Cold Hard Cash

 

His name was Cash. Cold Hard Cash. He was hot and he was hard, most all the time. Good for me, I know.

He was the best looking man I’d ever seen. He was the kind of man most women would kill for, with the body to match. He stood tall and proud and dark and handsome, like a Greek god with abs to match. His black hair was cut short so his gray eyes really stood out and they stared with this intensity that was at once hard to define and impossible to look away from.

And he was mine, mine, mine. Well, at least until I had to catch a plane back home.

“Go on,” he said and waved his hand at the door. “Leave. If you can’t handle it, just leave.”

But I didn’t want to leave, not just yet. If I left, I certainly wouldn’t get what I wanted and what I wanted was more sex. He stared at me, looking hurt and a little sad. That was my fault. Well, it was my big mouth’s fault. But I couldn’t do anything about what I’d said. I’d said I was sorry and I wanted to make amends, if only he’d allow me.

“Go on, Myra,” he said. “You need to leave.”

I shook my head. Nope, that wasn’t going to happen. I mean, you can’t give a girl super hot sex one night and then take it away from her the next, can you? That would be downright cruel. It would be bordering on inhumane.

“Please,” he said, looking at me. “I don’t want to do this.”

I watched him closely. He was taking in my body, my face, thinking about all the wild things we’d done last night. He liked what he saw and what he saw was a young woman full of lust for him. Couldn’t he see that? Didn’t he know how much I wanted him? Did it matter if he did?

He sighed and looked away from me. I didn’t like that. I wanted him to look at me, to see me, to see my tight body, my pretty face, and the blue eyes that longed to meet his. He’d told me I was hot, beautiful even. He said he liked my body and my face. He liked me, how I looked, my personality. He’d run his hands through my dark brown hair and pulled it as he made love to me not too long ago.

I wanted him. I knew he wanted me, too. So, I walked over to him, leaning against the wall, and touched his arm before tiptoeing to whisper in his ear, “Do it.”

He didn’t respond but I could tell he didn’t really want me to leave; he didn’t really want to “never see you again,” like he’d said not even a minute before. There was definitely something between us. It was electric and it made me go against my better judgment. But what did good judgment have to do with this? Nothing much. This was about sex. It was about me and him fucking like crazy and… Not much else.

I slid my hand up his arm and it went to the back of his neck before going into his hair. He narrowed his eyes at me and gave me a look caught between lust and frustration. On one hand, he wanted to do me. On the other hand, he wanted me to pay for being brutally honest with him. He was being cold. He was shutting himself off to protect himself. I could understand that. And I was honest; it was my fault. I’d told him what this was and it was a fling, that’s all. Why make it more than that? Couldn’t he understand that?

But maybe I was the one who was misunderstanding things. Maybe I couldn’t see what he was all about. Maybe it was me and my preconceived notions that had put us in this prickly spot. He was Cold Hard Cash. He thought I only wanted him for his body, to use him. He was like this because of his past experiences, which had nothing to do with me, really. However, that was his line of thinking and his line of thinking was to never let anyone in. If someone got too close, they could judge, they could hurt.

But that wasn’t my intention. Never. I only wanted to please him and I wanted him to please me. He wanted something more, but was I willing to go the distance? Was he? Could he come out of his shell for one moment and take my hand and maybe lead us in the direction we were meant to go? And where was that? Did it matter? Not now it didn’t. What mattered now to me was having him, allowing him to take me. That’s what I wanted in that moment. It’s all I could see.

I whispered in his ear, “Fuck me, baby, fuck me hard.”

He took a deep breath but ignored my request. Fine. I’d get him started. I got down on my knees and tugged at his zipper, wanting to free that big, hard cock. It was in there and it was already ready for me. Why couldn’t he just let it do what it wanted? He put too much into this, too much thought, too much worry, too much rumination.

I released his cock from captivity and took it in my hands, rising up on my knees to lick the tip just slightly before putting it into my mouth. That got him going. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. What man could? In two seconds, he had me lifted up by the arms and thrown against the wall with my back to him. Oh, so this was how it was going to be? A little rough, a little dirty. A little like the way I loved it.

He pushed my legs open and ran his hands up my ass, enjoying its firmness before sliding his hands down my back and into my panties and squeezing it. Ahh, yeah, that felt soooooo fucking good! He bent down and began to eat at my neck as he played with my ass, running his hands up and down sideways before sliding one forward and holding it still on my pussy. Now I could grind, now I could find my groove and get off.

Not so quick. He wasn’t going to let me have it that easily. He pushed me against the wall even more and then began to undress me from the waist down. My shorts came off, then my panties. I was half-naked and that felt good. His hand went between my legs, fingering me for a long few seconds before he moved away and bent down behind me. He opened my legs even further so he could stick his head right between them and then his mouth began to work on me, down there.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” I moaned as he began to eat me, devour me, take me with his mouth. Soon, I was grinding against his face, getting everything I could out of it as he sucked at me like I’d just sucked at him. In no time, I was moaning loudly, with passion, and I came with a shudder.

Keeping me against the wall, he kissed his way up my back, then slid his hard cock between my legs. I tiptoed and he stuck it in, all the way in, and then started fucking me, slowly at first until he got some good traction and then with more fervor, harder and harder until I was about to explode once more with orgasm. I placed my hand on my clit and rode it as he rode me, as his mouth sucked at the soft flesh just below my earlobe. It was too much; it felt too good but I couldn’t get enough. I was coming and coming so hard I almost fell down. He was close behind, fucking me with everything he had and giving me the best of him. He shot inside of me and then fell onto my back, breathing hard. We stayed like that for a few minutes, until we both caught our breaths.

I turned around, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him softly, running my tongue across his full lips until he opened his mouth and kissed me back, softly. I moaned, pulled away a little and said, “Aren’t you glad I stayed?”

He couldn’t help himself. He started to smile, then he cracked up. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Thought so.

 

* * * * *

 

Oh, so many good things to say about Cash. He was good looking; he was the best lover I’d ever had. He was smart and business-minded. He had a wicked sense of humor and cracked me up almost hourly. He had money. He had style. He had a killer black sports car and a to-die-for condo. There was only one caveat; he was a stripper. A male stripper. Well, I guess that much was obvious. But the thing was he didn’t have any of the sleaziness sometimes associated with that job. He, in fact, had a lot to offer, if only I was on board to take it.

However, I was coming off a bad breakup. Actually, it had happened a year earlier but I had a hard time letting go. My ex told me one day that I wasn’t the one. I had a really hard time getting over that, too. I wasn’t the one? Then why did we stay together almost seven years? I had wasted most of my twenties on him! I thought we were going to get married. I thought we had a future together. I guess I thought wrong.

It also didn’t help that my BFF, Becca, had met and married a gorgeous man who lived in San Francisco. And, yes, she moved from our small Georgia town to be with him. She and I had been besties since elementary school and had gone to college together, graduated and then went to work in the same factory as accountants. We saw each other almost every single day. Then one day, she’s like, “I’m outta here,” and she left. Well, she left after a fabulous wedding and too much cake.

Not long after that my boyfriend broke up with me and I was alone except for my family, of course, and my other friends. But I felt alone most of the time and pretty bad about my situation. Then, out of the blue, Becca called.

“Hey, bitch,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I’m still pissed off at you,” I said.

“What’s it this time?”

She sounded so casual. I imagined her sitting in her luxurious apartment twirling her dark brown hair while checking her pretty face reflected in her stainless steel refrigerator. Maybe I was a little jealous but mostly I missed her. I missed our lunches and I missed having her around.

“I’m waiting,” she said and sighed.

“You’re whooping it up in California and I’m stuck here in peanut land.”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah, everyone still grows peanuts there, don’t they?”

“They do,” I said.

“I’ve not been here that long,” she said. “Besides, I’m lonely too. It’s hard to acclimate to a big city when you’re a small town girl at heart.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hate the fact that you’re living in one of the most sophisticated cities in the world and still listen to your country music.”

“Hey, I love my country music,” she said. “Anyway, I have something to cheer you up.”

“What’s that?”

“I have a trip planned to Miami.”

“And how is that supposed to cheer me up?” I asked.

“Because you’re invited,” she said.

“I am?” I asked. “Who bailed?”

“Brent,” she told me. “He has to work. It’s sort of like our first anniversary trip but he’s covered up at work.”

“So, I’m the backup?”

“What’s wrong with being the backup if you get to go to Miami?”

I was still feeling sorry for myself, so I said, “I can’t do it either. I have a lot of work, too, since one of our accountants quit. Oh, wait a minute, that was you and they still haven’t replaced you. Yeah, double work load since you split.”

“You’re being a baby.”

“I’m mad, so I have the right,” I said. “And you would not believe the shit they’ve loaded me down with. I don’t get home until after eight every night and then I have to be right back at work by seven. It’s getting old.”

“So, come to Miami with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You haven’t taken a vacation in years,” she said. “I know you have the time built up.”

“Maybe I plan on using it with someone else.”

“Fine,” she said. “Be that way. I’ll ask Nicki.”

“Who’s Nicki?”

“My friend,” she said. “She lives down the block. We go to the park and walk together. Her fiancé works with Brent.”

“You’re such a bitch to play that with me,” I said. “Like now I’m going to have to jump at the chance to go because I feel insecure that I might be losing my best friend to someone else.”

“Exactly,” she chimed.

“Fine,” I said. “You win. But you’re paying for the drinks on the plane.”

“I will,” she said. “And I’ll be happy to.”

“Say that after you start paying,” I said. “So, am I meeting you in Atlanta and we’ll fly down to Miami from there?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m email you the details.”

“Okay.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited.”

“I’m excited,” I said.

But I wasn’t. Not really.

 

* * * * *

 

Nicki came with her. I was a little put off at first but the girl was funny and really nice. She was also one of the most stylish women I’d been around and that was because she, herself, was a stylist. She had this great bohemian hippy meets city chic thing going on and it looked great. It went well with her perfect body and blonde hair that looked like she’d been hanging out at the beach to get the perfect color and imperfect wind-swept look. I was totally envious but listened to her suggestions, taking what I had—boyfriend jeans and flip-flops and switching them up with wedges and peasant tops. So, she and I clicked right from the get-go. Becca got food poisoning right when we got there so we left her in the hotel while we prowled the streets, going shopping, barhopping and having a generally fabulous time.

“So, how long has it been for you?” she asked at dinner the second night. “You know, sex. Becca told me you broke up with your boyfriend.”

For some reason, I wasn’t the least put off by her question. She was the kind of girl, like Becca and I, who talked about sex like most people talk about shoes. It was no big deal to any of us.

“Almost a year,” I said and looked out over South Beach. Ahh, it was so nice and we were eating at the yummy restaurant in front of our hotel. It was still hot but there was a nice breeze blowing in from the ocean.

“Wow!” she exclaimed.

“Listen, it’s not like I took a vow of chastity or something,” I said. “But in my town, inventory is low. If someone is single, there’s a reason and it’s usually because they’re old and kinda crazy or both. And, if they’re divorced, they have a ton of kids, which brings complications, to say the least. Otherwise, they’re married and gonna stay that way, which is fine by me. Getting married is just something you do.”

“But you didn’t.”

My mouth fell open and she cracked up, squealing with laughter. “Kidding! Kidding! Learn to take a joke, girl!”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a sense of humor,” I deadpanned.

She studied me for a second then cracked up again. “You had me!” she laughed, holding the back of her hand over her mouth and looked around, spotting Becca coming towards us. “There’s the fuddy-duddy! Quick! Let’s pretend we’re talking about her!”

Becca flipped her a bird, then fell into an empty chair at the table. “What up bitches?”

“Feeling bad?” I asked and pouted at her.

“Feeling better,” she said. “I am never eating a sandwich out of a vending machine again.”

“I told you not to do that,” Nicki said and took a bite of sushi.

“I was so hungry I had to have something. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking,” she said and looked me over. “Wow, like the look.”

“We went shopping,” I sang and grinned then pointed to my dress. “But this is a loaner from Nicki.”

“The girl’s got a rockin’ bod that she totally hides,” Nicki said and pointed at me. “But we’re working on it.”

I almost blushed. Almost. It was good to hear someone appreciated my “bod” because I did run a lot and worked out in the gym when I could. Tonight, Nicki had lent me this killer mini dress that was covered in gold and silver sequins. It fit really loose but showed off my legs, which were lean and now getting quite tanned thanks to the Miami sun.

“She always did,” Becca said. “I don’t know how she wound up with that loser Trent.”

I groaned. “Because he was there, Becca, you know that. And we knew each other and I thought, for some reason, that it was time.”

“Time?” Nicki asked and took a sip of sake.

“Time to get married,” Becca said. “It’s what everybody does in our small town. Besides crazy Alvin Anderson.”

“Alvin Anderson?”

“He’s a nut, bless his heart,” I said. “He walks on the road talking to himself and has crazy hair and dirty clothes… Well, I explained that to you earlier. If they’re not married, usually there’s a reason.”

“And his reason is that he’s bat shit crazy,” Becca.

“You are so mean!” I said and slapped her arm.

“Oh, I forgot, he almost took you to the prom.”

I held up my plate, pretending to smash it against her head. “I am going to brain you over that!”

“What is this about?” Nicki wanted to know.

“She used to work at The Bean, this little diner, and he’d come in there and being the nice person she is, she’d be all nice to him, right? So, during our senior year, he started asking her about prom. She talked to him about it, of course, then asked her to it! When she turned him down, nicely, of course, he threw the cash register through the window.”

Nicki’s mouth fell to the floor. “Did not!”

“He did,” Becca said. “And that’s probably why she can’t get a date. Everyone thinks her ex is crazy. And he is.”

‘Shut up!” I screeched. “He was not my ex! He was crazy and, like, twenty years older than me! And I could get a date. I dated my ex for a long time.”

“Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t marry you,” Nicki said, laughing.

“Bad girl!” I said and gave her a light punch. “Bad, bad girl!”

She laughed and shook her head at me. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

Becca gave her a look, then me and said, “No, the reason that asshole wouldn’t marry her is because he’s a selfish prick.”

I groaned. “Becca, let’s not go there.”

“It’s true,” she said and crossed her arms. “I told you that you were too good for him. I told you that you were wasting your time.”

“Fine,” I said. “You were right. I was wrong.”

“You got a good friend there, Myra,” Nicki told me.

I smiled at Becca. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiled back and patted me on the arm. “One day, we will find you a good man. A real man, not some jerkass.”

“Could you do it, like, today?” I asked and smiled at her.

“You never know,” she said and grinned. “I think you just need to diversify. You’ll never find anyone back home.”

“Diversify?” I said. “Like you?”

“Like me,” she said, very pleased with herself. “I knew there wasn’t a man in that town I wanted to marry, so I waited and when my man came into the office looking for the head honcho, I staked my claim.”

“So, that’s how you did it,” I said and picked up my iced tea, taking a long sip.

“He was mine,” she said. “He just didn’t know it yet.”

We all cracked up and the waiter came by to ask if we’d like anything else. I asked Becca, “Do you want something?”

“God, no,” she said.

“Then just the check please,” I told him.

He smiled and handed it to me. I dug into my clutch purse, then handed him my credit card.

“Oh, let me,” Nicki said.

“It’s on me,” I said. “You got lunch.”

“Thanks,” she said and winked at me. “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?”

Becca shrugged. She still looked like death warmed over. I felt bad for the girl. “Maybe we should stay in tonight,” I suggested.

“Oh, no,” Becca said. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time. You girls go and come back and tell me about all the hot men you see, just like you’ve been doing since we got here.”

“We just like to rub it in your face,” I said.

She rolled her eyes at me just as a young man came up on a bicycle and stopped in front of our table. We all stared at him, wondering what he wanted.

“You ladies like dancing?” he asked.

“Who’s asking?” Nicki asked.

He shrugged and pulled something out of his backpack, waving it at us. “Free tickets,” he said and grinned.

“Free tickets to where?” I asked as Becca grabbed them.

“An all male revue,” he said. “It’s close by. You can walk, even.”

“What the hell is that?” Nicki asked.

“I know what this is!” Becca said and giggled like a teenager. “It’s a man meat showcase.”

“Man meat?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Male strippers! Duh!” she squealed and waved the tickets in the air. “Hells yeah! We’re going!”

“But you’re sick,” Nicki told her.

“I ain’t that damned sick,” she said.

“I don’t know,” I said with uncertainly.

“Come on,” she said and held the tickets up. “Wanna go?”

I hesitated for a second too long, giving Nicki the time to grab the tickets and shout, “Yes! We’re going!”

So we did.

 

* * * * *

 

The young man giving us the tickets informed us that we had to purchase at least one drink each, which was fine by us. Hell, we had two each before the show even started and a third round was on the way.

That’s Miami. You come, you play, you get drunk and you do stupid stuff, like go see a man meat showcase, as Becca so eloquently put it.

“I’ve never been to a male stripper show,” I said as I sipped my fruity tropical and very watered down expensive drink.

“Does that mean you’ve been to a female stripper show?” Becca asked.

Nicki cracked up, shaking her head.

I glared at little at Becca and said, “No, I have not. Have you?”

“Not yet,” she said. “But I’m married. Who knows what we’ll eventually end up doing to keep things fresh?”

“Oh, God, why did you say that?” Nicki asked. “I’m getting married soon!”

“Just saying,” Becca replied and shrugged.

Nicki and I stared at her, then shook our heads, then Nicki turned to me and asked, “So, you’ve never been to an all male stripper show before?”

“I have not,” I replied.

“I’ve been to a few bachelorette parties,” she said, glancing around the room from our table in the back. “Wow. There are a lot of bitches in here.”

There were. I mean, a lot. This must have be a popular revue because every woman in Miami, and probably the surrounding county, had showed for it. The room was gigantic, too, almost like a small theater or something.

“What are they called again?” Becca asked.

I shrugged, noting that the thought of seeing male strippers had miraculously healed her and she was looking better. She’d gone up to our room to change into a nice striped top and a pair of skinny jeans with heels, almost the exact same outfit that Nicki had on. Suddenly, I wanted my jeans too and not this expensive and very beautiful mini dress that Nicki had let me borrow. What if I spilled a drink on it? Nicki would probably kill me.

“They’re called Hard Working Men,” a nice looking lady at the next table told us as she adjusted her straight-out-of-the-eighties high hair.

Her friend in the next seat chimed in, “Yeah, they’re the Men of Construction, that’s the name of this revue. It’s about construction work.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Becca said a little smart-assed. “Men of Construction. Hard Working Men.”

“No,” the other one sassed. “They are the Hard Working Men, that’s the group name and this showcase is called Men of Construction. They do different kinds of shows with different themes, you know.”

We just stared at her, wondering why she was acting so much like a fangirl. I didn’t get it. But I soon would.

“Thanks for the tip,” Becca said sarcastically and picked up her drink, laughing a little to herself.

“No problem,” the woman said and nodded eagerly. “You’ll want to come tomorrow, too. We try to come down and see them at least a couple times a month.”

“Nice,” I said and glanced at Becca who surmised her with a raised eyebrow. She stared at me and we hid our smiles. I knew then and there that she was still my best friend and would always be. It was nice to know. I stared at her and exclaimed, “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too!” she said and hugged my neck, almost drunkenly. “Myra, you have to move to San Francisco with me! I need my best friend!”

“Hey! What about me?” Nicki asked.

“I’m not forgetting about you. All three of us would be so cool together,” she said and stared at me. “We could open a cupcake shop!”

“Now you’re getting crazy,” I said. “And drunk,” I added and shook my head, taking the drink out of her hand. “You have nothing on your stomach, so stop.”

“Whatever, Mom,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve known you since second grade,” I told her. “I know how you are. If you drink too much, you’ll be passed out in less than an hour.”

“Fine,” she said and waved at a passing waiter. “A water, please.”

He nodded and walked past us.

“When the fuck is this going to start?” Nicki whined.

“Eight-forty-five,” our friend at the other table said. “We’ve still got five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Nicki asked. “Think I have time to run to the ladies room?”

“No way,” the woman said. “What if they start early? You could miss the opening.”

“That’s true,” Nicki said.

The waiter came back with the water. I took it, unscrewed the cap and handed it to Becca. “Drink.”

“Fine,” she said and took a long sip. “But seriously, get the show on the road, fellas! I want to go to bed and call my honey.”

“You miss your hubby?” Nicki asked.

“No, I miss my bed,” she said and pouted. “I just got this divine mattress. It’s this—”

She was interrupted when a loud noise that sounded like a jackhammer ripped into the room. Then the lights went out, leaving us in total darkness.

“It’s starting!” Becca giggled. “It’s starting!”

“Shh!” the ladies at the next table hissed.

She sat back and shut her mouth. I stared at her and we almost started laughing but I shook my head and turned my attention to the darkened stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” the emcee started, then cleared his throat. “I mean, ladies and ladies please welcome Hard Working Men!”

He said it like this: Hard! Working! Men!

And welcomed they were. Every woman in the house was up and out of her seat, shaking ass and screaming as a group of good looking, muscular and, apparently, hard working men came onto the stage. Wow. I mean, WOW! Okay, I’d give it to them. They were a bunch of hard working men who were also man meat. Becca had been right in her description of them. They were also the Men of Construction. And, damn, they looked good.

The show started. I thought for a second that Y.M.C.A. would start playing but instead, I heard the undeniable sounds of Shake Your Money Maker—the Black Crows version—start playing. And that’s what got my ass out of my seat. It was, like, one of my all-time favorite songs. Ever. Again—ev-ah!

The first Man of Construction came to the front of the stage with a shovel. He was shirtless and dressed in a pair of blue jeans, work boots and yellow hard hat which, apparently, was the costume for all of the men—and he started dancing with it like it was a very tiny woman. I thought it would be hokey but it was actually very well choreographed and worked. He dipped her, touched her head and then her body as the crowd went absolutely bat shit crazy.

And we went crazy with them. Nicki, Becca and I were out of our seats, almost ready to climb up and dance on the table as the music pounded in our ears and the men onstage revved us up.

The next guy came out with a jackhammer and, literally, started jack-hammering. The thing shook him or he shook it—I wasn’t sure which. Nicki leaned over and yelled in my ear, “How’d you like to get jack-hammered by him!”

I laughed so hard I doubled over. But, yeah, that wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Sure, why not? But then I really thought about it. That would be nice. I noticed how all the women in the room were acting and they were acting like they wanted that, they wanted to be jack-hammered by this guy or one of his coworkers. The energy was palpable and it kept building and building. I didn’t know what it was or what had happened, but since the show had started there seemed to be this personality change occurring. Every woman in there, ourselves included, was acting different. We were acting wild and totally uninhabited. I’d never danced or laughed or, well, felt this hot in my life. And by hot, I mean, sexy. I felt so sexy and alive, I was almost beside myself.

And the men on the stage were the reason why. They were beyond hot. Sure, it might have been a little sleazy, but who cared? It was fun! It was sexy and it was something I needed. I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage and I never wanted the show to end.

The next Man of Construction came out with a measuring tape, whipped it out and laid it against his leg, nodding knowingly at the crowd. We laughed so hard we had tears streaming down our cheeks. This really was the most fun I’d had in… Well, ever.

I picked up my drink and took a sip.

“I’ll give them this!” Becca yelled. “Those guys sure know how to use their tools!”

I did a spit-take. Nicki and Becca collapsed in laughter as soon as I did it then I started laughing too, then yelled at them to stop as we were missing the show. We turned out attention back to the stage where yet another Man of Construction came out with a, yes, nail gun. A nail gun! For some reason, I’d always wanted one of those things. I used to tell my ex I was going to get one for when I did projects around my house. And he told me I’d shoot myself in the hand and have to go the emergency room.

He was always such a killjoy. I was suddenly glad I was free of him. I smiled to myself, realizing I was over him, I was over my ex! And all it took was a few good looking strippers. Had I known this, I would have been going to all male revues all along.

The nail gun guy pretended to accidently shoot everyone on stage and they fell like flies, then he acted like there was something wrong with the nail gun and started looking at it. Then he pretended to accidently shoot himself and fell down. The stage went dark and a spotlight came on in the middle then fog began to pump in the spotlight and swirl around and then the music died down.

The crowd went quiet for a long for seconds. What was going on? I had to see. I kicked off my heels and with the help of Becca and Nicki, climbed up onto the table. And there I saw him for the very first time. He came out without any apparatus but he did have a yellow hard hat on as well and was carrying a set of blueprints. While his chest was bare, he wore a pair of khakis with his work boots.

I couldn’t believe how quiet the room got. I looked around, wondering why, then turned my attention back at the stage at the latest man. He stood in the middle of the stage with his head down as if he were waiting for his cue. And then he got it.

“Cold! Hard! Cash!” the crowd roared. “Cold! Hard! Cash! Cold-Hard-Cash! Cold Hard Cash! Cold Hard Cash!”

“What are they saying?” Nicki asked Becca, who shrugged.

I was about to tell her but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, this Greek god before my very eyes. His muscles… Oh, his muscles, ripped to perfection and just so delectable. I’d never in my life seen such a man. He had no fat on him whatsoever. But he didn’t look like he’d taken drugs to get that body, either. It looked very natural and strong and just… Yummy.

He looked up just then, glancing at the crowd from beneath his yellow hard hat. And then he and I locked eyes. I mean, I think we did. Yeah, we did. But it was probably just my imagination. Just like everybody else there, I wanted to be the girl in the crowd that he liked best.

“Cold! Hard! Cash!”

I didn’t get why they were chanting this, but it was okay by me. But did it mean that I was supposed to start throwing money at him? I didn’t know Cash was his name or that he was the male stripper every woman who loved male strippers knew about and went crazy for. I didn’t know anything about him, of course, but there he was and I knew there was something about him I liked. I mean, I liked the other guys, too, but he was different.

The Nazareth song Hair of the Dog started playing. Swear to God! I hadn’t heard that song in years.

“What are they saying?!” Becca asked our friend at the next table.

“That’s Cold Hard Cash, lady!” she screeched, saying it like she was ready to throw down. “He’s the man!”

“Show some respect!” her cohort snipped. “He’s playing the supervisor! Cold Hard Cash! He’s the boss!”

Oh, that was his name, his stage name—Cold Hard Cash. That was cool. I kinda liked it.

“Whatever,” Becca said and turned her eyes back to the stage.

Cold Hard Cash stepped forward and then turned around. As soon as he did that, all the other men jumped up and got into position and then the show started. The Men of Construction were now doing what they did best and that was giving the ladies a show. They began to dance to the music and then, all at once, they leaned down and pulled their pants off in one fell swoop. I’d never seen such a creative use of Velcro before. Now they were standing there showing everyone their quite stylish black boxer briefs, which were very short. But that wasn’t what everyone was paying attention to. They were all staring at what the men were packing and what they were packing was jaw-dropping good. Every eye in the crowd was on the enormous bulges that were being prominently, and quite proudly, displayed. I couldn’t take my eyes off them, either. They were so big!

“Thank God they don’t have banana hammocks!” Nicki yelled, laughing.

I laughed and kept my eyes on the stage, fascinated that not only were they good dancers but they were actually dancing to a Nazareth song, which, in and of itself, was quite a feat. Cold Hard Cash walked across the stage and jerked his head at each of the other men as if he were giving them their lunch breaks. One by one, they stepped off the stage and into the crowd of waiting women. If I were them, I might have been a little scared as the women were almost at a fever pitch. They were getting hot and horny. But how could they not? Those bulges were something else! I mean, were they real? Were all the Men of Construction packing? If so, I wanted to see more and by more I mean, I wanted them to drop trou.

Yeah, I did.

There were plenty of men to go around, but still there was a shortage. Women were vying for their attention, waving dollar bills in the air and yelling at them to come to their tables. Each guy had about ten or so women all over him as they stopped and gave quick lap dances and pecks on the cheek. The women were beside themselves and started pushing dollar bills into their undies. It was insane! I saw women grabbing asses and pushing out their chests and wiggling their boobs at the men. One woman literally took one of the men’s hands and placed it on her boob, making him squeeze it. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life.

“Somebody’s horny!” Becca laughed.

I nodded. That was true, me included. There was so much sexual aggression—on the women’s part—it was almost surreal.

But it was so fun. Nicki, Becca and I laughed at what we were seeing and danced like crazy. I stopped for a moment to look up and locked eyes with Cold Hard Cash. Wow. And then… Then I noticed something unusual. Cold Hard Cash was headed my way!

No way. But maybe he wanted to speak to the ladies at the next table. They certainly seemed to be hardcore fans. But no. He came to our table—I was back in my seat by then—and grabbed my hand, pulling me close to him and started dancing very dirty which was fine by me. He felt good being so close to me and he started nuzzling my hair, then running his head up and down my body. I was almost beside myself and slightly embarrassed. But then again, how are you supposed to feel in this type of situation? I didn’t know so I held on for the ride. And the ride entailed him putting his big hands on my body and even on my ass. Was he even supposed to be doing this? Was it legal? I didn’t know and I really didn’t care. It felt good. I swear, I could have thrown him down on that table and climbed on top of him. I wanted to. I don’t know why I had this change occur, but it was like this new person had taken over. But then I realized it was the atmosphere; the Hard Working Men were doing just that—working each and every one of us, almost to a froth. I knew there were plenty of husbands and boyfriends gonna get laid tonight. I just wished I had someone whose bones I could jump.

Then he was done with me. He continued to hold onto me, placing his hand on the small of my back. My face was so hot I knew it showed, even in the darkened room. Becca and Nicki watched and laughed their asses off at us.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in here,” he whispered in my ear.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I said loudly.

“No,” he replied. “I don’t.”

I blushed again and said, “Well, you should.”

He grinned and said, “Touché.”

Then he twirled me around and set his sights on Nicki. They danced but I noticed he didn’t put the moves on her that he had on me and that made me feel really, really good. Maybe he did like me. Just a little. Another Hard Working Man then showed up and took Becca’s hand and they danced. And, yet another Hard Working Man showed up and he got behind me, shoving himself right up on me in a very aggressive way. Cold Hard Cash gave him a look and he moved away from me and on to our friends at the next table who seemed more than pleased that he’d decided to give them his attention.

I didn’t know what to do next so I grabbed my drink, then glanced at Cold Hard Cash who was walking back over towards me. Without a second thought, I grabbed a twenty out of my clutch and held it up, waving it at him and grinning like a fool. He grinned back, came over to me, took the twenty and then shoved it down into my bra. I nearly fell over. Becca and Nicki woohooed, shaking their fists in the air.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked.

“Because I ought to be tipping you,” he said and then gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before turning and disappearing into the waiting and wanting crowd.

I turned to Becca and Nicki who grinned at me and yelled, “Woohooo!”

Yeah, woohooo!

But the show wasn’t over yet. The Hard Working Men were now making their way back to the stage. We watched with rapt attention as they got on, turned their backs to us and then, with one quick tug, pulled off their black undies. A line of bare asses stared at the crowd. The women went ballistic and started chanting, “Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!”

We got into it, each of us joining in and chanting, “Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!”

And then they did! And each of them had an enormous dong with just a little white sock covering it from the world.

“Holy fucking shit!” Nicki yelled. “I can’t believe they pulled a full monty!”

“They didn’t!” Becca yelled over the crowd. “That’s a banana hammock!”

“No!” I corrected. “That was a sock!”

And, boy, wouldn’t I have loved to see what that sock was hiding. Booyah!

 

* * * * *

 

Naturally after that, we did what all self-respecting women would do after seeing an all male revue and went out for drinks. There are a lot of bars in South Beach, so we found a nice place right away and ordered some martinis. After we were almost loaded to the point we couldn’t walk, Becca got her appetite back and forced us to find somewhere to eat. Luckily, there was a diner close to our hotel and we walked there, laughing about the show, telling each other we were coming back soon.

At the diner, we practically dove into our bacon, eggs and big stacks of pancakes. Ah, I was either so drunk I didn’t care or the food was so delicious that it just melted in my mouth. I don’t think any of us said a thing until about half the food was gone.

“Well, the Men of Construction certainly know how to please women,” Nicki said finally and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “They’re good looking and ready to do some work around the house, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, all women love to see a man working,” Becca said and grinned.

“Especially in the bedroom,” I said with a raised brow.

“Oh, my God, you’re worse than those women who were sitting next to us,” Nicki said. “Girl, you gotta get laid.”

“And soon,” I agreed.

“Like tonight, right?” Becca said and pointed at my plate. “You gonna eat that last piece of bacon?”

“Have at it,” I said and pushed the plate way. “There goes my diet.”

“Like you need to diet,” Nicki scoffed.

I shrugged and asked, “What time is it?”

“Almost two in the a.m.,” Becca said and looked around me towards the cash register, then her mouth dropped open. She said excitedly, “Oh, my God, is that Cold Hard Cash?”

I looked over my shoulder to get a look. I couldn’t believe it. Becca was right. It really was him. He was speaking to the night manager from across the counter. I noticed that he was dressed casually, almost like a surfer, in a slightly too big for him t-shirt, cut-off khakis and beat-up leather flip-flops. He looked very cool, even with his clothes on. Then he glanced our way, did a double-take and broke out into a big grin. I couldn’t help but grin back.

Then, out of nowhere, Becca and Nicki started chanting, “Cold! Hard! Cash! Cold! Hard! Cash!”

“Shh!” I hissed.

“Cold! Hard! Cash!” they chanted, grinning at me.

He shook his head, smiling, and headed our way. I ducked down a little, slightly embarrassed. I mean, he was probably the best looking guy I’d ever seen and he’d kissed me on the cheek and even groped me a little. Of course, he’d probably kissed—and groped—a lot of women, so I maybe I shouldn’t have felt that special.

“Hello, ladies,” he said with a slight Southern drawl.

“Hello, Cash,” Nicki said and smiled at him. “Is that your real name?”

He shook his head, laughing a little. “It is. The cold and hard came later, after I started, you know… Dancing.”

“I like it,” she said and gave him a wink.

He grinned and glanced over at me, then back at her, then said, “Well, thank you.”

“Is that a Southern accent I detect?” Becca asked. “Not from Miami?”

“Actually, I from farther south,” he said and glanced at me again, then back at her. “South Carolina.”

We cracked up at his joke, laughing like little school girls. He was so funny. And cute. And hot. And sexy. And… Oh, good God, thank you for allowing us mere mortals to be in the presence of such a man. They do exist!

“Oh, South Carolina,” Becca said. “Whereabouts?”

“A little town just outside of Myrtle Beach,” he said.

“Myra and I took a few spring breaks there a few times, didn’t we, girl?” Becca said and smiled at him.

“We did,” I said and nodded.

“Oh?” he said. “Is that so?”

I nodded. “Yup. Couldn’t get too far from Georgia.”

“What part of Georgia?” he asked.

“Middle,” I said and refused to look him in the eye. Actually, I couldn’t even look at him. He was so cute, it made me nervous. Even though I was sure I was blushing, I didn’t want him to know I liked him. What sort of fool would I look like? I glanced down at my gigantic plate of food and pushed it away and said hurriedly, “I usually never eat this much.”

Nicki and Becca raised an eyebrow each at me.

He chuckled and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s good food.” He paused. “I’ll tell you what will make it even better. It’s on me.” He motioned to the manager who nodded, then turned back to us. “Have a lovely evening, ladies,” he said and smiled as he turned to walk away.

“It’s Nicki, Becca and Myra!” Nicki said and pointed at each of us.

He backed away laughing and nodded, then exited.

“He has to be the coolest guy in the world,” she said. “Is he not? Is he not the coolest guy in the world?”

“He is! He is!” Becca and I chimed in.

“Oh, how I wish I wasn’t engaged,” Nicki said.

“How I wish wasn’t married,” Becca said, then stared at me. “You know what, Myra? You should go for it. He’s cute and I could tell he digs you.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “And how am I supposed to ‘go for it?’ Just walk up to him and ask him to sleep with me?”

“That’d work,” Nicki said. “I would.”

Becca nodded. “Me too.”

I shook my head. Yeah, I wanted to get laid but I didn’t want to act desperate. Was I desperate? I thought about it. I probably was. But not that desperate.

“He’s a stripper,” Nicki said. “Women do it to them all the time. It’s not like he’s never been approached like that before.”

“I don’t think I want to,” I said. “Sorry, but I just don’t. He’s cool and cute and all but… You know, I still have a little pride and I don’t like to beg.”

“If I were single,” Becca said. “I’d beg. For him, I’d beg.”

“Well, I’m not going to,” I said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They shrugged and we left a tip on the table and left. Then Becca wanted to walk on the beach. We went across the street and walked in the surf, almost getting soaked from head to toe. Then we sat down on the sand near the water and fell back laughing. The waves gently lapped at our feet.

“We’re like a bunch of teenage girls,” Nicki said. “What did they put in our drinks?”

“Fun,” Becca said and propped herself up on her elbows then grimaced. “Oh, fuck! My stomach! I shouldn’t have eaten!”

“Oh, shit, you okay?” I asked and sat up.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just need to lie down. You two stay here and I’ll see you back at the room.”

“You sure?” I asked.

She nodded and smiled, then grimaced. “I’m never eating again!” she yelled as she ran off.

“Poor thing,” I said and stared after her. “Maybe I should go see about her.”

“No, you stay,” Nicki said. “I’ll see if she’s okay. Unless, of course, you want to come too?”

I stared out over the waves and felt so peaceful, I shook my head. “No, if you don’t mind, go on. I’ll be up in a little bit. If you need me, I have my cell.”

“Will do,” Nicki said and followed Becca back to the hotel.

I sighed and lay back in the sand, loving the fact that I was here, in Miami. Was there any better place to be? I didn’t know but for a second I wanted to sell everything I had and move down here. It was just so addicting. But then I realized that I’d be alone as Becca and Nicki were going back to San Fran and I had no relatives or friends here. I wasn’t so sure how much fun it would be when it was just me by myself.

“Nice out, isn’t it?”

I looked up to see Cold Hard Cash. I was so immersed in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed him standing there. He was barefoot and looking so cute and sexy it hurt a little. I had a hard time coming up with anything to say but finally managed to mumble, “Yeah, it is nice.”

“I walk on the beach every night,” he said. “I’m sort of an insomniac after a show. The adrenalin gets going and it takes a while to calm down.”

I nodded and sat up, brushing the sand off of me. “So, that was a good one, that show,” I said and shook my head. What was I saying? Was I still mumbling? Was I coherent? I didn’t know but he smiled and sat down beside me.

“Thanks,” he said. “We try. You girls here on a bachelorette party trip?”

“Huh? Us? Oh, no. Well, Nicki, the blonde, is engaged but Becca is already married and me… Well, I’m single.” There I went again. Like I was telling him so he’d know I was available. Dufus! What the hell was wrong with me?

“Cool,” he said. “I just thought that maybe you three were here because of that. We get a lot of bachelorette parties.”

“Never cared for them that much myself,” I said. “We threw Becca a shower, but that was it. She was ready to get the hell out of town and couldn’t be bothered.”

“Oh?” he asked.

I nodded. “She lives in San Francisco now. So does Nicki. I’m the only one still on the East Coast.”

“It’s the best, though,” he said.

I laughed a little. “It is. I agree.”

“Cool,” he said. “You like Miami?”

“I do,” I said. “How did you get down here? From South Carolina, I mean?”

“I drove,” he said.

I stared at him and then we cracked up. “No, I mean, how… Never mind. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, pry all you like,” he said. “I came down here to model—shocker, I know. And then that sort of petered out and I needed money and there was a show that hired me. And then, well, the rest is, as they say, history.”

“Cool,” I said and smiled at him. “By the way, it’s cool that you’re cool. I mean, you’re cool, not weird. Does that make sense? I mean, you’re, like, a normal guy. You’re cool. Cool.” I shook myself. How many times could I say “cool” in a sentence? Why didn’t I try to slip a few more in there? Argh! I was such an idiot.

“We all are, normal and cool,” he said. “This is just how we make our living.”

“I know,” I said, noticing how all of a sudden the alcohol really started kicking in. I was a little bit drunk, to say the least. “Just excuse me. I’ve had one too many martinis tonight. Not to mention fruity tropical drinks.”

He nodded and looked out over the waves and was about to say something when all of a sudden a huge wave came up to the shore and soaked us from head to toe.

“Oh, fuck!” I said and felt the sting of salt water in my eyes.

“I was about to say we were too close to the water,” he said and jumped up and then held out his hand to help me up.

I got up then stared down at the dress and shook my head. “Nicki is gonna be pissed.”

“You borrow that?” he asked.

I nodded. “Unfortunately. Now I am up shit creek.”

“It still might be okay,” he said and held up the shoulder to get another look, then dropped it. “No, that dress is fucked.”

The dress was completely soaked and weighing me down. I wanted out of it as it felt kind of icky now. Sea water and sequins, they do not go together.

“Shit! I knew it!” I said. Then, for some reason—maybe it was all the liquor, maybe it was because I had on this super heavy dress that was now soaked with ocean water and smelled a little fishy—I sort of forgot he was there or didn’t give a shit and pulled the dress over my head and threw it on the sand. I glanced down at my body, noticing my panties and bra were soaked, too, and very uncomfortable. I glanced up at him, standing there, staring at me, and I suddenly felt so free. Free to do whatever I wanted to do. I grinned at him and unhooked my bra. Besides, I was pretty drunk so I didn’t really care what anybody thought at that moment.

“Don’t do that!” he yelled and held his hand up.

“You do it for a living!” I said. “I’m doing it now!”

“What is wrong with you?” he asked.

Nothing was wrong! Everything was fine! Sure, I wasn’t acting like myself but what was the big deal? I never got to act crazy and do stuff like this. I did everything by the book and I was sick of it. For tonight, I wanted to be that free person I knew was inside of me. I wanted her to come out and play. While I was feeling tipsy, the fact of the matter was that I wasn’t too drunk not to know what I was doing, but drunk enough not to care. Besides, I knew I probably wouldn’t be coming back here for a long time. So, why not? I wanted to see how far I could take this. Life was short and I needed to get some living in. This was my moment.

I threw my bra at him and held my arm over my breasts, grinning. I turned to the ocean which seemed to welcome me. Fuck it! I was going for it! I ran into the water, almost tripping in the waves and dove in. Salt water stung my eyes but I didn’t care. I was free! I’d never felt so free! I probably should have watched my alcoholic intake but oh, well! I turned to see Cold Hard Cash coming towards me, as if he were going to rescue me and I yelped, dove in and tried to swim away. But he grabbed me by the foot and pulled me to him. He forced me on my feet and grabbed onto my shoulders.

“You’re drunk,” he yelled over the surf. “You could drown! Come on!”

“I am not drunk!” I said, realizing that I was turned on from the show and definitely from him. “I’m happy!”

“Good for you!” he yelled. “Come on!”

And, in a fit of either temporary insanity, which I’d already aptly displayed, or in a fit of lust, which had been building since I laid eyes on him, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. And I mean kissed. I half-expected him not to kiss back and he didn’t at first, as if me kissing him shocked him but then he did and he kissed back as if he were pleased I’d kissed him first. Sometimes a girl can make the first move. Especially in this case.

“Oh God,” I moaned, allowing the atmosphere and the lust in my body to take over. “Fuck me, Cold Hard Cash,” I moaned. “Fuck me.”

“You’re drunk,” he said, still kissing me.

Yeah, drunk with lust. “Come on,” I said and ran my lips over his again. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked and pressed his body closer to mine.

“I am,” I moaned wanting it so badly I couldn’t think straight. And it had been a while for me. I needed sex and he was there. Why the fuck not?

He stared at me and nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

I didn’t answer. I pushed myself onto him and kissed him again, kissed him hard, ramming my tongue into his open and waiting mouth, allowing him to suck at it then offer me his to suck on and to play with. We ate at each other and my nipples rose up in need, needing to be toyed with, needing to be touched and suckled and pinched, just a little. And then he did. His big hands came up and cupped my bare breasts, squeezing them and then he pinched the nipples, a little harder than I expected but that just added to the intensity of the situation. And the situation was that we were standing in the ocean. I was nearly naked and he was kissing me, playing with my nipples and I wanted more.

“Touch me down there,” I whispered in his ear and nibbled at his earlobe. “Between my legs. Touch me. Please, touch me.”

He complied and cupped me there, down there, squeezing me gently as his mouth found mine again and began to suck at my lips. He bent me back a little so that my hair was in the water, then pulled me back up. I jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and he walked us back to the beach and laid me down on the sand.

My hands were in his short hair, grabbing at it, pulling at it, then they went down his back, along his strong back. He rose up and pulled his soaking shirt off and threw it to the side. I grabbed onto his pants, slipping my hand inside them and found his cock. Oh, wow. He was hung. He was big and I mean big. I’d never felt one quite that large but it pleased me to no end. Sure, I had gotten an idea of how big it was at the show, but to see and touch it in real life was quite another thing entirely.

I pulled at his shorts until they came off him along with his boxers and then he was naked. But I still had my panties on. He kissed my lips, then my cheek, sliding his tongue along my neck and then between my breasts and down my stomach. He paused at the top of my panties then grabbed hold of them with his teeth and pulled them off until I was naked like him. He began to eat at me a little, moving my legs apart until I moaned. I let him go for a good few minutes but then I knew what I wanted and what I wanted was his hard dick inside of me.

I tugged at his shoulders until he kissed his way back to my mouth and my legs opened wide. He settled between them and then he was in. Ahh! Fuck! Yes! His dick felt so good, like it needed to be there, inside of me, fucking me. And fuck me he did. It didn’t take me a minute to get my groove on before I was pushing against him, grabbing onto his ass and getting as much out of him as I could get before the orgasm hit. And when it hit, it hit hard. I let out a wail as it came at me and claimed me as its own.

He was right there with me and he finished right after me. We kissed as the orgasms swept through our bodies and kept kissing until they left us panting and wanting more. He stayed on top of me, inside of me, owning me for a long moment before he fell off and breathed heavily, staring up at the sky.

“Wow,” I said and propped my head up with my elbow. “That was fan-fucking-tastic!”

He grinned. “It was, wasn’t it?”

I kissed him, licking his lips as I did so, then pulled back. “I never did anything like that before.”

“Me either.”

I leaned back and stared at him. “What?”

He eyed me. “What do you mean what?”

“I mean, what,” I said. “You’ve never had sex on the beach before. You?”

“No,” he said, then paused. “Does that come as a surprise?”

“Well, yeah, you’re a stripper,” I said.

“It doesn’t make me a man whore,” he said.

“Oh,” I said and thought about it. “So, I’m your first, sort of like you’re a virgin?”

He cracked up. “In a way, yes.”

“Cool,” I said and bit my bottom lip. “Just so you know, I’m not a slut. I don’t do stuff with every guy I meet. And it’s been a while for me and I was a little drunk and—”

“Shh,” he said and pulled me to him, kissing me softly. He pulled back and stared me dead in the eye. “No need to explain.”

I smiled and then I stared at him, at his handsome face and those eyes… I couldn’t get over how gorgeous they were, those eyes, how beautiful and gray with the thick black eyelashes. I could get lost in them, like in some country song or something. I began to feel something then, something I’d never felt before. It was totally new and it felt right. I didn’t know it, but I was sure I was feeling love, real love, genuine love. And the way he stared back at me, I knew he felt it too.

I wanted him again. I wanted him so badly. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Take me home and fuck me again. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me as long as you fuck me.”

I’d never said anything like that to a man before but I was beside myself with lust. I had to have him again. Now.

He moaned as I kissed at his lips, then pushed me back gently. “Okay, but first you need to put your dress back on.”

“Maybe you should put your clothes back on, too,” I said.

So he did and I did. We put our still wet clothes on and then we walked to his condo which was just two blocks from the beach. I didn’t get a good look at it. I think it was nice, but I didn’t really care what it looked like. I just wanted to know where the bed was.

We didn’t have time to find it because we were kissing and coming out of our wet clothes as soon as he opened the front door. He pressed his naked body against mine, kissing me deeply. He was hard and ready. I was wet and ready. It was time.

He bent me over the arm of his couch and pushed my legs open. And then he eased it in, his hard cock filling me up. He leaned over to squeeze my breast with one hand before he started fucking me. Soon, he was power-driving into me. I couldn’t do anything but hang on for the ride and what a ride it was.

“Ahh!” I moaned, loving every second of it. “Ahh! Yes!”

Then he gave my ass a good, hard slap. “Ouch!” I exclaimed, a little surprised. But then he rubbed it a little and I realized I liked it and wanted another. He gave it to me, slapping my ass hard before squeezing it.

“Oh, yeah,” I said and rose up, grabbing his hand and bringing it to my breast so he could squeeze it. He licked at my neck and fucked me from behind and it was almost too much to take. I bent back down and he fucked me some more. It was good and dirty and like nothing I’d ever experienced. I wanted more.

I pushed against him then he stopped and pulled out, turned me over onto my back and pushed me back onto the couch. He settled between my legs and his cock slipped right in, like it belonged there. And we slowed down, almost methodically, and we fucked. He kissed me as he fucked me, sucked at my neck and then bent to take a nipple into his mouth. I arched away from the couch at that and then I felt it. I felt the orgasm. It was quick and it wanted release. Before I could stop it, it came at me and I grabbed onto him, digging my nails into his back as I came and came hard.

He pumped into me and then pulled out and squirted his hot cum all over my stomach. I rubbed it into my skin, staring him in the eye as I did so, then tasted it from my fingers. His mouth dropped as I did that and I grinned at him, loving just how dirty I was getting. But then again, it was his fault. He had brought it out in me.

“Wanna stay over?” he asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I replied.

 

* * * * *

 

Yeah, his condo was cool. After we took a long shower together to get the smell of the sea off each other, we plopped into his big bed. The sheets were of a very high thread count and felt divine on my naked skin. Then we went to sleep. Yeah. For the first time in my life, I slept naked. I was doing a lot of firsts—going to an all male revue, meeting a handsome stripper on the beach, having wild sex. Miami was turning out to be the best time ever.

I awoke with the sun streaming in from the French doors that lead out onto the balcony. Cash was nowhere around. I smiled to myself, thinking of all the downright naughty things we’d done last night and snuggled into the bed. Then I looked around at all the tasteful furnishings. The bed had this cool weathered leather headboard and the nightstands were smaller steamer trunks. I looked around the room, noticing the nice subway art prints on the wall and the gigantic weathered wood dresser. The guy had some serious taste.

I smiled again and closed my eyes.

“Good morning,” he said and slipped into bed with me. “Still sleepy?”

“Ummm,” I said. “You’re up early.”

“You could say that,” he said and nuzzled my neck with his nose.

“Ummm,” I said and loved the way he was touching me.

He spooned me and I smiled. He had only pajama bottoms on but I could feel his hard dick through them. He started rubbing up against me and I moved with him as his hands began to wander along my body, pausing to brush the hair from my shoulder to kiss the nape of my neck, taking time to squeeze my breast before going lower to my pussy lips, which he parted with his fingers and slid in, exploring me down there, taking the time to get my juices flowing. I pulled his pajama bottoms down and his dick popped out, hard and ready to fill me.

Without a word, he pulled my legs apart and stuck his cock in. We lay on our sides and made love. It was a slow process, divine and rich in feeling. And I felt it everywhere on my body. I tingled from head to toe and wanted more and more.

His hand came around and rested on my clit as he fucked me, as he took me. I began to move against it and felt the orgasm start. I moaned as his other hand squeezed my breast and pinched my nipple.

“Ahh,” I moaned, really feeling so good. “I love the way you fuck me.”

“Mmmm,” he moaned softly in my ear. “I love to do it.”

“Keep doing that,” I whispered and held out for the orgasm. I didn’t want this feeling to end; I wanted it to stay forever. I felt so alive yet so grounded and yet so real. It was like nothing in the world mattered but this feeling and what he was doing to me.

He kept at it, but I could tell he was holding himself back from coming and, as much I wanted to continue to do this, I couldn’t help myself. It was too much. I came, the orgasm releasing millions upon millions of good tiny feelings inside of me. It was like warm sunshine just burst inside of me. I shook with it and held onto his hand, which was still between my legs. While I was still flushed with orgasm, he came, pumping into me and finding his release.

Once I was done, he was coming and pumped into me until he finished.

We didn’t move for a while, only laid there and rubbed up against each other. I turned around and held him, kissing him softly and he held me tight, pulling me as close to him as he could get me.

I smiled and said, “Now, that’s the best way to wake a girl up in the morning.”

“I’ll say,” he said. “You hungry?”

“I could eat,” I said but didn’t want him to go.

“Then I’ll fix us something,” he said and gave me a kiss on the cheek and left the bed. He adjusted his pajama bottoms then pointed to the dresser. “I’ve got you something to wear,” he said. “They’re big but they’ll get you back to the hotel.”

I smiled as he left the room and glanced at the clothes—a super old but super comfy looking t-shirt and a pair of jean cutoffs. My panties and bra, which were now clean and fresh smelling, were folded neatly on top. I slipped them on, then the big t-shirt and then the shorts which almost fell off of me. I hiked them up and went out into the open living area. It was nice. The kitchen was at the back and the cabinets were dark wood and the appliances stainless steel. The floor looked really old, but I could tell it was refurbished oak from an old house or barn somewhere and very, very expensive. The couch was a vintage brown leather Chesterfield and the coffee table was an old looking wood box thing piled high with vintage coffee table books.

He didn’t have a dining table. He had a peninsula built out and four cool looking wood stools under them for seating. The counter was a slab of concrete and so trendy and beautiful I almost asked him to marry me.

“I love your condo,” I said. “When can I move in?”

He chuckled and said, “Today,” with slight sarcasm and grinned at me.

“No, seriously, this is the coolest place ever.”

“Thanks,” he said and flipped an omelet onto a plate. “But I can’t take credit for it. An old girlfriend helped me. She’s an interior decorator. As for everything else, the place was pretty much already done when I moved in.”

“And old girlfriend?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We’re still friends. Are you friends with your ex?”

“Are you crazy?” I asked.

He chuckled and said, “Maybe a little,” then slid a steaming plate of food in front of me.

It was an omelet. A steak and cheese and mushroom omelet. I looked at him. “This is my favorite kind.”

“Mine, too,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Yup,” he said.

“Look at us,” I said. “We have something in common besides sex.”

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “But that’s not a bad thing to have in common, is it?”

“Not when it’s that good, baby,” I told him then checked myself. Baby? I just called him baby! I never said stuff like this! And I certainly never flirted like this either. But it was him; he was bringing all this out in me. Maybe it there the whole time and I just had to meet the right man to bring it out. I froze. The right man? Had I lost my mind? Yes, I had. I had to keep in mind that this was just a little sex. And he was a stripper. He’d probably done this dozens of times. It was probably a routine with him by now. I knew the drill without even ever having gone through it: He’d fucked me. Now he was feeding me. Next he’d tell me it was okay to keep the clothes. And, lastly, he’d send me on my way. He wasn’t about to get involved with the likes of me, a person who didn’t even live in the same city as he did.

But if only… No. I stopped myself.

“How’s the omelet?” he asked.

I picked up the fork and took a bite and it melted like butter in my mouth. “Oh, my God!” I moaned. “That is delicious!”

He grinned. “I make the best. We use my recipe at the diner.”

“The one I saw you at last night?” I asked curiously.

He nodded. “Yeah, I own it. It’s mine. Well, I own it with a business partner.”

My mouth dropped. Not only was he a stripper, but he was an entrepreneur, too? Wow. Was he, like, real? I mean, I’d never come across a man like this if he wasn’t in some romantic comedy or something. It was a little weird. I felt a little weird. And he could cook! WTF!

“So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You own a diner and you are a stripper?”

“I own the showcase, too,” he said. “But I’ll retire in a few years. I can’t do this much longer. I’m in my thirties now.”

“But you’re a stripper,” I said, thinking he was skewing my whole view of the world. Weren’t strippers supposed to be, like, bad with money and not exactly intelligent? Where had I heard that? Had I heard that or just made assumptions? I didn’t know. The next thing I knew, he would tell me he was doing this to pay for college.

“I got into it to pay for college,” he said.

I almost fell out of my chair.

“But then I realized I liked it and the money is great,” he said. “And I figured out if I saved some money, I could have a house. So I saved and bought this condo. I would have built up equity, too, if only the housing market was worth a shit now.”

I just stared at him. Was he for real?

“Then I began to understand that I was working for someone and they were making all the money while I did all the work. So, I formed my own dance company. We do gigs all over the country and even some outside the country, too. Australian girls love us.”

I just stared at him again. How was I supposed to respond to that? I couldn’t think of anything so I said, “I’ve always wanted to go to Australia.”

He pointed at me and winked. “Next time we go, you can come with me.”

Come with him? I couldn’t help but glance at the door. What was going on? Had I entered the Twilight Zone or something? This guy was acting like… Well, like he liked me. I mean, I know he liked me, I just didn’t think he liked me.

“Australia is so cool,” he said. “The Great Barrier Reef? Oh, you have to see that!”

Was he going to take me? I checked him out. He was acting like he really wanted me to go with him. So I got a free trip out of this? WTF? No, seriously, what the fuck?

“But, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “I had to be smart, my parents taught me that. I told them I was a stripper and after they got over the shock and realized they couldn’t change my mind, they told me to save that money and invest it. I did. I’ve been smart with my investments, too. I mean, I want to have plenty for when I have a family, you know? I want to get married and have kids. Don’t you?”

I was going to pass out. I had never had a guy talk about marriage within the first twenty-four hours of meeting them. In fact, most avoided it like the plague, like if they spoke of it, I’d be all over them, begging them to marry me. Sure, they were assholes, but still. This was the reason my ex and I broke up. He didn’t want to get married. But then, maybe that was because there was something wrong with him. He was a few years older than me and still running around like he was in his early twenties, going to bars and trying to pick up women. In a few years, he was going to look pathetic. But me? What about me? How did I look? I didn’t know.

“Myra?” he said. “What about you? Don’t you want to get married?”

“You’re not for real, Cold Hard Cash,” I told him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just not real.”

“Are you saying I’m fronting?”

“Are you?”

“I am not,” he said.

“Listen, I want to have more sex with you,” I said. “You don’t have to work me.”

He bristled at my words. “Work you? What the fuck does that mean?”

What was I saying? And why was I ruining this? What was wrong with me? Why even bother calling him out for playing me when I was leaving in…what? Two days? I thought about that and got a sick feeling. I didn’t really want to leave. But I couldn’t stay, that much was obvious.

Just then my phone rang. We stared at each other, then he straightened up and retrieved my clutch from the coffee table and handed it me. I pulled my phone out and answered, “Hello.”

“Where the fuck are you?!” Becca shrieked in my ear. “We’re getting ready to call Miami Metro!”

“Oh, fuck! Oh, shit!” I said and looked at Cash. What the hell could I tell her? Well, why not the truth? I measured my words and said, “I… Well, it’s like… First of all, I’m okay and thanks for the concern.”

“Where the fuck are you!”

“I’m with Cash.”

A long pause. A very long pause.

“Are you there?” I asked.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“I am,” I said.

She sighed with relief and said, “Well, okay then. We got up late and we thought you were sleeping in and then we went and looked and your bed hadn’t been slept in and… You get the picture.” She paused and yelled to Nicki, “She’s with Cash! Yeah, Cash! Cold! Hard! Cash!”

Nicki came on the phone, “Are you fucking serious? You boned him?”

“Well, he boned me,” I said and glanced at him. He stood back, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He didn’t like me talking about him like this, like he was a piece of meat. He was angry. I was an idiot.

“Jealous!” she squealed. “I am so jealous! Does he have a big…? You know, a big dick?”

“He does,” I said. “Maybe we can talk about that later?”

“Oh, every last detail,” she said. “I am going to live vicariously though you, okay?”

“Okay,” I said a little uncertainly. “Listen, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Congrats, bitch!” she squealed. “You fucked the best one!”

“Bye,” I said and laughed a little, then hung up. I set the phone down and stared at him. What now?

“You should go,” he said and wouldn’t look at me.

“Come on,” I said.

“No,” he said. “You should go.”

“Why? Why should I go?”

He shook his head with frustration. “This is why I don’t date! This is why I don’t get involved. No one can handle it. I was stupid for thinking that you would be any different. I thought you were different.”

Ouch. That hurt. But I understood where he was coming from. I got it. I had been stupid, short-sighted. I had assumed that because he was a stripper he’d be that kind of guy, the kind that used women and then booted them out. But he wasn’t that guy at all. He was actually a man. A real man. And just because his job might be a little sketchy to some, it made him no less of a man.

“Just leave,” he said.

“Come on,” I said again. “It’s just that you’re so…” I stared at him, looking all sad and said, “You’re so hot.”

“So are you!” he said, his voice rising. “I told you that you were the most beautiful woman in the room last night.”

“I thought you just said that to all the girls.”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “I don’t say that to just anyone. Just you.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. But I did say, “Just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “I thought you were different.”

Why did he keep saying that? It was a little cold. Why was he getting so riled up about all this? It’s not like we… No, it wasn’t like we had a future together or anything. This was just fun, an affair. Right?

“But, no!” he said and threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re like all the rest! You think I’m just some piece of meat.”

Well, yeah. I stared at him, looking so serious and burst into laughter. This intensity he was displaying made him that much hotter. And he was already smokin’! He glared at me. I held my hands up and said, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take you seriously right now. You’re just too fucking sexy!”

“Oh, my God,” he said. “I can’t believe you right now.”

“Sorry, sorry,” I said. “I don’t think you’re just some piece of meat.”

“Well, I’m not,” he said. “That’s my job. And, get this, I love my job. Aaron, the jackhammer guy, is married with three kids and he works hard to give his family the life they want. What is so wrong with a man doing what he has to do to provide for his family? Nothing! At the end of the day, it’s about money, Myra. Money.”

He was right about that. It was just I’d never thought about it, and I’d certainly never been put in this situation before. But could it be possible that I’d met the rare man who wanted to get married, have a family and lead a normal life? Could it be possible? But it wasn’t normal; he was a stripper. How would I tell my parents? “Mom, Dad, I am going to marry a stripper.” They’d freak out. And my sister? God, I dreaded that conversation. But I was getting way ahead of myself. He didn’t want to marry me and I didn’t know about marrying him. This was supposed to be fun! Why had it suddenly turned not fun?

“But I know what you’re getting at,” he said, pointing his finger at me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t have to explain myself to some girl I just met.”

“Some girl?” I asked, almost seething. Was he serious?

“That’s right,” he said. “Oh, let me guess. You dated some asshole who—surprise, surprise—didn’t want to get married. So now you think all men are like that and can’t understand when one isn’t. You come in here with your preconceived notions and judge me. Guess what? I am not one of those assholes!”

“I never said you were an asshole!”

“Why do you think all those women come to our shows? To get loaded and grab some ass? Well, some of them do, but some they come because we’re a fantasy to them and for a night we give them what they all want—a fantasy man. They’re like you, women who can’t meet a good man.”

“Like me?” I asked, shocked. “I’m not looking for a man! I’m on vacation!”

“Well, get back to it,” he said and went to the front door and opened it. “We could have had something. You and I, we could have had something.”

“But you’re a stripper!” I said, almost laughing.

His face dropped. Oh, fuck me and my big mouth! I hadn’t meant it like that! I mean… I didn’t know how to take him.

“Oh, is that all I am?” he snapped.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I pleaded. “Please understand that this isn’t the sort of relationship situation I’m used to.”

“Why?” he asked, staring me dead in the eye. “Because it could actually work?”

I blanched. “That was a little below the belt, Cash.”

“And you don’t hit below the belt with your comments about me being a stripper? Huh?”

I sighed heavily and wanted to move away from him. This was too heavy, too much. It was supposed to be fun!

“So what I do is holding you back?” he asked, then paused for thought. “Well, I’m a person just like everybody else and if you can’t accept me and what I do for a living, then you can’t have me.”

I stared at him. I couldn’t have him? Not even right now? Not even just for a little while? I was leaving soon and I thought this was just a fling. I mean, the guy had a lot of things going for him. But could he be for real? I didn’t know. It was too good to be true and when something is too good to be true, it usually isn’t.

I stared at him, then at the door. Then I went to the door and shut it, facing him. I wasn’t leaving and he couldn’t make me. There was something to this man and I wanted more. He was going to let me in. I was going to see to that. And so what if I was leaving? So what if there was baggage here? Right now we were together. We might not have that in a few days. Right now, I was making the decision to be with him and he could go along for the ride. He liked me, I was sure of that, and I liked him. We had today and tomorrow. After that, we’d have to see.

He told me to leave, once more, almost begging me with his eyes. I could see that he had been hurt before by people like me and he had made a real effort to let me in. Now he’d been hurt again and wanted me to leave. I was so sorry for my small-minded assumptions. They had made an ass out of me. But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and I wanted him to want me to stay.

I wanted him. There was something magnetizing about him and I was stuck having to do what my heart told me to do. And my lust, too. And I was staying and he was going to fuck me again. Later on, we could work this out, or not, but right now, we were going to have sex.

And so, I told him to do it, to fuck me, to take me, to give me all he had. He’d hesitated but then he was overcome by his emotions, by his lust and he took me, fucked me against the wall, giving me himself, all of himself and I gave him myself, too. When it was over, he held me tight. In that moment, I knew it was going to be hard to let him go.

 

* * * * *

 

Cash took me all over Miami, showing me everything the city had to offer. I called the girls and told them I was in lust and that I wanted to spend time with him. They said they understood but we did have to catch a plane in a few days. I kept putting off reality until one morning I got a text that read: “Pln lvs in 3 hrs HURRY! Bec.”

I panicked. Cash was sitting beside me on a park bench, staring out over the ocean. He looked so cool and handsome I wanted to cry. It was over. It was time to leave. I had to go back home and get back to my life, my boring life. And we’d had so much fun. We’d had our argument and then we refused to talk about it, like anyone with any sense would.

He glanced over my shoulder and read the text, then sighed. “Well.”

I stared at him and wanted to beg him to beg me to stay. We’d had some great sex and such a good time I hated to see it end.

I started to get sad when he said, “Maybe we could—”

“Let’s don’t,” I said and took his hand and squeezed it. “If it’s meant to be, then we’ll know. Right?”

He nodded. “I suppose.”

I stared at him and knew the wheels were turning inside his head. He was a deep thinker, that was for sure. So, I said, “If you think about something too much, Cash, it ruins it.”

He threw his head back and laughed, then shook it at me. “You are adorable. You’re a pain in the ass, but you are adorable.”

“So, I’m an adorable pain in the ass?”

“You are.”

Good to know.

But the fact was, reality was setting in and I knew that this might not work. We were in the throes of passion and sometimes that makes you a fool. I’d know when I got back home what to do. It was killing me to leave, but I had no choice.

He dropped me off at my hotel and I got on the elevator, went to my room and packed. Becca and Nicki had already gone to the airport, texting me that they’d meet me there to say goodbye and then they’d go to their gate and I’d go to mine. We were on separate flights this time. There was no real reason why they should fly back to Atlanta with me.

I didn’t think about what I was doing; I just did it. I took a cab to the airport and then started the check-in process. The whole time, I kept wanting to look over my shoulder for him, but I refused. The real reason was because I believed I’d just been a fling for him. That’s all I’d been. And I knew if he didn’t come, then we were finished. It would be a fantastic memory but that’s all it would be.

I made it to security and got in line to go through. Then I thought I might need to text Becca and Nicki to see if they were boarding yet as I wanted to see them before they left. But then, for some reason, I paused and glanced over my shoulder. Just that once.

And there he was. Cold. Hard. Cash. Not so cold, not so hard. He was walking towards me with purpose. He was showing me that I had made the right decision. He’d let me go but then realized he couldn’t let me leave and that made me the happiest girl in the whole wide world. I had my man now! And he was such a good, good man. Even if his career choice was a little questionable.

“You didn’t think I was just going to let you go, did you?” he asked as he walked towards me.

I kinda had. But I was so glad he’d proved me wrong.

He stopped in front of me and then shook his head, wiping the tears from my face with the back of his hand. “No, no crying. That’s not allowed in Miami.”

I laughed and tiptoed to kiss him and he kissed back, showing me that there was something between us and it was this incredible love I’d given up on, had lost hope on, didn’t believe existed. It did exist. This was it. Right here, in front of me, kissing me back and telling me that while fairy tales aren’t real, you can certainly tweak reality and start to believe in true love.

My parents would say I was crazy. My sister would roll her eyes. The women I worked with would be so jealous. But my best friend, Becca, and even my new best friend, Nicki, would tell me, right to my face, “You did good, girl.”

And they’d be right.