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Vito Santos pinched off the amber tip of his cigarette and tossed the butt into the potted plant a few feet from the door of the club. The empty parking lot welcomed lower middle class cars and a few high rollers, who could only be lost.
Cars sped down the pocked pavement of Route 13. A superior waste of money had been dumped into redeveloping the median strips to contain gardens, but those plans had turned into a cemetery of weeds and litter. They were down to only two girls a night, with no fresh blood to entice a better clientele.
The girls made shitty tips, but they’d work every dick in the place, doing whatever it took to wring every last dime from the few guys that came by. He checked his phone. Busy or not, he was stuck here until closing.
Their clientele wasn’t the sort that promised any sort of escape. No, those big spenders hung at the city clubs. Vito had pushed for a promotion, but his bosses weren’t having it. Bouncing out the grabby comb-overs and holding the door for men willing to blow their paycheck on pussy, really didn’t bring a lot of purpose to his life.
Seeing snatch on a daily basis had a way of desensitizing a man. The lure of a tight pair of lips or a nice set of tits faded long ago. It had been years since he’d touched a genuine set of tits. He was sick of the silicone implants, tired of doing favors for an after-hours hand job from a girl who just wanted to make it home to her kid but needed him to jump her battery.
He loathed the man he’d become. Reaching in his front pocket, he withdrew another smoke. His thumb clicked the top of his zippo and he stilled. A horn blared. Brakes squealed.
Headlights flashed as cars spun and swerved out of the way. Tearing metal screamed as someone plowed into the guardrail, sending sparks raining onto the pavement below.
“The fuck?”
A horn blared and someone yelled. He pocketed his lighter and squinted. The rails of the overpass blocked his view, and the screeching horn cut off.
Something caught the corner of his eyes. A flash of white, like a sheet falling off the bridge into the vacant lot across Route 13.
Cars rushed by. Another horn peeled into the air as a car swerved, lights splaying off course. The overgrown weeds of the median parted as a figure crossed.
He rolled his eyes. Probably another fucking junkie trying to find their next high. Fucker better not come into his lot.
Lighting his cigarette, he drew in a long drag and stilled. The frail form of a thin woman wearing only a nightshirt crossed into traffic.
“Jesus! Watch out!”
Brakes squealed as cars slammed to a stop. She moved undeterred.
“Get out of the fucking road!” he yelled.
A curtain of dark hair flowed in her wake, reaching past her hips. Something flashed on her face and he jerked back. She was still a good forty feet away, but heading right toward him.
“What the...” Her eyes glowed.
He dropped his cigarette and blindly reached for the door, missing, but too afraid to take his eyes off the woman coming at him. She looked like a witch, or that crazy bitch from the exorcist.
Her eyes... He couldn’t look away. It was as if she compelled him to stay still. His phone rested in his back pocket, but he couldn’t reach for it.
Her willowy form showed under her translucent gown. No one dressed like that. Even Walmart people wore more clothes, in public, at night.
His skin prickled. Her feet were bare. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... She was getting closer.
She stopped. Her gaze lifted over his head. She turned her stare back to him, her glowing eyes studying his face. Mother of Christ she was stunning.
Her ivory skin contrasted with the sheen of her ebony hair. And her lashes went on for days. Tall, lithe, natural curves...
“Hello.” Her melodic voice cut through him, carving an open tunnel for blood to rush straight to his cock.
Easily the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. He swallowed thickly, blinking out of his trance and mopping up the sweat gathering at the back of his neck. “What’s up?” He winced. He should have opened with something more original.
“I’m Larissa. I’m from out of town.”
No shit she was from out of town. She looked like she just rolled off a film set of some darkly erotic thriller. “I’m Vito.”
“What place is this, Vito?”
The sound of his name on her lips hardened his cock. She had an accent he couldn’t place. Sort of German. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s Silhouettes.”
“Silhouettes?” she repeated, her head tilting and drawing his attention to her breasts. He bet they were soft, the way real tits were meant to feel. Her tight nipples pushed against the thin fabric.
This was the sort of woman they needed. “You lookin’ for a job?”
Her gaze lowered to his mouth. “A job? What do they do here?”
“Dance. It’s a club. For men.”
“But I’m a woman.”
“I noticed. The men pay the women to dance for them. Haven’t you ever heard of a strip club?” She wasn’t the brightest knife in the drawer. Or bulb in the... How did the saying go?
“I’m Amish. We don’t have such things where I’m from.”
“You work at the Amish market?”
Her brow creased. “No. I’m new.”
Yeah, she looked brand fucking new, the kind of brand new he’d like to spank. What could he do for her to get her lips on him? “You lookin’ for work?”
“Will they pay me?”
The pretty ones were always a little off. “Can you dance?”
She smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth. “I can do whatever I want.”
Fuck. That mouth... “I can take you inside to meet Joe, the manager.”
Her full lips parted, and she hesitated. “First I need to eat. It was an ordeal getting here and I’m ... dizzy.”
“You can order something at the bar—” His words cut off as her fingers grazed the stubble along his jaw. He hadn’t seen her move. “Uh...”
“I think you and I will be great friends, Vito.”
His cock thickened and he swallowed. His hand lifted to her back as those soft lips grazed the stubble at his jaw. “Me too. You want to see the inside of my car?” And my pants?
Her tongue skated over his pulse, and his eyes rolled back in his head. She stepped closer, her soft breasts pressing against his chest.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Larissa. Stay still now.”
His body jerked as she bit into his neck. His eyes widened, but he couldn’t think. His cock pulsed and his hands tightened over her hips as she swirled her tongue over his throat, giving him the hickey of a lifetime.
Her fingers combed through his hair, soothing and lulling him. His spine tingled, his balls drawing up tight, and heat seeped into his briefs. Jesus, she made him fucking come in his shorts.
And she just kept sucking on his throat. A flaccid calm washed over him. If she was the angel of death, he’d never been more content to die.