by Casey Hagen
“This looks incredible,” Cassidy said. She raised her shot glass in the air and waited for the rest of them to do the same. “To Aurora…the first of our crew to take the fall. Bottoms up, ladies!”
Mabel Lee watched them gulp down the contents in one shot. She popped the cherry off the top and set it on her napkin before she took a small sip, testing the flavor.
“Girl, drink it…you need to loosen up,” Aurora said, nudging her elbow.
“Here goes nothing,” Mabel Lee said and took a large gulp. The liquor burned a pleasant trail down her throat, leaving a warm pool in the pit of her belly. Sweet with a bite, the flavor with a hint of cinnamon burst on her tongue. She gasped and licked the froth of butter rum from her lips.
“That a girl. Now, this one you sip slowly. Just like the white wine you love so much,” Cassidy said, handing her the chocolate drink with a dollop of whipped cream and another gleaming red cherry perched on top.
The cherry supply would be plentiful when it was time to make a fool of herself.
“I wouldn’t say I love it,” she said, not sure she liked the way Cassidy’s comment sounded.
“Your mama’s not here to overhear…admit it, you love the stuff,” Layla said in a hushed whisper.
Maybe it was the club, her friends all smiling at her, or maybe it was the liquid courage beginning to shoot like a rocket through her veins, but she bit her bottom lip, her mouth spreading in a wide smile. “Okay, yes, I love it.”
“Girl, wine is even in the bible. What is that verse? Be not drunk with wine or something, but be filled with the spirit? Mabel Lee, it’s time to be filled with the spirit.”
She sputtered out a laugh as her friend mangled the quote from Ephesians, and although they poked fun, she appreciated the way they tried to ease her trepidation.
A hush fell over a crowd. The room plunged into near darkness, and a heavy beat pulsated from the speakers.
The spotlight shot across the room and landed on the far corner of the stage.
Viper stepped out, each step cool and calculated. He kept his face turned toward the darkness, hiding his features. Shrugging his shoulders, he cocked his head from side to side, his suit jacket rising and falling over wide shoulders.
If they were anywhere else, she’d swear he was nothing more than a businessman home after a long day at the office.
Well, if arriving home were set to pulsing, sensual music. The kind that immediately made all reason and logic fly out of your head even as your hips started to following along with the sexy beat.
More lights flicked to life on the stage illuminating a standing shower with all glass doors, a chair, and what looked like a tall, dark bed peeking out from the partial shadows in the far back of the stage.
One quick spin and he skidded to a stop, earning a gasp from the crowd. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, like a man who knew exactly what he was doing to the ladies in the room.
That’s what made my heart slide right into my throat, the way he played with the crowd, subtle and confident.
He loosened the knot of his tie, sliding it away from his neck. With a quick yank, he dragged it over his head and tossed it onto the chair.
Mabel Lee glanced away and pressed her hands against her flaming cheeks while her heart raced wildly out of control.
The beat sped up, and she couldn’t resist the urge to look, just to find him shrugging off his suit jacket even as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his tan, chiseled chest.
Mixing his everyday movements with quick bursts of dance moves, he had the women around her sliding to the edge of their seats. Anything to get just a few inches closer.
She fidgeted with the straps of her purse as she sat riveted to her seat, the flex of his lean muscles mesmerizing her as he gave them a peek into the private life of a businessman home after a long day in corporate America.
Maybe he had personal plans later.
Maybe he planned a quiet night in.
In this voyeuristic moment, they could set their imaginations free and write any story.
“He is absolutely glorious,” Heather whispered with her drink trembling in her hand.
“He reminds me of Christian Grey…only better,” Aurora sighed.
Abs flexed and rolled with his sultry dance moves. She tried to imagine any of the young men of their parish who’d shown interest in her over the years looking like that under their clothes.
Or having those moves.
Not a chance.
With his dress pants undone but still clinging to his hips, he sauntered over to the shower, opened the door, and turned the water on.
The minute droplets hit his arm, the women in the crowd screamed.
He gave them a quick glance and a knowing smile, revealing straight, white teeth. A dimple popped up in his right cheek, and his intense, green eyes pierced like lasers through her armor and held her in its grip.
Lord have mercy; I might just be willing to dance with the Devil.
God, what was she saying? Even if she were willing to dabble in—well, what exactly? It’s not like she was going to even talk to the guy. She glanced away, her gaze landing on the list peeking out from the purse in her lap. Taking a look around the room, every female eye in the place remained glued to the stage while staff milled about, cleaning up empty glasses and filling drink orders.
She could knock one off the list now while she didn’t have an audience. All she had to do was lock eyes with one of the waiters and lick the cherry, right?
Or was she supposed to run the cherry over her cleavage. Darn it, she couldn’t remember. She reached in her bag and felt around for her phone. Tucking it under the table, she woke the screen and looked for the setting to turn on her flashlight.
She knew she should have learned how to use the darn thing when she got it. Now, here she was, having an emergency of the wanton kind with temptation sliding off his pants right there on stage, and the setting was nowhere to be found.
Aha! Found it!
The light flashed on, and she fumbled the phone in her hands, shooting the beam right in her eye.
The cell clattered to the floor, and she glanced at her friends, but their eyes remained glued to the stage.
Okay, she’d fly blind. That was fine. Eat a cherry, lick a cherry, it was all the same thing. As for the cleavage, she glanced down. Okay, no dragging the cherry across there. She’d be sticky the rest of the night.
With a waiter sidling into view, she tried to catch his eye, holding the cherry up toward her mouth, waiting for just the right time to lick.
He glanced over.
She darted out a tongue and caught the cherry full-on instead of grazing it. It swung back and smacked her on the chin. She lost her grip, and the cherry fell away, landing with a cold plop between her breasts just above the bodice of her dress.
With juice dripping on her chin, a cherry stem popping out from the top of her cleavage, and humiliation setting her skin aflame, she realized she hadn’t even managed to get his attention. Instead, he focused on something past her.
But behind him, on the stage, with nothing more than a white towel locked in the tight fist at his hip, Viper spotted her, tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, let out a grin, and gave her a wink.
Heaven help me.
2
Kellen Savage went through the motions by rote. After all, he shed his clothes nightly so all he had to do now was slow those movements down, make them calculated and a little more sexy than he would in the privacy of his own home, throw in a few of the favorite dance moves he had in his arsenal, and watch the wads of cash emerge from purses far and wide.
After years dancing, the nights on stage blended together. The sea of faces all looked the same. Eager women. Stressed. Maybe a little neglected in their love lives.
All in desperate need for pure, wild fun.
There was a time he’d take one or two of them home for the night…in the early days when the free-for-all of
women seemed like the ultimate buffet.
But now, they all resembled one another, sounded like one another, and stimulating conversation? Not likely.
Did he still get a kick off the fact they adored him? Well, yeah.
What guy couldn’t use an ego boost like that?
And then there was that one.
The one in the blue dress who looked like a cross between school marm and 1950’s housewife clearly out of her element if the way she had just bobbled that cherry now sticking out of her cleavage was any indication.
Mortified eyes met his. The color drained from her face and splotches of red formed high on her pale cheeks.
She looked ready to flee, the women surrounding her oblivious to her humiliation and discomfort.
His gut twisted. He knew that look. He’d been there. Stripping had never been the plan, but necessity when life had turned to shit leaving him broke and on the verge of homelessness.
And the first time…okay, the first ten times, he’d just about had a coronary when that sea of eyes locked on him.
He had to give her credit; she didn’t make an attempt at escape. She had guts, and he admired that.
Maybe that meant she just needed time to get…acclimated.
He gave her a wink and a quick smile of reassurance and turned his focus once more to his routine.
He had money he needed to bring in, and this month to the tune of 4K. He wouldn’t make that happen if he gave all his attention to the only women in the house who actually managed to incite intrigue.
The shower had been rigged with a tank in the back, giving him only a handful of minutes to work his magic under the spray and give the ladies a voyeuristic glance.
Hell, what woman didn’t prefer a man wet? Jay had done him a solid and made sure the water was just right so it didn’t burn the shit out of Kellen’s skin, but it was hot enough to have steam billowing inside, fogging up the doors enough to obscure the naughty bits.
Sitting just outside the city limits, the town and county were in a tug of war over who had jurisdiction to enforce laws about nudity. Right now, they had the green light to go full nude.
He’d take every opportunity to earn another dollar.
The other guys spent hours grooming for this shit.
Shaving, or worse, waxing? Fuck that noise.
He trimmed, kept things neat and tidy, but other than that, what you see is what you get with Viper.
The ladies got muscles he’d earned on job sites instead of endless hours at the gym. Good genes helped too.
He’d learned over the years, as much as this was all fantasy, women gravitated toward something they could rationalize as more real. They wanted to feel the magic, the heat, the possibility of maybe turning fantasy into real life.
Water sluiced over his body. He tipped his face back and closed his eyes, letting the spray soak him from head to toe.
Jay had hung a tri-folded towel over the metal rod affixed to the glass facing the audience. The terrycloth didn’t hide a whole hell of a lot, but while the steam slowly clung to the inner walls, it hid his junk from view.
For now.
He was a make-the-ladies-wait kind of guy.
Was she watching? The real-life Juliet with the shocked but curious eyes in the audience, so out of place among the ravenous women cheering around her.
Had her gaze locked on his wet skin? Did she want to see more? Was she afraid? Embarrassed?
He glanced down, surprised to see his cock waking up to the thought of her eyes locked on him.
Down boy. Thick is okay, but if you stand in salute, we’re going to have a talk.
Casual movements. Look like you’re not working for it. Less is more.
The music ramped up. The beat taking on a new life.
And here was the tricky part. Stay wet, but not so wet he took a header off the stage into the laps of women in the front section. He really should have given this more thought. If he made it through without landing on his ass, he was heading straight for the bar.
Wrapping the small, white terrycloth around his hips, he formed a knot that he could easily tug free when the time came.
Working his way to the one end of the stage, he knelt down to the cheering women and smiled.
Hands reached out and roamed his chest before fingertips danced toward the edge of his towel.
Bring on the bills, ladies, and I’ll keep bringing the hip thrusts.
The blonde in front of him caught a glimpse behind the towel and licked her lips.
Yeah, not going to happen, but you can worship with your eyes all you want.
Kneeling before her, he smiled, leaned back, and rolled his abs. She slid a folded twenty in his towel, her fingers dipping dangerously low and lingering.
He knew damn well he could get another twenty out of her. He wiggled his eyebrows, bit his lip, and slid his fingers through her hair. Sure enough, she pulled another big bill from her bra.
With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, he slid away as a sigh slipped from her lips.
He didn’t know what made him look back at Juliet. Maybe it was the way she looked so damn different than the women in the crowd with her shiny, auburn locks streaked golden highlights falling over her shoulder in tidy waves.
No tousled bedroom hair for her. Instead, she had a classy retro look about her that made him wonder where she’d come from, what her story was, how her skin would feel under the palm of his hand.
Whoa. Down boy.
Down.
No fucking the clientele. Not anymore. That shit is for amateurs, and you’ve seen too much bullshit to go down that road.
He worked his way around the stage, getting closer to her with every move, with every caress of an excited woman screaming for more, but just before he arrived at their table, he danced off to the other side.
Saving the best for last.
For himself.
And maybe a bit for her.
He cast a couple more glances in her direction while he worked for the bigger bills and spotted her studying a piece of paper clenched between her hands.
Apparently, he was totally forgettable in her orbit. Disappointment settled in his stomach. He shook his head. It was job. He’d do good to remember that.
Get your head on straight, Savage. Jesus.
Cheers filled the air as the women grew restless with impatience. There was only one thing he could do for that: give the crowd what they wanted.
Hopping to his feet, he sauntered dead center, his hand over the edge of his towel. The table of ladies surrounding Juliet laughed and kept their eyes locked on his waist and all points south.
Juliet stared at her glass, that blush blooming again on her cheeks, her breasts straining against the fabric of her dress with each jagged breath.
She glanced up at him through the lashes of her half-lidded gaze, and her lips parted on a gasp.
He tugged the knot, lost the towel, and tossed it into her lap.
Her eyes shot open wide. Her fingertips dug into the terrycloth, and her tongue darted out to lick her lip.
So the good girl had a naughty side to her.
Unfortunately, he had that pesky personal rule.
A rule that he might just consider breaking.
“Lord have mercy,” Layla whispered with her eyes glued to the stage.
More specifically, the very naked, very real warm-blooded man on the stage.
“And Mabel Lee managed to get his towel,” Cassidy said with a pout. “I’m jealous.”
Mabel Lee took a long sip of her drink, the alcohol going straight to her head. Clutched in her lap…warm terrycloth. The straw popped out from between her lips, and she hiccupped.
Then giggled.
“These are yummy,” she said, the words sounding thick and muffled to her own ears.
“Girl, go easy. I opened a tab with my credit card, and they rewarded us by being heavy on the liquor. The last thing we need is to peel you off the floor.”
“Or of
f him. The girl looks like an entranced sacrificial virgin,” Cassidy said with a note of uncertainty, and maybe pride.
Or maybe Mabel Lee just imagined that whole pride thing. “I’m fine. Totally fine,” she said, glancing back up at the stage. Viper had moved away again, his attention on a freckled redhead who kept trying to lick his abs.
I want to lick his abs.
“Mabel Lee!” Heather said, whipping around to face her.
Uh oh. She might have said that out loud.
“Girl, you are so going to regret those loose lips in the morning,” Layla said with a smile, taking a sip from her own glass.
So she’d trade one regret for another. At least she wouldn’t be going home wishing she had the nerve to say what was really on her mind.
She’d always wanted to be like them. They’d always know the right clothes to wear, the right attitude in any situations, and they possessed the inane ability to not only be articulate, but assertive. Exotic creatures, confident in their sexuality, bold and fearless when it came to taking risks.
The biggest risk Mabel Lee had taken was when she’d sewn extra interior pockets into her uniform to sneak eyeshadow and lip gloss into school. If only she’d been good at remembering to wash it off before she got home. After the fourth time, her mama threatened to remove her from Willette High and put her in an all-girls private school.
Cassidy, Aurora, Heather, and Layla had started calling her Maybelline, a nickname that stuck clear through graduation. They’d also warned her she’d better walk the straight and narrow with her mama for the time being or else she might just find herself secluded from guys until she graduated college.
The thought of how well her mama had done just that despite not putting her in a private school had her picking up her glass once again, hiccups be damned.
The music died down, and Viper reached for the curtain. With one last look in her direction, a final flash of muscle and sinew from head to toe, and that round, perfect backside drawing her gaze, he slipped into the darkness.
She’d never caught the eye of the hot ones. Not once. She’d gone through life in a cloud of hunk repellent made up of one percent 14KT gold cross around her neck, seven percent high neck blouses covered with a Jesus Loves Me sweater, and ninety-two percent library voice.
