The Boss of Her

by Julie Cannon

  “Let’s start by welcoming our new employees since last quarter’s meeting.” I took the paper my administrative assistant handed me and started reading off the names. One by one, each employee stood and the room applauded.

  “Dana Mason, Financial Analyst.” I looked around the room and movement to my left caught my attention. A woman stood up and as my staff welcomed their new coworker, I felt the world fall out from under my feet.

  * * *

  Somehow, I managed to finish the ninety-minute meeting without fainting, throwing up, or running from the room. I quickly figured out her real name was Dana and her stripper name was Jess, and after I saw her standing in the fourth row, I never looked that direction again. I felt her eyes on me. It was only a matter of time before my life changed forever. And not for the good.

  Slowly the crowd maneuvered through the two exit doors while a few employees lingered behind to talk with me. Jon, the requisite kiss-ass, was the first and thanked me for the clear update on the company financials. Tobias, our resident doomsday predictor, asked several follow-up questions on our long-term financial stability. When I saw Dana hovering behind him, I lost my train of thought.

  “Riley?” Tobias asked.

  “Sorry, Tobias, let me get back with you on that.” I knew I wouldn’t remember. Then Dana was standing in front of me.

  A woman I recognized as Joan introduced Jess, or Dana, or whatever her name was.

  “Riley, this is Dana. This is her second week.”

  Dana held out her hand. “Thank you for making me feel welcome, Ms. Stephenson.”

  Her voice had the same scratchy quality in the daylight as it did at night. My eyes went to her lips remembering how they felt against my cheek. Tentatively, I reached out and shook her hand. I couldn’t very well ignore it. That would be downright rude. A warm rush of pleasure floated through me.

  “We’re glad to have you, Dana.” I almost stumbled over her name, embarrassing myself. Her face was guarded, her eyes knowing. She was worried I’d out her and she’d lose her job. I was worried she’d out me and I’d lose my job. Well, this was a cluster waiting to happen.

  Part II: Dana

  Chapter Six

  There were a dozen cars parked in front of the house when I arrived. I found a spot down the street and, juggling my phone, hauled my bag to the front door. I shifted it to my shoulder and rang the bell.

  “I’m here, Lou,” I said. Lou, or Louise, as her mother called her, was my BFF and had tried desperately to get me to quit this part-time job. When she couldn’t, she demanded that I tell her exactly where I was and when I’d be done. She also insisted on staying on the phone until I gave her the all clear.

  The door opened. Light spilled out of the house and onto the porch. The woman was pretty, in a plain, wholesome way. The “Birthday Girl” hat she was wearing was a dead giveaway that I was here for her.

  “Ann?”

  “Jess, please come in,” she said after giving me more than an approving once-over.

  I cautiously stepped inside, my phone in my hand, Lou on the other end. I could tell immediately this gig was safe. I told Lou I’d call her in an hour. If she didn’t hear from me, she’d call the police. Yes, a lot could happen in an hour, but it was better than nothing.

  Several women were sitting on the couch, with a few more in scattered chairs and one in a bean bag. My eye caught sight of a striking woman sitting alone at the end of an island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the large room. I’d have her joining the fun in no time, I thought.

  Ann handed me an envelope and I glanced inside. The correct amount of cash was inside and I slid it into my bag. I set up my speakers on either side of the room and connected them via Bluetooth to my phone. I had my songs cued up and ready to go.

  Ann introduced me around, and Clarice, a woman in a red spaghetti strap top, shrieked in excitement. The final stop was the woman at the end of the island. A look of sheer panic crossed her face as I got closer. She was definitely not as into this as Clarice. She was petite, probably not more than five foot four inches or maybe five-five, and had long, blond hair. She was about ten years older than me, probably in her mid-thirties, but she was stunning. The most attractive woman in the room, by far.

  “And this is my BFF, Riley,” Ann said by way of introduction. “She’s a little shy.”

  A little shy? Jeez, what a terrible thing to say about your BFF even if it were true.

  “I’m not shy,” Riley said firmly and, if the flush on her cheeks was any indication, quite embarrassed.

  “I’m Jess.” I introduced myself with my practiced sultry voice.

  “Riley Stephen—” She stopped as if she were about to say her complete name. She must be a professional with a job where she meets a lot of people. Saying her full name was probably just habit.

  “Hello, Riley Stephen,” I said, teasingly. It reminded me of my niece Emily’s kindergarten class in school where there were several Emilys. The only way the teacher could reference them was to call them by their first name and first initial of their last name. According to Emily, there was an Emily J and an Emily H, and whenever she spoke of them it was as if that was their real first name.

  The instant our hands touched, I felt a spark of electricity so strong I had to look at my hand to see if it was glowing. When I looked back at Riley, her crystal blue eyes conveyed she felt it too. I’d never had this kind of reaction with a woman. I’ve danced in front of hundreds of women and this was the first time I felt a connection, and, yes, even an attraction to one of them. I wouldn’t do anything about it because I didn’t mix business with pleasure, and with Riley Stephen, that made me a little sad. When the familiar slow, steady beat started and filled the room, I decided not to think too hard about it. I had bills to pay.

  My body started to move because I simply loved to dance. Any beat got my toe tapping and my blood pumping. I was still holding Riley’s hand and I kept my eyes on hers as I started to dance. Something in her face told me she had no idea I’d been hired to spend the next forty-five minutes taking off my clothes. Interesting. Everyone else in the room knew why I was there, why not her?

  The women started cheering, and when I released Riley’s hand, I immediately felt the disconnect.

  The beat picked up in tempo and I danced around the room giving each woman several minutes of my undivided attention. I’d not yet removed any of my clothes, but each woman had stuffed a bill into my pockets.

  Riley looked like she was scared to death as I made my way over to her. I approached slowly, my hips swaying to the music, my arms over my head. She swallowed hard and snapped her mouth shut. She was kind of cute when she was flummoxed. I put both hands on her thighs, slid them upward and, stepping closer, stopped inches from her crotch. I held them there for several seconds before sliding them back to her knees. I trailed my right hand up her arm and across her shoulders as I stepped behind her. I leaned in and whispered, “There’s much more to come.”

  Before Riley had a chance to react, I stepped away and focused my attention on the woman in the green blouse. I didn’t remember her name and it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. She had cash in her hand, and that was all that mattered.

  I started by slowly pulling my shirt from around my waist. With each tug I made sure just a hint of flesh showed, enough to give the women a preview of what was to come. I moved to the woman with the ponytail and unbuttoned the bottom button on my shirt. She placed a dollar in the waistband of my jeans right where the skin showed.

  I repeated the same maneuver in front of each woman, dancing back and forth between them, encouraging them to have fun and to reward me for more skin. I had watched countless videos and had paid special attention to those that made me hot. I practiced for months before I went on my first call. I continued to do research every few weeks, perfecting my craft. I was a regular at the Candy Store, a local strip joint not far from my house. I’d sit in the back watching and surreptitiously taking notes. I’
d made friends with two or three of the dancers who I still kept in contact with.

  One of the women reached for me and I smoothly stepped out of her reach. I wagged my finger at her as if to say naughty girl and didn’t come back around to her for several minutes. That time she behaved.

  I was down to my last button, and I headed toward Riley. When she realized my intent, she looked like she was about to flee. I hoped she didn’t. I looked at her, willing her to stay put.

  The closer I got to her, the faster my heart beat and the shallower my breathing became. That was odd because I was in great shape and never, never out of breath. She had kept the granite island top between her and the rest of the party. As I got closer, she swiveled her chair so there was nothing between us. Her eyes held mine and I couldn’t look away. Along with trepidation, I saw fortitude and couldn’t help but wonder what that was all about.

  I was inches from her when I unbuttoned the last button on my shirt. Her eyes darted to my hands and she looked hard at the skin that was revealed underneath. I took one step back when Ann interrupted.

  “My apologies, Jess. I didn’t tell Riley that you’d be here, and she never carries cash.” Ann stepped away after putting a stack of bills in Riley’s hands. She whispered loud enough for me to hear that Riley needed to have some fun.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?” I asked, stepping close enough for Riley to reach me.

  “No,” she answered quickly.

  “Why didn’t Ann tell you I’d be here?” I asked, suddenly curious.

  “Now that she’s fifty, she forgets things.”

  I laughed. Riley had a good sense of humor.

  “Stop hogging the entertainment,” someone behind me yelled. “You might not want to see more, but the rest of us do.” Clapping and a few whistles followed the statement.

  “Is that true?” I asked.

  Riley blushed. God, she was cute. “No,” she said, looking straight at my chest.

  Feeling particularly naughty, I pulled my shirt off my shoulders, giving Riley the first glimpse of my breasts before turning my back to her and walking away.

  I felt Riley’s eyes on me as if she were touching me. I ran my hand down my chest to dip into the waistband of my jeans. I unbuckled my belt and slowly pulled it through each loop and, with one end in each hand, dropped it over Ann’s head. I used it to pull myself closer to her. I didn’t say anything but used my eyes to convey to Ann that she had permission to open the top button on my jeans.

  The women went wild, urging their friend to do the same to the next four. I stepped out of Ann’s reach and over to the woman beside her. After repeating this move with two others, I turned my attention back to Riley. I was saving the last button for her.

  I would have liked to see what was in her eyes, but hers were glued to my crotch. Obviously, she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted to be. I stopped in front of her, just out of her reach. I had dressed carefully and I knew she could see the top of my black boy shorts. She sat still, the only thing moving the rapid rise and fall of her chest. When the other women reached out whenever I got near, Riley didn’t. When the others whistled and made comments, Riley sat quietly. As the heavy beat vibrated in the air, I stepped closer and didn’t stop until the seam of my jeans rubbed her knee.

  A wave of desire shot through me and my knees suddenly felt weak. An overwhelming need to climb up her leg until I came made me see stars. Holy shit, what was going on? I’d never…What was wrong with me? I seemed to be saying that a lot tonight. As much as I wanted to continue, I knew if I wasn’t careful, I might come, and that I would never do. This was business, strictly business.

  “Come on, Riley, pop that last button,” someone called over my shoulder. The command was repeated several more times and, as much I wanted Riley’s hands on me, I stepped away. I couldn’t risk it.

  The music moved into another song and I was sure no one realized the transition except me. My routine was timed almost to perfection and I knew how naked I needed to be at any specific point in my set. I wasn’t quite halfway finished.

  I slid my shirt off my shoulders as Ann stuffed a bill into the waistband of my pants. The other women on the couch did the same as I held the front of my shirt closed teasingly. With each bill I exposed a little more. I’d done this long enough to know when enough teasing was enough, and when I sensed their mood was about to shift, I let my shirt fall to the floor.

  Another five minutes and two songs later, I was down to nothing but my tight black undies. I made one last pass to each woman. The bills in my waistband were starting to itch.

  I didn’t ignore Riley, but I wasn’t about to tempt fate and get too close to her again. Especially with only a thin layer of silk between us this time.

  Finally, the music faded and the raucous women voiced their disappointment that the show was over. I went to each one and placed a light kiss on their cheek, saving Riley for last.

  Her eyes dropped to my lips and I wondered what they would feel like against her skin. Her head lifted ever so slightly, a clear indication she wanted me to kiss her. I had a hard time breathing. I inhaled her scent as I leaned toward her. She smelled like sunshine and a warm summer day.

  Her skin was soft and warm and I wanted to kiss her forever. Kissing the other women was chaste, but kissing Riley was the most intimate thing I had ever done. Riley leaned toward me and before my body overruled my brain, I moved my mouth to her ear.

  “You’re right, Riley,” I said, just above a whisper. “You’re not shy.”

  Her head snapped back and she looked into my eyes. I didn’t know if she was going to slap me or drag my lips to hers. I certainly didn’t want the former and would not be able to resist the latter. Instead, she blinked and the connection was lost. I couldn’t be sure if I was grateful or disappointed, but the moment had passed and I stepped away.

  Chapter Seven

  It was late and I was exhausted when I closed my apartment door. I’d had a grueling few weeks of classes and a higher number of dances than normal. But I didn’t complain. I needed the cash.

  I pulled my personal phone out of my pocket and realized I had forgot to turn it back on when I left my last gig. As it powered on, I grabbed a PowerBar and Diet Coke from the fridge. I kicked off my shoes just as the ding told me I had two missed calls and three messages. Two of the calls were from Lou, the third from a number I didn’t recognize. The messages were from the local pharmacy telling me my prescription was ready, my gynecologist’s office reminding me it was that time of the year, and a woman I met in class last year.

  I had struggled through years of college classes and was within weeks of receiving my degree in finance. I had managed to squeeze in an internship at a local company during the days, my full-time schedule at Home Depot, and stripping two or three times a weekend. Needless to say, I was walking a tightrope between exhaustion and collapse. I’d had a final interview for a job I really wanted last week and was waiting and praying that an offer would come through. I fought back another wave of disappointment when I realized none of the messages were from the recruiter.

  I flopped on the couch and my work phone launched into the air. For obvious reasons, I had two phone numbers. Jess was not my real name and I didn’t want some crazy lady to have my personal number. I could always turn that one off and not miss anything important other than an opportunity to make some quick, non-taxable cash.

  Picking the phone up from where it had landed on the coffee table, I saw that I had only one missed call and that caller hadn’t left a message. I was grateful because I was booked for the next three weekends and I hated turning down a gig.

  Most of my work was for birthdays. I’d had a few close calls with out-of-control women, but nothing I couldn’t handle. My evenings at the Candy Store had taught me more than how to take off my clothes.

  After finishing my dinner, I took a quick shower before opening my laptop to put the finishing touches on my last paper. I was so close I almost couldn’t
believe graduation day was in three weeks. Lou had convinced me to attend the ceremony, and my cap and gown were on a hanger in my closet. I had been issued eight tickets, and along with Lou and her husband, Howard, six other friends would cheer as I walked across the stage.

  I was daydreaming when my dance phone rang.

  “Hello, this is Jess.” I waited several seconds before I repeated, “Hello?”

  “Uh, yes. Sorry, hello,” the voice said shakily.

  “Is there something you needed?” I tried to encourage the caller to continue. Every call was money, and I needed it desperately.

  “You, uh, danced at a party I was at a few weeks ago,” the woman said.

  “Okay.”

  “I’d like to book you for another, uh, event.”

  Event. I’d never heard my stripping described that way. “Tell me about it.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How many people will be there? What’s the occasion? Where?” I rattled off my standard questions, digging in my pocket for a pen. When the woman hesitated I added, “I don’t dance with men in the room and I only dance.” My voice was strong, my condition firm.

  “No, no men,” she said quickly.

  “Okay.” Good grief, was I going to have to drag everything out of this woman?

  “Sorry, I’m a little nervous,” she said.

  I could understand that. “If you’ve seen me dance before, you know there is nothing to be nervous about.” But then again, it wasn’t every day that someone called for a stripper.

  “It would just be one person and no special occasion.”

  “Who is the person?”

  “Me.”

  It was an unusual request and it made me nervous. “I only dance,” I repeated.

  “That’s all I want.”

  “Were did you see me?”

  “At a birthday party for a friend of mine.”