Pole Dance

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  Even my clothes seemed to have a mind of their own and were in on the plan to get me naked.

  $300.00 per session, my heart whispered.

  My hands were shaking as I forced my hands to release the fabric of my bra.

  I closed my eyes and released my hands while I attempted to arch my back in what I hoped was a sexy move and reached behind me to unclasp the traitorous holster that was already half-way off. Keeping my eyes closed, I deliberately pulled the straps over and off my hands, allowing the bra to slide to the floor before raising my arms as gracefully as possible in a dancing motion.

  Although in retrospect, I'm not sure I wasn't jerking around like a marionette stringed puppet.

  I swayed forward and allowed my hair to fall over my shoulders to partly conceal both my blush and my uncovered breasts. I opened my eyes and snuck a glance at Jake through the strands of my hair but he was still in the same position, chin to knuckles. Only his glowing eyes seem to be raking over my bare flesh, caressing my shoulders, breasts and exposed belly searing it with his regard. I could feel my nipples hardening even more as his gaze seemed to be drawn back to them again and again. I raised my arms higher and shimmied my shoulders softly to make my breasts bounce in what I hoped was an enticing manner and saw Jake's eyebrows raise in immediate response to my movement.

  I turned away, presenting my back again in time to the music, undoing the button on my skirt and pulling down the tab of my zipper. I was beginning to lose my nervousness and starting to feel the power within by exposing myself to this gorgeous man, who seemed to be enjoying all that was being displayed. That, and I remembered that I had worn my very best thong that matched my bra. Made of creamy ecru lace--they were the most expensive underwear I had ever owned and I knew they showcased my cleavage, ass and mound in their best light due to the subtle fit, delicate frills and satin panels.

  I again glanced over my shoulder as the music continued.

  Was that perspiration I saw on beading on Jake's forehead? Why were his fists clenched, knuckles white as his hands gripped each other so tightly while he watched me perform my dance for him?

  Emboldened, I stopped fiddling with the zipper of my skirt and reached behind to gently cup my ass cheeks while tossing my hair and peering over my shoulder.

  My eyes again caught on his.

  My muscles were tense, knees locked, as I continued to move my hips to the pulse of the music and inched the jean fabric up. Cool air caressed my thighs as I slowly dragged the denim hem higher until I could sense the lower cheeks of my bottom were out in the open.

  No lie, my panties were sopping as I exposed myself to his eyes. Acting on my You Tube lessons, I executed the 'wiggle', jiggling my ass-cheeks using only my thigh muscles. This was the only move I'd been able to practice in the privacy of my own place.

  And if the audible sound of Jake's inhale was any indication, my practice had paid off.

  I turned back to him and, grasping the waistband, slowly sliding the denim down my sleek, tanned thighs. Catching the skirt on my towering heels, I managed to kick it aside as I continued my dance. I turned back to him and stepped forward pressing my legs into the edge of his desk while doing a body roll with my hands over my head. I was almost naked except for the carefully crafted, though thoroughly saturated, scrap of lace that nestled between my legs as I continued to dance for this gorgeous man. My heartbeat was almost as loud as the music, as I rested my hands on his desktop arching my ass upwards to present my breasts to his searing inspection.

  And inspect me, he did.

  Thoroughly.

  I could feel, as I watched, his eyes marking me as he stared. Again and again his scrutiny touched my nipples and breasts as they quivered with my movements. I raised a knee to the desktop and then heard his soft groan.

  Stop", Jake murmured his voice velvet covered steel as he pointed the stereo's remote over his shoulder

  I didn't need to be asked twice since the ceasing of the music seemed to topple my bravado. Using my arm to shield my upper half, I crouched, ass to heels, as I groped for my carelessly removed skirt and top as fast as my fingers could tag them. My mind whirling with embarrassment, I was hit with the age-old quandary of top or bottoms first. Deciding that modesty was the better point of valor, I turned my back to Jake and shimmied back into my skirt, slithered into my top as fast as my fumbling fingers could move and managed to get both settled in place at record speed. While I had re-clothed myself in all undue haste, I was not so quick to face him.

  Taking a deep breath for courage, I slowly turned and dropped myself again into the leather of the visitor chair being very careful to not meet his eyes. What had come over me? How could I have degraded myself in both dancing and taking off my clothes for this perfect stranger? Sure, the money was a good incentive but doing THAT? Doing nasty things for nasty, albeit good, money is still getting paid to become mental fodder so some jerk could rub one off when they left the club.

  I sat waiting, watching my hands twisting and turning themselves in my lap.

  "Caitlin" Jake began slowly. "I don't think"

  "Listen," I cut in abruptly, glancing his direction but looking everywhere, anywhere, but at him. "I don't think this was a good idea. I mean the money just sounded too good to pass up and I really, really need it but I don't think I can do this. Renee can, but I'm just not comfortable with doing this," I waved my arms around his cavern of an office in an effort to show what 'this' meant. "And the thought of pervs eyeing me up or touching me even if it is just to tuck a tip in my g-string makes me kind of sick if you want to know the truth. I don't think I can do this. Really, I don't."

  I knew I was babbling, but I didn't care. "I really thank you for your time, uh, and your, ah, attention but I guess I should probably be going," I continued reaching for my well-worn, second-hand, faux-designer purse and thin jacket I had tucked underneath my chair previously. My eyes tried to spot any errant bit of clothing I had flung off in my abandon as I kept my mouth moving. Even though I knew I had clothes on, I didn't feel clothed. Spying a bit of ecru lace peeking from the corner of his desk, I again went ass to heels as I reached for and snagged my errant bra, stuffing it in the bowels of my over-sized purse. I straightened to a standing position on my borrowed skank-wear, thankful there was only a slight sway in my stance due to the help of the armrest of his visitor chair.

  "Thank you again for your, ah, time and, uhm, consideration," I said pointing my face in his general way as I clutched my purse and threadbare jacket to my unbound chest and side-stepped in a trajectory that I hoped was the right direction of the door.

  "Caitlin" I heard his voice again but the feel of the doorknob in my palm gave me a renewed sense of courage. I twisted the cold metal beneath my fingers and felt lightheaded at the thought of my impending release.

  "Thanks again," I called in what I hoped was a breezy tone, waving my hand over my shoulder, as I stepped into the corridor. My knees were still shaking and I clung to the railing as I climbed the carpeted stairs in my ridiculously-high, borrowed shoes before breaking through the ground floor door and making a sharp turn to the main doors that led to my freedom.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Jake sat still as stone while he listened to Caitlin's heels reverberate up the staircase.

  He could feel his eyes were those like a deer in the headlights as his brain tried to make sense of what he had seen, had witnessed.

  She was imprinted on his brain. Her body, her moves, the essence of her.

  "Fuck me," he muttered as he heard the heavy outside door slam when she was finally out of his club.

  The dull bam of the second portal at the top of the stairs seemed to release him from his stillness.

  Jake adjusted the jeans cutting into his groin, using a firm stroke down his burgeoning hard-on.

  Okay, now that was something.

  Something he hadn't anticipated.

  Something he was unprepared for but, Christ, it was hot.

  He pressed t
he intercom for Dale.

  Letting go of the button, he swore softly. What the fuck was THAT? As his motionlessness dissipated, Jake scrubbed his hands over his face and realized he was sweating.

  He waited for his right-hand man to appear and, while he waited, he tried to calm his breathing and rearrange his fully engorged cock to a more comfortable position since the earlier adjustment and stroke had only added fuel to his fire.

  Fuck, it had been years since he had gotten so aroused from just watching a beautiful woman dance or undress. But what he had seen in the last thirty minutes had enflamed him like nothing he could remember. Caitlin, in her determination to interview, had provided the most erotic visuals he had ever seen in his life. His heart was still stuttering and his cock was almost granite stiff.

  Sure, she was beautiful with a great body but Jake knew it was more than that. He had fucked more than his fair share of beautiful women, some with better bodies than hers. It was her innocence and the sweet that shone through in spite of the bravado that she used as a shield that had captured him. He knew she had been nervous, it was hard to miss. But, her courage mixed with the heady blend of unsophisticated sexiness had seized him from the moment she walked in. Which is probably why he had, without thinking about it first, asked her to get naked even though he had no intention of hiring her for any kind of job at the Club. Number one, she was too young and number two, this business would chew the sweet right off her and not in a nice way. Her thick hair and rounded curves had called to him from the moment she came through the door. Then when he was hit by her moves, unskilled, unschooled but fuckin' sexy as hell.

  The smell of her arousal and sight of her creamy, pink-tipped naked skin hadn't hurt either.

  "You rang?" Jake could hear Dale's soft voice questioning as he came through the heavy portal.

  Dale was one of the few people Jake could trust and had trusted since grade school. They had a history together that spanned decades and had been a constant in each other's lives. While they had pursued separate careers after high school, they had maintained contact and eventually had gone into business together; the Fuego Club being only one of their successful endeavors.

  Jake glanced at Dale, noting the well-pressed, buttoned-down shirt and dress slacks. Where Jake leaned towards the 'rock-star wanna be' look (as one of his ex-girls had labeled it), Dale completely embraced the 'young business man on the rise' style. From the top of his dark blonde, casually-though-expensively styled hair to the tip of his outrageously high-priced boots, Dale's worked a look that had every gold-digger in three counties panting for his attention.

  "We still got that P.I. on retainer?" Jake asked.

  "Sure, Rich's still doing the odd research for us when needed. What's up?" Dale leaned against the door crossing his arms.

  "Need him to research further than what's on this," Jake shot the paper across the desk. Unwinding himself from the door, Dale did a quick two-step to snag the sheet before it slid to the floor. He could see it was a one-page resume that only filled about a half of the 8 x 10.

  "We hiring?" Dale's eyes skimmed the paper noting the birth date and bold print of job titles. Raising his eyes to Jake's, he amended with a smirk, "We hiring underage, toilet-scrubbers?"

  Jake shook his head at the sarcasm in Dale's voice. They were both well aware of the laws and stayed strictly on the right side of them when it came to their businesses. They were successful and respected in all of their efforts for keeping within the guidelines of the city, county, state and federal mandates concerning each of their enterprises.

  "Do I smell…," Dale paused as he lifted his head after his short read-through and tipped his head up moving it from side to side, sniffing the air. "…Girl?"

  "Not a consideration even as a dishwasher," Jake chose to ignore the second question as he answered the first. "Contact Rich and ask him to run a full report on her. I want to know as much as possible in the shortest amount of time."

  "Okay, will do. Although, the timeframe will cost extra," Dale reminded him, letting his jibe go for the moment. Jake nodded, knowing that Rich would provide as much information as was available on Caitlin and, if Jake was willing to pay extra for speed, then the report would be in his hands ASAP.

  "We gotta do something about Fiona," Dale changed subjects while lowering himself into one of the leather chairs recently vacated by the lovely, steamy Caitlin. At Jake's stare, Dale went on. "She is again asking for more money and a cut of the drink tab during the hours for the nights she's on."

  Jake rolled his eyes thinking to himself for the millionth time that while the clients were a huge challenge in keeping a business running, it was the hired help that were a serious pain in his ass. Fiona was one of the dancers and one of the four headliners that they used on the poles. She was stunning with her layered red hair and long, luscious legs and even had a handful of devotees that never missed a performance. But Fiona thought she was worth a lot more than what she actually was, especially for the town she was in. True, she had placed third in the Pole Dancing championships of 2009 and for a long time, the club was happy to have hired her. But, Fiona was a diva with a capital D, insisting on her own makeup table, intimidating the new girls and showing up for her shifts late. Behavior she had started after she had finagled her way into Jake's bed soon after hiring on. Fiona also had developed a very nasty habit for demanding more money about every three months which started the week after Jake had ejected her from his life and her fucking diva-tantrums from his bed. Rumor had it that she was now tight with Hank, one of their bouncers, after screwing her way through most of the other male employees of Fuego's, with the exception of Dale.

  After a disastrous week long affair with their lead dancer back in the early days, Dale had learned his lesson. And made sure his buddy and business partner understood that neither one of them should ever, under any circumstance, bang the help. Since Jake hadn't shared his short-lived, Fiona fiasco with anyone, he was able to unblinkingly agree to the pact, a stance they had both since stuck to for the six years they had been in the business.

  "Got anyone ready to fill her spot?"

  "Nancy is ready to move up and Pam has been hinting that she'd like to try the stage instead of schlepping drinks," Dale replied. "But we cut Fiona loose we might lose Hank as well."

  Jake, though unsurprised, was still unhappy at the thought. Hank was a good man, and a great bouncer who had the uncanny ability to pick out which customer was prone to causing trouble with just a quick scan of the room and eradicating that trouble before it became an issue. He could escort an unruly customer outside as quickly and quietly as possible all the while murmuring in the customer's ear that they looked forward to seeing him next time. Meeting Jake's 6'4" height but being twice as broad through his chest, Hank had worked his way up through the security ranks of Fuego's. He was recommended for more shifts and more responsibility by Max, Jake and Dale's head of security. Max had even pushed for Hank becoming a part of the hiring and training of the new bouncers and, as a result, they had fewer problems than any of the rival clubs in the area.

  Losing Hank would be a much harder hit than losing Fiona.

  "Lose her at the next infraction and sweeten the pot for him," Jake said firmly. "Sound good?"

  "Worth a shot, anyway," Dale replied rising. "Anything else?"

  "Nope, meetin' with the realtor regarding the office above Buxby's." Jake snagged his keys from the desktop and began moving as Dale rose to feet, too.

  Dale knew that Jake was looking to expand their accounting business since business in that arena was booming. They had bought out the original firm a little over a year ago when the owner had died unexpectedly and were adding more clients daily based on the level of expertise the CPA's, those that had decided to stay with the new owners, were able to give. The area above the local, busy coffee house of Buxby's was huge and could hold twice as many cubicles as their present location--and at a cheaper rate. Dale knew that if it was what they needed Jake would ha
ve him take a look and then the decision would be made together. They both appreciated that the bedrock of their success was in the decisions that the two of them made and agreed on.

  Turning at the door, Jake asked, "You?"

  "Calling Rich regarding the toilet-scrubber, start my plan to scrape off Fiona the next time she fucking blinks wrong and doing everything in my power to keep Hank. Then, I'm getting busy with the pretty Penelope who's father owns four, count 'em four, used car dealerships. She's the princess of second-hand, man, and fancies herself a bit of a wildcat," Dale replied with a leer and wiggling his eyebrows.

  "Play nice, big guy, and get back to me when that report comes in, the minute it comes in, yeah?" Jake tossed over his shoulder with a grin as he opened the door and flicked his fingers in farewell.

  "Sure," Dale said softly wondering what was so intriguing that would have Jake investigating this particular girl and if it had anything to do with the wonderful aromas that were still wafting in the air. Catching the door before it could close, Dale steeled himself against the, sure as shit, world war three he would experience in firing Fiona's ass as he followed Jake up the stairs.