Business with Pleasure

by Mia Madison

  I watched her dance, filled with equal parts rage, awe, and reluctant attraction. She was dancing to Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” and seemed completely into her performance.

  Observing her movements, I could tell she’d been practicing more with Trixie. There was an extra layer of haughtiness to her dance that she didn’t have before. She possessed an increased boldness in her movement that hadn’t been present when she worked for me.

  It was abundantly clear that I’d fallen for a woman who’d done nothing but take advantage of my body and generosity. If I never spoke to her again, it would be too damn soon.

  But when she sashayed on all fours to a patron in the corner, and shook her breasts for him while giving him those enticing “fuck me” eyes of hers, I became unnerved.

  Watching her give another man the look she gave me fucked me up inside. I was jealous, resentful, and heartbroken all at once.

  It was then that I realized my animosity held no candle to the way I felt for her. Dad would have been so disappointed. I’d known better than to do so, and I’d always separated business from pleasure, but now I was in an emotional bind.

  I’d fallen in love with one of my dancers, and watching her - after ghosting on me without explanation - had me balls deep in my feelings.

  They say when a dancer is rubbing her sweet ass on your dick, there’s a specific section of your brain that processes it a certain way. Your job is to master your mind so your emotions don’t piss all over themselves when she does this, so you can keep your common sense and faculties instead of being triggered or tricked into thinking there’s something real between the two of you.

  I didn’t know how I failed at making the distinction with Kitten. I didn’t have a clue whether or not this could be fixed.

  All I knew was that my soul ripped to shreds watching her pull that gentleman by the tie towards her, push his head into her cleavage, and shimmy while she caressed the top of his head.

  “That’s Kitten.”

  Alan had slipped back to my side. He offered information as he sipped his whiskey. His eyes were rapt to the stage as he spoke. “She’s new, but one of our top earners, especially in VIP.”

  “Oh really?”

  He nodded, considering his statement. “I think she’s new to the industry, but she has this freshness and innocence to her. And whatever that thing is she does with her eyes, she’s almost never without a damn VIP once her show is over.”

  “Ha,” he added. “I think she actually spends more time in VIP than she does ever hitting the stage. Must be slow tonight.”

  I nodded in affirmation of his words, but said nothing. The more he spoke, and the more I saw, the more I needed to pull a chess move.

  “You know what?” I said. “You still trying to sell the place?”

  “Yeah. You interested?”

  “Yeah.” I looked back at the stage. “How much for a VIP with that girl?”

  “Who? Kitten?”

  “$1500.”

  I pulled out my card.

  “Book it.”

  25

  Blair

  Bubbleguts had subsided a bit as I worked further and further into my shift. Trixie told me to just zone in and focus on the moment, and not worry about anything else.

  “If you’re living in the moment, you’re removing any focus on things that aren’t serving you. And you dance better.”

  Trixie was always focused on ways to make stripping mentally appealing and emotionally efficient, all at once.

  I had just finished my last performance, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails, when one of the managers informed me that I had a VIP. Sweet.

  “He wants you to come in and dance. No talking until he’s ready. He paid double.”

  Double. That’s $3,000.

  I had no idea who it was, but I could follow those instructions for $3,000.

  I wondered if it was one of my regulars, or perhaps a new admirer I’d gained in the past few weeks of work. Either way, I looked forward to the exchange of a few soft, sensual touches that would distract me from thoughts of him.

  When I entered the VIP lounge, Miguel’s “Arch & Point” flowed in the background.

  I walked in slowly, and paused, pushing my hip out to give an exaggerated curve in my silhouette. My hands began a leisurely slide up my body, gliding over my hips and waist, cupping themselves around my breasts, pushing their way up the sides of my face, and then gripping locks of hair as I lifted, shaked, and tousled it.

  One of the best stripper tricks I learned was that everything was sexier in slow motion. Stepping forward, one foot in front of the other, every movement was deliberate.

  As I danced, my VIP sat back against the wall. The lights were so dim, I couldn’t see him from where I was. But I felt every ounce of heat from his gaze as he watched me dance for him. Whoever he was, I could tell he was intense.

  “Arch & Point” faded into Ciara’s “Body Party.” I was vaguely familiar with this song, but I knew, intuitively it was a great song to transition into floor work.

  I bent over at the waist, slid my hands down my legs, and whipped my hair back as I raised my upper half and licked my lips lasciviously at the male figure watching the show. A series of figure-8 movements, and I transitioned to the floor.

  Improvising my performance, I closed my eyes and went with the flow. My body moved through a series of pelvic thrusts, hip rolls, and sexy leg movements.

  My nipples hardened and my panties increased in wetness when I noticed the way the client shifted in their seat. The abrupt movement signaled a hard-on, one they’d be ready to have me grind on to complete the show.

  I’d gotten to the part in my performance where I’d actually make contact with the client. As I crawled toward him, I could see the erection straining through his pants. It was mouthwatering, and I licked my lips to communicate that.

  My face slid between my client’s legs and rested on his thigh. I looked at his hard erection, which was worthy enough to lick. He smelled fresh and oceanic. In my head I thought about Cam, and that’s who I was dancing for and making love to in my mind.

  I did something I’d never done. I slid my tongue up the hard base of his crotch. I heard the audible gasp when I did, and it turned me on even more. If I weren’t so reserved, I would have probably wrestled with my desire to pull it out and suck on it.

  This was fucking slutty of me, but I was ovulating, super horny, and really pushing myself through this performance, hoping to earn every dollar this man had paid.

  Trixie would gasp to see me like this, and then welcome me to the dark side with cookies.

  I gave another lick, eyes closed up the crotch, wondering where this surge of excitement and freakiness came from. I inhaled the fresh scent of his cologne.

  I started to slide up his body in the same manner that the Little Mermaid slid ashore on her rock. I was mid-stride when I looked my client in the face and gasped.

  “Cam?!” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m getting a VIP session.” His tone was casual, but the look in his eyes condemned me. “The question really is what are you doing here, and why did you dump me the way you did?”

  My heart thundered and blood rushed to my ears as I confronted my worst nightmare. I should have known this day would come, even if I promised myself it wouldn’t.

  I wanted to tell him the truth, but the best defense was offense, and I activated every ounce of I had.

  “What do you mean? I’m a dancer. I have options. The old club wasn’t safe. I had to move on.” I tried to move, but he held me still, by the waist.

  “No,” he said, pulling me closer. He spread my legs so I was straddling him. “I paid for this VIP, and I’m going to make sure it’s worth every penny.”

  Something in his demand - loaded with aggression and rugged desire - sent a chill down my spine and a flood of wetness between my legs. It didn’t help that I could feel the raging hard-on throbbing through his pants beneath me. My
clit swelled with longing, and erotic heat sliced through my body like a fuchsia light, making me swoon against him.

  This was so fucked up.

  “Bullshit,” he roared. “I would have protected you in that club, and you know that.”

  His eyes darkened with anger. “Just tell the truth. You ran from me. You got what you wanted and you left.”

  I grimaced slightly. He had my number. I did run, not for the reasons he’d convinced myself I had.

  Ciara had melted into the Weeknd. As he sang about wanting his lover as he was coming down, I felt my hips move when Cam closed his eyes, held me and began circling himself beneath me. Even in this moment, there was so much sexual tension between the two of us. We were like bunnies in heat, temporarily distracted by the need to feel each other.

  Cam was doing his best to relax and experience the pleasure of the moment, the fantasy he’d paid me to fulfill. But it was clear he was only able to do so as long as his eyes were closed. Whenever he did open them, he’d look in my face and quickly flit his eyes in another direction before closing them again.

  I took the hint and realized he wanted to look at me, but he couldn’t bear looking me in the eyes. I closed mine, and started to swirl my hips. He was everything I’d been thinking about.

  I never thought I’d ever run into him again, but I thanked Heaven that we were able to have this moment between us. Yes, it was tortured - there were serious unresolved issues between us - but it was still sensual and riveting all the same.

  I felt light-headed as I experienced the caress of his hand in the small of my back, the way it transitioned to a perfect squeeze-meets-slap on my ass cheeks, and the stimulation of the coarse bristle from his beard. I could feel the flood of between my legs as I drenched his crotch with my juices.

  Yes, when I closed my eyes, everything was perfect. Even when I could feel the way his eyes burned into my body and ate up the pleasure in our rendezvous.

  His lips made their way to the base of my neck and his teeth sunk into the smooth, hypersensitive skin, eliciting submission from me.

  “Cam…” I whispered. My fingers dug into his shoulders, and I exhaled with a wet and wild moan of abandon.

  I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to fight it anymore. I missed him. I wanted him. I need him to sink his cock into me, and remind me of how stupid I was fuck things up the way I had.

  The entire - and I mean entire - time I pulled away from him, he was all I could think about. I told myself he wasn’t the one I needed to give my time to, and that being involved with him was nothing but trouble because we were both professionals, but I was lying to myself.

  No matter how illogical and unprofessional this was, no matter how strenuously I told myself I needed to let this go, I’d always known the truth. My body never lied to me. Deep down it was waiting for the moment to reconnect with Cam - and now it was coming hard to collect for the denial I’d put it through.

  “You miss me?” He whispered, his breath ragged with lust. Desperation laced his tone, as he raked his fingers through my hair, lightly gripped a handful of my locks and demanded, “Tell me you miss me.”

  I started to shiver uncontrollably as goosebumps covered my body. “I miss you.”

  He moaned with relief at my confession. I could feel the hardness between his legs strengthen. His cock could cut a diamond.

  He gripped my ass and started to rock me back and forth on him.

  “Cum for me.”

  “God, Cam…” I dug my fingers into his shoulders, willing myself not to open my eyes. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel his desire. It was embedded in his touch, slow, rough, needy, deliberate. He was hard as a rock through his pants and wanted me to feel it without going skin to skin.

  It danced in the heat of his breath, which traveled up and down my chest and neck between succulent kisses and fevered pants.

  I could hear it in his breath, the hitched, ragged way it would speed up before he’d pause, catching his breath so he didn’t lose control and cum all over himself and in his pants.

  And I could smell it in his cologne, which became more intoxicating moment by moment, as it mixed with the natural oils of his skin and the perfume on mine. There was a sweet fragrance between us that had to be laced with pheromones. Even though we hadn’t fucked, it wouldn’t look to be the case.

  Guiding me toward my edge, Cam coached me.

  “Cum for me baby… You look so beautiful, babydoll… Fuck you’re sexy… Yeah, rock on my cock just like that… That’s right… Fuck you look amazing babydoll… Cum on…”

  My clit had finally swollen to its capacity, and urged by his need to experience my orgasm, I cried aloud as I released the tension from my body. Sadness, regret, joy, and relief from sexual frustration broke free from every limb, liberated by the seismic climax between my legs. The tears of joy were both my apology and celebration of seeing him again. And he held me, every moment throughout that experience.

  “Look at me, babydoll.”

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked at him. My heart ached doubly when I saw the pain in his dark eyes. He was genuinely hurt, yet searching for some kind of explanation. He was weary yet hopeful, waiting for me to respond.

  “Talk to me,” he urged. His hand glided up and down the bare skin of my back. He was attempting to soothe me, place me in a state of relaxation that would coax the truth from my lips.

  But how could I explain myself to him?

  I planned to leave before we happened. I needed a fresh start. You and I just happened to happen the night before I left, and I ran because I never planned to see you again. For what it’s worth, it was the most mind-blowing sex I’d ever had. Thanks for the dick and first class security detail?

  My inability to come seized my voice. It was trapped in my throat, held hostage by guilt. I attempted to find the words to assuage his desperate need for communication, but I came up empty-handed.

  I gave him a regretful look and felt my lips tremble. Why was I at such a loss for words?

  Before I could fix my lips to even utter my apologies for my speechlessness, he cupped my chin with his finger, brought my lips close to his, and kissed me. His lips were soft, tender, and his kiss swept against my lips, setting my soul on fire. I moaned into his kiss, hoping this was his way of forgiving me for my stupor.

  “Don’t even worry about it, sweetheart.” He pulled out a $300 in crisp Benjamins and placed them in my hand. Carefully pushing me off of him and onto the couch, he stood up and walked to the exit. “Have a lovely evening.”

  26

  Cam

  Seeing Blair at The Venus Suite fucked my head up. Being crazy enough to pull her into VIP had proven to be a fail. Why I thought it was a good idea in the first place continues to elude me.

  What was I expecting? Women came and went in life all the time. Most patrons who came to the club had learned to enjoy the fantasy because the reality of love was too much to bear. One scrape on the heart too many, and you were shut down for good.

  I wanted her so bad it took everything in me not to fuck her in that VIP suite. She wanted me too. I could see it in her eyes, which widened and narrowed with lust. It was evident in the way her body surrendered to my commands, and I had her lap dance and grind all over me with the slowest tease possible.

  She was so sweet with need I could smell the honeyed musk emanating from her pussy. Her walls oozed so much wetness it almost looked like she’d peed all over me. The room was so thick with her scent I could stick out my tongue and taste her from the air. If it weren’t for my dignity and her clothes, we would have fucked all over that private room.

  She was angelic in my arms, cumming hard just for me under my command. But she was a demon when I pressed her to speak up, tell me what happened, and come clean. If she didn’t want to work at the club, fine. I could have dealt with that. If she wrestled with her feelings for me, it would sting, but fine, I would have understood. Fuck, if she had only said I was just another ma
rk, I would have understood.

  But the silence? The inability to speak up or say anything that would help me understand?

  That I could not understand.

  I was so crushed by the experience I left without saying anything to Alan. I didn’t know where he or his security had gone, but I had to get out of there. The same valet pulled my car up, and I tipped him $100 before getting in the vehicle and speeding off.

  I didn’t go straight home. I drove aimlessly on the highway for hours until I was forced to stop for gas. By then, it was damn near time for the morning rush hour to begin. I pulled over at the nearest hotel, booked a room, and stared at the ceiling until my mind shut off and my eyes rolled to the back of my head and forced themselves shut.

  27

  Blair

  Three Days Later

  If simply thinking about Cam fucked with my emotions and triggered virulent physical reactions, seeing him completely destroyed me. Our VIP had come to an end, yet I stayed in the room. I was an emotional fucking mess.

  Security came to check on me when they noticed I was past my time, and when they found me sobbing violently, they were alarmed.

  “Are you hurt in any way?” Gavin, the tall black guy I’d come to learn was head of security, inquired.

  “No,” I shook my head. “I just really don’t feel well.”

  “Are you sure?” He asked, unconvinced of what I’d said. “Your VIP wasn’t violent with you in any way?”

  “He was fine, it’s just me. I just need a minute.”

  I could feel his eyes study me carefully, checking for any signs of an altercation or physical violence on my person. Satisfied that I appeared unharmed, he gave me a couple of minutes to collect myself.