Dancer (The Good Guys Book 2)

by Jamie Schlosser

*

  Over the next few hours, I couldn’t take my eyes off the dancer. During ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’, she really went wild. I’m talking ass-shaking, hands-in-the-air, I-don’t-give-a-fuck wild.

  When she did some sexy version of ‘the lawn mower’, I ended up laughing while trying to take a sip of my Coors Light, which resulted in the liquid going down the wrong pipe. Coughing and wheezing, I couldn’t wipe the huge grin off my face as her ridiculous dance move morphed into ‘the sprinkler.’

  “Hey, can I get you another whiskey and Coke?” the waitress asked while clearing the empty glasses from our table.

  “No, thanks,” I replied, barely glancing at her. “A water would be great, though.”

  Since I didn’t want to get too drunk to remember tonight, I’d switched back to beer. I hadn’t even moved from my seat yet, but this had already been the best birthday I’d had in a long time.

  Angel and Travis alternated between hanging out at the table with me and going out to the dance floor. I tried to engage in conversation with them, but I was having trouble concentrating on anything other than the fact that I had a massive boner in my pants.

  My balls felt heavy and my dick was chafed from being pressed up against my zipper for so long. I didn’t even care.

  I felt great. I felt alive.

  I had to know who this girl was.

  CHAPTER 3

  BRIELLE

  The heavy bass pulsed through the club as I seductively swayed my hips to the beat of ‘Thunderstruck’. Lights flashed and fog filled the air. I smiled to myself because I was totally in my element. Eighties night was my favorite.

  Raising my arms up, I grasped the metal bars of the cage surrounding me while I arched my back and shook my ass. It was what the customers wanted and I needed to give them a good show.

  Technically, I wasn’t a stripper. As a cage dancer, I didn’t take all my clothes off and no one was allowed to touch me. I was just the eye-candy. And I could feel their eyes on me. I knew they were watching but I didn’t do this for them. I did it for me.

  This was my time.

  To go along with the ‘80s theme, I had on tiny jean shorts and a gray off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that had been cut and cropped to show my stomach and cleavage.

  See? All the important parts were covered. My least favorite part of the outfit were the hot pink heels. I swore I could feel a bunion forming on my big toe and I made a mental note to Google ‘bunion treatment’ later. Or maybe I would just wrap it in a Band-Aid with some ointment and call it a day.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back and enjoyed the moment while reminding myself that thinking about toe deformities wasn’t sexy.

  And this was supposed to be my sexy time.

  From 9pm to 1am four days a week, I got paid to feel desired. To be young and free.

  For a few hours, I wasn’t a 22-year-old single mother.

  I was just a dancer.

  There was a little girl at home who loved me, who looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. Ava had my whole heart. I lived and breathed for her giggles and her sweet words. But, while the title of ‘mom’ was my favorite, sometimes it was nice to just be me.

  Getting lost in the music was my own kind of therapy. Plus, it doubled as a workout and the pay was great. Being a dancer at Caged had allowed me to make enough money to be a stay at home mom while saving up for school—something I wouldn’t have been able to do with a normal day job.

  I also had to give some of the credit to my parents because I still lived with them, which was a huge help financially, and they watched Ava while I worked so I didn’t have to hire a babysitter.

  They knew what I did for my job—it wasn’t a secret. Even Ava knew. There was no shame in my family, no judgment. I was extremely lucky in that department.

  I liked to think having a great family was the universe’s way of paying me back for getting knocked up by an asshole my senior year of high school.

  It helped make up for my non-existent lovelife, too.

  In the past few years, I’d been on exactly three first dates and exactly zero second dates. Funny thing was, men in their early twenties had a tendency to get freaked out about dating a woman with a kid.

  It was their loss. Ava was the best person I’d ever met. She amazed me every day. For only being three years old, she was emotionally mature. Her ability to empathize with others, combined with her selfless nature, made her the kind of person I’d always strived to be.

  Maybe I wasn’t meant to be with anyone in the romantic sense—maybe Ava was the love of my life. And if that was the case, I considered myself one of the luckiest people in the world.

  In the cage across the dance floor, I saw Chloe giving me our signal. I tried to keep moving while I watched her through the bars.

  After motioning a ‘you and me’ gesture with her finger, then pointing at her wrist, she bent over and wiggled her ass at me. I laughed.

  She was asking me if I wanted to dance later. I nodded and gave her a discreet ‘thumbs up’ sign.

  Normally, I didn’t stick around after a shift but tonight was Chloe’s last night working at Caged, so there was no way I would miss hanging out with her one more time.

  In a word, Chloe was gorgeous. Tall and lean, with light brown skin. Her eyes were light green and her dark hair fell around her shoulders in a mass of tight ringlets.

  When I started working here three years ago, she’d taken me under her wing and I was grateful for her friendship. The other dancers who worked here weren’t always nice. It wasn’t a surprise to me. I knew just how catty girls could be.

  Speaking of catty, I spied Tasha in the third cage doing her signature move—rubbing her ass up and down the bars.

  I cringed.

  Sure, guys might’ve found it sexy, but it just made me want to whip out the sanitizing wipes I always kept in my purse.

  The song switched to another ‘80s favorite and I went back to getting into the zone.

  When my shift was finally over, I was tired and thirsty. I climbed down from the cage and headed straight to the bar. After chugging a glass of ice water, I met Chloe in the dressing room.

  “I can’t believe we won’t be working together anymore,” I told her as I slipped on skinny jeans and a white shirt. “It won’t be the same around here without you. But I’m really excited for you, Nurse Chloe.” I put emphasis on the title, knowing how proud she was of her accomplishment.

  “Hey, we’ll be working side by side again in no time. You’re starting classes soon, right?” she asked, pulling on a bright green tank top and black leggings.

  “Yeah, in just a few weeks,” I said, sighing at how good it felt to slip my feet into the comfy knee-high boots.

  After Chloe entered the nursing program at the community college, she’d convinced me to apply. Nurses were in high demand and they got paid well.

  Besides, I couldn’t work at Caged forever. Once Ava went to kindergarten, I would prefer to have a day job. With the two-year program, the timing should work out perfectly.

  As much as I would miss working with her, I couldn’t be more proud of my friend. Nursing school was tough. Over the past two years, I’d watched Chloe stress and struggle over clinicals and tests. Her recent graduation and job offer were a result of her hard work and dedication.

  While attempting to comb out my messy hair, the brush caught on some of the over-teased strands by my scalp.

  “Ouch.” I winced. “I might’ve gone a little heavy on the hairspray.”

  Chloe let out a laugh, took me by the shoulders, and guided me to a chair. “Give it here.” She took the brush from my hands and started to work through all the knots on my head.

  Blinking, I stared at my reflection in the large lighted mirror. My eyelashes felt weighed down by several coats of mascara and t
he dark red lipstick made my mouth look bigger than it really was.

  “I can only stay for another half-hour,” I told Chloe as she made my hair semi-normal again.

  “Well, we’d better make the most of it then,” she said, finishing up in record time and handing me a baby wipe. We both scrubbed over our faces and around our eyes to remove the excess makeup.

  After shoving her purse back into the locker, Chloe stood up straight and turned toward me.

  Uh-oh. She had her serious face on.

  “You need to live a little, Bree. Have some fun.”

  “I hang out with a three-year-old all day. Fun is what I do,” I quipped, giving her the same response I always did.

  It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation and probably wouldn’t be the last. No matter how many times I explained it, Chloe couldn’t seem to understand that I liked my life the way it was.

  Her face softened. “You know what I mean.”

  I sighed.

  “I do know. But I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. And by the time Ava’s old enough to take care of herself, I’ll be ready to party,” I told her. “After all, they say 30 is the new 20.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  We left the dressing room and she linked her arm with mine, practically dragging me out into the middle of the club.

  Toward the end of the night, the DJ usually started to switch the music up more. As much as I loved the ‘80s, after a several hours of Van Halen and Def Leppard it was nice to hear something new.

  Rihanna’s ‘S&M’ came on as Chloe and I found an open spot under one of the strobe lights hanging down from the ceiling. Even though I was tired from dancing all night, the beat of the music and the energy from all the people surrounding us encouraged my body to move.

  Tilting my head back and closing my eyes, I enjoyed the moment. The bright flashes of light could still be seen through my eyelids, and the bass was so strong I could feel the vibrations through my feet.

  Several bodies brushed against mine, but that was inevitable with how crowded the club was tonight.

  A lot of people came here to meet someone—a hook-up, a relationship, or a fling. In fact, a couple of the dancers had met their significant other at Caged, but that wasn’t the norm. Most men didn’t actually want to date the girls here. The very nature of the job seemed to make it difficult to be seen as relationship material.

  I understood the allure of finding someone random to rub up on. I also understood Chloe’s desire to see me happy. However, I always preferred to dance alone.

  Getting pawed by some sweaty pervert wasn’t my idea of a good time.

  Just as I was about to ask Chloe if she wanted to find a less crowded spot, I felt someone come up behind me.

  Hands lightly grasped my upper arms and I stiffened. I was about to turn around and tell whoever it was to go away when a husky voice spoke next to my ear.

  “Can I dance with you?” he asked, the feel of his breath against my neck causing goosebumps to spread over my skin.

  I don’t know why I said yes.

  Maybe it was because he asked permission. Most guys just assumed if I was on the dance floor alone, it was an open invitation to hump my ass.

  Or maybe it was the tingle that shot through me when his hands ran over my shoulders.

  Either way, I found myself nodding and felt his palms slide down to my body, leaving a trail of more tingles in their wake.

  Turning my head to the side, I caught a glimpse of a clean-shaven face and chiseled jaw out of the corner of my eye. I glanced down to see muscular forearms encasing my body, and the sight of his strong hands on my stomach caused me to feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time—longing.

  Longing to be touched.

  There was a difference between knowing men wanted me and actually feeling it.

  And suddenly, I wanted to feel it.

  He gently gripped my hips and pressed my back to his front as we started grinding to the rhythm of the music.

  The span of his hands was so wide that his pinky fingers ran over my hip bones while his thumbs skimmed the undersides of my breasts.

  We rocked together and every place where his body touched mine felt alive.

  Maybe a little pawing isn’t so bad after all.

  Even though we were separated by at least two layers of fabric, I could feel the heat from his skin on my back. His palms scorched my abdomen as his hands traveled lower.

  I also felt an unmistakable hardness poking at my backside and I bit my lip, surprised by the fact that it turned me on.

  Although I hadn’t seen his face yet, I could tell his shoulders were broad and, judging by the way my body fit against his, he was probably close to six feet tall.

  At 5’4”, I was average height for a girl. It didn’t take much for a guy to make me feel petite. But with this guy, petite wasn’t the right word for what I was feeling.

  Consumed was more like it.

  Something about his touch was hard, yet gentle.

  When dancing, there’s always a leader and a follower. Somehow, he made me feel like I was doing both. We moved in perfect rhythm together, as though we were one person.

  So this is why people like coming here to dance.

  I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be turned on. The feelings slamming through my body were so unexpected.

  Arousing and erotic.

  Wetness pooled between my thighs as places of my body awakened and came to life—places that were long forgotten and neglected.

  My nipples stiffened to the point of being painful and I could feel my pulse in my clit.

  I hadn’t been affected by a guy like this in a long time. Maybe not ever.

  I relaxed into his hard chest and let my head fall back against his shoulder while closing my eyes. My heartbeat sped up and I suddenly felt light-headed.

  I didn’t know this guy but, honestly, it didn’t matter anyway. By this time in the night, most people at Caged were drunk out of their minds. Chances were, my mystery man wouldn’t even remember me tomorrow.

  The song changed to ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ by The Chainsmokers and the DJ slowed the tempo and increased the bass, giving it a more sensual beat.

  Arching my back, I rubbed the stranger harder with my ass as my hand came up to grip the back of his neck. His fingers dug into the dips of my waist and his body curled around mine.

  Knowing how much I was affecting him gave me a sense of power. In the back of my mind I knew what I was doing was crazy, but the euphoria of the moment caused all sanity to flee.

  He buried his face into the back of my neck and I felt him inhale.

  Was he smelling me? It probably should have creeped me out, but it didn’t—it only turned me on more.

  As I felt him exhale against my skin, I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck, offering a taste.

  He didn’t disappoint.

  His lips closed over the skin at my pulse point and he gently sucked. He and I both moaned at the same time. I couldn’t hear it over the music, but I felt it—felt the vibrations from his mouth.

  His hands continued to caress and grip my hips and stomach. He pushed a leg between mine and as we rocked together, the seam of my jeans rubbed against my center. I felt a fluttering in my belly and a tightening in my core.

  I knew that feeling.

  But the truth was I’d never experienced it with anyone else. I may have had sex before, but all my orgasms had been self-induced.

  I was both horrified and amazed to realize I was extremely close to getting off with a complete stranger and in a public place, no less.

  Maybe that’s what happened when you went years without being touched.

  That had to be it. I was so sex-deprived that I’d been reduced to
humping a random guy at my place of employment.

  My eyes snapped open and I searched for Chloe—who probably just witnessed my inappropriate hump-a-thon—but she was nowhere in sight. I guess I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to watch, but at least I’d be able to tell her that I did, in fact, ‘live a little’ tonight.

  A slow song came on—‘She’s Like the Wind’—and all the couples around us started to pair up. Dirty Dancing was one of my favorite movies and I’d always wanted to slow dance to this song.

  Deciding I should probably introduce myself to the guy who just almost rocked my world, I turned in his arms. But instead of looking up at his face like I’d intended, I let my face rest against his hard chest and I linked my arms around his neck.

  I wanted to keep the mystery for a little bit longer. For some reason, I was afraid that if I saw his face the good time I was having would be ruined.

  As we slowly swayed back and forth together, he enfolded me in his arms and it felt so good to be held by someone.

  I was the perfect height to nuzzle my nose into the side of his neck and noted there was a hint of masculine-smelling cologne lingering on his skin. I thought about tasting him the way he did to me, but before I could his hand came up to thread his fingers through my hair and he lightly tugged my head back.

  Apparently, he was ready for introductions. Sighing, I lifted my gaze to meet my mystery man.

  My eyes landed on his face and a gasp left my mouth.

  What I saw—who I saw—had me stumbling backwards and he caught me around the waist before I could fall.

  My shock wasn’t because he was extremely attractive, but because I knew him.

  Or at least, I used to.

  I was probably looking at him like I’d seen a ghost, but I couldn’t help it. Staring back at me was a face I hadn’t seen in fifteen years. You would think after all this time I wouldn’t recognize him, but I did. Instantly.

  His dirty-blond hair was buzzed short—exactly how it had been when we were kids. The scar over his left eyebrow was barely noticeable, but I saw it. I knew that scar because I’d been the one to give it to him when we were playing baseball in his back yard. A line-drive straight to his face had ended with him needing four stitches.