-RORY-
Chills ran up and down my spine and my hands grew damp. Had Hindley really been a stripper? Even worse, was she still a stripper?
She stopped in front of the center pole, her hips swaying to the beat of the music. Slowly she extended her arms and grabbed the pole behind her head. The motion tugged her outfit to dangerous levels. Her breasts nearly popped free from her top, and I didn’t know if I was excited or pissed as hell.
I wanted to stop her, ask her questions, find out if she truly was or had been a stripper, but my body betrayed me, and the animal inside took over.
I reclined back into the soft velvety chair and prepared for the show.
Her body moved in perfect time to the beat of the music as she slid down the pole. Her thighs spread wide as she sank down, her ass on the back of her sky-high pumps. Her new position gave me access to parts of her I prayed few had seen.
She turned and grabbed the pole, climbing almost to the ceiling before inverting herself, her long blonde hair hanging below her head. She spread her long legs into a horizontal split while simultaneously spinning around the pole.
Shit, how the hell was she doing that without falling on her face?
Her body slid down the pole and plunged toward the floor. I almost lunged out of my chair to catch her, fearing she actually would smash her face.
Before I could move, her legs flexed and wrapped around the pole to slow her movement. The momentum of her fall had her entire body swinging around to an upright position.
What the hell? She’d definitely done this before.
Hindley continued her dance, performing acrobatics I’d never seen or even known were possible. All the while, her thick mane of golden hair swung with the smooth movements of her body, wrapping around her neck and framing her face like a work of art.
She twisted around to a standing position, one hand above her head to steady herself. I had no idea how she wasn’t dizzy as fuck after twirling around that damn pole.
Her gaze held mine as she shoved off the pole and stalked toward me like a predator, every step choreographed to the beat of Def Leppard’s song.
She was a siren, and I was caught in her trap.
As she drew nearer, her eyes narrowed and sparkled with a look of hunger I’d never seen. One side of her plump lips tilted up with an evil smirk. I feared this she-devil in front of me may eat me alive. Her expression left no doubt in my mind what she wanted.
Me.
And right now, I was totally okay with that.
She stopped a few feet away from me and sank down to her hands and knees. Flipping her hair back over her shoulders, she crawled toward me, that some predatory look in her eyes.
My mouth grew dry and my dick stiffened to a painful level.
She stopped between my legs, leaning back on her ass as her hands skimmed over my thighs. Using my body as leverage she lifted herself and rolled her entire body against mine like a snake.
Fuck, I was gonna blow a load all over this place if she kept this up.
Oblivious to my pain, she rocked her hips and chest against me, moving in perfect rhythm to the beat of the music. Suddenly she flipped around, gripping the arms of the chair as she ground her ass into my dick.
Fuck.
I held my breath, counting backward from one hundred to keep myself under control.
Her head fell back, her hair splaying across my face, blinding me. Her body was unreal and she smelled so fucking amazing, I had to have her. Just like this. Now.
I reached around her small waist and moved my hand further down, but was stopped by the sting of her slap.
She fell back against me, her body melting into mine as she twisted her head to whisper in my ear.
“Don’t touch the dancer.”
I didn’t think it was possible to come without someone actually touching you, but I was pretty sure that’s what I’d done as soon as her hot little breath had caressed my skin. I closed my eyes and gripped the chair with all my might, afraid that if I touched her, my private dance may come to an end. And I did not want that to happen.
The song came to an end and my mind screamed, “No!” But my dick said, “Thank God.”
She flipped around to face me, her brown eyes holding my gaze. Before I could reach out and touch her, she pushed up into a standing position, then turned and stalked back to the pole.
For the first time, I was able to get a good look at the back of her outfit.
Holy fuck-bags. I always knew Hindley was hot with a killer body, but this chick in front of me was like molten lava.
I’d expected a G-string or a thong of some kind, the kind of outfit you see most strippers wear. Instead, she wore low-rise leather bottoms that revealed only a portion of ass, thank God.
The design was even better than most I’d seen. With half of her backside covered, a man’s mind begged to see more. It was perfect. She was perfect.
Hindley grabbed the pole and hoisted herself up again, swinging around two full revolutions before turning herself upside down. With one leg wrapped around the pole, she let the other fall down and touch the floor in a perpendicular split.
Who knew she was so limber?
Upside down, the outfit barely held in her breasts. All I could think of was ripping that damn costume off her body.
Slowly her other leg lowered to the floor and she lifted herself to a standing position as the music came to an end. In the silence, she stared at me with doe eyes, her shoulders slightly slumped. The confident woman who had stood before me just minutes ago was gone, replaced by my shy Drunk Girl.
My gut burned with the realization that Hindley had definitely been a stripper at one time in her life. She’d danced on a stage while dirty old men ogled her, and pined after her. Like I’d just done.
I sank back into my chair, wondering what to say to this revelation.
Her eyes grew wider and shimmered with tears. Terror struck me as I realized I might not be able to get past the fact that she may have been, or may still be a stripper.
Hindley walked slowly toward me, sinking down to her knees at my feet as if I were her master.
I gazed down at her beautiful face, now covered with more makeup than I’d seen her wear before. Her true beauty underneath still shone through.
Her expression was apprehensive but innocent.
My anxiety eased a fraction.
“So, what did you think?” She raised her brows in mild amusement, but we both knew she was nervous.
I sat in silence, unprepared to speak.
Her eyes darted back and forth as she stared at me, seeming to be searching for something I couldn’t seem to give her.
“Rory,” she whispered, putting her hands on my thighs. Her long false eyelashes splayed across her lids like fans and I wondered how many times she’d donned this costume and batted her lashes for money. How many acts had she performed in the course of her life? How long had she been dancing half naked for men?
“Rory,” she called again.
“Yes?”
“What did you think?” She swallowed hard. “Of my dance? My dance for you,” she added.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you? For other people?” My tone was more accusatory than I’d intended.
She pulled back as if I’d slapped her. “Why? Would that bother you?”
I sat up straight. “Hell yes, it would.”
She reared back, a snarl curling her lips.
“What?” I asked in shock. She couldn’t possibly think this wouldn’t bother me.
She remained silent, her brows knitted as she glared at me.
“Hindley, come on. Are you seriously asking me why it would bother me to find out that perverted old men have pawed at your naked body for money?”
Her jaw fell lax.
I wanted to feel bad for my harsh words but I didn’t. All I felt was a sick type of fury burning in my stomach at the thought of other men in dark, seedy places touching her.
She cocked her head and raised a brow. “So, have you ever been to a strip club before?”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
She pushed against my legs and rose to her feet, glaring at me with disgust. “It has everything to do with it. Answer my question, Rory.” She slammed her clenched fists to her hips as her eyes narrowed.
Fuck. I was totally screwed.
“Yes.” I finally answered.
“So what’s the difference between that woman dancing on your lap, and you being one of the perverted old men lusting after her?”
Sometimes I hated that she was such an attorney. I would never win against her arguments, she was too damn smart. Her reasoning was right though, I had been a dirty old perv.
“You think you’re better than that stripper, don’t you?” Her voice was louder now, echoing through the small space.
I jumped to my feet and approached her. “What the fuck do you expect me to say, Hindley? That I’m okay with this?” I waved my hand toward the pole. “With you being a stripper?”
“You’re just like everyone else.” She swept a hand through the air. “So judgmental.”
“Me, judgmental?” I cocked my head and stared at her in disbelief.
“Yes, you.” She poked my chest. “What you’re saying is, it’s disgusting for a woman to dance around naked for a man, but it’s perfectly fine for a man to let her?” She shook her head, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. “God, you’re so hypocritical.”
“I’m not hypocritical or judgmental.”
“Oh, yeah?” she spat. “When you were in one of these clubs, did you pay a woman to sit on your lap and dance for you?”
Oh, shit. I knew where she was going with this, and I hated it. It was true, she was right. I had paid for women to do exactly what she’d done and had never thought twice about it. It had always been in fun, during a bachelor party or some other stupid shit like that.
“That’s what I thought.” She turned on her six-inch ‘Come Fuck Me’ pumps and stalked toward the velvet curtains.
I chased after her, grabbing her elbow and turning her to face me. “This is different, Hindley.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts higher. “How?”
I fought the urge to stare at her chest, which would only prove how much of a dick I was.
“It’s you.” I pointed to the pole. “It’s you. Up there.” I scrubbed my hands through my hair wanting to yank it out by the roots.
“So?”
“So. You don’t know what those fuckers are like in those clubs, Hindley.”
“It’s just dancing.”
“Maybe to you, but not to them.”
“You mean, not to you? Don’t forget, you’re one of those perverted old men, remember?”
I bit down so hard, I was afraid I might actually break a tooth. How was this girl getting the best of me?
She shifted her weight on her feet, jutting out a hip. “Just be honest with me, Rory.”
I steeled my features, wanting to argue but the truth was, she was right. It was a double standard, no matter which way you looked at it.
I had been hypocritical and judgmental. But the girl didn’t understand the way men’s minds worked.
It may have been a job to her, but to us sick fuckers, these women were dream girls, an image perpetually stuck in our mind as we whacked off later at home, or worse yet, in the bathroom stall of the fuckin’ strip club. I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat at the image.
“Do you think differently of me now because—” She swallowed hard.
How could she seriously expect me to be okay with her being a stripper if she couldn’t even say the word?
I stared up at the ceiling, trying to erase the image of her, bare ass naked on a stage as sick, perverted men licked their lips in anticipation of touching her milky white skin. I was seriously going to hurl.
“That’s what I thought,” she said in disgust. She yanked her elbow from my grasp as her heels clicked on the wooden floor.
“Wait, Hindley!”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
I slid in behind her, my body only inches away from hers, careful not to touch her in any way. “It’s not what you think.”
She turned to face me, the height of her shoes placing her gorgeous eyes directly across from mine. “What is it then?” she asked, her eyes softening.
“You’re right. I am a hypocritical, judgmental dick. It’s a double standard, and I’ve participated in it. It’s just…” I didn’t know how to articulate all the things that were racing through my mind. “Look, Hindley, you don’t understand how men think about shit like this. To you, it may be just dancing, but for them…” I had no idea how to express what I was feeling.
“For them, it’s more?” she finished.
“For some of them, it’s a lot more.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Some girls take it further.”
“Like prostitution?”
I nodded. I’d never done it but I knew guys who had.
“Yes, some of them do,” she said, “but not all dancers. In fact, most of them are extremely smart women who know how to take advantage of men who are dumb enough to pay money to see something they could probably get for free.”
“You’re asking me to completely change my way of thinking in one afternoon, change beliefs I’ve had for years. I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s wrong to think that way. I’m sure a lot of you are smart. I mean, look at you, you’re an attorney. It’s just. It’s you, Hindley.”
“I was never a stripper, Rory.”
It took several seconds for her words to register. “What?”
“I said I was never a stripper.”
“But, you just danced. And then, you were defensive of the lifestyle, and—”
“It’s not a lifestyle. It’s a profession, a means to an end.”
“Not a great means,” I added.
She shook her head.
“So, if you weren’t a stripper, how do you know about all of this?” I waved my hand around the vast room.
“I worked with them.”
“Doing what?”
“I designed their costumes and they taught me how to dance. It’s good exercise.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
My shoulders slumped in relief. She hadn’t been a stripper. Well, thank fuck for that.
“There you go again,” she huffed.
“What?”
“Your body language says you’re relieved to find out I wasn’t a stripper.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Hindley, but I am. Call me crazy, but the thought of men trying to touch you kind of sickens me. Just thinking of those bastards jerkin’ off to images of you in their mind makes me want to puke.”
She shook her head and stared at the floor.
“I know it may seem wrong to you but…” How could I explain it to her without causing her to get angry again?
She lifted her head and stared at me. I had to get this right.
“How would you feel if you found out that I used to dance around on a table, completely naked and let women touch and fondle me?”
Her eyes widened with what I hoped was understanding. At least she was willing to see it from my point of view for once.
“But it doesn’t mean anything to the girls,” she said.
“But it does to the men, Hindley. We’re all sick motherfuckers. And trust me, if someone as hot as you shakes her ass in a guy’s face, he’s gonna dream about fuckin’ you for weeks. Hell, he’ll probably jack off to your image in the parking lot.”
Her head fell and she played with the chain of her outfit.
I reached out and lifted her chin until our eyes met. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair to judge. But men and women are different. I wouldn’t think any less of you if you told me you were a stripper.”
She yanked her chin from my grasp. “Sure,” she huffed.
“I mean it, Hindley. I couldn’t care less what’s happened in your past or what you’ve done. But you can’t expect me not to be affected in some way, not have a feeling about it one way or the other.” I waited for her to return my gaze, but she didn’t. Panic flooded me. Was I going to lose her over this?
I moved to stand in front of her again. “Hey,” I whispered.
She lifted her head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?” she asked, her brown eyes wide.
“For judging you, for judging these women. I’ll never look at the profession the same again, I can promise you that.”
“But?”
“But it doesn’t mean it would be any easier to know that other assholes drooled over you and fantasized about you—knowing they went to bed at night jackin’ off to images of your naked ass running through their demented minds.”
“What?” she half laughed.
“I’m serious, Hindley. That’s the way guys are. We’re sick fuck bags. If you put eye candy in front of us, we’re gonna want a lick.”
“That’s a visual.” She giggled.
Oh, thank fuck. My girl was back. I grasped her in my arms but leaned back so I could see her.
“I meant what I said, Hindley. There’s nothing in your past that would make me love you any less.”
“Love me?”
Oh, shit. Had I just said love? Yeah, I had.
“Yes,” I answered honestly.
I did love her. I’d known it for a long time, I was just too scared to say it out loud, afraid to give her that kind of power over me. But after I watched her dance, and listened to her defend a profession that I’d judged so harshly, I realized she had a fire and a passion in her that I was addicted to.
She leaned in and kissed my cheek before pulling away to stare at me. She smirked, her eyes softer now, like she held a secret that could change the world.
“Give me a second to clean up then I want to take you to dinner.”
“Okay,” I said, thankful she wasn’t running for the door.
She turned and walked away, disappearing behind the curtains she’d entered through earlier.
I made my way back to the chair and collapsed with a huge sigh.
She wasn’t a stripper, thank fuck for that. But she was right. It was hypocritical to think that way. I had ogled strippers before. Was it all in fun? Did it matter? No, it didn’t. I’d taken advantage of them and you know what? Hindley was right. They were smart enough to charge me for it. Who was the dumbass now?
I closed my eyes, unable to stop the visions of Hindley dancing around that pole, splitting her legs, rubbing her little ass on my crotch had my soldier standing at attention, again. Shit. There was no way I was going to be able to walk anywhere or eat with this rod between my legs.
“What’s wrong?” Hindley said.
I opened my eyes and saw her standing in the doorway, holding a bag. God, how long had I been sitting here fantasizing of her?
She wore shorts and a T-shirt now. Her face was void of any makeup and her hair was slicked back in a ponytail. Whether she was dressed for the stage or a day at the beach, Hindley Hagen was gorgeous.
And I loved her.
But my dick was rock hard and desiring nothing more than to bury itself deep inside her. I prayed my face didn’t give away how weak I was. That was the last thing I wanted her to know, what a typical man I was.
She walked toward me and dropped her bag by the side of my chair. Kneeling down in front of me, she spread my knees apart.
Oh, fuck.
“Is something wrong, Rory?” she asked, one eyebrow arched high. “Is there something that we need to take care of before we eat?”
Holy shit.
“I’m really hungry,” she said softly, a spark of desire in her eyes. “But not for food. Not yet.” She licked her lips. “I could eat now and later.”
Holy motherfucker. What was she saying?
Before I could even ask, she raised up on her knees. Leaning into me, she reached for the button on my jeans and popped it open.
I sucked in a breath at the sound of my zipper giving way.
Against my better judgment, I stared down at her face.
“Okay?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.
Okay? Her lips on my dick was pretty much a necessity at this point.
She placed a small hand on my chest and gently pushed me back in the chair. “Show’s not over yet,” she whispered.
I fell back into my seat, watching as her head lowered, thinking how much I loved my Drunk Girl.