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As far as ways to pay your MIT tuition bill go, stripping really wasn't a bad gig.
I had a scholarship (because I was a damn good student), but a girl still had to pay rent and buy food. I'd been a dancer all my life, and it didn't take much training to make the move to pole dancer. I had worked at a nice place in LA while I was doing undergrad work at Cal Tech and when I moved to Boston to work on my PhD, I got a job at a pretty posh place right outside the city. The tips were fucking fantastic, and it was a hell of a lot more fun than retail hell or flipping burgers.
I learned about Boston pretty quickly, too, specifically about how to spot the townies from Charlestown. The other dancers weren't too fond of that type of guy; they drank too much, got too handsy, and were generally the very definition of a masshole, but there would be a group once a month or so who would come in and blow ridiculous amounts of money, so I didn't mind them too much.
Friday night turned out to be one of those nights. "Oh hell," one of the other dancers muttered, peering out at the club from their dressing room. "Townies."
Another girl went to look and gave a low whistle. "I know this group," she said, going back to her mirror. "Thugs, but they are fucking rolling in dough."
"Maybe they're those bank robbers," the first girl said with a smirk.
I was already in my outfit, if it could be called that (it was a good thing I went Brazilian because those panties barely covered anything), and my makeup was ready, so I went to the little one-way window and peered out.
It was immediately obvious who the other girls were talking about. There were five or six of them, all wearing gold chains and t-shirts, looking like the roughest bunch of motherfuckers around. The other patrons had given the group a wide berth, so the townies were front and center, right at my stage for that night.
"You'll get good tips," the second girl said, nudging me with her elbow. "They'll probably disappear into one of the champagne rooms soon. If they like you, they'll request a private show, just so you're ready."
It's not like I was a stranger to lap dances and private shows, and I really wasn't bothered by the idea of it. I have to admit, I was a little wary of these guys, but the lure of big tips was just too enticing. Things had been slow for the last couple of weeks, and I was either going to have to starve or come up short on rent.
"Girls! You're up!"
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out onto the stage.
I get into a zone when I'm dancing. It's partly a defense mechanism, because it's hard to concentrate when you're aware of a roomful of mouth-breathing assholes (and some nice people, too) leering at you. But it's also just how I dance, whether it's exotic or not; I get into the music, into the movement of my body, and the two sort of merge together.
Say what you will about pole dancing, but I try my best to make it an art form.
I was in my zone, but I couldn't help noticing one of the townies, though. They were all watching me, but one of them in particular caught my attention. He was smaller than the other guys with close-cropped blond hair and a fucking intense gaze that felt like electricity sparking across my skin.
His eyes skimmed over me, lingering on my breasts, my legs, my hips, my face all in turn, and I had no idea what was wrong with me but he was turning me on beyond belief.
I forced myself to focus on dancing and made it through my show without falling or something equally embarrassing, and I took the long way around the stage to collect my tips, avoiding the townies for the moment.
When I came back out of the dressing room, changed into a slightly more comfortable set of lingerie, one of the townies waved me over. "Hey, sweetheart," the tall, dark-haired guy said, his Boston accent thick. "Why dontcha come back and party with us?"
It wasn't hard to give the guys a coy smile as I sauntered over, what with the blond still giving me that look like he wanted to eat me alive. When I was at work, guys looked at me with varying degrees of lust: some slack-jawed, some embarrassed, some just creepy. But this guy... I'd never reacted to a patron like that before. His eyes raked over me, and I could almost feel it against my skin like a rough touch.
"We're going to the back room," Tall, Dark, and Kinda Thuggish continued, grinning at me. "And my friend here likes the way you look. So you wanna go?"
There were already four other dancers hanging on the other guys, but Short, Blond, and Intense didn't have any lap candy yet. He just sprawled back in his chair, watching me with that look on his face.
"I'd love to," I said, replying to Mr Dark Hair but keeping my gaze on Mr Blond. "Lead the way?"
The champagne rooms were where the people who wanted to blow lots of money went to have fun. They were private in every sense of the word, and while the club didn't allow prostitution, money often changed hands in those rooms for more than just a lap dance. I didn't fuck for money, and I hoped that wasn't the proposition I was going to get tonight. I really wasn't in the mood to fend off lecherous advances while still "pleasing the customer."
But as Blond stood up, his eyes never leaving my face, I was startled to find myself actually thinking about fucking a client. Giving myself a mental shake, I slid my hand into the crook of his arm, smiling at him from under my eyelashes. At least being attracted to him would make giving him a lap dance more pleasant.
Turned out the townies had the big champagne room, the one with several private booths surrounding the small stage. A waitress brought booze, and the other guys started to disappear into the booths, but Blond didn't make any moves, just sat in an armchair and watched me as I poured two glasses of champagne.
He took a glass when I offered it and tapped it against mine before swigging back the bubbly. "So, do you want a private show?" I asked, sipping the champagne and perching on the arm of his chair. "A lap dance? Just a friendly chat?"
A little smile quirked his lips (nice lips, just a little full, and they looked perfect for biting), and his eyes glanced over me again, taking in the little lace panties and the silk-and-lace camisole I'd put on after my performance. When he finally met my eyes, I felt another jolt of arousal; his eyes were pretty, blue-green with darker spikes around his pupils, but it wasn't just his pretty eyes that turned me on. It was the hot look in them, something lusty and dangerous.
My heart was pounding in my throat
"I liked watching you dance," he said, the first time I'd heard him speak, and his voice was rough, a little rusty from cigarettes and liquor, like liquid sex wrapped around that townie accent. "But I think I want something a little more personal this time."
I had never been a fan of that accent really, but on him, with that gravelly voice and that intense gaze, it just made me even hotter. I had no idea what was wrong with me, getting wet over a customer, a fucking townie, no less.
His tall buddy was whispering with one of the other dancers, sprawled in another chair with the girl draped across his lap. Blond's eyes flicked over to them, then back to me as if to say that they weren't paying any attention, it was just me and him.
"What do you have in mind?" I purred, leaning into him a little more.
"Why don't you sit in my lap and we can discuss it, princess?"
The nickname would normally have irritated me, and it still did, but he was giving me a dirty little grin like he was assuming way too much about me, and it turned me on even as it pissed me off.
But I had a job to do, so I swung my legs around, draping them over the other arm of the chair before sliding down into his lap.
His body was much harder than I had expected, and he was much stronger than he looked underneath those loose jeans and baggy t-shirt. As he slipped an arm around my waist, his fingers catching at the hem of my camisole, I found myself leaning into him, enjoying the feel of his muscular body underneath mine.
"So what's your name, handsome?" I asked, putting my elbow on his shoulder and letting my breast rub against him.
He gave me a sly look that I didn't quite understand. "Tell me yours," he said.
"Lana," I replied; it wasn't my real name, of course, but that was what I'd been going by on stage in Boston. "Your turn."
"Jem," he said, his fingertips sliding under the hem of my camisole and tracing little circles on my skin.
That didn't seem like it would be his real name, but then it wasn't like the club was about reality. It was about escaping into your fantasies for a while. Hell, that was a big part of why I danced; I liked the thrill of power that came with entrancing the men (and women) who came to watch me. If he didn't want to tell me his real name, that was fine by me. I didn't need to know.
"Well, Jem," I said, playing with the collar of his t-shirt, "What would you like to do?"
His eyes were on my lips, watching me as I talked, and goddamned if that wasn't ridiculously hot, too. "You're the expert here, doll," he said, and the bastard was actually teasing me. "What do you suggest?"
Pursing my lips just to watch his pupils dilate a little, I raised my eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty good on the pole," I said, smirking when his lips curved in a scowl. "Should I get up there and dance just for you?"
"Oh no, I don't fucking think so," he said with a rusty laugh. "I want you in my lap."
Leaning close, I let my fingers dip into the hollow in his collarbone, and this close I could smell clove cigarettes, whiskey, and the faint scent of some kind of woodsy cologne on him. "I think I know a few things I could do in your lap," I murmured, suppressing the urge to purr when he slid the hand that wasn't gripping my waist up the outside of my thigh. "So how much are you looking to spend?"
"I got enough to cover anything and everything, sweetheart," he replied, his voice low.
Well, if he was willing to spring for it, I was more than happy to give him the deluxe special. Swinging my legs out of his lap, I stood up and tugged him to his feet, letting him crowd me a little before turning and pulling him toward an empty private booth. I pulled the curtain closed while he settled on the couch, and then I turned back to him, leaning forward enough that he could see my breasts shift underneath my camisole. "Are you comfortable, Jem?" I asked; the music wasn't as loud in the booth and the lighting was more direct, so I could see that dangerous, fucking sexy look on his face even better.
"I'll be more comfortable when you're grinding on my dick, Lana," he answered with a lewd grin, leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head.
What an arrogant son of a bitch, and damned if it didn't make me want to fuck him even more. But no, this was just a lap dance because I didn't fuck customers, no matter how good the pay or how sexy the son of a bitch.
My camisole tied in the front with a black ribbon, and as I sauntered over to him, I let one side slip off of my shoulder. His eyes were on my breasts then, and he looked eager, like he couldn't wait for that silk and lace to part and bare me to his gaze again.
I tugged the bow in the ribbon loose as I straddled him, and and untangled it when I leaned back, rolling my body to the rhythm of the music. The black silk parted, but it was still draped over the curve of my breasts, my hard nipples peaking the fabric. Taking his hands in mine, I brought them up so that he could take hold of the sides, and as he pushed the camisole off of my shoulders, I settled my weight firmly against his groin.
Fuck, he was stiff already, and I felt my nipples get a little harder. Whether it was from being exposed, from having his eyes on me, or from the feel of that impressively hard cock against me, I had no idea. Rolling my hips, I slid my hands up to cup my breasts, lifting them up right in his smug, dirty-handsome face before pinching my nipples.
"Oh fuck yeah," he rasped, his eyes following my fingers as they plucked my nipples. "Play with your tits, girl, that's right. Goddamn, your tits are gorgeous. They real?"
His hands were hot on the tops of my thighs, big fucking hands, and I don't know if I lost my mind or what, but I suddenly had to have those hands on me. Sliding my hands back down, I caught his and dragged them back up my flat stomach, settling them on the curves of my breasts.
"Why don't you tell me?" I purred.
He groaned, his hips bucking up underneath me a little, and he squeezed my tits. They are real, and I have to admit, they're one of the reasons I got into stripping. Through some happy coincidence of genetics, I ended up with both large and perky breasts, and they've earned me some very nice tips over the last few years. I liked my girls, and it was obvious that Jem did, too.
Luckily, he was a man who knew his way around a pair of tits. He squeezed just right, just this side of too hard, and I didn't have to fake a moan when he closed his forefingers and thumbs around my nipples, twisting them a little. His cock was hard between my thighs, straining up against the zipper of his jeans, and I rubbed myself against it, circling my hips.
"Fuck, baby," he rumbled, tugging at her nipples. "Fuck, I love your tits. Love to see 'em covered in my jizz."
That conjured up an immediate mental image of him standing over me, jerking that thick cock I could feel between my legs and spurting come onto my skin. I had no idea when my brain had gone that pornographic, but it sent a jolt of hot lust through me, making me writhe in his lap.
"Take your panties off, Lana," he said, giving me another hot, dangerous look. "I want you to rub your pussy all over me."
Carefully getting up, I turned my back on him, putting my feet inside his spread legs, and bent slowly, leaning back to get my ass right in his face. Stealing a glance from behind my legs, I found him looking at me hungrily, his pretty eyes locked on the scrap of silk between my legs and fuck, I wanted to push my pussy onto his face, feel the scrape of his stubbly goatee against my clit. I wondered if he liked eating pussy, and I decided that he did, that he liked getting his tongue right up inside of a girl and watching her come apart.
Hooking my thumbs into the sides of my panties, I slowly drew them down, exposing myself to him, and I was close enough that I could feel the gust of his breath against my pussy. I was embarrassingly wet, my panties soaked through, and I wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on me.
"Goddamn, girl," he growled, his hands sliding up the outside of my thighs. "Goddamn, look at that pussy, so fuckin' wet. You get wet for me, girl?"
"Oh yeah, I'm wet for you," I breathed in reply, and even though I sounded like a fucking porn star, every word of it was sincere.
"Mm, I'll bet you taste sweet," he said, his hands coming up to cup my ass cheeks, spreading me open so he could get a better look. "Look at that tiny little hole of yours. Bet you'd like to feel my tongue working you open, wouldn't you?"
"Oh Jesus," I gasped, holding onto my own legs for support. "Oh Jesus, fuck--"
I knew better, I fucking knew better than to let it go that far, but I was too turned on and he was too sexy, and my common sense completely abandoned me.
His tongue licked a hot line from my clit all the way to my asshole, and I bit back a scream when he did exactly what I imagined he'd like doing and pushed that tongue right into my cunt. He had a long tongue, too, because I could feel it slipping inside of me, wiggling and lapping, and Jesus Christ, I was going to come just from being tonguefucked.
"You taste like fucking candy," he said, his voice a low hum against my body. "I'd eat you out all night, but I want you on my dick again, doll. C'mere, want you to get me all wet."
I stood up unsteadily and turned back to him, and my clit throbbed at the sight of my slick on his lips and chin. I wanted to lick the taste of my pussy off of that dirty mouth of his, suck on that clever tongue as I rode him.
He pulled me down into his lap, manhandling me until I was pressed right up against his hard on, and then he held my hips, making me grind against him. "Aw yeah, that's it," he groaned. "Put your tits in my face, princess. I wanna suck 'em."
God, it was one bad decision after another, but I arched my back and rubbed my breasts against his face, gasping at the feel of his stubble on my nipples, and then he was groping me, squeezing and pinching and sucking at my tits. I clutched his shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, unable to stifle the whimpers being wrenched from my throat. It felt so good, so fucking good, and he dropped one hand back to my ass, gripping me tight as I humped him.
His hand suddenly came down hard on my ass, a sharp slap, and out of nowhere, I was coming. My whole body shuddered, wetness surging between my legs, and he kept right on sucking at my nipples until I was begging for him to stop. It was so good and so wrong, so very fucking wrong.
He sucked hard on my nipple, flicking at it with his tongue as he pinched the other, and when he slapped my ass again, my body jolted a second time. I didn't know if I came again or if that was just the first orgasm still pulsing away, but my cunt contracted rhythmically, desperate for a cock to clench down on, and I dug my fingernails into the back of his neck.
He growled at the pain, my nipple leaving his mouth with a pop, and he cursed at me, but I was too far gone to care. "Shit," he hissed, dropping both hands down grip to my ass. "That's right, come for me. Your cunt's so fucking wet, you're soaking through my jeans. You're getting my dick all wet, you little slut. You fucking love it when I suck on your titties--"
I let out a cry that everyone else in the champagne room could probably hear, shuddering hard one last time before I went limp against him. In my five years of giving lap dances, I had never had an orgasm during business hours before, and I couldn't believe that he had made me come twice in such quick succession.
He was squeezing my ass, his fingers creeping closer together until they were sliding in the wetness around the mouth of my pussy. "Mm," he hummed, his lips pressed against my neck, and he pushed a blunt, thick finger into me. "You're so fuckin' sexy, girl. I wanna fuck your tight little cunt--"
"I don't fuck for money," I said, pushing myself upright.
He kept his hold on my ass, though, pumping that finger in and out, and I could feel my resolve crumbling. "So what do you fuck for, princess?" he asked, his voice a growl and that dangerous look back in his pretty eyes.
"I fuck because I want to."
Shifting me up a little, he pushed his finger in deeper, and I bit back a moan. "So you're sayin' you don't want to fuck me," he said, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Because your pussy says you're lying, baby."
"I don't even know you," I said breathlessly, trying to convince myself just as much as him. "I don't fuck men I don't know."
He chuckled, slipping his other hand down so he could rub at my asshole, making me gasp and shudder. "But you'll let me eat your cunt and play with your tits," he rumbled, calling my bluff. "I can fingerfuck you and make you come, but I can't get my cock inside you, is that what you're telling me?"
"I'm not going to fuck you tonight," I said, forcing myself to be firm. "So stop asking. But... I think for a big enough tip, we can negotiate something else."
Pulling his finger free from my cunt, he made a show of bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean, all the while still teasing my ass. I couldn't suppress that moan, and my hips started circling of their own volition. Jostling me a little, he dug into his back pocket and produced a thick wad of hundred dollar bills. "I wanna watch you play with yourself while I jack off," he said. "How much will that set me back, Lana?"
My heart was pounding in my throat. "Five hundred," I replied.
Jem let out a whistle, grinning at me. "Aren't you a high class piece of ass," he said, pushing the tip of his finger against my asshole. "For five I get to lick your pussy and come on your tits. Deal?"
"Deal, if you pay up front."
The logical part of my brain had no fucking idea what I was doing. It had been completely taken over by some primitive part of me that wanted him to take me like a goddamn caveman.
He kept grinning, bringing his other hand around to peel off five bills. "Deal."
When I lay back on the couch and spread my legs, I could see the wetness slicking the inside of my thighs. Jem could see it too, because his grin went sharp like a predator's; that was fitting, considering that he was about to eat me alive.
Reaching up and grabbing the collar of his t-shirt, he tugged it over his head, revealing a compact, hard-muscled torso that had my mouth watering. He had tattoos on each bicep, one a Celtic cross and the other a coat of arms, and I saw lines of clovers up the undersides of his forearms when he had his arms above his head. A gold chain with another Celtic cross fell back onto his chest when he pulled the shirt off, and I let my eyes follow the trail of hair running from his navel down into his low-slung jeans.
"Play with your tits, doll," he said, reaching down to rub at the bulge in his jeans. "Yeah, just like that, pull at your nipples."
I bit my bottom lip and shivered a little, feeling myself flush under his hot gaze. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to get some kind of friction going, but he shook his head at me. "Uh uh," he growled. "Spread your legs so I can see your pussy."
He tugged open the fly of his jeans as I parted my legs again, and I couldn't help but slide my hand over my wet cunt when his dick sprang free. He shoved his jeans down around his thighs, but I had stopped paying attention to anything but the ridiculously thick, flushed cock that he palmed, rubbing at the tip with the palm of his hand.
"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he rumbled, stroking himself from root to tip. "Sure you don't want this dick inside you?"
"Why don't you stop talking and put that dirty mouth to better use, Jem?" I said, and just as I'd hoped, there was a flash of hot, lusty anger in his pretty eyes.
The private booth couches were curved like a cushioned C, and so when he dropped down and stretched out on his side, I had a good view of that gorgeous cock. It was hard to concentrate on watching him stroke it, though, because without preamble he plunged his tongue back into my pussy.
I couldn't stifle my moan, and I faintly heard male laughter somewhere outside of the booth, but I didn't give a fuck. He was licking me, lapping inside my cunt, and I bucked my hips up against his mouth.
With a low growl, he caught my leg and pushed it up, hooking my heel over the back of the couch. Then he took my other leg and put my thigh against my chest, and it was a good thing that I was flexible because it was obvious he got off on manhandling me.
Tugging his tongue free from my pussy, he made a show of licking his lips, his eyes lingering on my tits. "Twist your nipples," he said breathlessly, groaning when I obeyed.
He focused his attention on my clit then, licking and sucking at it until I swore I could feel it throbbing against his tongue. He hummed in the back of his throat, and I shuddered under the assault, watching him work his cock in his big hand as he ate me out.
Between his mouth on my clit and the feel of my own hands on my breasts, I was thrumming right at the edge of an orgasm, biting my lip so hard I was afraid I would draw blood. When he hummed again, a low moan of pleasure, it pushed me over that edge. My cunt contracted sharply, and my hips lifted off of the couch of their own volition, pressing myself against his mouth as I shook and shivered.
"Oh fuck yeah," he groaned, pushing himself up onto his knees.
Pressing the base of his cock against my clit, he jerked off, his other hand on the back of my lifted thigh, holding me down as he got off on the sight of my body splayed out underneath him. A few more strokes and he was swearing and moaning, making a fucking racket that everyone in the club could probably hear. He gripped his cock tightly, and with a full-body shudder, he spurted thick ropes of come onto me, striping across my stomach and breasts as I ground my pussy against his balls.
It took a couple of handfuls of tissues to clean myself up enough to make back to the dressing room without attracting undue attention. I stepped back into my panties and pulled my camisole back on, tying the ribbons, and then I turned back to him, he was back in his clothes, watching me.
I tucked his money into the top of my panties. "I hope you had a good time, Jem," I said, falling back on routine because my mind was pretty much blown.
Smirking, he swaggered over to me, his tough guy townie mask firmly in place. "I certainly did, Lana," he replied, tucking another hundred into my panties; hell of a tip.
He sank a hand into my hair and grabbed my ass with the other, pulling me in for a filthy hot kiss, sucking my bottom lip before stepping around me to leave.
"Come back any time, handsome," I said, and he gave me one last smirk before disappearing through the curtains.
I knew he'd come back. And I knew without a doubt that I wouldn't be able to resist him next time I saw that man.