Viewing Room

by L. P. Dover

  “What are you doing later?” the one on the left asks, grabbing my hand to hold me there.

  I shake my head and lean in. “My wife.”

  The word falls easily from my lips, even though it was unexpected. Kennedy asked me to prove myself to her and while she’s not here, this is the first step. Before meeting Kennedy, I would’ve easily told this woman where to meet me if I were interested, but even those encounters were few and far. Kennedy is the only one that I have hooked-up with right from the club. It was spontaneous and the best sex I’ve ever had. I can’t imagine anything or anyone would be better.

  The rest of my night is much like this, women asking to hook-up only for me to tell them no. I don’t feel bad in the sense that I’m letting them down. What feels bad is the ache in my dick because all night I’ve done nothing but think about Kennedy and the way she tastes and how she looks when she’s riding my cock. Unfortunately for me, my dick is about to become acquainted with Rosie and her five sisters because there’s no way in hell I’m going to fuck shit up if Kennedy is willing to give me a chance.

  Late nights are a way of life at Society X, and for the most part working the weekends—Thursday through Saturday—are enough to sustain my income. Occasionally, I go in during the week and cover for someone, but the tips aren’t as good and for me to drive across the bridge doesn’t always seem worth it. Besides, I have a life outside of the club. I’m trying to better myself so I can give up stripping someday. So when I see my phone screen light up with SX’s employee number, I cringe. The last thing I want to do is go to work.

  “Yeah,” I say quietly as I answer my phone. My friends glare at me for answering during our conversation, and people around me glare at me for interrupting them, leaving me no choice but to seek out some privacy.

  “You’re booked in the viewing room tonight at six for a strip tease,” Jen, our scheduler, states matter-of-factly. No asking if I want the gig or not, it’s be there or lose my job. I want to ask who booked it, but she won’t tell me. Hell, I don’t think she even knows.

  “I’ll be there.” And that’s the end of our conversation. She hangs up, knowing that at six tonight I’ll be in the viewing room ready to take my clothes off. I just hope that it’s Kennedy. Looking at my phone, I see that it’s already late and I have to leave now in order to make to the club in time to shower and get ready.

  I head back to my friends and by the expression on some of their faces they know I’m leaving. “Sorry, gotta run.”

  “Is she really that important?”

  I pause, mid-step, and nod. “Yeah, she is.”

  When I first started working at Society X, I didn’t know what to tell my friends, so I told them that I’m having an illicit affair with a married woman. While it’s not far from the truth, it was better than the alternative. They still don’t know what I do for work and when a couple of the guys talk about hitting up strip clubs I shy them away from SX. The last thing I need is for one of them to see my car, or decide to take in the guy’s side instead of the ladies.

  As soon as I arrive at the club, I rush in and start my prep. A strip tease is easy and it’ll be a piece of cake if it’s with Kennedy because my clothes will just want to fall off. Hell, I can ask her to take them off if I wanted, but where’s the fun in that? I want to see her eyes widen when I start playing with my dick and it hardens just for her. Fuck, right now he’s jumping with anticipation knowing he’s about to see her.

  Dressed in a button down, jeans, and leaving my feet bare, I wait for the clock to strike six before pressing play on the playlist I set up after I arrived in hopes that it’s Kennedy waiting for me. Keith Sweat’s “Nobody” starts playing and I step out, stalking toward the chair I know that is sitting on the middle of the stage. The last time I was in here, I had her on a bed and that’s where I plan to fuck her the next time we’re together. I welcome the sounds of the headboard banging against the wall while her nails dig deep into my flesh as she tells me to fuck her harder.

  When my client comes into view my dick springs to life. I try not to smile, but I can’t help it. She did what I asked and now I’m going to perform for her. Walking up to her, I bend down and lean into her, licking from her neck to her ear, biting down on her lobe before backing away from her.

  Moving to the music, my hips sway back and forth while my fingers work the buttons of my shirt. I pull it open it up and go back to her and straddle her legs, thrusting my hips toward her in rapid motion before backing away from her.

  I thought dancing for her would be easy, but it’s not. I want to rip her clothes off and ask her to sit on my face so I can bask in her glorious pussy, but this is what she asked for and I have to deliver. I can’t have an unsatisfied client.

  I make my way back over to her, popping each button on my jeans to the beat of the music. The song shifts into “Blurred Lines” and Kennedy sits up straighter, making me laugh. My hips shimmy as I push my jeans down, letting them pool at my feet before kicking them away. She licks her lips at the sight of my erection trying to push through the cotton of my Society X briefs. Leaning over her, I palm my dick and give it a tug, pulling my underwear far enough away that she can see my flesh. I want her to fucking touch me without being prompted to do so.

  I push forward, stimulating that I’m fucking her. It’s not enough for me. And when the song switches to “I Want your Sex” I stand up in front of her and take her hand in mine, roaming it over my body. Her nails trail along my skin, over my abs, and through my happy trail, causing my dick to get harder than it already is. When she brushes along the outline of my cock he twitches with desire.

  “See what you do to me, Kennedy? No one else has ever done this before.” I grind into her hand, enjoying the feeling of the foreplay she’s offering. I know to her they’re just words, but they are the truth.

  Unable to hold back, I stand and drop my briefs. There I am, in all my glory for her to see. She licks her lips, eyeing me then my dick. All she has to do is say when and I’ll put him inside her and fuck her until she sees stars. The ball is in her court, waiting patiently for the word.

  Standing in front of her, I take her hands and place them on my bare ass, letting her squeeze my cheeks and pull them forward until she’s double handing my fucking erection. She gives him a light tug, causing me to hiss.

  Kennedy pumps her hands over my flesh as I stand in front of her. “You do this to me,” I tell her again as I thread my fingers through her hair. I would never say this to another client, nor would I let them touch me unless it was specific on the schedule. My attraction to her doesn’t have me thinking straight and will likely cost me my job.

  Her tongue snakes out, licking the tip of my dick.

  “Fuck, Kennedy,” I say quietly as my grip on her hair tightens. “Do you want me to fuck your pretty little mouth, or that delicious pussy of yours?”

  She doesn’t answer because she doesn’t know. My words are foreign to her, solidifying the fact that her husband had no idea how to make her feel like a woman.

  Thrusting into her hands, I make the decision for her. I can get by with a hand job, but come Thursday night I’m spreading her out on my bed and feasting on her delectable body. And if she wants to keep things chaste and see how they go, she can watch me jack off. Just having her in the room is enough to make me blow my fucking wad all over the place.

  When my music stops, I groan and her hands freeze. I reach down and cup her between her legs, thankful that she wore a fucking skirt. My fingers easily find that she’s dripping wet and slide in while my thumb presses down on her clit.

  She starts fucking panting while gripping my dick. Her tiny mewls keep me going until her pussy squeezes the shit out of my two fingers.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I say into her ear as it only takes her seconds to come. I keep my fingers inside her, loving the way she feels. “Thursday night, Kennedy. I’ll wine and dine you, and you can guarantee I’m going to I’m fuck you so hard you won’t be able to wa
lk into work on Friday.”

  She looks sated and ready for round two when I pull away from her. I kiss her chastely on the lips and disappear quickly behind the curtain to finish off my raging dick. It doesn’t take me long to release, ending what had to be the most erotic strip tease I’ve ever done.

  When I walk out of Society X, I’m breathless and flushed. My underwear is soaked and I’m dying for more. What is it about Hunter that makes everything inside of me feel alive? The whole idea of Society X is exhilarating and sexy, but kind of dirty and creepy all at the same time. With that being said, why am I loving every second of it? I should be dating a respectable man, not a stripper. But there’s something about Hunter I can’t get enough of. He’s wild and dangerous, but his eyes show a whole other side to him. Maybe I’m imagining there’s more to him, but I’m going to find out.

  My lips still tingle from Hunter’s kiss as I walk out to the parking lot. I made sure to park beside his car when I pulled in. It’s a silver Nissan 370Z, and it just looks like something he’d drive. Reaching into my purse, I pull out my small, sticky notepad I always carry around to write notes on. Being a lawyer, I have to be prepared for anything. I write my phone number down and slide the note under his windshield wiper. I was tempted to slip my number down his underwear, but the second I saw him, all thought went out the window.

  I get in my car and start on my way home. Our date is still three days away, but a part of me doesn’t know if I’ll be able to wait that long. My phone rings in my purse and when I pull up at my house, I realize why. Getting out of his car is my ex-husband with his phone in his hands. It’s strange to think that we’ve only been officially divorced for a short amount of time, but it feels like it’s been longer. What we had fizzled out many years ago.

  I pull into my garage and Aaron is right there to open the door for me. “Thanks,” I say, getting out of the car.

  I can’t help but stare at him. He looks different from the last time I saw him. His dirty blond hair is a bit longer and gelled and he’s wearing a pair of worn out jeans with a snug T-shirt. Maybe I’m not the only one making changes. I’ve never seen him so laid back.

  “You’re looking good, Aaron. The single life suits you.”

  He smiles. “So do you. Did you work late?”

  I shake my head, trying not to think of Hunter’s hands all over my body. “I had an appointment to go to.”

  “Ah, I see. Do you mind if I come in for a minute? I can’t seem to find one of my thumb drives. I think it might be in the office.”

  “Sure.” He follows me into the house that we both used to share together. The office was completely his when we were married and I have yet to walk in that room. I never have time to do anything but work, and that’s always at the firm.

  Aaron walks down the hall and disappears into his office. “How’s work going for you?” he calls out.

  “Great. You?”

  I go to the kitchen to get some water and I can hear him rummaging around in his old desk. “Couldn’t be better. I got a promotion last week.”

  “Aaron, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” Aaron is an accountant that handles large corporate accounts in downtown Portland. He’s a hard worker and has been striving to get a promotion for years.

  With a wide grin, he joins me in the kitchen, holding the missing thumb drive in his hand. He looks so much younger now. Getting a divorce is probably the best thing that ever happened to us. “It’s a good feeling, Kennedy. When I found out, the first thing I wanted to do was call you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I sit my glass of water down and stare at him.

  He shrugs. “We’re not together anymore. I need to get used to that.”

  “Just because we’re not married doesn’t mean you can’t share your good news. We’ve known each other for years, Aaron. I don’t want us to cut ties completely.”

  “I know,” he replies, averting his gaze, “but when we start seeing other people, it might be awkward for them.”

  I study him for a second and it doesn’t take long to figure out why he appears so sheepish. “Are you interested in someone?” I ask.

  He looks over at me and sighs. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Why not?” I couldn’t be happier for him.

  “I was afraid you’d think I was seeing someone when we were married. I stayed faithful to you until the very end.”

  My eyes burn and I hug him. It’s the first time we’ve touched in months. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m happy for you, Aaron. We both deserve to be happy.”

  He lets me go, his warm green gaze staring into mine. “What about you? Have you been seeing anyone?”

  Hunter comes to mind and the last thing I want to say is that I’m messing around with a stripper and having sex in cars. “Kind of,” I answer. “It’s still all new so there’s nothing really much to say.”

  He breathes a sigh of relief. “I hope it goes well for you.”

  “Same to you,” I murmur.

  We hug again and he lets himself out of the house. It feels good to know he’s moving on just like I am. For years, I knew we weren’t really compatible, yet I felt safe with him. We had some good times, but there was no spark, no passion. Passion is a must.

  My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my purse.

  Hunter: I’m ready for Thursday.

  Me: So am I. What are we going to do?

  Hunter: Wear something nice. I’ll pick you up at 6.

  Hunter: Make sure to give me your address.

  I text him my address and smile. Something nice, huh? I’m curious to see where a guy like him will take me.

  For the next three days, Hunter and I text back and forth, just simple messages about our days. He keeps asking what I’m doing and I’m not about to tell him I’m busy running my own law firm. I don’t want him knowing that stuff yet. Until I see he’s serious about being with me, I’m not disclosing all of my personal details. My phone beeps and I look down at it.

  Hunter: On my way.

  My heart races as I finish up my make-up with a light shade of lipstick. Hunter requested that I wear something nice so I put on a sleeveless, black dress that hits just above my knee. It flares out at the hips, which makes it sexy but flirty. I decide to do something different with my hair and put it in waves down my back. By the time I inspect myself in the mirror, the doorbell rings. Taking a deep breath, I grab my purse and keys and slowly walk to the door. When I open it, my mouth gapes.

  “Wow.”

  Hunter stands there, dressed in a dark, gray suit with his hair perfectly coifed. His lips pull back in a small grin as he looks me up and down. “I could say the same thing. You look beautiful,” he says, taking a step closer. His hand closes over my hip and he leans in to kiss me. I freeze in place, in awe of how professional and distinguished he looks. “Can’t speak?” he asks with a laugh.

  I step back to gaze at the whole package. “I’m just shocked. Looking at you, I’d never guess you were a stripper.”

  His smile slightly fades. “That’s not all I am, Kennedy. There’s more to me than that. That’s why I wanted to take you out tonight.” He holds out his arm. “Ready?”

  After locking the door behind us, I take his arm. He escorts me to his car and he opens the door. “Thank you,” I say. He’s really impressing me and I like it. We head down the highway and it looks like we’re staying in the Vancouver vicinity. He turns off an exit, which leads us to the nicer part of the city.

  “Did you have a good day?” he asks, sneaking a glance over my way.

  I smile. “I did. I left work early for the first time in years.”

  “I feel special then. What do you do for work?”

  I’ve already rehearsed this in my mind. I hate not telling him the truth, but I have to be careful. “I’m an office manager for a firm here in Vancouver.”

  “Nice. I assume you work a lot of hours?”

  If he only knew. I don’t really want to spend the
night talking about me. “Just a little. It’s a demanding job. What about you? What do you do during the day when you’re not working at the club?” I ask, hoping to switch the subject.

  He pulls into the parking lot at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. I’ve eaten at it a couple of times, but it’s not the kind of place a man will take a first date. Chuckling, he taps my chin and I close my mouth. “I’m in college, Kennedy.”

  “What?” I gasp, turning to face him. “What are you in school for?”

  He smirks. “Business. I told you I wasn’t just a stripper. The money helps pay for my tuition.” One of the valet attendants opens my door and I get out, completely in shock. Maybe there is more to Hunter. The attendant hands him the valet ticket, and then he reaches for my hand as we walk into the restaurant. “Are you shocked?” he asks, glancing down at me.

  “A little. I assumed stripping was your passion.”

  He shakes his head. “Hardly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun at times, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

  We walk up to the hostess and her eyes linger on Hunter a little longer than necessary. She’s probably seen him on stage, which makes me a little jealous that others have enjoyed him like I have.

  “We have a reservation,” he tells her. “It should be under Hunter Miles.”

  So his last name is Miles. I’m learning more and more about him. The hostess takes us to our table and hands us a set of menus. We sit across from each other and I smile. “Miles, huh?”

  He grins. “I figured you were going to find out sooner or later.”

  Our waiter walks up, a young man with dark brown hair and glasses. “Good evening. Can I get you both something to drink?”