Operation: Stripped & Stranded

by E Kay Sims

  “Fuck,” Gil laughed, “you don’t waste time, do you?” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, alright. I get the hint. I can entertain myself. Message me when it’s over in fifteen minutes.” His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he held back more laughter.

  “To be fair, she was mortified. You know I can’t help my size, and I think I scared the shit out of her. I didn’t even catch her name before she charged out of there like I was a murderer or rapist.” I chose to ignore his ‘fifteen-minute’ remark.

  In high school, Gil had ideas in his head that I was some kind of lady’s man. Whatever.

  “So, your theory is, I attract the women now and you repel them? That’s not how I remember it. Kylie still holds a torch for you. She’ll be heartbroken when I tell her about your new lady.”

  “Fuck you! She’s not my ‘new lady.’ And I refuse to date my best friend’s sister. Anyway, I wouldn’t date Kylie even if she wasn’t your sister. That girl is shameless. I had to pry her off me with a crowbar. She needs to find the right guy for her, and I’m not him.” I didn’t want to insult his sister, but damn, the girl was like a sex-starved, man-eating shark.

  “When you’re right, you’re right. Catch you later.” Gil clapped me on the shoulder once more and made his way out of the bar.

  PIPER

  I

  pulled my apron off my body as I dashed out of the Delmonico Steakhouse. What a night. Three incorrect orders, two steaks that weren’t cooked right, and Chef Franco had thrown the tantrum to end all tantrums. I itched to fix the problems, but there I was, stuck on the vegetable line. Peeling, slicing, et cetera et cetera. I knew I had to start low and work my way up, but the mistakes were so ridiculously simple. It was sloppy work and that was all, and it drove me insane.

  I hefted my purse higher on my shoulder and made my way out to the street. Flagging down a taxi, I jumped into the back and said, “Augusta Drive, please,” as I released my blond hair from the confines of its tight bun and shook it out.

  “Sure thing.” The cabbie set the meter to run and pulled away from the hotel.

  I ran my fingers through my long locks. I wouldn’t have to bother too much with my hair tonight. I’d washed it earlier, and it was full-bodied and a little floofy as a result. Besides… some guys dug the sexy bedhead thing. I rolled my eyes at myself. Yeah, right.

  I applied a fresh coat of crimson lipstick and a thick coat of the thickest mascara I had, then proceeded to remove my black leather work shoes and black chef pants. I replaced them with fishnet stockings, black leather hotpants, and a killer pair of my favorite stilettos—crimson like my lips with sparkly, jewel-encrusted heels.

  Guys went fucking gaga over them.

  Oh. Did I mention I was a stripper?

  But not some down-and-out, lost little girl who got caught up in the wrong crowd. No, no. I’m no woe-be-me woman who needs saving with a sob story in my past. Well, hey, we all have those, I guess. But my budding career as Vegas’ best female chef meant that I had to go to school. Las Vegas Culinary School in fact, and that shit was expensive. I had to pay my own way somehow. I was already a good dancer, having been a cheerleader in high school and in many dance recitals growing up. I had oodles of talent that was going to waste. So I figured, why not at least make some money out of it?

  The first couple of places were bad. Run by guys who didn’t give a shit about our wellbeing and most definitely believed in the old adage, ‘The customer is always right.’ They brought women in from just about anywhere and jacked them up on drugs to keep them on a leash. Some women were from Eastern Europe and I knew, I just knew, they were involved in some fucking illegal shit. I tried to help a couple of those girls and got beat up pretty bad for it.

  I was about to quit the industry when Elizabeth came to me. Think Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice, because that’s who she reminded me of—all dainty and proper looking in her fancy white lace dress that was skin-tight and barely covered her ass. She told me about Le Kitteh Haus, a safe, high-end club for women who were professionals. No, not prostitutes. Women who were working toward something more and like me, were using stripping as a stepping stone. She told me about how she and her two friends ran it with an iron fist, where customer care came after our own, and we would always be as safe as possible.

  I thought it was bullshit. I’d never heard of such a place. After my previous experiences, I was jaded as fuck. Elizabeth coaxed me into spending a few nights there. She would pay me for my time and if I didn’t like it at the end of the week, I was free to leave. I agreed, and I had been there ever since. Six months now, and the place felt like home. The girls were my sisters, and we all supported each other one hundred percent. Sometimes, we would end up with a bad apple who got a little selfish, broke the rules, yadda yadda. But they were turfed out quick smart. Elizabeth stayed true to her word, that was for sure.

  “Stop here,” I demanded. The cab driver pulled over. I handed him my fare and hauled ass out of the vehicle.

  I dashed into the back entrance of the club and ripped my Palazzo top off as I made my way into the communal dressing room. “Sorry, I’m late! Sorry, sorry! Work was fucked up.”

  I slipped out of my white cotton bra and searched through my rack of skimpy clothing. Hmm… what would go with what I was already wearing on my bottom half? I settled on a black halter bra and fastened it around my neck and the middle of my back.

  “You’ve got stage three,” Elizabeth’s best friend, Cynthia, told me.

  I made my way over to the stage entrance. I adjusted myself, tweaked my nipples extra hard to perk them up, and with my game face on, I strutted out onto the stage. I strutted around the edge of the stage, eyeing the two men who were sitting there. Men in tailored suits worth thousands of dollars and with watches that blinged more than all the hotels along the strip combined. Nonchalant arrogance dripped off them and I rolled my eyes. We were highly exclusive and the only five-star strip club in Vegas. Men—and women, of certain persuasions—from across the globe came for a piece of us, and these two had the audacity to look bored as fuck. I made my way to the pole, stepped around it, then gripped it. Lifting myself up, I hooked one leg around it and spun. I hung upside down and seemed to float in the air.

  Nothing.

  I tightened my thighs on the pole and flashed them my tits. One guy’s eyes lit up. There we go. They were simply impatient for the goods. I bit back a smile and slid from the pole to the ground like my body had turned to liquid. I gyrated against the floor, making sure my tits bounced. That was the beauty of being naturally blessed—my tits moved freely and easily. I was well-endowed, which often got me a little more dosh. The guy leaned forward in his chair and despite the dull lighting in the place, I could see the hard-on developing in his pants.

  He held out a couple of one hundred-dollar bills and slipped them into my cleavage. “How about a lap dance, baby?”

  “It’s going to cost you,” I whispered.

  “I’m bored,” the other guy moaned.

  “Shut up,” rich boy number one snapped. He looked at me again. “How much?”

  I pulled one of the bills out from between my tits and tickled my lips with the corner of it. “I’ll need much more than this.”

  “You got a deal.”

  “I’ll get a room set up.” I walked off the stage, making sure to swing my ass in just the right way. I reverted to myself once I was backstage. “Leo! I need you to cover me. I’ve just lined up a private dance.”

  The big ex-marine give me a nod. “I’ve gotcha covered, Piper.”

  I smiled at him. “Great. I’ll meet you there.”

  Leo glanced across at Elizabeth, who turned her lip up at him slightly, then went to escort the client. I waited for the all-clear before I entered. When I did, he was lounging in the fancy seat, legs spread open so I could see his length through his pants. I moved toward him, swinging my hips from side to side. He didn’t seem to be interested in what was downstairs. His
eyes stayed on my chest, so I squeezed my arms together, pushing my tits outward. I traced my fingers up my stomach and across my nipples, making sure to make a sound of pleasure.

  “Come closer, baby.”

  I did as he asked. I bent over to give him an eye full, then progressed to gyrating over him. His hand came up but I pushed it back down. With a cheeky smile, I shook my finger at him. “Nuh-uh.”

  I turned my back to him and pressed my ass against his groin. Almost touching, but barely there. A hair’s breadth away. Always just inches away. Enough to excite him, but not give him too much. He gripped my leg and ground into me.

  Leo stiffened. “Sir, you will not touch the dancer.”

  He released me and held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “Remember your manners, mister,” I tutted, putting on that horribly cutesy voice men like this wanted from us.

  “I’m sorry, baby. Please, keep going.”

  I faced him this time. I wanted to keep an eye on him. Maybe if I held eye contact, he’d be less likely to allow his hands to wander. I leaned in close enough to kiss him.

  “Can I touch you?” he whispered.

  “No,” I whispered back.

  “I’ll pay you more, baby.”

  “I’m sure you would. The answer is still no.” I continued my dance. I could feel his erection press into me as I straddled him, ground into him.

  I leaned back and that’s when I felt it. His fingers skittered over my bare skin and came to rest around my neck. They were light strokes at first, and despite the rules, I enjoyed it.

  Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.

  His fingers tightened. I wriggled, trying to loosen his grip politely. I couldn’t shake him. My airways constricted and I began to panic. I whimpered.

  “You like that, don’t you, baby?”

  He thought I was still into it, still dancing. But I wasn’t. Fucking hell, I wasn’t! My hand flew to his wrist. When I tried to lift myself off him, he grabbed my waist to hold me in place. I gasped for breath.

  The next thing I knew, the chair was tumbling backward and I was on the floor in a heap. Leo had launched himself at the guy, and now he had him by his expensive silk tie. The client put up a fight, so Leo laid into him.

  “You fucking piece of shit. You’re out of here!” Leo yanked the door open. “Lizzie, call the cops, babe!” he shouted as he hauled the fucker out of there.

  Cynthia appeared in the doorway. “What the fuck happened?” She spotted me on the floor and raced over. “Holy shit! Piper, are you okay?”

  I quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks. I couldn’t speak right now, so I simply nodded.

  “Piper?” One of the younger girls dashed in. Jessica was a sweetheart who was studying radiology. Some of the men loved her because of her innocent looks. She came over, wrapped her arms around me, and helped me to my feet. “Oh, Piper. Come on, I’ll get you some ice.”

  I was grateful for her help.

  What a fucking shitty ending to a fucking shitty night.

  EVERETT

  S

  hit, shit, shit! I couldn’t get the hot guy out of my head, the one in the wrong room. I had gotten the numbers transposed and headed to the wrong door. I’d been looking for Aurore’s room. We were supposed to meet for drinks and discuss tomorrow’s workshop. She wanted me to teach my portion of the workshop, and now she needed me to cover for the new girl who’d missed her flight. I didn’t have a problem with it, but it seemed like this was happening more and more frequently. Shelby always had an excuse for her last-minute no-shows to these things and what with being the new girl, it wasn’t looking like she would last.

  The guy who’d answered the door took me by surprise, and not just because I’d been expecting Aurore. He was massive, and I didn’t mean his height and powerfully muscled arms and clearly defined abs––shit, I could climb his abs like a ladder clear up to his chiseled chest. And my God! When his towel dropped, I’d nearly fainted. My mouth had gone dry and my throat closed for a moment as I forced myself to drag my eyes back up to meet his ice blue gaze. Dear God! The man was built! He was Thor incarnate. My lust meter had shot through the roof and literally exploded off the chart. Like a fool, I stammered and stuttered before running away, calling a lame apology over my shoulder without looking back. Instead of looking for Aurore’s room, I’d gone downstairs to the shops and sent her a text to meet me near the Gondola ride.

  I was so flustered that it took me a full twenty minutes to regain my usual calm, yoga teacher demeanor. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t get worked up over men, no matter how hot they may be. It just was not in my nature. Even when I was younger, I’d never been the boy-crazy type like most of my friends. I was the shy, nerdy girl. Not that I looked like a nerd, far from it–– but I was smart and maintained a four-point-oh grade point average all through high school. And then in college, on a dare, I went in to talk to a recruiter. I’d scored very high on the ASVAB and decided to join the Air Force on the delayed entry program after completing one year of college. I’d run out of scholarship money, and the Air Force offered enlistment bonuses and money for college. Eleven months after high school graduation and three terms of college, I’d went off to boot camp. But my military career had been short-lived due to an injury which had put me on the path to yoga. I went back to school and became a certified instructor with the veteran-approved rehabilitation program after being medically retired from the Air Force. Now, I teach yoga for veterans with PTSD and various injuries including amputees and TBI––Traumatic Brain Injury—patients, in my own studio.

  I was looking forward to teaching the workshop tomorrow, but not so much looking forward to cover for Shelby the following day. I had planned to leave tomorrow night after class. Now I would have to stay an extra day. Aurore said she’d cover my extra night of hotel expenses so I wasn’t worried about that, but now I’d have to make arrangements for Niko since I wasn’t coming home as planned.

  “There you are.” I turned at the sound of Aurore’s lilting voice. “I thought you were going to meet us at my suite so we could have drinks before going down.” Lauren and Shakti––yes that was her real name—were in tow.

  “Sorry, I got a little lost,” I lied. Well it was partially true. I’d gone to the wrong room, but I’d realized I’d passed Aurore’s room on my way back toward the elevators after running away from Thor. I couldn’t face her with my face all flushed and my breathing erratic, so instead, I’d come down here to the Grand Canal Shoppes to gather my wits.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Aurore apologized. “Well, we’re all here now––except Shelby.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go get some exorbitantly overpriced drinks and appetizers at Double Helix Wine and Whiskey lounge. My friend highly recommended it.”

  We all followed Aurore as she led the way. She knew this place like the back of her hand as she put on these workshops three times per year here at The Palazzo. This would be my second one here. I usually did the ones we held at my studio back in Eugene, Oregon. That’s how I’d met Aurore. Two years ago I’d hosted one of her training workshops, and we’d become great friends. She was from Portland and had become extremely successful when she expanded her business hosting these workshops for instructors and getting them certified in Yoga for PTSD so they could open up classes in their communities. That was my goal. More and more veterans were coming home from the war, and it broke my heart that they weren’t getting the help they needed. Aurore had agreed to mentor me.

  This workshop was open to the public, so Shelby and I could get our required teaching hours under a certified instructor as Aurore observed and mentored us in the process. But also the purpose was to create outreach for veterans in the Nevada area who might not otherwise have access to the program.

  Vegas is a happening town, and I couldn’t help the exhilaration that started to come over me. There was a heightened sense of excitement buzzing in the air as we walked on the faux Venetian
walkway along the man-made canal. I laughed at the highly skilled gondoliers as they maneuvered their way expertly in the water going in both directions, all the while singing in Italian, Stasera mi –Butto—Tonight I’ll make a pass, or Oh Solo Mio or something along those lines.

  When we finally arrived at the Double Helix, I didn’t notice him at first. The hostess had shown us to a table that she quickly wiped down as the previous patrons had just vacated the premises. What drew my eye was the movement of an attractive man near the bar as he laughed, talking animatedly with his friend. It was the friend––Thor, from earlier. His sparkling gaze caught mine and held. Slowly he tilted his head with a barely perceptible nod and then lifted his wine glass in a salute to me. Then his friend stood, clapped him on the back, and made his way to the exit without a backward glance.

  Suddenly, my skin flushed as tingles went down my spine. My blood whooshed in my ears as my heart skipped a beat. Oh, holy mother! It’s him, I thought and quickly dropped my gaze. I was mortified as the memory of his naked body in all its glory scorched my brain and lit a fire deep in my belly. The air-conditioned bar had become overly warm, and I’d fought the urge to fan myself.

  “Right, EZee?” Huh? I’d missed Shakti’s remark.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I could barely respond as if my tongue was tied in knots.

  “The wine? It’s one from Oregon. I said it’s really good, but we can get it for half that price back home.” She pointed at the aforementioned wine on the menu. “Shit, look at these prices!” she exclaimed.

  “Oh, yeah, right. It is good.” I struggled to focus on the conversation at hand. I could feel his eyes on me, sending warm waves of desire through me.

  Holy fuck! Never, ever had I felt such instant attraction to someone. Erotic fantasies invaded my brain, and the direction my thoughts went shocked me. I imagined what it would’ve been like had I instead chosen to enter the room when Mr. Gorgeous had dropped his towel. He’d looked as surprised as I felt when he’d turned at the sound of my voice. I was obviously not who he’d been expecting. What would it have been like to kiss those sensuous lips? I imagined sliding my hand over his abs to explore the large snake tattoo coiled on his side. I’d let my hand move up over his sculpted pec and then up around his neck to feel the texture of his short, clipped blond hair. I wondered what it would feel like to have those massive arms wrap around me.