The club is dark and empty except for a man sitting on the circular couch that faces one of the few poles. Every club and casino has stage dancers that stay fully clothed. I suppose they’re for entertainment, or meant to entice you to spend more money. For a stripper, these women get the men horny enough to walk down the road to the actual strip club where they’ll drop thousands of dollars on us. And we very much appreciate the business.
Music starts from somewhere in the club and now I know I’m dancing for two. Maybe even three because when I look at Finn, who is kicked back with one arm on the sofa and a drink in his hand, I realize there has to be a bartender somewhere.
I know what to do. This is my life. The music. The stage. The pole. For ten years I’ve mastered the art of taking off my clothes and tonight I’m going to show Finn exactly what he paid for.
Untying the trench coat, I let it fall to the ground as I take the steps one at a time, crossing each foot in front of the other so Finn can watch the sway of my ass. My hand grabs the cool metal of the pole and something comes alive within me. I lean back, letting my hair cascade and swing around before lifting myself up and performing a mid-air split. Each time I turn, I look Finn in the eyes, making sure he’s watching.
Moving to the beat of the music, I let my hands roam over my body. My hips move, thrusting toward the pole, hissing at the contact every time I meet the cool metal.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
When I don’t answer him, he asks again.
“Like what?” I challenge.
“The way the pole feels against your pussy. Do you like that? Does it turn you on?”
Again, I don’t answer him with words but with actions. I slide down the pole, never breaking eye contact with him. With my hands on my knees, I pull my legs apart so he can see my pussy and I thrust my hips, showing him everything as if this is the first time he’s seeing me. Finn leans forward and rubs his thumb across his lower lip, causing my insides to ache. He’s feasted on me, repeatedly. He’s made me come on his face and his tongue just by the stroke of his fingers. Finn is masterful when it comes to sex, bringing me to the brink over and over again until the ache is too much to bear. He’s there when I fall apart, taking in every second, relishing in the victory.
Finn leans back against the couch and undoes his pants. I watch as my hips continue to move to the music. His cock springs free and now it’s me who’s licking my lips, remembering the taste of him.
The first stroke is slow, methodical. He’s showing me his length as if I haven’t seen him before, as if I haven’t had him buried deep within my walls, bringing me an immense amount of pleasure.
He beckons me with a finger, and each step I take toward him is the same as when I walked up onstage. One foot in front of the other, slow and purposeful. I stand before him, watching as he moves his hand up and down his shaft, and my hands roam my body, staying in time with the music playing overhead.
I cup my breasts, my erect nipples scream out as I pinch and massage them. I continue to dance for Finn, turning around and bending over, letting my hand roam over my ass, pulling my cheeks for him. If we had more time together, I have no doubt he’d fuck me there and I have no doubt I’d let him.
When the music stops, I stand and face him, only to find him rolling a condom over his erection.
“Shame,” I say as I let my finger linger over my tongue. “I wanted to suck you, Finn. I wanted to feel your cum drip down my throat.”
“In due time,” he responds as he holds his dick between his fingers. “Right now I want your pussy wrapped around my cock.”
Straddling him, I hover over his tip, brushing my wet pussy back and forth as I look into his eyes, wondering how he turned out to be jaded and afraid of love. He stares back, waiting. Waiting for me to impale myself on his dick. And when I do, when I finally feel him enter me, I’m lost in a sea of blue eyes that come to life.
The same blue eyes that I stare into each night; the ones he’ll never know about.
16
Finn
My muscles burn. They ache when I try to move. Sex this week with Macey has been amazing, but last night was explosive. Earth shattering. The sting from her nails digging into my skin is a stark reminder of what we’ve been doing these past twelve hours. I can still hear her call out my name, begging me for more. I thought I was going to lose it completely when I laid her gently on the bed and made love to her, an action and feeling I never thought I was capable of until a few hours ago. My body took over as I moved into her, creating a slow and deep rhythm. Our eyes stayed locked and our mouths were inches from each other as her hands gripped everything from the sheets to my sides and finally my face. Her lips beckoned me. Her tongue teased me, telling me I want a taste. And I do. I’ve never felt this deep urge to kiss someone until now. Yet, I can’t bring myself to kiss her.