My Personal Bad Boy

by Bethany James

  Leaning down to place the soap back in its cradle, he presses his lips to the swell of my breast.

  “I can’t play with them, but I can make sure they’re nice and clean.”

  He cups my breasts, gently washing each of my nipples. His touch is so soft, so at odds with the rough way he just took me. My attention is on his face, watching him as he watches his hands.

  As not to irritate them, he doesn’t linger longer than he should. He doesn’t seem happy about this, pouting as he slides his hands down to rest on my waist.

  Lifting my hand, I trace the crown tattooed over his left pec. Then I slide my finger across his chest to the bird over his right pec. Below it, there a sword stabbed into a heart. I look up at him, my fingers resting on his tattooed heart.

  “Don’t ask,” he says, pulling my hand away and turning me so that my back is to him.

  He reaches up to point the spray towards the shower wall before pushing on my shoulder, bending me over.

  His hand goes to the plug and without pulling on it, he spins it.

  “Do you feel sore here at all?”

  I shake my head.

  “Not at all?” He presses.

  “Maybe a little,” I amend, “but not bad.”

  “Push against it as I pull,” he replies, placing his other hand on the swell of my ass.

  Irrationally, I start to panic that by pushing I might accidently crap on him. That would be mortifying. Maybe ass play isn’t for me. I clench and he immediately stops pulling and swats my ass, hard.

  “Get out of your head Nic,” he orders.

  I glare over my shoulder at him and he just smirks back at me.

  “Fine,” I huff.

  Please don’t crap on him. Please dear God do not crap on Wes. I repeat to myself over and over as he pulls the plug free. Once it’s out I straighten with a snap and snatch it from him.

  “Huh?” I murmur, moving it into the spray and looking down at it. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

  Wes reaches above me to readjust the nozzle so I don’t have to hold the plug right by the wall for the water to hit it.

  He moves closer, fitting my back to his front and circling my waist with his arms. He kisses the side of my head and looks over my shoulder at the plug.

  “I wanted it to feel good, not hurt.”

  - Meet me at Baby Dolls.

  Wait what?

  - The strip club?

  - Yep

  - Why?

  - You’ll see

  - Wes!

  He doesn’t reply. Why in the world would he want me to meet him at a strip club?

  Earlier that day he had texted me that we were going out tonight, and to wear the sexiest thing I owned. I figured we were going to a club and I guess I’m half right. I glance at my reflection. I’m wearing a short black skirt, a drapey red top with a deep v neckline. I wasn’t wearing a bra for a couple of reasons. The neckline was so low it would have shown and I loved the way the material felt against my bare nipples.

  Now I was second-guessing my outfit. I looked hot but I didn’t look stripper hot. Glancing down I frown at my shoes, they were cute. Cute wasn’t going to fly. Kicking them off I reach for the sexiest heels I own.

  They were way higher than any of my other shoes but killed my feet. Still, they were worth it for what they did to my legs and my ass.

  I apply some red lipstick and go.

  When I get to the strip club my eyes widen at the number of cars in the parking lot.

  - I’m here

  - I already paid for you. I’ll meet you at the entrance.

  I teeter my way across the parking lot, cursing my decision to wear these fucking heels. Wes’s expression when he sees me has me immediately taking back anything bad I thought about them.

  He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black tee, his inked arms on full display. His eyes consume me, making a meal of me as I approach him. When I’m within arms reach, he turns, slipping an arm over my shoulder and walks me in, lifting his chin in some silent communication to the bouncer working the door.

  It’s dim inside; the only parts well lit being the two stages in the center of the club. Each stage is currently occupied by two of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen dancing to Dip it Low.

  My attention is on them when Wes puts his mouth to my ear and says, “Tonight, I want you in nothing but those heels.”

  I gulp, turning away from the stages to look at him. His hand moves down my back to cup my ass.

  He leaves it there and guides me to a group of chairs not far from the left stage.

  Martinez is there, standing to kiss my cheek as we approach.

  “Hey Nic,” he grins.

  I blush and smile back.

  “Check her tits,” Wes says, surprising me.

  Martinez lifts his hands but hesitates and asks me, “that okay?”

  I glance left and right, there are a couple guys looking our way but most are focused on the stage.

  “Sure,” I reply.

  He parts the material of my top, exposing my breasts and quickly checks each of my piercings. After he’s done he pulls the material of my top to cover me again.

  “They’re looking good.”

  “Can I play with them yet?” Wes asks.

  Martinez laughs, “It hasn’t even been three weeks bro.”

  Wes doesn’t say anything, just sinks into one of the armchairs, pulling me down with him and settling me across his lap.

  There are strippers everywhere, milling around the tables and sitting on the laps of guys.

  A couple of them approach Wes and I, asking if we’d like a couples lap dance in the back. Wes shakes his head and they walk away.

  “Want a drink?” Martinez asks, hitching his thumb toward a table where bottle service was laid out.

  “Is there cranberry juice?” I ask, leaning forward.

  Wes shifts me as I move, slipping his hand between my legs. My eyes snap to his. He ignores me and asks Martinez for a drink.

  After Martinez makes us each a drink he sits in one of the chairs across from us.

  He isn’t alone long; a stripper with long blonde hair and even longer legs comes to sit in his lap.

  I watch as she tries to talk him into buying a private lap dance. He shakes his head and says, “maybe later.”

  She pouts and leaves, probably to search for someone more receptive.

  I shift, rubbing my ass against Wes. I get that we just got here but I’m still not sure why and I’d rather go back to one of our places and fuck. His fingers tighten on my thigh and, with his other hand he pushes my hair off of my neck and starts kissing it.

  “This your girl?”

  My head swivels to the side to see an extremely sexy stripper standing next to our chair.

  “Yep,” Wes replies.

  “Nic, this is Cherish. Cherish, Nic.”

  I give her a tentative smile.

  “Cherish is going to take you back and get you changed and then you both are going to hit the stage.”

  I turn my head to stare at him, my eyes bugging and my mouth hanging open.

  It takes more than a few seconds for me to recover enough to say, “what?”

  He stands, taking me up with him. “Consider it your next bad girl lesson.”

  Cherish links her arm through mine and leads me to a doorway off to the right side of the stage. “You can call me Cheri.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper.

  She pats my hand. “How long have you and Wes been dating?”

  “We’re not dating,” I reply.

  She looks surprised but doesn’t say anything else until we’re in a dressing room.

  “He dropped off this outfit for you to dance in,” she says, lifting a sexy schoolgirl outfit for me to see.

  “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll talk you through what to do out there.”

  She sets the outfit back down and stares at me.

  “Like change
right here?” I ask.

  She laughs, “Yeah, no point being shy now.”

  She has a point. Can I do this, strip in front of a room full of strangers? It’s not like I didn’t do more the first night I met Wes.

  I tug off my shirt and set it on the table next to us.

  “I love your nipple piercings. Can I touch them?” Cheri asks, already reaching toward my breasts.

  I shake my head. “I just got them done. They take a long time to heal.”

  She nods dropping her hands. “I’ve heard that but I’ve been thinking about having mine done. Did it hurt like a bitch?”

  I shrug on the little white half shirt and tie it together in the front.

  “The first one wasn’t that bad but the second one hurt like hell.”

  I push down my skirt and start to reach for the plaid skirt that came with the outfit.

  Cheri stops me. “You’re panties are cute and everything.” She gestures towards the high cut lacy pair I’m wearing. “But, you need to wear a g-string.”

  She passes me another bag. “Don’t worry. Wes got it for you.”

  She watches with her head tilted to the side as I change from my panties to the g-string. “Does Wes share you?”

  My brow furrows. “Share me?”

  She leans close, her breath fanning my face. “I like girls and if you want, I can lick your pussy till you scream.”

  I bite my lip.

  She winks and straightens. “Sit. I’ll do your hair.”

  She parts my hair down the middle and pulls up half on each side into a pigtail.

  Then she steps back and changes into a sexy teacher outfit while I put the Velcro tie that came with my outfit on.

  “Can you dance at all?” She asks, once we’re both dressed.

  I nod and she asks, “In those heels?”

  Frowning, I glance down at my feet. “I think so.”

  She nods. “Show me how low you can go.”

  I dip low, spreading my legs and swivel my hips. She nods again, this time approvingly.

  “Out there,” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder to the door, “follow my lead.”

  I gulp then nod, a fucking stampede of butterflies marching through my gut.

  This isn’t the first time since I met Wes that I remind myself that this is what I wanted. I asked him to make me walk on the wild side and that’s what this was.

  The song playing ends, the club now eerily silent as I follow her out onto the stage. There’s a catwalk between the two main stages, a chair sitting there.

  She motions for me to sit. Primly, trying to ignore the hungry eyes on us, I do.

  “Tonight we have something special for you all. This is her first time dancing so we need to give her a warm welcome. Say hello to Nic.”

  The crowd booms hello and my eyes find Wes. He’s moved, sitting front and center in a chair at the end of the left stage.

  “And with her, our very own Cherish is here to break her in. You ready for that?”

  There’s another booming response with a few hollers for Cherish to marry them before the music starts. It’s Naughty Girl by Beyonce.

  I almost laugh, wondering if Wes picked that out too. My attention is called to Cheri though, as she begins to move.

  With my hands resting on my lap, and my ankles sweetly crossed, she circles my chair.

  As she moves around me she drags her fingertips across my shoulders. When she stands behind me, she pulls my hair, tugging till I’m looking up at the ceiling. Then she leans down and kisses me.

  The club erupts in cheers.

  She lifts her head, licks her lips, and grins at them.

  Then she lets go of my hair. I look forward again, my eyes finding Wes in the crowd. He’s staring at us with blatant lust in his eyes.

  She circles me again, this time shedding the black blazer she wore, all to the rhythm of the song. Underneath it she wore a cup less corset, her breasts on full display.

  She stops next to me, her breasts inches from my ear. She snaps her fingers at me and I’m not sure what she wants me to do so I lift my hand up to cup her breast.

  She pushes my hand away and shakes her finger at me. When my eyes widen she leans in and whispers.

  “You’re doing great. Just go with it.”

  Her words calm me. When she motions for me to stand, I do. She turns me so that my back is to the audience and I’m now facing the chair I sat in.

  Then she pushes me, so that I’m bent over, my hands holding the back of the chair. The school girl skirt of my outfit shows my ass cheeks when I was standing normally, bent over, my entire ass was on display.

  She lifts the skirt even more, making a show of baring my ass to the audience.

  She stands behind me and nudges my feet until they’re shoulder width apart. A tiny scrap of fabric is all that covers my sex.

  I’ve never felt as on display and it is turning me way the fuck on. Any conversation in the club ended when we hit the stage. Knowing that their full attention is on us makes me wet.

  She moves back to my side and strokes my ass. Her hand sweeps between my legs and then up the crack of my ass. When her hand moves away I have to bite my lip to keep from begging her to touch me again.

  Crack!

  I gasp; the club applauds.

  The flat of her palm had connected with my ass cheek. She soothes the sting away before repeating the process on my other cheek.

  My breasts hang heavily, aching with need.

  She pulls me up by my hair, pushing the chair away from us with her foot.

  Standing behind me, she opens my shirt for the crowd.

  They go nuts when they see my piercings. Her hands cup me from behind, her hips grinding against my ass to the music. She lifts my breasts, careful to avoid touching my nipples.

  I reach behind me to wrap my arm around the back of her neck. Turning my head, my mouth finds hers. She kisses me, one of her hands drifting down the front of my body to cup my pussy.

  Then she pulls away, bending down to pull my skirt down my legs. I rest my hand on her shoulders as I step out of it. She stays crouched in front of me, running her hands up and down my legs as my hips sway to the music.

  When she goes to stand, she pauses, her face right at the apex of my thighs. She kisses me there, over my g-string before continuing to stand.

  Then face to face, our breasts rubbing against each other, we grind our bodies together.

  “Now go dance on the left stage,” she whispers, pulling away.

  We part, each heading for a separate stage. I ignore the pole and drop to my knees at the end of the stage, right in front of Wes. With my hands flat on the stage behind me, I pump and swivel my hips for the men there.

  Hands touch me, shoving bills into the waistband of my g-string.

  I push up and turn, my back and ass now to them and bend forward. Once my hands hit the stage I start shaking my ass.

  Bills tickle my skin as they fall around me. Looking over my shoulder, I lock eyes with Wes. His hand moves, catching my attention and I watch as he palms his length through his jeans.

  I grin at him. I turn to watch them again and cup my breasts. Wes has all of my attention though and I sure as fuck have all of his.

  That’s when the song ends.

  Holy Shit.

  With as much grace as I can muster, I strut my ass back to the center of the catwalk. Cheri meets me there now also in just a g-string.

  Linking arms she turns us away from the crowd and then, following her lead, we both blow a kiss to all of them before walking off the stage.

  “You were a natural,” she gushes once we’re in the backroom, pulling bills from our g-strings.

  “That was maybe the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I murmur, internally freaking about the entire club seeing me like this.

  It’s one thing to be a freak after hours, it’s another thing if any of my friends or coworkers finds out. What if someone I knew was here?

  I start to c
hange back into my clothes but Cheri stops me.

  “You’re not done yet,” she says.

  “What?” I ask, my brows furrowing.

  She grins. “You have a private dance booked.”

  I gesture towards my bared breasts. “I’m supposed to walk out into that club like this?”

  She nods, and presses an envelope into my hand. “Make Wes hold this for you. It’s your take from what was on the stage. We fucking killed up there.”

  My eyes widen at the thickness of the envelope in my hand and I slip the bills I pulled from my g-string into it. “I’m not sure I deserve any of this.”

  She laughs. “Trust me, you do.” Then she leans in. “I was serious before about being interested in you. You ever want to take a ride on my tongue, you let me know.”

  She hasn’t changed, and for one brief moment I contemplate kissing her, my hands itching to cup her full breasts.

  Something, maybe Wes, makes me pull away. “Thank you.”

  She doesn’t say anything, or follow me as I square my shoulders and head back out into the club, this time on the main floor and not the stage.

  Thankfully, Wes is waiting for me. He doesn’t seem surprised when I ask him to hold the envelope for me. He takes my hand, leading me toward the opposite side of the club, where the private lap dance rooms are.

  As we pass Martinez, Wes hands him the envelope, and his keys, asking him to put it in the glove box of his car.

  “I’ll give it to you when we leave,” he explains once Martinez is gone.

  I shrug, the last thing I’m thinking about right now is that envelope. I’m currently focused on the fact that I’m standing in a crowded club in nothing but sky-high heels and a g-string. It’s equally terrifying and liberating.

  The men and women seated along our path do nothing to hide their stares. Their eyes roam my body, invitation clear in most of them.

  I’m not Nic, a girl who works in a gym right now. Nope, I am a living breathing sexual object. The club pulses with desire. If Wes wasn’t holding my hand right now I’m certain that more than half of the people we passed would have stopped me, and not to talk.