Chapter 1

Chapter One

Chelsea

My black stilettos clicked on the hard surface of the stage. Music blared, all but drowning out the clinking of glasses and the whistles accompanying my entrance.

I looked out across the eager audience of men. Some regulars, others not. They jostled to get closer, spilling drinks on the floor at their feet. The smell of stale beer and Bundy rum warred with testosterone and sweat.

I scanned the crowd, my gaze falling on one face before sliding away. Keeping the flicker of recognition from my expression. They came here to see, not to be seen.

Still, I couldn't keep from looking back at him. Eyes focused on that one face in the centre of the audience. His indifference a challenge of sorts.

I did love a challenge.

I kept my attention on him. This show was all for him. No one existed in the whole room but us. My smile was all for him. My performance.

My body.

I gripped the pole with two hands and swung around it, letting momentum carry me around a couple of times.

I locked my focus back on the guy in the audience, pulled myself up higher and wrapped my legs around the pole. It was him I wanted to wrap my legs around. His firm torso I wanted to climb, not the cold metal under my hands.

Holding on with my thighs, I leaned back, my arms stretched out behind me. Right on cue, my dress slid down my body, all the way to my chest. Still gripping the pole with my legs, I undid the ties at the front of my dress and let it fall to the stage like it was pooling at his feet.

The audience cheered and whistled.

Someone shouted, “Get the rest of it off!”

A surge of power and adrenaline coursed through me. It took strength and skill to do what I just did. Holding onto a rotating pole while stripping down to my underwear. Making the audience respond to me, to my body. They thought they were here for one thing—to see me take my clothes off. This was so much more than that. They were the moths and I was the flame, burning bright. Enticing.

I spun around the pole a couple more times before grabbing hold with my hands again and pretending to dry hump the metal. That always got a response.

“Fuck me, baby!” an older guy shouted out.

“Show us your tits!” shouted another.

Zero points for originality.

“It's my last night of freedom, how about you make it memorable?” called out another.

I could and I would.

I climbed up the pole and twisted around so my back was to the audience. I teased them by sliding my hands up and down my skin, then unhooking my bra.

Oh so slowly, I let the straps slide down my arms, to my wrists. I pinched the black lace between my thumb and forefinger of one hand and brandished the garment over my head. A couple of times, I twirled it around beside my head, like I might throw it out into the crowd. With a flourish, I threw it toward the door leading to backstage.

Teasing was one thing, throwing away a perfectly good bra was another. Not to mention Divina, the owner of Flirts, would be pissed if I threw my costume into the crowd and caused the audience to lunge and fight to claim it. As if someone having possession of my garment meant they had possession of me.

I glanced at the audience over my shoulder, taunting them for a couple of minutes before I turned back around.

The guy in the middle of the crowd licked his lips. The first indication I'd broken through his facade. I glanced down to the front of his dark jeans. The telltale bulge in the front spoke louder than the growing desire in his eyes.

I didn't need to look at the rest of the audience; they all were hard. That was what they came here for. To tell themselves I was getting naked for them, to be turned on by it.

They leered at my bare breasts, aching to touch them. I ran my hands up my stomach and over them, pinching my nipples, my eyes half-closed.

I liked turning them on. Being appreciated. Wanted. Needed.

I'd worked hard to sculpt my body, to look the way I did. It didn't hurt that I was blessed with perfect breasts. Why not show them off?

“Let me touch them!” A guy who couldn't have been more than about twenty placed his hands on the stage near my feet and started to climb up. The bouncers were there immediately, pulling him off and hauling him towards the door. Divina was tight with money, but she looked after her dancers. No one would touch us without our permission. Not for lack of trying. There was at least one every night.

The guy in the middle of the audience smirked as the younger man was tossed out. I couldn't make out the colour of his eyes, but he locked them on me and nodded, giving me permission to continue.

I gave him a dazzling smile in return.

I spun around the pole a few more times before holding on with my hands and spreading my legs wide, straight out to either side. As I turned slowly, the audience would get an eyeful of the gusset of my G string.

The shouting continued, the whistling amped up double.

I slid around the pole like a serpent before hooking my thumb around the waistband of my G-string. I pushed one side down a little, then the other side. Only a centimetre or so at first.

Stepping away from the pole, I turned my back on the audience and leaned over to look at them between my legs, giving them a good look of my perfectly rounded ass.

Mr Front Row's eyes were still on me. I didn't think he'd blinked since I stepped foot on stage. With any luck, he had the tips to back it up. I could use a few extra dollars right now.

I straightened up and turned around, my eyes right on his face. I hooked the tips of my fingers into the top of my panties and pushed them down. I stopped for a moment to give him a secret smile. I was getting naked just for him. He and I were alone in the room. My body was all for him.

His visible swallow was all for me.

My panties dropped to the top of my stilettos. I raised one foot, then the other, stepping out of the black lace.

I licked my lips slowly and dropped into a crouch, letting him get an eyeful of my pussy.

He glanced down, eyebrow jerking up at the twinkle of my clit piercing before he looked back at my face.

I'd seen that exact look on the face of so many of my customers, but somehow it was more pronounced on his. Hunger. Need.

If I let him, he'd claim me right there on the stage in front of everyone. Make me his.

I didn't mind an audience, but Divina would have a coronary on the spot if we fucked on stage. The stage was for stripping. Teasing. The appetiser.

I rose to my feet, did another couple of turns on the pole before I headed backstage. Not before I stopped to blow the audience a kiss. And give Mr Front Row another lingering look.

“Girl, you were on fire tonight.” India Hartman-Green gave me a hug before stepping back to let me pull off my stilettos. The youngest of six children, she was outgoing, always smiling. She stripped for the pure fun of it, and because she was good at it. With golden blonde hair and striking blue eyes, she was always a favourite with the customers. Always laughing and flirting and having a good time. There wasn't a person at the club who didn't adore her, especially me. Her joy in life was infectious.

“You think so?” I asked. “I feel like I need to add something else to my act.”

“You don't need to add a thing.” She patted my shoulder. “You're perfect just the way you are. Don't overthink it, just enjoy yourself.”

“I can't help overthinking it,” I said dryly. “It's what I do. Chelsea Miller, overthinker.”

India giggled. “You're too cute. And so fucking hot. You had those guys out there drooling for you. You'll make a shit ton extra tonight.” She winked.

“Just warming them up for the main event,” I said. I pulled on clean underwear and a dress that was low-cut in the front and fell to mid thigh.

“Honey, we're all the main event.” She smiled and stepped out towards the stage, confidence oozing from every pore.

I fixed my hair and make-up and headed out to the bar. Flirts was a big place, with the stage and one bar at one end, and another bar with a quieter lounge at the other. It was to the quieter section I went, moving around the tables and smiling at the customers.

“Nice work tonight,” Gary, one of the bouncers, said as he shouldered his way past several customers. He was about seven feet tall and almost as wide, but he wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't provoke him or make trouble with one of the dancers. For someone who had seen my pussy more than most other guys, he was always respectful.

All pussies looked alike after a while, I supposed.

“Thanks,” I replied. “You too. Thanks for getting rid of that guy before he became a problem.”

Gary shrugged. “All part of the service.” He nodded before making his way back to the stage area.

“Hey.” A presence loomed beside my right elbow a moment before he spoke.

Almost as big as Gary, his grey-eyed gaze penetrated right into me. Like he'd seen more than my naked body. Mr Front Row made no attempt to touch me. Not yet anyway.

“Hey." I stopped and smiled. Not the plastic smile I usually gave people who approached me here in the club. This one was a little warmer, a little more genuine. Why? Because I sensed he'd see right through that facade. Being facetious wouldn't get me any more money.

“Buy you a drink?” He gestured towards the bar.

“Sure.” I stepped over beside him and ordered a house special. Cola on the rocks, no alcohol. I didn't drink on the job. Either of them. Getting drunk here was too dangerous and Divina hated us getting messy. A strip club wasn't a place to let my guard down, not even with the threat of Gary looming over customers.

He ordered a light beer and leaned his elbow on the bar. “I'm guessing Sparkle isn't your real name.”

I laughed and took a sip of my drink. “What makes you think that? Don't I look like a Sparkle?" I patted my hair and looked coy.

He snorted. “Fuck no. Unless that's your real name.” He clearly didn't believe that for a moment.

“It's not,” I admitted. “I didn't even choose it for myself.” It was Divina's idea. Of course it was. Who else would come up with a stage name like that?

“What would you choose?” He looked at me over the rim of his glass and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“I have no idea,” I said. “What would you choose for me?” I cocked my head at him. I'd played this game before, but I was curious what someone like him would come up with.

He looked thoughtful. “A cat name. Leopard or Panther. Something smooth and sexy.”

That was a better suggestion than the usual 'Hot Tits', or 'Wet Pussy.' Some guys had no imagination.

“I like that,” I said. “Panther would have worked. All in black. Leather pants and a black leather bra.”

He adjusted his pants. “Panther it is. I'm Storm. Storm Keller. Yes, that's my real name.” He offered me his hand.

I shook it. “It suits you. Your eyes are the colour of storm clouds.” Almost as dangerous. Something swirled in those depths. Something a girl could get caught up in too easily, if she wasn't careful.

“Yours are the colour of the sky in the middle of winter,” he said, looking into mine, appraising me. “Panther with pretty blue eyes.”

“Sparkle!” a new voice said from the other side of me. “How much for a blowjob?”

I turned as a handful of fifty dollar notes were pushed in the direction of my chest. They were accompanied by an eager looking customer with desperate eyes.

I was taken aback. Not because I wasn't used to exactly this scenario, but because I had, for a few moments, been caught up in the conversation with Storm.

“Come on, slut,” the new guy insisted. “That's what you're here for. You show us your pussy and I fuck your mouth. Right here works for me.” He undid the front of his jeans and pushed them down far enough for his small erection to spring free.

“The lady is occupied,” Storm said, his voice as dark as the clouds in his eyes. “She's with me.” He draped an arm over my shoulders, the tips of his fingers barely touching my upper arm. Possessive, but with a hint of respect.

“Fuck off.” The asshole was persistent. “I'm paying good money for this. She can suck me off and then you can fuck her brains out for all I care. Come on, bitch. On your knees.”

“Like he said, I'm occupied,” I said coolly.

I looked over to Storm and smiled. “There's a private room we can use, big boy.” I slipped out from under his arm, took his hand and led him away from the customer who gaped and swore after us.