His Old Fashioned

by Frankie Love

  "Touch me, please," she asks.

  "Baby, are you sure?"

  She nods and then pops open the top buttons of her sweater, so those perfect tits are on display.

  "God, woman, you look amazing," I groan, my cock growing hard at the sight of her full tits.

  "You like them?" she asks, taking my hands and pressing it to her breasts. Her bra cups are lacy and sheer and her hard nipples poke through.

  "I love them," I say.

  She runs her hand under my flannel shirt, her fingers teasing at the waistband of my boxers. I pull in a sharp breath, knowing what I want, but not sure it's the time or place.

  "I would do anything to have you," I tell her.

  She gasps, as my fingers run lower down her belly, past her skirt. I pull her to me and pull up the hem of her skirt, my hand sliding over her creamy thighs, running my hands over her panties.

  She presses herself against me, her cotton panties so nice and damp. I know she is aching the same way I am.

  "Levi," she says, her words hushed. I have a hand around her waist and my other hand is under her skirt, and I don't want to push her further than she wants to go. Right now, she might be ready for me to stop.

  But then her legs part, I know she wants me to touch her. Feel her. Open her up like a daylily. Innocent and pure and ripe for the picking.

  "Please," she murmurs. "Please, make me come."

  I look around, wishing this was a little bit more private. Making a quick decision, I pull her into the elevator.

  She looks at me with alarm. "You don't want to touch me?" The look of worry in her eyes makes me smile. The elevator begins to descend and then I pressed the emergency button, stalling us out in between two floors.

  She smiles in relief.

  Oh, but this sweet thing has no idea what I plan on doing next.

  I hitch up her skirt and pull aside the thin fabric covering her cunt. My fingers run over her slick entrance, pleased to find that her tight little pussy is the exact thing I was hoping for.

  "When I touch myself," she tells me, "I always imagine..." She shakes her head, the tops of her cheeks turning pink.

  I stroke her gently, her wet pussy singing for me to press my fingers deep inside her, flutter against her g-spot and make her scream my motherfucking name.

  "What do you imagine?" I ask.

  "Something exactly like this. A real man taking me, touching me."

  "You want to be touched?"

  She nods, and I don't hold back. I press my fingers inside her wet pussy, rubbing her up and down. I love that I'm the first man to touch her, to please her.

  To rub my fingers over her desperate little clit, making her moan in pleasure as I move my fingers inside of her folds, to press them inside of her again and again and again until she's melting. Until she's moaning. Until she's screaming.

  "Oh, Levi," she cries. "Please, please, yes, oh yes, yes," she moans, and then as the orgasm crashes against her she draws in a breath, and I still my hand, letting her feel everything as she gets off.

  She comes against my hand so nice and hard that my cock throbs, but I'm not gonna ask this little thing to touch me. Not when she's just experienced so much for the first time in her whole damn life.

  "Oh, sweetheart, you're okay," I tell her, pulling her into my arms. She is shaking, so overwhelmed with the sensation of being claimed by a man. "Shh, you're alright."

  “You feel so hard against me," she says, once she's caught her breath, looking up into my eyes.

  "Baby, that's because when I touched your cunt, I was dreaming of filling it up."

  She licks her lips, so turned on, and she runs her hand over my blue jeans. My cock stiffens, and it’s almost agony.

  I take her hand and wrap mine around it. "I don't want you to touch me until you're ready. No regrets, Lucy."

  She presses her lips together, the release still washing over her. "Thank you for respecting me. But I feel bad, I know how much you need to get off right now, but... I've never touched a cock. And I really wanted to wait until..."

  "I know, baby. Until you're married. Touching your pussy is more than enough for me right now."

  "You don't mind my rules?"

  "For you, my old-fashioned girl, I can be patient."

  The elevator begins to move, apparently, someone in this hotel realized there was no emergency, just two people getting off.

  She smiles softly as she begins to button her light sweater. I adjust my length, wishing like hell she and I could do the damn thing.

  "Do you work tonight?" I ask as we enter the lobby of the casino.

  "I do. Actually, I should be getting to the Millennium. I'm covering a shift this afternoon."

  "Maybe later tonight? You and I... We could?"

  She grins. "Please. And I have your number now, remember? So, I'll text you when I get off. I'm sure you're going to be out with your brother and his friends anyway, right?"

  "Yeah, because I, for one, know the night isn't going to start until I'm hanging out with you."

  "You know what I was thinking when you touched my pussy?" she asks, leaning in to whisper.

  "What's that, babydoll?"

  "I was thinking that I'm so glad I've waited. Remained pure and innocent. Because you are the only man I want to touch me."

  "Good, because you’re the only woman I want to please."

  8

  Lucy

  My morning with Levi was everything.More than everything. And thankfully, I don't regret anything so far. When I was with him, I felt so beautiful and precious, like I was truly living my best life.

  Leaving him is hard, I don't want to go to work. I only want to be with him. But he kisses me gently, cupping my face with both his hands right there on the casino floor, in front of the LBD. I know my coworkers are watching me in utter shock at my public display of affection. But I don't care.

  When I walk into the bar, I'm glowing. And not one of them made a rude or snide comment about me changing my ideals. Maybe they saw the way I looked at Levi. Maybe they saw the way he looked at me. Whatever it was, I know they saw something real.

  The same thing I feel.

  My shift goes quickly, I serve round after round of drinks to rich men and classy women, smiling and nodding as best I can. Clearing tables and offering the best service money can buy.

  Then I take my tips and change out of my waitress uniform. There's a lot of daytime left. I still have my second job, working a night shift at Vegas Strippers.

  It's the real reason I can afford to take care of Granny.

  I don't love the work, men staring at me as I slide up and down a stripper pole, but it isn't about them. It's about the money.

  And I can separate it from everything else that I hold dear. It doesn't actually compromise anything. No men are allowed to reach out and touch me when I’m up on stage. And my manager, Carlos, doesn't mind my no-lap dance policy. He says with tits as nice as mine, I can do what I like.

  So, I wear a G-string and take off my bra and collect the hundred-dollar bills.

  Without this job, there's no way I could pay for Granny's care. Little Black Dress is a good enough job for Vegas, but it isn't enough to afford the facility Granny lives in. And she isn't even in a very nice one.

  Maybe if I do this for a few more months, I will have saved enough that I can get Granny into a better place. That's what I focus on as I head to the changing room at the club. I pull on my G-string, apply bronzer and thick eyeliner and false eyelashes.

  "You look happy today," Sandra says. She's another waitress at the Little Black Dress and was able to get me this job in the first place.

  "Do I?" I shrug, smiling as we sit side by side in front of the bright mirrors, applying lipliner. "I had a morning date."

  "A morning date? That's cute. "

  "Right? We went to the French restaurant on the Strip. It was romantic."

  "Good for you, darling. Goodness knows there's not enough romance in Las Vegas."
/>   "Wouldn't it be nice if there were more of it, though?" I tell her dreamily.

  "Well, there's certainly not anything romantic about our job," she says wearily.

  "But, it's Saturday night in Las Vegas, the tips are going to make up for the lack of romance."

  I begin my shift, focusing on my end goal the entire time I move on stage. Laser-like focus is a job requirement. If I stop thinking about why I'm doing this, I know it will show on my face, and when I am up here I know my job is to sell a fantasy.

  So, I push aside my insecurity of dancing on stage. Instead, I lift my chin and I do my routine. Over and over and over again. My shift is almost over, and Carlos gives me a thumb’s up as when I go out for my last dance of the night.

  The music is bumping, and the club is packed. The stage lights are bright and I'm glad that there is a big crowd out. Lots of groups of men in fancy suits and douchey clubwear. Everyone is looking to get laid tonight.

  People are drinking, bottle service is all around, and I begin my routine as the music starts.

  I move around the stage, one foot in front of the other, shaking my ass, teasing the men nearest the stage and I shimmy the G-string lower and lower. I pull it off, my pussy bare, and when everyone is wild with excitement, throwing crisp bills onto the stage, I unhook my bra and let my breasts fall out. It's my grand finale, my piece de resistance. My breasts are huge, real, and the kind every man here dreams of coming all over.

  I may be a virgin, but I have watched enough porn to know what men really want. What they like. And so, up on stage, I touch myself teasingly, running a hand between my legs, rolling my breasts in my hand. Squeezing my nipples.

  That's when I hear the shouting.

  The yelling.

  The man running up on stage. Grabbing me by my wrists and pulling me off.

  "Levi!" I shout his name when I see who it is.

  Levi is here.

  He just watched my routine.

  Oh, my heart.

  "What in God’s name are you doing?" he growls at me as Carlos runs up behind us.

  "Lucy," Carlos shouts. "It's okay, security is coming," he says, grabbing Levi by his collar.

  "No, Carlos, it's okay. I know him. He's a friend--I swear."

  Levi steps back, raising his hands in the air.

  "I know him, it's not what it looks like," I promise Carlos. My manager stays long enough to make sure I'm being honest, and Levi's eyes are filled with rage. When Carlos steps way, I know I have to explain.

  "It's not what it looks like?" Levi growls. "Then what exactly does it look like? From where I was sitting, all I saw was you, shaking your ass on stage. Taking off your clothes. I thought you were an old-fashioned girl, Lucy, but from the looks of it you're nothing but a stripper."

  Tears well up in my eyes and run down my face, my cheeks streaked with mascara. My heart pounding.

  "You don't know what you're saying," I shout at him. "How dare you," I cry. "I'm doing this for ––"

  "Let me guess, your granny? Is anything you told me at all true?"

  "Everything was true."

  "You won't sleep with me, but you'll strip down to nothing for any man in Las Vegas? What was I supposed to think when I saw you there like that?"

  "I don't care what you saw, Levi, or what you thought. I do what I have to do. And I never lied to you. I do want to wait to have sex until I'm married. And I'm only doing this for the money. For Granny."

  I cover my face with my hands as sobs wrack my body. I hate that he is judging me like this, not seeing my good intentions.

  "You expect me to believe this wasn't all an act?" he asks, hurt in his eyes. "That when you were with me, kissing me, being innocent and naïve… that it was all real?"

  "I'm not telling you what to believe, Levi. I'm just telling you what the truth is. Besides, I think you liked it. Seeing me naked. Isn't that what you're after with me anyway? Just seeing how far you can get with me? Hoping that in the end you'll get laid?"

  He grabs my wrists, pinning them over my head and looking right in the eye. "Don't you dare say that, Lucy. This is not about sex for me."

  I'm standing here naked, wearing thigh high boots and feeling utterly exposed.

  When he looks at me I feel vulnerable in a way that is terrifying.

  "If it's not all about sex, then what is it about, Levi?"

  I know what I want it to be about. What I'm hoping for. But I'm scared to say it out loud.

  "It's about love," he says.

  I'm scared to look him in the eyes, but once again he uses the hook of his finger to lift my chin. Our eyes lock. He sees me.

  "It's about loving you," he repeats. "But I can't have you up on that stage, Lucy. And it's not because I don't want to see you naked, it's because I want to be the only man to look at you that way."

  "What are you saying? That you've fallen in love with me in twenty-four hours? It's not possible, it's ––"

  "Believe in the impossible, Lucy. Because it's the goddamn truth. Don't make me beg for it. Just answer: do you love me?"

  "I do. As crazy as it sounds, as unexpected as it is, I do love you, Levi."

  "Good." But his jaw is clenched, and his brows are creased.

  "You sure? You don't look so good."

  "No, it's very good. But it is very serious, too. You love me, and I love you and it means it's time to make you my bride."

  "Bride?" My eyes go wide. "But––"

  "You heard me. You want to do this the old-fashioned way? That's fine by me. But right now, we're going to a chapel, and I'm going to make you my wife."

  Then he picks me up and flings me over his shoulder.

  "Where's the dressing room? I need to cover you up, wifey." Then he adds, "But not for long. Because pretty soon, I'm going to strip you to nothing once again."

  9

  Levi

  The moment I walked into the strip club I knew something was off.

  It's not the kind of place I like to go anyway, but I'm here for Luke. I don't think it would be a good idea to let him and his buddies come alone. I don't exactly trust them. Luke is prone to getting himself in trouble. That's the last thing he needs a week before his wedding.

  We came in during the middle of a routine, and the crowd was going wild. There was a woman up on stage who was curvy, her ass was nice and round. She had her back to us, so all I could focus on was her perfect curves, wishing the woman I was looking at was another woman altogether. The woman I am already head over heels for.

  Then the dancer reached up and unhooked her bra before turning around. That's when I saw her face.

  Lucy.

  Up there on the stage, touching herself, those creamy tits of hers so damn delicious that every man in this club was drooling. I wasn't having any of it.

  I rushed up on stage and pulled her out from under the bright lights. I didn't give a shit what mess I made or what scene I may have caused. All I cared about was getting Lucy away from all those eyes. Those men. Their bad intentions.

  It didn't take long to get to the bottom of things. Lucy may work on stage, but it doesn't change the fact that she is who she says she is.

  And now, she is mine.

  I have her over my shoulder as I carry her to the dressing room. She needs to get covered up before she walks down the aisle.

  "You sure? You really want to?" she asks as I set her on the floor, so she can get changed.

  I followed her in, not caring that there are other dancers around us. I am focused solely on her.

  "You know what I want," I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I want you to be my wife. Now put on some clothes and let's go do the damn thing."

  The dancers look at Lucy in shock, but Lucy just laughs, calling me a caveman.

  "If you're getting married, Lucy, you need to wear white." One woman says,

  "There's got to be some sort of wedding dress in here somewhere," someone else says, rifling through a clothing rack.

  "Didn't Cou
rtney leave one here after she called off her wedding?" another woman asks.

  I'm pushed out of the dressing room as the women get Lucy ready.

  "Don't take long," I growl.

  The women just laugh and tell me that my bride will be ready in plenty of time. One of them suggests I call a chapel and make a reservation. That reminds me that I should probably let my brother and his friends know what I'm doing.

  I pull out my phone and send them a text, then I call the Elvis Presley Wedding Chapel and ask if they have room.

  "We just had a cancellation. Can you be here in an hour?"

  Smiling, I call a limo company next. Lucy is old-fashioned, and she needs to go to the chapel in style.

  My phone rings. "Are you kidding me with this?" Luke asks. "You ran out of the club like a fucking ape."

  "I'm not kidding. But Luke, I have to ask you something."

  "What is it, man, because you caused quite a scene. You ran up onto that stage like some badass vigilante."

  "Not vigilante. I was just coming for what was mine."

  "That girl who was dancing? She's yours now?"

  "Yes, she is. And we're getting married tonight."

  "Holy shit, you're not kidding, are you?" Luke asks over the phone.

  "I'm not kidding at all. That's why I've gotta ask: Will you be my best man?"

  When the dressing room door opens again, Lucy walks out, and she is a sight to behold. She may be a stripper, but she's also a bride wearing white on her wedding day.

  "I called Granny," she tells me before I can say anything about how beautiful she looks. "She's always up late watching her crime shows, and I told her I was getting married."

  "She okay with not being there?"

  "She said it sounded quite romantic, and that if I don't take a lot of pictures she's going to come after you. And then she says before you and I ride off into the sunset I have to introduce you."

  "We're not saying goodbye to her, so there will be plenty of time for that," I tell her.

  "Well, I didn't know what to say when she asked where we would be living... I mean, I was hoping we could stay..."