Sexy

by JA Huss

  When I get to Fletcher’s door, I knock. “Fletch?” I call. “You in there?”

  I hear a faint, “Come in,” and so I twist the handle and peek my head in.

  “You busy?” I ask. He’s standing in front of the mirror buckling a holster onto his hip. He’s got a cowboy hat on, faded jeans, and cowboy boots.

  He looks fucking hot.

  As usual.

  “Not any busier than normal five minutes before the show opens.” He yells over Chandler’s booming voice from the stage. “What’s up?”

  “Cole is up! He’s got a girl out there. He brought a date! He’s here with a girl from the office!”

  “Calm down, princess.” He gives me a little rumbling chuckle and then that grin I’ve grown to love. “How do you know it’s a date? Maybe it’s just business?”

  “What kind of girl goes to see a stripper with her boss?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, leaning his perfect ass against the dressing table and crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of boss invites her employee up to her room?”

  “I was going to fire you. And it’s not the same. You don’t really work for me. This girl is his”—I make air quotes—“executive assistant. How’s that for bullshit?”

  Fletcher grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. All kinds of nerve endings start firing in my body from his touch. “Are you jealous?” he asks, putting his hands on my hips once I’m within a few inches of his chest.

  I’m about to scream, Hell, yes! when I stop. “I don’t know if I’m jealous, exactly. But I’m pissed. This was supposed to be my big night. I had this all planned. We,” I stress, “had this all planned.”

  His hands slide up my body until his fingertips are pressing on the back of my ribs and his thumbs are right underneath my breasts. I have to take a deep breath. “What are you doing, Fletcher?”

  “Making you crazy.”

  “Stop and help me get rid of this girl!”

  He stands up straight and leans into my neck. “How should I do that?”

  Fuck. Why is Fletcher so hot?

  “Should I pick her out of the crowd? Make her feel special? Take her to my room?”

  Sometimes I wish he’d take me to his room. I got a taste of his magic that first night and holy fuck, if Cole and Claudio weren’t there and we’d had time alone, I might’ve fucked him that night.

  Focus, Tiffy.

  “Um, yeah?”

  “That sounds like a question. Do you want me to take this girl home tonight, Tiffy? Ruin her chances with Cole?”

  “Sorta. I just want my chance, ya know? I just want my one opportunity to make him see me as a possibility. And this was gonna be it. I was going to use all those tricks and get him to notice.”

  A knock at the door interrupts us. “One minute, Fletcher,” some stage guy says.

  Fletcher looks down at me with a small smile. Not the grin he had on a few seconds ago. “I’ll take care of it, Tiffy. OK? And then you can have another date with him tomorrow and that one will go perfect.”

  I nod, unable to take my eyes off his face. That smile isn’t happy, it’s… sad. Something is wrong. And I’m just about to open my mouth to ask why he’s sad when I hear Chandler announcing the guys on stage.

  “Just go sit down and be patient. When the girl is gone, make a date for dinner with Cole. I’ll take care of her.”

  And then he walks out the door to do his thing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tiffy is right. That asshole brought a girl with him. And she might be his assistant, but she’s a whole lot more than that.

  I walk out on stage with the rest of the guys dressed up in our cowboy gear and I automatically do the line dance we’ve been working on the past few weeks. But my eyes never leave that girl. Not once. I don’t care if I’m on the other side of the stage, doing the stripper version of the cupid shuffle, I’m looking at her. It takes her a few minutes to catch on, but by the time we hop down on the floor to flirt, she’s not looking at anyone but me.

  Cole frowns as I walk up to the table and take her by the hand. On Saturdays we choose three girls. One in the beginning, one during our solos, and one at the end. She’s gonna be my pick all night long.

  Her hand is sweating as I lead her up on stage with the rest of the first picks and motion for her to take a seat on one of the chairs lined up. She nervously sits in the middle chair with two girls on either side of her.

  Chandler squints his eyes at me once he realizes who’s in my hot seat, but we’re on stage, so what is he gonna do about it now?

  I chuckle a little as the rest of us guys line up behind the ladies and start the next dance. This one invokes a trick that each of us do using the chair and the girl as props.

  Steve is up first, and his trick is that little chair-rung jumping I used on Tiffy last Wednesday. His girl squeals and covers her mouth, and I spy Tiffy chatting with Cole while I wait my turn.

  Steve straddles his girl, grinds her face into his dick for a ten count—that makes me laugh—and then jumps off the top rung and lands a perfect backflip off the stage.

  They go wild for Steve. He’s like some former gymnast or something and does all that fancy flipping shit. That gets the tips going like crazy.

  Bill is already on top of things, though. And he sits down on his girl’s lap and does his own version of the dance I did for Tiffy this afternoon. I look over at her again, and she’s paying attention now. Her eyes dart to mine and I wink at her. She takes a deep breath and that makes me grin like a kid.

  But then my eyes dart to Cole as he leans in and whispers something to Tiffy.

  She shakes her head, but doesn’t look at me again.

  Hmmm. Asshole.

  Bill finishes up with the girl on her knees in front of him as he does the wobble in her face.

  I look at Chandler, who is fuming now, since that was not part of Bill’s script, but fuck it. He did his job and his girl is happy.

  I start my dance behind the secretary, moving my hips for the crowd, not her. And then I start peeling my shirt up, just a little peek here and a little peek there. The ladies scream for more and the secretary gets antsy, twisting her body to try to see me. I reach down, grab her under her thighs, and swing her legs over my shoulders so she’s upside down and her face is smashed into my abs. “Lift my shirt up, darlin’. Let’s give them all a peek before you take it off.”

  “Oh my God,” is all I hear from her. But her little fingertips reach under my shirt and begin to lift. The crowd goes wild again, and that’s when I smack her ass, flip her back down, place both hands on the back of her chair, and jump over her head.

  More cheering. But I’m not finished yet.

  I pull her up out of the chair and yell, “What should she do?”

  “Take it off!”

  I laugh. Fucking horny bitches. So I turn to the assistant and say, “You heard them. Proceed!”

  I wiggle around a little as she lifts my shirt up and since she’s short, I make a game of not letting her get it over my head. The crowd laughs as I tease her. She laughs as I tease her. And then, when she’s finally got it over, and she’s real close up next to me, I whisper, “I want to fuck you tonight.”

  But before she can answer I push her back down into her chair, swing it around so she’s facing the curtain, and then—so the whole place can see it—put her hand down my pants and make her squeeze.

  I look at Tiffy and she’s beaming. I’m pretty sure if Cole wasn’t sitting next to her looking like he was gonna kick my ass, she’d be thumbing me up.

  But Cole is mad as hell. And I watch him while Mitch and Sean do their opening acts.

  Usually, once we’re done with this part, we walk the girls down the stairs so they don’t faint or pull some other girly bullshit, but I walk Ms. Executive Assistant all the way back to her table and kiss her hand before I leave.

  I go back to my dressing room feeling more satisfied than I have all day.

  Pounding

on the door a few minutes later forces me to tuck that shit away.

  “Hey, asshole,” Chandler says, barging in without waiting for an invitation. “What the fuck did I tell you?”

  “That was a clean act. One dick grab is all it was. I didn’t even pretend to eat her pussy.”

  “It’s the general manager’s fucking girlfriend!”

  “Girlfriend? I heard that was his secretary or some shit. Figured she wanted to experience the show like a VIP. Oh, by the way, where were the VIP’s?”

  “Newsflash, dickhead. She’s sitting at a table with him, then she’s his. Off-limits.”

  “You gonna tell me Tiffy’s off-limits too?”

  “She is, Fletcher. And you will not choose her tonight. I do not need another lecture from Cole like last time.”

  “What lecture?” This is news to me.

  “He was all over my ass after he heard. He said to keep you away, and I plan on it, brother. You’re not gonna fuck up my job—”

  “You’re quitting your job, Chandler. Everyone knows this.”

  He just stares at me.

  “You’re quitting, aren’t you?”

  “Cole offered me a position in Vegas. And I’m gonna take it.”

  “What position?”

  “Dude, you know I’m only doing this show because it’s all that was available. Well, they’ve got a hotel show in Vegas that needs a producer. And Cole offered it to me.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Just…” He stops to let out a long sigh. “Just to get rid of you, asshole. And you’re ready to move on, anyway. So I said yes.”

  “Thanks a lot, you dick.”

  “You’re done here, Fletcher. You and I both know it. So don’t hate me because I have solid plans.”

  I point to the door. “Get the fuck out of here. And fuck you and your plans.”

  “You gotta grow up sometime, Fletch. You had a good run, but it’s over.”

  I kick the trashcan and it goes flying. And then I hear Chandler introducing Steve and start putting on my next costume. I fucking hate that Cole guy. I don’t know what it is, but he’s a douche. I’m going to ruin his night by making his girl compare him to me. And I’m going to do it right in front of his face.

  xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

  By the time I’m back on stage doing my Navy officer act, Cole and the secretary aren’t even sitting next to each other at that table, and Tiffy’s smile is so bright she lights up the room.

  God, she’s pretty. That whole conversation this afternoon where she called herself second best was shocking.

  I start my act, barely paying attention. This one is not new. I’ve been doing it since the first show I was ever in. I salute, click my heels, and then start stripping by peeling the white gloves off my hands one finger at a time.

  The crowd is wild tonight. I’ve got three bridesmaids flashing their tits before I even get rid of one glove. And by the time the shirt is coming off, I’ve got two girls fighting to stuff dollars in my pants in the front row.

  But Tiffy, man. Her self-image earlier surprised me. This is what I mean, though. Take Katie, for instance. She’s a successful… whatever you call her position at that law office. It’s not romantic and thrilling like they make it look in the movies. It’s corporate shit. She sits in an office all day, has a few meetings, goes home to a nice apartment. She’s got all that career shit figured out. But she’s unsatisfied. And she can’t find a guy who interests her and vice versa, so she blames herself.

  But it’s not her. It’s assholes like me who make her feel like it’s her. Assholes who never call back. Assholes who take her out and expect more than they should. Assholes who can’t commit.

  I grab the sides of my pants at the thighs and rip. The snaps all give way, and then I throw them behind me. Bitches will steal your clothes if you’re not careful.

  I take my attention back to the secretary and point at her. She smiles wide and her face goes red. She gives Cole a half-glance, but then raises her shoulder closest to him.

  The brushoff.

  She heard my offer and she’s all in.

  I glance at Cole and almost bust out laughing. Jesus, he does not have a poker face. He’s bright red too, but with fuming anger.

  I don’t know if Tiffy’s like Katie. I don’t know Katie all that well. But so far this week when I’ve called Katie, she’s been receptive, realistic, and ready to do anything I’ve asked.

  Sometimes that involves lowering expectations. But in Katie’s case, it’s more about retargeting the right kind of guy. She wants a bad boy who wants to settle down.

  I chuckle at that. Don’t they all.

  The secretary gets up on her feet as I jump off the stage and make my way to her. I let the girls push those dollars down my briefs and make sure they don’t get too excited.

  They all do. Want that bad boy who wants to change and be a dad and a husband, that is.

  But those guys don’t exist. And most women need to hear that for a few weeks. They need to fail at this shit so bad that they get it.

  I do, of course, set up the bad guys they meet. I’ve only been in this stripping business nine months, but I have connections from previous jobs.

  Katie saw through my first asshole immediately. Oh, Axe was hot, and he was bad. Reformed prisoner. But Katie has good instincts, and never called him back on Friday when he tried for date two.

  Then there was Brian Friday night. If Axe was the president of Bad Boy Inc., then Brian was middle management. Katie agreed to see him again on Saturday for a day date, but I got a message last night that she was not interested.

  Which means she likes the idea of a bad boy. Not the bad boy himself. She wants a guy who works out, wears hot ripped jeans and white t-shirts on the weekends, but has a brain and a legitimate job Monday through Friday.

  Like me. If you can call what I do a legitimate job.

  Except this secretary bitch right here… all these bitches in here… all they see is Axe. They have no idea who I am. They have no idea what I do. And they have no interest in finding out.

  And that’s OK with me.

  I take the secretary’s hand and whirl her to the beat of the thumping music. And then I pull her close in one quick move, crashing her against my rock-hard chest. She’s a little stunned from the quick change and even more so when I hold her tight. We do a little slow dance. I watch those faces all around me for the look.

  That look that says, Awwww. I want to take him home. He’s bad, but good at the same time. He makes her fist his junk on stage and then slow-dances to the beat of lust in a room full of heat.

  Fletcher Novak is a keeper, they sigh.

  But Fletcher Novak is taken. They just have no idea because no one looks hard enough. All they see is this guy here, because that’s all they want to see.

  Stripper.

  Player.

  Liar.

  Asshole.

  And they love it. So fuck this girl in my arms with her head resting on my chest like we are high-school lovers shuffling around on prom night. I don’t give one shit about her. She’s a job, just like all the rest of them here in this room.

  She’s just another job to me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Elizabeth was her name. But she’s gone now. Fletcher marked her as his the first act and that was that. He never took his eyes off her. And by the time the last act came along, he never let her go either. She disappeared backstage with him and never looked back.

  “She’s the new employee?” I ask Cole, both of us looking at the curtain with disbelief. “Your assistant?”

  Cole grunts and then reluctantly turns back to me. “I’m sorry your dad cancelled. I know how much you wanted to see him.”

  “Yeah,” I say, a little sad about the fact my father didn’t show. It’s like he’s lost all interest in me lately. “I am.” But I’m not here to talk about my dad. I’m here to get a date with Cole tomorrow night. “I miss him. It’s been months since he’s had time for me.”

  “Well, being a billionaire hotel mogul keeps him busy, right?” Cole’s eyes dart to the curtain when a stage hand appears to start cleaning up the equipment. And the other guys are all lined up for their lap dances. That will go on for a while.

  “Where do you think she went?” I ask, just to see if he’s jealous of Fletcher.

  “He’s probably fucking her backstage.”

  “What? Do you think?” I fake it. Sorta.

  “Why?” Cole snaps. “You like that asshole too? You think he’s sexy? He’s hot? He’s worth the hassle he comes with? Why didn’t you fire him?”

  “I didn’t have to. He quit. I asked him to come back and do this show for my dad tonight. And the reviewers.” I look around for their table and two of the women are already in line for a lap dance. “I guess they want the full experience.”

  “Yeah, well, if he wanted to impress them, why didn’t he stick around for the lap dance?”

  “Are you”—please, God. No. He can’t really like that girl. She was just… there. Right?—“dating Elizabeth?”

  “Dating? God, no. But she’s on company time, Tiffy. What kind of employee goes off to fuck the star stripper?”

  Hmmmm. I have nothing for that one. I did it myself. In fact, I bet Fletcher took her up on the roof. I bet he’s getting that blanket out of the trunk right now. Telling her he’s never fucked anyone on it because he makes them stand.

  Asshole.

  “He’s bad news. You fire him tonight. Your father’s not coming out here. I know that for sure.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows together. “I’m supposed to be here for another few weeks to get things in order. He doesn’t even want to visit me?”

  Cole reaches across the table, his interest in the backstage curtain on pause, and takes my hands in his, giving them a little squeeze. “It’s not about you, Tiffy. It’s just business.”

  I force a weak smile. “I know.” And then I get an idea. “You want to go grab some dinner tonight? I haven’t eaten yet.”

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