Bad Penny

by Staci Hart

  She rocked against my face, which I moved from side to side, nestling deeper into her still. Her fingers moved to her piercing, rubbing that bottom ball against her clit as her thighs squeezed, hips bucking. And when I hummed long and deep, she came against my tongue with a warm rush and a pulsing flex. With her thighs clamped around my ears, I couldn’t hear anything but her distant moaning, and I slowed, kissing her swollen, tender clit gently.

  Her body relaxed, and I lowered her back to the bed, my biceps on fire.

  Worth it.

  Her cheeks were pink as she pulled herself up to sit and got on her knees to climbed onto my lap, not stopping until our lips were a seam and her arms were around my neck.

  When she broke the kiss, she smiled wickedly and backed away, ending up on all fours in front of me.

  “Get up on your knees,” she ordered.

  I did, my heart banging, my cock throbbing when she licked her lips and crawled to me.

  Her hand found my base, and her lips opened, tongue extending to guide my head into her hot, wet mouth.

  I slipped my fingers into her hair, tugging off the headband so I could see her eyes as she looked up at me, her body a wave as she took the length of me into her mouth.

  She moaned.

  I hissed.

  Her eyelashes fluttered closed, and she got to work, chains swaying from the curve of her waist and hips, and my eyes traced every line from the tip of her nose to her heart-shaped ass.

  Heaven existed inside Penny’s mouth.

  My hips moved on their own, and she matched my rhythm, her hands on the bed, my eyes drinking in the sight of her on all fours with my cock in her mouth, and too soon, I was close.

  I pulsed in her mouth, my hand in her hair clenching in warning, and she backed away, letting me go with a pop.

  My heart beat so hard it hurt, my breath burning my lungs as she stretched out on the bed and motioned for me to follow, her hands reaching for my aching cock. I crawled up her body, and she took me in her hands.

  “Get up,” she whispered.

  I straddled her waist, leaning over to brace myself on the wall. Her hair was fanned out all over the pillow, her eyes hot as she gripped me with both hands and stroked.

  I was still so wet from her mouth. Her hands, gentle and firm, pumped and stroked, and my pulse raced. My hips sped. And when I came, my heart stopped from the act, from the sight of Penny, eyes closed and neck outstretched, hands around me, angling me to come in hot bursts all over her tattooed breasts, her collarbone, her neck, the chains.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Penny,” I whispered, the words ragged, my brain on fire and body burning from her touch.

  She opened her eyes and smiled, and I fought the urge to ask her if I could keep her forever.

  11

  WAIT, WHAT?

  Penny

  Things I would never in my life forget: the sight of Ramona wearing a penis crown and a greasy, gyrating bohunk in her lap, who held onto his cowboy hat and humped her to the tune of “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).”

  I was possibly going to die from laughing, and I had definitely snuck a photo.

  Veronica and I were chanting, Mona, Mona, as we threw money on the stage, which was ridiculous since we’d already paid to have her pulled onstage for public humiliation.

  When the song ended, we all cheered, and the banana-hammocked stripper offered a hand to help her stand and guided her to the stage stairs with a kiss on the cheek. She curtsied as she walked toward our group.

  The night had been a good one — heels were high, laughs were from the belly, and the drinks were cold and ample.

  Ramona was tanked.

  All was as it should be.

  We took our seats at the edge of the men’s stage, and I reached over to straighten Ramona’s tiny veil with bobbling dicks on springs around the tiara.

  She smiled at me, her eyes glossy and wet. “I love you, Penny.”

  “I love you too,” I said on a laugh. “Need another drink?”

  She nodded, grinning now. “Jameson on the rocks.”

  “I know what you drink, pumpkin.” I booped her nose.

  “You always take care of me, even when I’m a drunk bitch,” she said, motioning to herself.

  “Well, you take care of me literally all the rest of the time, so we’re even. I’m the lucky one. And I pay you back in the form of humping cowboys and Jameson!”

  Ramona giggled. “He was so hot. But not as hot as Shep.” She sighed. “How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

  “Well, for starters, you’re a fucking catch.”

  “So are you. And now you got caught by Bodie the fisherman with his giant pole.” She pretended to cast a fishing line from her crotch.

  I cackled, only a little freaked out by the thought. “You are so drunk. Let me get you even more drunker.”

  “More drunker!” she crowed.

  I flagged our waitress, who had on the most epic studded bra, thong, and garter set I’d ever seen. Like, so epic that I’d asked her where she got it and maybe bought it on my phone.

  Once I was settled back in my seat, the music changed as a new stripper came out dressed like a B-Boy. The song was by Machinedrum and totally obscure, which caught my ear and my eye. It was a sexy dubstep song I had on one of my playlists, and he immediately won points for originality.

  He was hot as fuck, gliding across the stage, popping and locking in the sexiest striptease known to woman.

  I sat at the edge of my seat, hands in the air as I danced in place, excitedly singing the words.

  B-Boy Johnny locked onto me with his lip between his teeth. He made his way across the stage to stop right in front of me and pulled off his shirt, rolling his body as he tossed it.

  And just like that, he was planking on the edge of the stage with his feet in the air and his face inches from mine.

  I laughed and sang the words to him, hoping he was harmless and/or gay. He spun away and danced some more, but he kept coming back to me like I was the center point of the universe, like the dance was for me.

  I didn’t even have any dollars for him; I’d given them all to Ramona.

  This fact did not deter him.

  A few minutes in, I felt a little squirmy — he was definitely not harmless or gay — so I turned to Ramona to give her all my attention, hoping he would get the hint. Instead of ignoring me like I wanted, he flipped off the stage and landed right in front of me, dancing in my direction until he had me pushed all the way back in my seat and was straddling me. So I let the man give me a lap dance like a good girl, slipping a couple of bucks someone had shoved in my hand into the waist of his pants.

  I mean, the guy had to eat, right?

  He spent the final two minutes of the song in my lap, taking my hand to run it down his chiseled chest and abs, and we laughed at the brilliant awkwardness of it all.

  A month ago, I probably would have gone home with him. But tonight? Tonight I wasn’t interested at all, and I couldn’t stop assessing him.

  He was tall but not as tall as Bodie. And he had a great smile, but his bottom teeth were a little crooked where Bodie’s were almost unnaturally straight, thanks to his orthodontist and those braces that had helped hide him from me years ago. Plus, B-Boy Johnny was missing that dimple that made me crazy. No way was he as funny as Bodie either. I knew almost without a doubt that Bodie ate better pussy.

  So I endured that lap dance like a champ as well as a little kiss on the cheek he gave me before he gathered up his clothes and cash and disappeared behind the curtain.

  Another guy came out, a gigantic, jacked motherfucker, who smirked and danced across the stage to R. Kelly, and I zoned out. Not my type. He was too … brunette.

  I frowned.

  He was too Not-Bodie.

  I was instantly uncomfortable, which instantly surprised me.

  Never in my life had I been with a man who no one could match up to. I’d never been with a man who was so easy to be with that I found mys
elf on a date with him without even realizing it. I’d never been with a man so much over such a short period of time and not gone insane or driven someone else insane.

  The whole thing was baffling and made me so uneasy that I needed to get up. To walk. To change the scenery.

  So I leaned into Ramona and grabbed some of her singles. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Be back.”

  “Don’t we have a waitress?” Her face quirked up like a cartoon character.

  “Yes, but I forgot something. I’ll be back. Just watch that.” I pointed to the stage, and she smiled.

  “Okay, hurry up!” she slurred, not taking her eyes off the stripper.

  I nodded to Veronica to make sure she knew she was in charge before heading deeper into the club.

  It was co-ed — really, most of the club was women with just a small stage for the wang. And as I walked through the club, I zeroed in on a girl with a superhuman bootie who was working her way up a side stage pole. When she did the splits with her crotch an inch from the ceiling and the pole wedged between her tits, my mouth hit the floor, and I cheered, hurrying over.

  “Shut up and take my money!” I called, waving a stack of dollars as I took a seat on the edge of her stage.

  The woman defied gravity. Her hair was long and curly, and she spun around that pole like it was easy, which I knew to be an absolute lie. I’d tried it once on a dare and had pole-burn for a week.

  I had no idea how long I sat there, but let me tell you this; when she got down on her knees in front of me and booty-clapped to 2Pac’s “Hail Mary,” my life was forever changed. I swear to God, I found Jesus in her G-string.

  Ramona materialized at my side. “What the fuck, Pen? What are you doing over here? You know I depend on you for supplementary entertainment at these things.”

  “Because, look.” I grabbed her by the chin and turned it so she could see the Booty-Clap Queen speak the gospel.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. That is incredible,” she said reverently.

  “I know. Plus, those guys were just meh.”

  “Just meh?” she asked, turning to look back at me like I was nuts. “You’re kidding, right? That breakdancer was hot enough to have made the cut for Magic Mike, and he wasn’t even gay. I’m about ninety-six percent certain he wanted to impregnate you.”

  I laughed. “I mean, he was okay. But he wasn’t like this.” I gestured to my new hero as she spun down the pole like a goddamn sexual siren.

  She giggled and grabbed my hand. “Come back over. It’s almost time for Annika’s lap dance, and you know the look on her face is going to be so fucking worth it.”

  I sighed and followed her back to the men’s stage, but she’d let my hand go before we got close, so I hung back for a second, watching my friends from afar.

  I felt so weird, so off. I was usually the one up at the edge of the stage, stuffing money in my bra so the only way the strippers would get paid was with their faces in my cleavage.

  But tonight it seemed kind of boring.

  In fact, I kept thinking about Bodie. I wondered if he could dance like any of these guys, and then I wondered if I could convince him to strip for me. I wondered if he would have liked my new mentor’s galactic ass as much as I had. I wondered if he would have been jealous when B-Boy Johnny was all up in my grill.

  I wondered if one of the ladystrippers had been on him, how I would have felt.

  And then I imagined pulling a stripper out of Bodie’s lap and shoving her, subsequently being escorted out of the club by security. It didn’t make me feel better. I mean, shoving an imaginary stripper who had dared to touch Bodie made me feel better, but the reality was that I felt a little tingle in my chest that scared the shit out of me. Feelings. Real feelings.

  Not-Bodie’s Armani cologne hit me before I sensed someone standing next to me.

  “Hey.”

  I turned to find B-Boy Johnny smirking at me, fully clothed, with his hat pulled down over his eyes.

  I bet he’s balding. Bodie’s hair could stop traffic.

  I smiled politely. “Hey. Good job out there.”

  “Thanks. I couldn’t help but notice you.”

  I laughed patronizingly and pointed at my head. “Yeah, it’s the hair. Kinda stands out.”

  “It’s not just that,” he said, slipping a hand around my waist. “You’re … I dunno. Different.”

  Johnny was apparently real wordy. And handsy.

  I chuckled and put a hand on his chest as I twisted out of his grip, itching to get away. “You’re sweet, but I have a boyfriend.”

  He was still smirking. “That’s all right. It’s just mind over matter, baby. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh again as I stored that one in my Come-On Lines folder. “I’m sorry. Have a good night,” I said as I walked away.

  My heart was banging. I had no idea what had gotten into me. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d turned a guy down who was hot and could move his hips like a fucking snake.

  But what nearly knocked me over was the fact that I’d called Bodie my boyfriend. I stopped dead in my tracks as that tingle in my chest worked down my spine.

  Wait, what?

  It wasn’t like I’d never lied and said I had a boyfriend just to get away from a guy, but that wasn’t what this was. When I’d said boyfriend, I’d meant Bodie. I had thought his name as clearly as if I’d spoken it. I had seen his dimple in my mind like my name was written in it. I’d felt his presence as if he were standing in the room with me.

  I didn’t want B-Boy Johnny because I wanted Bodie and no one but Bodie.

  I was so freaked out that I barely got to enjoy Annika’s lap dance by the hulkiest black man I’d ever seen outside of a Knicks game. He got so in her lap and in her face that I could barely see her around him. She was half-crying, half-laughing and wholly amused, though clearly uncomfortable. Her eyes were closed for a good portion of the show, which seemed to only egg him on.

  I had a sneaking suspicion that it was her first encounter with a stripper, which made it that much better. And I was too busy wigging out to get any mileage out of the jokes I’d been saving up to embarrass her with.

  Within an hour, we were stumbling out of the club, heading toward Shep and Ramona’s new place, laughing and chatting along the way. We stopped on our way to get pizza from a window booth, which was the only reason Ramona wouldn’t be puking her guts up all day the next day.

  And all the while, my thoughts were on Bodie, just as they had been all night. I didn’t think I’d said more than ten words since we left the strip club, and I used them all to order pizza.

  Somehow, I’d found myself in some sort of relationship without even realizing it, and I had no idea what that meant.

  Denial was a thing, and I was the queen of it.

  For weeks I’d been seeing him, and I’d had no desire to look anywhere else. He was smart and hot. He knew how to work my body almost better than I did, knew how to make me laugh and make me swoon and make me happy.

  Peggy was quiet. Probably too quiet.

  But from the jump, I’d said no commitment. From the start, I’d said we should talk if we caught feelings.

  Clearly, I’d caught feelings, and no amount of antibiotics would save me.

  I wondered if that meant I had to tell him, and my stomach dropped at the thought. I couldn’t — not yet. I mean, yet was such a dumb word to use because I didn’t know if I could ever. If I admitted it, it would be real. If I admitted it, things would change. And I didn’t want things to change.

  The pizza was like cardboard in my mouth as I walked in the back of the laughing pack.

  The real issue was that I didn’t know for certain that he had feelings for me too. I didn’t know if I made him feel as good as he made me feel. Whatever he felt — if anything — he kept on lock. He was totally blasé, super chill, reminding me over and over again that this was all for fun. Implying that it meant nothing.
r />   Me calling him my boyfriend definitely wasn’t nothing.

  I wondered just how he felt, if he’d call me his girlfriend if a stripper hit on him. The thought of asking him made me gag, and I tossed my pizza in the next trash can I came across. I didn’t want to know if he didn’t feel the same. I didn’t want whatever we had to end, not until it was inevitable. And the only way it would be inevitable was if I opened my big fucking mouth.

  Things were too good to blow it all up. So I’d keep it to myself for now, maybe forever. Because I didn’t want to lose him. Not yet, and definitely not tonight. Tonight I wanted to see him more than ever.

  I grabbed my phone from my clutch and texted him.

  Still up?

  My heart skipped when I saw him typing. I am. Working late. How was the strip club?

  Good. I had my mind blown by a stripper’s ass. I mean it. My whole universe was shaken.

  Learn any new tricks?

  I smiled. I don’t have nearly enough junk in my trunk to do what she did. I don’t have enough core strength either.

  Hahaha. What are you doing now?

  Well, now that I know you’re up, I’d like to be doing you.

  What do you know? My schedule just cleared.

  God, I was so into him, and I couldn’t even be mad about it.

  Be there in thirty.

  And as I put my phone away, I felt lighter. Because denial was a sweet, sweet place to be, and I’d stay there until I was dragged out, kicking and screaming.

  * * *

  Bodie

  I thought I’d be able to finish what I was working on before Penny came over, but there was no way. Instead, I bugged Jude and Phil while they worked, antsy out of nowhere.

  Penny did that to me. Made me crazy. Made me want things I couldn’t have. Every day it got harder to play it cool, harder to pretend. But until she was ready to talk about it, I’d keep it to myself.

  She knocked on the door, and I walked over, trying not to hurry, throwing my chill on at the last possible second.