We’re quiet for a minute. It’s a comfortable silence but I’m itching to ask more about him.
“Why stripping?”
“Looked to be fun. It’s going off, so I continue with it. It also filled up slots of time when the work wasn’t steady at the gym to make money. I get a good workout with it, plus I get to make people – women – happy. The blokes are rippers too.”
“Your lingo is so confusing.” I shake my head.
“Stick around, soon you’ll have an accent and be talking chalk with me, little lady.” He smiles as he turns onto the main street to get to my apartment.
“You may have to give me flashcards.” I laugh.
“You know what I do, so what about you, what do you do?” he asks.
“I’m in between places right now. But I work in property management and office management.”
“Like apartment complexes?”
“Yes.”
“You get free rent?”
“Sometimes, if that was a part of the gig. I like where I’m living right now, it’s a really nice place. So, the next place I work, I will at least get incentives.”
“That’s aces!”
“Aces?” I ask, since he’s said it a few times.
“Oh, awesome, excellent, good,” he explains with patience.
“Cool. Aces. I’ll remember that one.” I suddenly feel shy. “Hey, I don’t know if I really properly thanked you for the rental car. I meant it when I said you didn’t have to, but it’s was really nice of you to do.”
“My pleasure.” He nods.
“You really didn’t need to do that.”
“Yeah, I really did. I made it so smoke came out of your precious car. You recall, the car that you kissed goodbye?” he taunts.
“That car has been with me through thick and thin. I have a lot of miles packed into that baby.”
“I know, the mechanic kept telling me that it was a waste to devote materials and resources to it, when it’s on its last leg.”
“How dare he!” I gasp.
“Hey, do you have your gate opener thing?” he asks, directing my attention to the outside world. The car ride went by so quickly, the conversation flowed easily, and the company wasn’t half bad either. I rummage through my purse and find my keys to grant us entrance. When we near my garage, I direct him to the parking spaces across from it and open my garage. He stops the engine and exits the car, then my door opens up and his hand reaches in. My hand fits perfectly in his large hand, and his touch is electric as he pulls me out.
My arm brushes against his chest and I want to press myself against him, to feel him, just like I did when he was basically dry humping me on stage.
He walks me across the small street and as we approach the building, I realize that we are holding hands. The thought doesn’t scare me or make me lose the contact with him. We walk in silence and when we reach my door, we turn towards another. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He smiles at me, tugs my hand toward him and then leans his head down slowly. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth and leans back.
“Go out with me tomorrow?” he asks quietly.
I’ve turned him down a few times since we first met. He’s tried to get me to meet up with him for a drink or for just hanging out and each time, I’ve declined his offers. But now, he’s danced seductively on me and will be attending Deena’s wedding as my date. I can’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t say yes this time.
“Sure,” I say quietly.
“Really?”
“Don’t push your luck, buddy. I might change my mind,” I tease him.
“So, I have a client from eight to ten in the morning, so can I pick you up around eleven?” he asks eagerly.
“Sure.” I nod.
“Great. Get some rest. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” He leans back in and kisses the same spot, surprising me, and then retreats back to his car, walking backwards. I let myself into my apartment and then close the door.
I have a date with a stripper.
***
I get up early and busy myself around my apartment until it is time for Malcolm to show up. When he texts me that he’s on his way over, my heart begins beating strongly in anticipation. My palms are sweaty and my mouth is dry. I grab some water and, as I finish draining the cup, a knock echoes through the apartment. I force myself to walk slowly to the door to appear calm and not show my eagerness to see him.
He’s dressed in a normal t-shirt with fitted jeans and his hair is combed back. His bright smile suggests that he’s just as excited as I am and is trying to keep calm. His hands are in his pockets like he’s unsure what to do with himself as he says hello. His normal cockiness is gone and in place is a shy and unsure Malcolm, which I’m not used to.
I smile as move aside to allow him in. He removes his hands from his pockets and, as he walks past me, his hand lightly brushes my hip. He must have just showered; he smells like a mixture of the salt from the ocean and body soap.
He looks around my space. “Nice pad,” he says.
“Thanks. Give me one minute and I’ll have my purse together.” I go to the kitchen counter and double check the contents of my purse.
“So, I have a show at nine, which means I have to be there around seven tonight. I figured we can go out to lunch and then – I don’t know – walk around, see a movie? I didn’t want to specifically plan something if you wouldn’t be down,” he says nervously.
“What do you do for those two hours before your show?”
“You won’t laugh?”
“Pinky promise.”
“We rehearse a little and primp.”
“Interesting.” I nod with a smirk. I want to ask so many questions, but I just leave it at that.
Malcolm takes me to lunch at a small diner on the outskirts north of the Las Vegas strip, then to the sign graveyard. By the time our day is over, we have learned a significant amount about the other, we’ve laughed as well as enjoyed another’s company. He walks me back to my apartment, and as I’m sliding the key in the door, he speaks.
“Do you think you’ll come to another show?”
“Isn’t it the same show each time?” I say, looking his body up and down.
“Not every time. We switch it up because people – like yourself – come more than once.”
“I didn’t say that I would.”
“Oh, Peach, your eyes totally said so.” He laughs as he walks past me into the apartment.
“My coming to another show would ruin the odds for you to bring home one of those ladies.”
“Who says I want to bring any of them home?”
“Isn’t that what happens?” I’m asking half for selfish reasons and half for curiosity.
“I will admit, when I first started, I was naive and did. But even that gets old, along with the fact that the patrons are basically clients and that’s mixing business with pleasure. I’ve learned to not do that. It was fun at first, but then it became just ‘meh.’ I had the world offered to me on a plate basically, but I didn’t know whether the women were actually into me as a person, or because of my job. I felt more like a totem pole that they climbed just to say they did.”
“I see. Since I came to a show, wouldn’t that be mixing business with pleasure?”
“Not at all. I knew you before.”
“So, you don’t pull that same routine you did for me on everyone else?”
“It’s never that… intimate. So, no, to answer your question. I wouldn’t be bringing home anyone from the audience unless it was you. There’s only one woman I seem to be interested in lately, and she’s standing right here,” he says bluntly.
“Wait, what?” I spit out.
“Oh, c’mon, Beck! I’ve been asking you out since I hit your car. It feels like a miracle that I got you to come out with me today. And you have to admit, it’s been nice.”
I’m dumbfounded. The guy came straight out and said that he likes me. I knew he did to
an extent, but here he is, flat out saying all the right things that almost every girl wants to hear. My inside voice squeals.
“Well, I had a moment of weakness last night. You know, a few lap dances, and plenty of drinks. I wasn’t in my right mind,” I tease him as I cross my arms loosely.
“Well, now it’s the middle of the day, you and I are both completely sober, and we’re still hanging out.” He quirks an eyebrow as he advances on me.
“Yep.”
“Yep?” he says inching even closer.
“Yeah,” I nod.
“Resorting to those one syllable words?” His palm rests on my hip and goosebumps erupt all over my body.
“Yep,” I whisper.
“Are you going to push me away, Beck?” he asks, as he slowly leans down.
“From what?” I ask meekly.
“From this.” His lips touch mine softly, testing the limits. I slowly open and grant him entrance as he growls in satisfaction and then pulls our bodies flush to one another. Our tongues collide and dance together as my hands grasp his sides and his hands hold my face. He kisses me slowly as if he’s afraid that I’ll push him away. Instead I pull him closer, taking the initiative and breaking through to go after what I have been denying myself, and that’s him.
I don’t want to stop kissing him. It’s been a while since a man has touched me like this and I want more. I start moving us in the direction of my couch and break away from the kiss only to push him down into a sitting position. I swing my legs over his lap and straddle him.
“You give so many lap dances, so when was the last time you got one?” I whisper against his lips boldly as I gently lower myself to physically touch him, earning a small groan from him.
“I don’t recall anyone before you. You’ve erased everyone from my past,” he says in between kisses. His massive hands are running all over my back, pressing me into his chest and deepening the kiss. He growls as I lower myself down flush against his lap, or should I say against the massive metal pipe in his pants. HOLY SHIT!
I shift my hips and slowly grind against him. His hands come to my hips and grip them, but then he pulls away from the kiss, so I stop grinding on him. Needing to know why he ceased the delicious sensations he'd been giving me, I lift my eyes to search his for the reason he stopped. His eyes reflect my lust but also show apprehension.
“Beck, I don’t know if you know what you’re doing—”
“I know what I’m doing,” I interrupt.
“No, I mean if we continue this, it’s going to end up with your legs around my waist and my cock so far into you that you feel me in your throat.”
“Well, then.”
“Believe me, I want to be so deep in you that it becomes a reality, but I don’t want to rush things,” he says pressing his forehead against mine.
“But…,” I protest.
“You aren’t one of those customers at the club who just want to bed a stripper, baby. You’re a forever girl. You will be my forever girl so I want to take my time. I want to explore all of you and what makes you who you are. What gets you off mentally as well as physically? As much as I want to rip your panties off right now and thrust my cock into your wet pussy, what I’m going to do instead is sit here and kiss you a little bit more before I have to go to work.”
“Where you’ll take off your clothes for strangers,” I deadpan, my jealousy flaring.
He grabs my face and forces our eyes to meet. “The only woman I want is sitting on my lap right now. My job is just that – a job. I work there, because I enjoy it, for the money and the reactions, but not for that kind of attention. Sure that’s nice and all, but if I have you waiting for me at home, or what have you, that’s all I need. I’ll do my shit, then come home and go to bed just like any other person.”
Malcolm
Since I began dancing six years ago, I haven’t had a girlfriend or anything closely resembling one. It wasn’t that I didn’t want one, I just didn’t think of it as being important at that time. However, I’m learning in recent days that I want more. During those first few years of dancing, women threw themselves at me left and right after the shows. Sex was offered to me all the time and I rarely turned them down. I’m embarrassed to admit I was quite the promiscuous bloke back then.
Women frequently come to a show, totally reserved in the beginning – all shy and shit – then completely let go of their inhibitions and stick their hands down my pants. I’ve had married women blatantly slipping their numbers in my pants at the end of the night during autograph and photo time. Which has previously halted me from any sort of relationships past one night. It’s not that I’m jaded; I just like more of a challenge, a chase.
Over time, the novelty of random, no-strings sex with audience members wore off and it has become a very rare occurrence for me to hook up with a customer. The few times I have tried to spark up a conversation in a bar with a woman that I could have been interested in, things went south once we got to the topic of what we did for a living. As soon as I mentioned that I dance with an all-male revue, the women would look down on me, think of me as a player, or would just end the conversation right there. Sometimes the women would make it clear that they were just using me for sex. I mean, I was always down for the sex, but it never went past that one night.
It got old after a while, and sometimes I wished I had someone to spend my time with, to be with. I’ve alternated between telling women, or people in general, that I was a trainer and then a male dancer just to see the reactions. One day though, that will all change. If I could get the rest of the financing handled for my own space, then my occupation will be business owner. Rather than being a dancer, I will be the man in the office, the one behind the scenes instead of in front of them. Maybe if I get bored, I can dance once in a blue moon but my primary focus will be on the club itself. That is my intention.
Rebeckha is a challenge. She’d turned me down at every opportunity, up until the other night. I’m still trying to figure her out. She gives good chase and, while she was hesitant at first, when she’s in the moment, man is she!
While she was straddling my lap and grinding against me, it took all my energy to stop us from sealing the deal. But I meant what I said to her. She isn’t just a chick looking to hook up with a male dancer, and she isn’t the type of chick to love ‘em and leave ‘em. She’s the real deal and I want her to be mine.
Her friend, the woman getting married soon, created an opening for me to get my foot in the door with her by inviting me as Rebeckha’s date, since she was dateless. We are going to a wedding together, which is something you want to do with someone you know, not an almost-stranger. I believe that aided in her saying yes to going out with me the following day.
I’m gearing up for the first show of two tonight, and I’m exhausted from lack of sleep, jumbled nerves and the past few hours of practice. I get performance anxiety still, even though I’ve been on stage far more times than I can count. Not a night goes by that I don’t fear I will miss a step, injure myself or just suddenly freak out. The fact that there are screaming women in the audience sometimes eases my nerves, but right now all I’m anticipating is going home. It’s not that I don’t want to be here, it’s more that there’s someone I can go home to. Plus, it’s one more reason to be excited about the future and what’s in store for me.
I promised Rebeckha that I would text her after my last show and she didn’t seem to hate that idea.
I left her house after some damn good making out and the potential for something more. There’s no denying that we’re attracted to another, though she might have a slight issue with my job. Still, I’m hoping I can prove to her that taking a chance on me will be worth it. So we’ll see what happens. All I know for sure right now is that I’m going to contact her after I’m done for the night, and I’m going to make another date with her. Then another and another.
***
Me: Heading out of this place. How was your night?
I see the dot
, dot, dot that notifies me she’s texting me back and my hands feel clammy from nerves, wondering what she will say.
Beck: Probably not as crazy as yours, but I did dance in front of a mirror and pretend I had adoring fans
Me: I’ll be your adoring fan
Beck: I don’t know, compared to your dancing, I would look like a walrus. my dance moves lack… coordination.
Me: I will teach you a trick or two
Beck: As long as you wear a G-string doing it, there are no complaints from me.
Me: Deal. Since this is the city that doesn’t sleep, you want to catch a drink?
Beck: That sounds inviting, but I’d rather not have to get dressed right now. Too hard when I’m so comfortable where I am. You can come over though? Me: Be there in twenty.
There’s so much to dissect in her last text to me: ‘too hard,’ ‘inviting,’ and then to top it all off, she’s ‘not dressed’ and still willing to see me when she’s comfortable. I’m not sure when the last time I had a girl be comfortable with me. I’m used to chicks being dressed up and wearing a full face of make-up.
I have no clients on Mondays, so I only have to be at work tomorrow evening for practice at six with one show at nine, which leaves plenty of time for whatever will happen.
When I get to her complex, I realize I can’t get past the gate and ]I don’t know her last name to find her in the directory so I text her for the code. As soon as I punch in the code, I gun it to her apartment with eagerness to see her. I park my car where I parked the last time and when I get out, I see her standing in her doorway, waiting for me. The light from inside her apartment makes her a silhouette, and as I get closer, I can make out the short shorts and thin t-shirt she’s wearing. She has her hip jutted out a bit and gives me a look as if I’ve taken forever to come over. I’m not sure what we are to each other, but I’m willing to find out and explore the shit out of it!
“Honey! I’m home!” I smile and spread out my arms, hoping she’ll play along and run into my arms.
STRIPPED Page 4
