,” she said as we walked out of the garage. “Don’t go out of your way just for me.” She was laughing at me for taking her around to the front, but I couldn’t resist. I had to show off at least a little bit.
“It’s more impressive from the front door, trust me,” I assured her as she walked up the steps with me.
I unlocked the door and opened it, revealing Italian marble floors, high ceilings, beautiful crystal chandeliers, and beautiful sculptures of Greek and Roman goddesses standing in the living room.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said again, in awe. “You’re pulling my leg, right? This isn’t you.”
“It is,” I said. “It really is. Now, the whole house isn’t as big as the living room. I know, it’s a bit much, but the rest of the house is still just as beautiful. Come on.”
I took her upstairs to show her the bedrooms and bathrooms. There were the two smaller guestrooms with their private bathrooms, and then there was my bedroom and the master bath attached to it. My bedroom had large wooden double doors that looked like something out of a castle. My king-size, four-post bed had deep red sheer linen curtains hanging around it. There were curtains of the same color hanging in the windows that looked out over the pool. My room was warmly lit, and I always thought it was very inviting and cozy. At the same time, if I opened the curtains along the back wall, it opened up completely.
“You can leave your things in here,” I told her.
“But this is obviously your room,” she said. “I thought I’d sleep in one of the guestrooms.”
“No, we need to go over some rules, I guess. Leave your things. Let’s go downstairs and talk.” I held the door open so she could walk past me.
She followed me back down, and we walked into the open kitchen and dining room.
“I love your kitchen,” she said as we passed through it. She stopped and looked around at my dark counter tops and black-and-silver appliances. “I could really do some cooking in there,” she added almost as an aside.
I cocked an eyebrow, noting that she liked to cook. I gestured to the table and watched as she kept an eye on the kitchen. I assumed she was imagining cooking in there.
“Have you eaten?” I asked.
“I don’t want to impose.” She shook her head and seemed to shrink back.
“I can put on a pizza,” I told her.
“All this, and you want to make pizza?” she joked.
“Hey, it’s late, and I’m a bachelor,” I defended myself.
“Fair enough, I guess. A pizza sounds good, but if I’m staying here, I’m going to have to cook you some real food, at least for letting me stay. Cooking and cleaning is all I can really do to repay you,” she said as I walked into the kitchen.
I set the oven to preheat. “I’m sure I can find something else for you to do,” I said. Then, I turned to the fridge. “Beer?” I asked out of habit, stopping myself and turning around after I’d said it. “How old are you?”
She laughed again and blushed. “I’m old enough,” she assured me.
“Old enough, huh? I’m going to take your word for it,” I said as I grabbed a couple of light beers out of the fridge. I opened the bottles and handed her one.
“I’m twenty-one, Cutter. I’m supposed to be going into my senior year of college next year, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now,” she said, laughing even as she talked about her apparent change in plans.
“Tell me more,” I said as I sat down. It seemed I wasn’t the only one full of surprises here.
“I was a student at Harvard, but my dad has since withdrawn my enrollment,” she said.
“He can do that? If you’re an adult, you should be able to determine that for yourself,” I told her, mostly just thinking out loud.
“You would think. But he’s pulled back my tuition and pulled some strings up at the university to get me dropped,” she admitted. “He also froze my accounts, because I had him listed on each one. That’s how I ended up on the street. It wasn’t so bad when I had a hotel room.”
She might have come from a wealthy family, but she didn’t seem to be a spoiled little rich kid. I couldn’t tell if her understanding came from being naturally insightful, or she’d just woken up to it all as a result of her little reality check. No matter how it happened, I felt bad for her. She’d been dumped out on her ass. I really wanted to know what she’d done to get disowned by her family. It must have been good. I didn’t want to offend her by asking, and I was pretty sure she would tell me when she was ready.
“So, you said something about rules?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. The reason I told you to leave your bag upstairs and not to worry about cooking and cleaning is because I have a different request as payment for staying with me,” I started. It had been a few years since my divorce, and it was the first time someone else was going to be staying in the house.
Usually, if I brought someone home, they might have stayed the night at most, but I always kicked them out in the morning. Catch and release. I’d fuck her and send her on her way. I could tell already the situation with Missy was going to be different. If we had sex, which we probably were, I was going to have to work for it, but I wasn’t going to kick her out until she had somewhere to go. That would have been a dick move.
“Do I want to know?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she took a small sip from her bottle.
“It’s not that bad,” I assured her.
The oven dinged to let us know it was finished preheating. I got up and pulled the pizza out of the freezer to put into the oven.
“You have to sleep in my bed as long as you’re here,” I told her.
“I’m sorry?” She coughed and cleared her throat. “What was that?”
I slid the pizza into the oven and set the timer. “You don’t have to cook or clean or anything like that as long as you share the bed with me,” I reiterated as I sat back down at the table.
“Wait a minute, you’re serious.” She set her beer down and sat back in her chair to stare at me.
“I am.” I hadn’t had anyone actually stay with me in a while, and I thought it was only fair to ask for something in return for my hospitality. Besides, by having her that close physically, I was bound to find out what it was that got her in so much trouble. She had touched me with her crying, but that didn’t chan
ge the fact that I wanted to get her in bed with me. I wanted to corrupt that innocent young girl.
“I suppose you could have asked for worse,” she said with a shrug.
“True, I guess I could have.” We drank to that, but she still only took a small sip, as if she didn’t trust me and wanted to keep her wits about her.
“I also want to talk to you about dancing,” she said. “I know you think I’m good. I saw how you were looking at me.”
She reminded me of my ex again, before the heinous bitch took over. She had been fairly straightforward as well. She didn’t like to mince words. Missy seemed to be missing the same filter that kept some people from being as open.
“Absolutely not,” I told her. “You are not dancing in my club.”
“Why not?” she asked. “I saw how slow it was tonight. You obviously need some new talent, and not any of those washed up skanks I saw waiting to interview with you.”
She was definitely a firecracker. I wondered what had caused her to open up and reveal herself to me. I liked the version of her sitting in front of me more than the scared little girl who’d been up at the club.
“You want to know why not? For one, you look too young. No one’s going to believe you’re old enough to be on that stage. Two, you’re too innocent, too smart, and too pretty. I’ve seen what this life does to girls. They turn into those washed up skanks. You don’t want to do it,” I tried to convince her. Somehow I knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but I figured I’d give it one last try.
“You don’t understand, Cutter. I really need the money. It’s worse than I’ve let on. I can’t tell you how bad, but I need the cash,” she said.
I sighed. “Alright, I’ll give you a shot,” I told her. I wanted to know what was so bad that she’d been kicked out and cut off. I figured if I gave a little, I could get a little.
“Thank you, Cutter,” she said, and I could hear the sincere gratitude in her voice.
“Yeah, no problem.” I shook my head and checked the timer on the oven. The pizza was almost done. I got up and grabbed my oven mitts.
“You won’t regret it,” she said cheerfully.
I already did, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I pulled the pizza out and started cutting it up into pieces to serve it up.
Chapter Six
Missy
I had finally convinced Cutter to let me take the stage at The Bare Cut. After initially bringing it up that first night at his house, he’d agreed to let me do it, but it took a few days to make it actually happen.
“You’re not my old lady,” he’d warned me after finally agreeing to let me do it. “You’re not going to get any special treatment, no matter what the other girls think. You’re going to get treated just like anyone else. That means you’ve got to follow the same rules everyone else follows.”
We’d had the talk in his office before anyone else showed up. My stomach was full of anxious, excited butterflies. We stood in front of the desk. He’d already helped me pick out an outfit and everything. It was like a bikini but it was more sparkly, like it had been designed specifically to be worn on stage. I didn’t know much about this sort of thing.
I did know that more of my body was bare than usual already. I couldn’t believe I was about to take the stage and tear off what few clothes I was already wearing.
“First, you have to bare all if you want to go back out,” he told me.
I nodded. I understood, but that didn’t keep me from being nervous.
“Next, I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell all the girls when they go on the stage for the first time. No drugs. No sex with patrons. No prostitution. So, you can’t sleep with patrons for money or for free. And no touching beyond normal, incidental stuff. There are some touches that are just going to happen, but nothing intentional and sexual. Got it?” He was suddenly very serious. He was being careful with his words, I could tell, but his tone told me he wasn’t playing around.
“I need a name,” I told him.
He smirked. “Let’s call you Miss Rose.”
“Miss Rose,” I repeated, shrugging. “Sounds as good as anything else.”
We shook hands and I thanked him again before going into the dressing room behind the stage.
I stood backstage with the other girls, getting ready, and I saw what Cutter had warned me about. They were shooting me dirty looks and talking under their breath to each other. I knew they were talking about me from the way they kept cutting their eyes at me.
I stood in there waiting on the girl on stage to come off while the others kept on talking about me. I fidgeted with my hands in front of me and stared at the floor, trying to keep calm and get up my nerve.
One of the girls who had been talking walked up finally and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Listen,” she said softly, “you’re not you when you’re out there. Don’t ever be you out there. What’s your name?”
“Missy,” I said looking into the deep, seductive shade of green in her eyes.
“Missy, what’s your stage name?” she asked patiently.
“Miss Rose.”
“Miss Rose.” She nodded. “I like it. Figure out who she is. I know you only have a minute, but figure out who Miss Rose is and become her before you go out there. Leave Missy back here.”
I was impressed that she’d stepped up to help me out. She patted me on the shoulder and walked away, back over to where the other girl was standing.
“Thank you,” I said, looking back.
I had to decide who Miss Rose was. I wasn’t sure yet, but I did know that she wasn’t afraid like I was. Miss Rose was comfortable with her body. Hell, she downright loved it. And she couldn’t wait to show it off and show her appreciation for herself. I just had to push myself, Missy, out of the way.
The music stopped, and I heard the voice come over the PA system as the girl on stage came back through the curtain. She had her skimpy little outfit in her hand with money clenched against her body. She was completely nude and didn’t make any effort to hide her body from anyone. I watched as she ran into the dressing room and put her things down at her station.
“It’s pretty full out there tonight, girl. Knock ‘em out,” she said to me.
I was introduced, and the music started. Miss Rose apparently liked pop music with a driving dance beat. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. I was going to leave Missy behind and take Miss Rose on stage to let her finally show herself off.
I hit the stage. I walked out underneath the lights. There was my color, and it kept changing with the music. I felt the bass pulsing through my body. I gave in to it. I started moving with it, and I could feel the energy coming at me. It wasn’t coming from the music or the lights.
The energy I felt on stage came from the shadowy figures sitting just beyond the lights. They were waiting for me to get closer. They were staring at me, and their eyes were pressuring me to take my clothes off while I danced. I tried to move seductively, just as I had in the office with Cutter. I imagined his eyes on me, his hunger for me. I watched the eyes, working to see that same hunger in them.
It was a blast. I reached back and opened my top, letting it slide down from my shoulders to slowly reveal my breasts. I kept them cupped in my hands as I danced and teased my audience. Money appeared on the stage, and I danced for the hands that dropped it.
I turned away from the audience and slid my bottoms down off my ass in front of them. As anxious as I had been before going on stage, taking off my clothes felt liberating. It was my body, and I had nothing to be ashamed of.
Before walking on stage, I had only been comfortable enough with one person to show them my body. That had been Eddie. Eddie was an asshole, and he didn’t deserve the privilege of being the only person who had seen me naked.
I was about to show a room full of strangers my excellent body. I felt ownership over my body and my nudity for the first time in my life. The eyes watching me appreciated wha
t they saw. I could feel the appreciation flowing past the lights.
I had to remind myself to keep dancing while I stripped. It wasn’t just taking off my clothes. I was taking my clothes off and working to mesmerize the men watching. I wasn’t even listening to the music anymore. I didn’t hear it; I felt it. I heard the men whistling and cheering as the new girl showed off her body for the first time.
I bent over just enough to tease them with the prize between my legs as I slipped off my bottoms, but I stood and turned around as they hit the floor. My breasts were no longer covered. My pale skin and pink nipples stood out in the lights.