She unbuttoned her shirt, looking over her shoulder at me once or twice. Yes, Jess, you have my complete attention. When all the buttons were opened, she shrugged and the shirt slid off her shoulders. She turned around, holding the shirt closed with one hand as her other hand disappeared under it. Her hand ran from her throat to her crotch several times as her head fell back and her mouth opened.

  Coming close, she put one leg on the armrest of the chair I was sitting in. She bent her knee and, keeping her head up and her shoulders back, leaned into me. Her crotch was no more than five or six inches from my face and I inhaled her. My head started to spin. She repeated the same with her other leg and I had to clench my fists to stop from reaching out.

  She stepped back and moved behind me, her fingers walking up one arm, across my shoulders, and down the other before she walked away, letting her shirt slowly fall down her back. Inch by tantalizing inch, more and more of her back was exposed. I imagined my fingers following the trail of exposed skin. When the shirt dropped to the floor, I almost moaned with relief.

  Jess crossed her arms in front of her and caressed the bare skin of her shoulders. She reached around behind as if unhooking the thin black bra strap, but instead slid her hands down the small of her back, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her boy shorts. I held my breath. She’d stripped down to her shorts at Ann’s, and I wondered if she’d drop those as well in this private dance.

  Jess turned around, sliding her hands up her stomach and over her lace-covered breasts. I devoured the muscles in her back, the perfect curve of her ass, her long, toned legs when she turned around. Her body was her job and, like most professionals, she wanted the best tools to work with. My eyes followed her hands as they moved over her curves and my anticipation grew as to what was next.

  She pulled the chair in front of her and, standing behind it, slowly leaned over and ran her hands over the fabric. I imagined sitting in the chair, Jess behind me, her warm breath in my ear as she caressed my chest. Holding the back of the chair, Jess slowly sank down, her butt on her heels, knees apart, giving a glimpse of her crotch as she repeated the motion twice more.

  When she stood again, she ran her fingertips up each arm of the chair and across the back. I felt warmth on my skin as if she were touching me. If it was possible to make love to an inanimate object, Jess was doing it. She was simulating sex, but by God, it was arousing. She walked around and turned, showing me her perfect ass. She caressed the seat of the chair, then straddled it and seductively sat down. I imagined her settling onto my face, rocking her hips back and forth. I think I stopped breathing.

  Her hands moved over her stomach and breasts. Her head fell back in ecstasy. Suddenly, she threw her leg over the back of the chair and was facing me. She spread her legs apart, then together twice, using her hands to push them open and closed. She ran her hands up her stomach and she caressed her breasts.

  I wasn’t sure I was breathing. I knew I had to be, but I didn’t think I even knew my name at that point. I was enthralled, entranced, captivated, or whatever word was listed as a synonym in Mr. Roget’s Thesaurus. Jess had maintained eye contact this entire time and if she had been my girlfriend, she would be on her back in the middle of the bed in the next room.

  This was nothing like her performance at Ann’s. If I thought that was hot and sultry, this was off the charts pure, raw sexual seduction.

  The music started to fade and I wanted more, but what more could she do? She was almost as naked as the day she was born and her job was done.

  She ended her routine as she had at Ann’s, by leaning down and kissing me on the cheek. Her breasts were inches from my hands, but I didn’t try to touch them. Touching was forbidden, and I wasn’t about to do anything that would sour our evening together. Or prevent another.

  Again, she smelled like lilacs, and I closed my eyes and reveled in her scent. Her lips were as soft as butterfly wings. My stomach fluttered. When I opened my eyes, she was standing in front of me. Her smile was sweet and she was looking at me closely. She was probably trying to figure out what kind of weirdo I was to request her services, then sit quietly without saying a word or making any gesture to indicate I liked what she was doing. I didn’t smile, whistle, or clap. I didn’t reach out or flirt with her or slide money into her undies.

  Jess gathered up her clothes and closed the bedroom door behind her. The click of the lock was enough to snap me back to the present. I exhaled deeply.

  My body hummed with energy and tension and I felt light-headed when I stood up. Steadying myself with the back of the chair, I walked to my bag and pulled out another envelope. I pulled two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and opened one. The cool liquid felt wonderful sliding down my throat, which was parched from my shallow breathing. I didn’t hear Jess come out of the bedroom but saw her when she picked up one of the speakers.

  She was fully dressed and she looked just as put together as she had when she walked in. I glanced at myself in the mirror above the couch. I didn’t think I looked like I’d had the ride of my life. My insides, however, were a complete and total mess.

  I offered her the other bottle of water as I walked her to the door. Before I opened it, I handed her the second envelope. She glanced at it, then back at me.

  “I hope we can do this again?” I asked, surprising myself. The words just came out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about them. That was so unlike me.

  She frowned slightly as if she were weighing the pros and cons of my statement. For several moments neither one of us moved or said anything else. Finally, she smiled. “I’d like that.”

  My pulse jumped and I pretended to be calm as I opened the door. She hesitated in the doorway before turning to me. “Good night, Riley.”

  Her voice was seductive, and I envisioned her whispering in my ear as she snuggled behind me in bed. My stomach jumped.

  “Good night.” I somehow managed to say. I didn’t immediately close the door, but watched Jess walk down the hall. When she got to the elevators, she didn’t turn to look at me even though she had to have known I was watching her. When she disappeared in the elevator, I closed the door. It was the best thousand dollars I’d ever spent.

  Chapter Five

  The next time I saw Jess was in a different hotel room, and the evening was very much like the one before. The third time, however, was completely new. The music was raw, her moves fast and hard. She was wearing a tailored men’s suit with a blue shirt and red and white striped tie. She looked nothing like the men in my office. But there was no doubt she was in charge. Whoever said a woman in men’s clothes was just flat-out sexy was absolutely right.

  There was nothing slow or tempting about this dance. No teasing, a fleeting glimpse or a preview of what was underneath. Her moves were quick, decisive and deliberate. She unbuttoned her jacket and threw it to the floor, as if it was a claustrophobic barrier. She quickly discarded her trousers and kicked them across the room.

  She danced to the heavy beat, her body moving with pure, primal sex. Her moves were aggressive and possessive, as if she were a jungle cat stalking her next prey. She yanked off the tie, wrapped it around my neck, and pulled the knot tight. Not tight enough to restrict my breathing, but enough to experience what a little bondage might feel like. Being the control freak, I never thought I’d be interested in such a thing, but I was painfully aroused by her simple maneuver.

  Straddling me and sitting on my lap, Jess grabbed my hands and put them on the bottom of her shirt. With her hands over mine, she wrenched it open, sending small white buttons across the room. My pulse skyrocketed at the innuendo that I’d been overcome with desire and ripped it open, exposing the tiny red bra underneath.

  If the other evenings were seductive and tantalizing, this evening was all about control, and there was more than one time I almost lost mine. Jess was dancing with abandon. It was like she was inside the music, tearing away layers to get out.

  I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand the torture she was putting me through when the music wound down. Jess was covered in a light film of sweat and it was a toss-up who was breathing more heavily. My clit was hard and throbbing and demanding I do something about it. I wanted to grab Jess’s hand and shove it down my pants. I wanted her to feel how wet she made me. I needed her to slide her fingers inside me, play with my clit until I begged her to make me come. I craved her body over mine, under mine, and wrapped around me.

  But, of course, that only happened in my fantasy later that night, and I tried not to think about it as I walked to my morning staff meeting. I’d seen Jess three more times in six weeks and I was beginning to feel like a regular, which was a little creepy. My bank account felt the impact as well. Did she have other repeat business or was every dance new?

  I stumbled and almost fell flat on my face. That would be a sight for sure. I looked behind me at the culprit and only saw the tiles and grout of the flooring. Jeez. I was tripping over nothing on the floor. That wasn’t surprising. I’d burned myself twice on the iron in the last week, made coffee without putting grounds in the filter, and put a box of cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry. The more I saw Jess, the more unhinged I became. But I couldn’t stop. Maybe I had stripper addiction. Is there a twelve-step program for that? Somewhere nestled in the woods, miles from prying eyes and temptation? I had to get it together. First, because I was not myself and people were starting to notice and, second, if Ann had any idea she’d grill me until my skin peeled.

  I looked at my watch. Damn, I was eight minutes late to my meeting. I’d been late to everything lately, which was not like me at all.

  I was having a Town Hall with every employee who reported up to me. At last count, that was 112, and they were all sitting in neat little rows when I walked in.

  “Good morning, I apologize for running a few minutes late. I was waiting for one last piece of updated data for this meeting and it just came in.”

  I said a few more perfunctory comments as I walked up the center of the aisle to the front of the room. Mark, our IT guy, handed me a portable microphone. I clipped the base to my waist and the mic to my lapel.

  “Let’s start by welcoming our new employees since last quarter’s meeting.” I took the paper my administrative assistant handed me and started reading off the names. One by one, each employee stood and the room applauded.

  “Dana Mason, Financial Analyst.” I looked around the room and movement to my left caught my attention. A woman stood up and as my staff welcomed their new coworker, I felt the world fall out from under my feet.

  * * *

  Somehow, I managed to finish the ninety-minute meeting without fainting, throwing up, or running from the room. I quickly figured out her real name was Dana and her stripper name was Jess, and after I saw her standing in the fourth row, I never looked that direction again. I felt her eyes on me. It was only a matter of time before my life changed forever. And not for the good.

  Slowly the crowd maneuvered through the two exit doors while a few employees lingered behind to talk with me. Jon, the requisite kiss-ass, was the first and thanked me for the clear update on the company financials. Tobias, our resident doomsday predictor, asked several follow-up questions on our long-term financial stability. When I saw Dana hovering behind him, I lost my train of thought.

  “Riley?” Tobias asked.

  “Sorry, Tobias, let me get back with you on that.” I knew I wouldn’t remember. Then Dana was standing in front of me.

  A woman I recognized as Joan introduced Jess, or Dana, or whatever her name was.

  “Riley, this is Dana. This is her second week.”

  Dana held out her hand. “Thank you for making me feel welcome, Ms. Stephenson.”

  Her voice had the same scratchy quality in the daylight as it did at night. My eyes went to her lips remembering how they felt against my cheek. Tentatively, I reached out and shook her hand. I couldn’t very well ignore it. That would be downright rude. A warm rush of pleasure floated through me.

  “We’re glad to have you, Dana.” I almost stumbled over her name, embarrassing myself. Her face was guarded, her eyes knowing. She was worried I’d out her and she’d lose her job. I was worried she’d out me and I’d lose my job. Well, this was a cluster waiting to happen.

  Part II: Dana

  Chapter Six

  There were a dozen cars parked in front of the house when I arrived. I found a spot down the street and, juggling my phone, hauled my bag to the front door. I shifted it to my shoulder and rang the bell.

  “I’m here, Lou,” I said. Lou, or Louise, as her mother called her, was my BFF and had tried desperately to get me to quit this part-time job. When she couldn’t, she demanded that I tell her exactly where I was and when I’d be done. She also insisted on staying on the phone until I gave her the all clear.

  The door opened. Light spilled out of the house and onto the porch. The woman was pretty, in a plain, wholesome way. The “Birthday Girl” hat she was wearing was a dead giveaway that I was here for her.

  “Ann?”

  “Jess, please come in,” she said after giving me more than an approving once-over.

  I cautiously stepped inside, my phone in my hand, Lou on the other end. I could tell immediately this gig was safe. I told Lou I’d call her in an hour. If she didn’t hear from me, she’d call the police. Yes, a lot could happen in an hour, but it was better than nothing.

  Several women were sitting on the couch, with a few more in scattered chairs and one in a bean bag. My eye caught sight of a striking woman sitting alone at the end of an island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the large room. I’d have her joining the fun in no time, I thought.

  Ann handed me an envelope and I glanced inside. The correct amount of cash was inside and I slid it into my bag. I set up my speakers on either side of the room and connected them via Bluetooth to my phone. I had my songs cued up and ready to go.

  Ann introduced me around, and Clarice, a woman in a red spaghetti strap top, shrieked in excitement. The final stop was the woman at the end of the island. A look of sheer panic crossed her face as I got closer. She was definitely not as into this as Clarice. She was petite, probably not more than five foot four inches or maybe five-five, and had long, blond hair. She was about ten years older than me, probably in her mid-thirties, but she was stunning. The most attractive woman in the room, by far.

  “And this is my BFF, Riley,” Ann said by way of introduction. “She’s a little shy.”

  A little shy? Jeez, what a terrible thing to say about your BFF even if it were true.

  “I’m not shy,” Riley said firmly and, if the flush on her cheeks was any indication, quite embarrassed.

  “I’m Jess.” I introduced myself with my practiced sultry voice.

  “Riley Stephen—” She stopped as if she were about to say her complete name. She must be a professional with a job where she meets a lot of people. Saying her full name was probably just habit.

  “Hello, Riley Stephen,” I said, teasingly. It reminded me of my niece Emily’s kindergarten class in school where there were several Emilys. The only way the teacher could reference them was to call them by their first name and first initial of their last name. According to Emily, there was an Emily J and an Emily H, and whenever she spoke of them it was as if that was their real first name.

  The instant our hands touched, I felt a spark of electricity so strong I had to look at my hand to see if it was glowing. When I looked back at Riley, her crystal blue eyes conveyed she felt it too. I’d never had this kind of reaction with a woman. I’ve danced in front of hundreds of women and this was the first time I felt a connection, and, yes, even an attraction to one of them. I wouldn’t do anything about it because I didn’t mix business with pleasure, and with Riley Stephen, that made me a little sad. When the familiar slow, steady beat started and filled the room, I decided not to think too hard about it. I had bills to pay.

  My body started to move because I simply loved to dance. Any beat got my toe tapping and my blood pumping. I was still holding Riley’s hand and I kept my eyes on hers as I started to dance. Something in her face told me she had no idea I’d been hired to spend the next forty-five minutes taking off my clothes. Interesting. Everyone else in the room knew why I was there, why not her?

  The women started cheering, and when I released Riley’s hand, I immediately felt the disconnect.

  The beat picked up in tempo and I danced around the room giving each woman several minutes of my undivided attention. I’d not yet removed any of my clothes, but each woman had stuffed a bill into my pockets.

  Riley looked like she was scared to death as I made my way over to her. I approached slowly, my hips swaying to the music, my arms over my head. She swallowed hard and snapped her mouth shut. She was kind of cute when she was flummoxed. I put both hands on her thighs, slid them upward and, stepping closer, stopped inches from her crotch. I held them there for several seconds before sliding them back to her knees. I trailed my right hand up her arm and across her shoulders as I stepped behind her. I leaned in and whispered, “There’s much more to come.”

  Before Riley had a chance to react, I stepped away and focused my attention on the woman in the green blouse. I didn’t remember her name and it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. She had cash in her hand, and that was all that mattered.

  I started by slowly pulling my shirt from around my waist. With each tug I made sure just a hint of flesh showed, enough to give the women a preview of what was to come. I moved to the woman with the ponytail and unbuttoned the bottom button on my shirt. She placed a dollar in the waistband of my jeans right where the skin showed.

  I repeated the same maneuver in front of each woman, dancing back and forth between them, encouraging them to have fun and to reward me for more skin. I had watched countless videos and had paid special attention to those that made me hot. I practiced for months before I went on my first call. I continued to do research every few weeks, perfecting my craft. I was a regular at the Candy Store, a local strip joint not far from my house. I’d sit in the back watching and surreptitiously taking notes. I’d made friends with two or three of the dancers who I still kept in contact with.

 

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