by Coco Miller
All from one look.
But maybe that’s how he looks at all the strippers and I’m nothing special.
Well, if I want to get technical about it, I’m not a stripper. Just a dancer.
“Gabriella?” Monica, one of the cocktail waitresses enters the room.
I swallow the mouthful of water and glance toward her. “Hi, Monica. What’s up?”
She flips her long brown hair over her shoulder and leans against one of the makeup vanities. “There’s a guy out there asking for you.”
“You know I don’t do lap dances.”
“He isn’t asking for a lap dance. He’s only asking for your presence. His words, not mine.”
I snort. “Right. Okay.” I’m sure that’s what they all say and then I get there and they want me to undress for them. No way in hell.
“Really. He is handsome and pretty filthy itch. He gave me a hundred bucks as a tip.”
My heart starts to wildly pound against my chest. “Did you say a hundred?” I have all my tips rolled up and stashed in my gym bag.
“Yeah and he has this hot accent, dark brown and kind of reddish hair and green eyes. He is scrumptious. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”
I take my purple silk robe from the hanger and drape it over my shoulders. I don’t tie it around the waist, but it covers my ass and gives me a sense of privacy that I didn’t have before.
I look in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman in the reflection. The makeup sparkles against my cheeks and my mascara is so thick it’s weighing down my eyelashes. This is who he wants to speak to? Why?
“I’ll talk to him. I doubt it’s anything more than that.”
Liar.
“Mmmhmmm, I’ll bring you your favorite drink and I’ll probably eavesdrop, okay?”
“I don’t expect anything less,” I chuckle.
Monica is one of the few girls that doesn’t have a problem with me. She’s stayed by my side and has become a friend, not a close friend, but I think there may be potential there. I don’t bother trying to get rid of my nerves because they are going to be there no matter what.
Six months ago, I wouldn’t have been afraid to talk to a guy. I would have felt confident but while dancing does give me confidence, I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m weighed down by the mistakes I’ve made and it’s darkened a part of my soul I don’t think I’ll ever get back.
“Don’t be surprised if you strip for him. I know I would.” Monica winks before sashaying down the hallway toward the bar.
One foot in front of the other. I can do this. The first step I take, Bobby cuts me off and crosses his arms over his chest like he always does when he has something to say.
“You didn’t even take off your corset, Gabby.”
Ugh. I hate it when he calls me that. It’s either Gabriella or Ella and lately, I prefer Ella because my birth name is my stage name.
“I didn’t have to, Bobby. I brought in a lot of money just from my routine. People like it.”
“They would like it more if they could see your tits. I don’t know why I keep you around. You don’t listen to me.”
He takes a step forward and I take a step back.
“Bobby, I’m good on the pole. You know I am. I bring you customers. They like someone who knows how to handle the stripper pole. Who actually dances.”
My back hits the wall and he closes in. Alcohol is on his breath and sweat beads over his eyebrows. His pupils are blown. He is high as hell.
Again.
“Don’t fucking talk back to me,” he shouts and his hand lands right next to my head so fast, I felt the breeze off it as he hits the wall with his palm.
“Is there a problem here, mate?”
“Fuck off, this has nothing to do with you.”
“I believe it has everything to do with me,” the man with the money says. The way he speaks is almost aristocratic sounding and the way he holds his chest high, the way he stands, it commands power and respect. “I paid for her time. I’d appreciate it if you did not harm what mine for the next hour was.”
Something in the way he says that makes my body tingle because he said mine and looked right at me. Even in the dark hallway and the cast of the red hue from the light, I can see the bright emeralds of his eyes. He holds out his hand and holds the other across his stomach as he waits for me to take it. I know something will forever change if I take the leap of faith and feel his skin against mine. Everything will change.
He doesn’t say anything else. He waits for me to take it, waits for me to think things over.
“Is this true, Gabby? Did he buy you?” Bobby lifts his hand strokes my injured cheek. “You finally going to give that sweet ass up?”
“Please, do not speak to her like that. I don’t appreciate it.”
“I don’t really care what you appreciate, pal.”
The man moves in a blink of an eye and Bobby is gone from my face and the red−headed stranger has my boss by the throat, still looking calm and collected. He stares at Bobby with annoyance and exhales, dipping his fingers into his pocket and gets out another one−hundred dollars and puts it into Bobby’s front pocket.
How deep do those pockets go?
“She’s mine for the night. Don’t ask about her. Don’t come talk to her. Don’t look at her, aye?”
Damn, I think I just became wet.
I want to listen to his accent for the rest of my life.
“Yeah, man. No problem. She doesn’t strip, though,” Bobby says and I look down at my hands, knowing this stranger is going to want me to undress and while his accent makes me want to try, I don’t think I have it in me to do it.
The stranger turns his head to me and he doesn’t look me up and down like most guys. He stares directly at me, past the stripper facade, and right into my soul. Oh my god, it’s intense. Never in my life has someone made me feel like this. It’s making me uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. I grab the sides of my robe and cover my body, tying the belt in place to cover myself. I wish I had on more clothes.
“I know. I’m not asking her to strip. I just want a conversation with the pretty lady. That alright, Miss Gabriella?”
He casts his eyes to me again and I could have melted into a puddle on the floor with how he says my name. The way his accent kind of rolls the ‘r’ and the way the ‘a’ leaves his lips on an ‘ah’ sound.
“Um, yeah. Sure, that’s fine. I’m not sure why you want to but okay.”
I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear and shift my weight on my feet, watching my glittery painted toes shimmer in the light. I can’t watch him like he watches me. I get too flustered.
“That’s okay that you don’t know. I’ll make sure you do by the end of the night.”
The man lets go of Bobby and my boss grabs at his throat.
Bobby points his finger in my face. “You go back on at twelve.”
“No, she doesn’t,” my new friend says, crossing his hands in front of his body.
“Then I want five−hundred bucks. That’s how much it’s going to cost me for her not to go on.”
“It’s fine. I’ll go on,” I say, taking a step forward and placing my hand on the man’s forearm. My fingers wrap around the thick muscle and I gulp when his muscles flex under my fingers. A ripple of desire sparks in my body. There’s a current flowing under my fingertips and he must feel it too because he sets those bright green eyes on me again and his brows pinch together for a second before a smile graces his lips. His straight white teeth show and something tickles the back of my brain like I’ve seen that smile somewhere before.
He looks so familiar, but I can’t place him.
“No, you won’t. Money isn’t a problem.” He pats my hand, letting his fingers linger for a moment before taking out more cash. “How about a thousand to not hear from you for the rest of the night, aye?”
Bobby snatches the money from the man’s hand and disappears down the hall, his figure vanishing into the d
arkness.
“Are ye okay?” he asks and damn that accent is making my knees weak.
“I’m fine. Um, I’m not really sure what you want?” I ask.
He holds out his arm and I’m confused for a second until I realize he wants me to take it. I’ve never had a man be such a gentleman toward me before. Especially in this industry.
“Do me the honor of accompanying me to the booth?”
How can I say no to a man like this?
Chapter Five
Rowan
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. I keep standing as she takes a seat and once she is settled, that’s when I sit down in the booth. She’s extraordinary, eye−catching, yes, but extraordinary and she doesn’t even know it. What she is doing here, I have no idea, but after tonight I plan to find out.
“I’m Rowan. What’s your name?” I ask, holding out my hand for a proper introduction.
“Gabriella, but my friends call me Ella.”
She reaches for my hand and her copper skin against my Irish flesh is what my dreams are made of. The contrast is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
“Ella. That’s a pretty name.” I bring her hand to lips and give her knuckles a soft peck. “It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”
“Oh, goodness,” she says and places her other hand against her neck as if she is flushed. She smiles as she takes her hand from mine and I immediately miss her soft skin. “You are unlike any man I’ve met. Who are you?” she asks.
I can’t tell her the truth. I can’t tell her that I’m a Prince, running away from his responsibilities or she won’t look at me the same. “I’m just a man from England visiting a friend in town. Who are you?”
“England? But you have an Irish accent.”
“Aye, that’s a good catch for an American.” I smile. “I am Irish but live in England, but that’s a story for another time.”
I take a sip of my scotch and lean back, assessing her. She has pink makeup on her cheeks and glitter, but underneath all of that, I can see natural beauty. I want to see it for myself, preferably in the mornings right when the coffee is made and her eyes are fluttering open from a really great dream. “Why are you here in this place?” I ask.
Her smile fades a bit. I hit a sore spot. Maybe I offended her–something I didn’t intend on doing.
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, it’s fine. Like you, it’s another story for another time. A long story.”
“Does that mean if I ask you out tonight, you’ll say yes and tell me all about it?”
“Why do you want to go out with me?”
“What do you mean?” I ask with complete sincerity. Isn’t it obvious why I would want to go out with her?
“Look around. I’m a stripper. You seem to be able to get any woman you want. You’re handsome, obviously successful, and your accent…”
I give her a cheeky smile. “You like my accent?”
That’s all I care about. That she likes it.
“What woman wouldn’t?”
“Where I’m from, women don’t care.”
“Well, that’s because they hear it all the time. I’ve never heard anyone like you before.”
“And I’ve never seen anyone like you before,” I say. “You aren’t a stripper. You’re a dancer. That’s what I saw tonight. An artist.”
There’s that smile. God, she’s prettier than the sunset outside of the castle back home.
“So you like to dance I take it?”
“Oh, I love it. I never thought I would. People don’t see pole dancing as actual dancing, but it’s challenging and empowering, you know?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never grabbed a pole before. It looks very difficult.”
“I can show you sometime,” she says. “If you’re here long enough.”
“I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.”
There’s something about this woman, whether she’s forbidden because she’s not a woman I’d ever be able to date back in England or if it’s because of her shy smile and she’s in a place like this.
It all grabs my attention. She’s an enigma. I want to figure her out. Something doesn’t make sense. Something about her doesn’t fit the stereotype of a woman who would work in a place like this.
My mother has my future bride picked out. A beautiful woman named Alice Kensington. She comes from a good family, money, and a great reputation, but I’ve never been interested in her. She would make a great princess and future queen, but she’s a little boring and so traditional (and I’ve never been one for tradition) which is why I’m here.
Sitting in front of this beauty. I can imagine bringing her home, introducing her as a dancer, and living a long, exciting life with her. This woman, whom I don’t even know, has conjured up some shite in me. All of a sudden I want to take care of her. I want to give her everything life has to offer. I want to show her the world. I want to save her from this place that will eventually diminish the light inside her, a light I noticed when I first laid eyes on her. It’s bright, beautiful, and it radiates from her soul. But the men in this place will crush it if they have their way.
“So Rowan, what is it that you do?”
“I’m in trades,” I lie, not wanting to tell her that I’m royalty and come from family money. She’ll judge me, maybe even be frightened of what all of that means, and then she’ll want nothing to do with me. I can’t have that. I need to make her want me so when she finds out the truth, she’ll accept me regardless.
“What’s your dream? It can’t be this place. Oh, shite–” I put my foot in my big mouth again.
Her eyes round and then she bursts out laughing and my heart flips. It’s a beautiful sound. My eyes lock on the V created by her robe and her chest looks so smooth. My tongue flicks out over my lips and a bead of scotch hits my tongue.
“No. God, no. I hate this place,” she says. “I don’t know how women stay here for so long. It’s only temporary until I pay off some debt.”
There it is. She’s in debt. That makes total sense why she’s here. We don’t know each other well enough for me to ask her to give me more information, but I make a mental note of it.
“And then what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighs. “Maybe go back to school. I’d love to have my own dancing studio and teach women how to pole dance. It’s so much fun. I really love it and it’s such a good workout. I hate how frowned upon it is, even though men seem to love it.”
“American men are pigs. That I noticed.”
“Tell me about it,” she rolls her eyes. “They hardly ever tip hundreds.”
“Are you being cheeky with me? Are you insinuating I love strippers more than the average joe? Isn’t that the saying you say?”
She covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs.
“No, hey,” I reach for her hand and pull it away from her mouth. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Hide from me. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m sure you say that to all the American women you’ve met.”
“You’re the only one I’ve gone out of my way to meet, love,” I say.
“Why me?”
“Why not you?”
“Look at me and look at you. You’re wearing a Rolex.”
“So? What’s that got to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with it. Listen—”
“No, you listen,” I slide across the booth until my thigh touches hers. That familiar spark ignites between us like it did in the hallway while I was getting that creep off her. “Money is just money. I can spend it on anything I want, but so far, the best investment I’ve made is the money I’ve spent on you. Don’t ever compare your worth to money because I’ll tell you right now, you’re worth more than any amount of money I’ve ever spent.”
“I could listen to you all day,” she says in a daze.
“I could talk to y
ou all day if you like.”
Her head rears back and her defenses rise.
“You know all the right things to say, don’t you? You know what, this isn’t a good idea,” she says. “You don’t know a thing about me, okay? I’m just the hot stripper you saw on your night out of town and you’re trying to win me over with your smooth accent and your money, but I respect myself more than that.” Her voice rises with every word. “And you know, I almost fell for it. You make it easy to forget the rules I have for myself, but I won’t fall for your schemes.”
She stands up from the booth and tightens her robe again, accentuating her small waist and large tits. It’s hard for my eyes not to wander but I manage to hold it together. Years of training of looking people in the eyes have finally paid off.
“Ella–” I stare into my drinks, swirling the amber liquid around, a bit impatient and thrown off-kilter by her reasonable tantrum. I’m just a stranger. I’m no one to her, but that won’t last long. I expect us to get very close.
She’s still rambling about how she should have never agreed to meet with me, she never does, and she made an exception.
“Ella,” I say again, this time with a little more authority.
“What?” she snaps in a huff.
“Sit down. You’re blowing things out of proportion.”
“Oh? Am I? Do you tell—”
I tug on her wrist and she tumbles against me. I roll us until she is under me and I can feel the puffs of her breath on my cheek. “I tell no one those things, but you are making it difficult to concentrate. You will listen to me, aye? You and I are going to be good friends. More than friends. I’m going to win that guarded heart of yours and make it mine.” I brush my nose against hers. “I’ll give you everything ye could ever want.” Damn it, I sound like I’ve stepped off the damn boat. My accent is never this heavy.
