Chapter 2
Two
Light
I tried the whole gentleman thing once.
Held the door, took the fall, kept her secrets.
And for what?
A three-year bid and a woman who never wrote back.
I know I should go back to the clubhouse. Go back to my family and just be at peace, but I can't. I don't want to see all the love and joy that comes with having new ol' ladies in the house.
Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for both Brick and Hook that they found someone who seems like they're going to be around forever—women they can share all the troubles of their lives with. But I've had that before, and I know the truth of the matter.
Shit is only good until the bad times roll in, and then all that happiness goes flying out of the window.
No. I'd rather stay realistic about my love life.
Women are only good for one thing, and that's to get a quick nut.
The neon lights of the small strip club pulse in time with the beat, and my eyes lazily scan up to the stage where the chest-heavy woman is doing a series of tricks and bends on the pole. I don't think I've had a taste of her yet. Tonight is the best time for me to test those waters.
I keep my eyes glued on her, and when she looks down at me, a small smile curls up on her lips.
Yeah, I know what she wants. I've got more than enough for her. I shoot her a wink and lean back to take in the show.
I'm sure her dance started out as a show for the other men in the club, but now that she's got a look at me, she's dancing only for me.
I'm the star of her show. I don't mind the attention. In fact, I thrive on it. After all, I'm one good-looking man, why wouldn't she want to hold my attention?
She dances for a few minutes more, and the second the music transitions into the next song, she hurries to pick up her loose tips and get to the back of the stage. She turns in my direction and puts up a finger to let me know to wait one minute while she gets herself together.
I'm in no rush. In fact, if I have my way, I don't think I'll go back to the clubhouse at all tonight.
Another woman walks up to me, this one a little shorter and less busty than the one that was just on stage. She has a tray in her hand. She doesn't seem like she's one of the strippers.
"You haven't been around much lately, Light. I was starting to think that you forgot about me." She smiles before she takes a seat next to me.
I blink a few times as I stare at her face. She's talking like I should remember her. That can only mean one thing, I must have fucked her… recently.
"Uh, not sure what I should be remembering. Maybe you want to give me a clue?"
The woman blinks a few times, and I see the smile on her face slowly slide into a frown. She was about to get pissed. Unfortunately, I didn't have time for any temper tantrums. Hell, I never have time for temper tantrums. It's the main reason I always let the women I get involved with know that it's just a one-time thing. I don't need anyone getting attached to me.
"What the hell do you mean you don't know what you should be remembering? You were just at my house last week. I waited for you to come back like you said you were."
I put my hand up to stop her right away. "First off, sweetheart, I'm damn sure that I never told you I was coming back. I don't make those kinds of promises. I've got shit to do, and paying a second or third visit to a good time just isn’t it."
It's almost comical as I watch the woman's eyes go wide, followed by her mouth. She's gaping at me like a nearly dead fish.
"You did… you said that you had…"
Suddenly, I remember the conversation I had with her last week after I just got some subpar sex from her. It wasn't like her pussy wasn't tight or anything like that, but she didn't have the confidence that I needed. She was more concerned about hiding her body from me than showing me all those skills she swore she had.
She closes her mouth, shakes her head and walks away. I guess I should be happy it didn't turn into anything more. Still I feel like a dick. I could've said something to make her feel better.
Just as I’m about to say something to soften the blow, the waitress walks back over, tray gone, arms crossed tight over her chest.
“You done dissecting our ‘moment’ like it was a biology project?” she snaps.
I blink. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “You told me I had ‘missionary energy.’ Do you always talk to women like you’re giving Yelp reviews?”
“Hey,” I defend, holding up my hands. “Three stars is still a solid score.”
She glares. “You said two and a half.”
Shit. Did I?
I rub the back of my neck, trying to recover. “Well, you got a great face. Real expressive. That counts for something.”
“Oh wow,” she deadpans. “So glad I didn't shave for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to shave,” I mutter.
“You didn’t have to,” she fires back, arms flailing now. “You just stared at my bush like it insulted your mother.”
I choke on my own breath. “I did not!”
She tilts her head. “You called it a ‘hippie surprise.’”
Damn. That… that actually does sound like something I’d say.
I sigh and slouch back in the booth, defeated. “Look, I’m not exactly boyfriend material, okay? You caught me on a weird night.”
She folds her arms again, tapping her foot. “Every night with you is a weird night.”
I glance toward the stage, hoping for a distraction. Nothing. Just lights and bad techno.
“So we good?” I ask, peeking up at her like a scolded toddler. “No hard feelings?”
She squints. “Oh, I’ve got feelings. Just none that involve your dick ever entering my home again.”
“Fair enough.”
It's not like I want to give her another shot. Once and done. It's a rule for me.
I watch as she walks away, her head shaking as if she's disappointed. I'm not. In fact, I think I made out pretty good in that situation. There are some women who would throw a whole fit. Crying and begging, the whole deal. I don't have time for any of that.
Leaning back in the chair I watch as the dancer that was just on the stage finally makes her way in my direction. She glances over in the direction of the waitress that just walked away. I hope I'm not going to have to talk fast to get her to play nice with me.
"You having some issues with Kayla?" She questions as she cozies up next to me.
Kayla... that's the waitress' name. I'd say that I'd try to remember that but I'd be lying.
"No, she just wanted to talk to me about something. It's all good." I lean forward and whisper directly into the woman's ear.
"I'm Lacy by the way." She runs her hand over my cut, her fingers playing with the thick threads on the patches. She's impressed. Every woman wants a little bad boy in their lives. Just wearing this cut has gotten more trim than I can count.
"Nice to meet you Lacy, you done for the night?" I really didn't want to have to sit around for the rest of the night waiting for her to get off. If she still had to work I'd have to find someone else to spend my time with.
"No, I have a few more sets to do."
"Damn, that's too bad, well..." I stand ready to get up and leave her there. She grabs hold of my arm and keeps me from moving away.
"No, don't leave... Don't you want to spend time with me"? She pouts and I nearly laugh. Is that supposed to have an effect on me?
"Sorry, sweetness, my time is just as valuable as yours and I don't have time to just sit here. Either we're going to have some fun or I'm going about my business."
Lacy squints her eyes as if she's trying to figure out if she's going to have to pout a little harder to get me to do what she wants me to do. I simply tilt my head to the side. I'm not going to play the fool for her. I don't care how good she looks.
I guess she realizes that it's a losing battle with me because she straightens up and stands in front of me.
"There's a room in the back if you don't mind keeping things quiet," she whispers in my ear.
Exactly what I wanted to hear.
"I can be quiet, beautiful. The question is, can you?" I smirk at her, and she gives me a soft giggle as I let her take my hand and tug me in the direction of the hidden room I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be in.
She looks over her shoulder once just to make sure no one is following her, and when she is sure that everything is safe and that no one will come after her, she opens a door and all but shoves me inside.
I don't mind a little aggression from the women I'm with. Makes things fun.
She doesn't have much clothes on to begin with.
"Oh, this is going to be so good. I can tell already," she hums as she lets her hands slide up and down my front, before she slides her fingers under my cut. I slide my colors off and let them drape over the back of one of the chairs in the room. There's a slight bit of mustiness wafting from the carpet in the room. I'm not sure what this room was used for before, but I'm sure it's been used for exactly what Lacy and I are getting ready to do in recent times.
I grab hold of her neck and tilt her head back so I can get closer to her. I press my lips against hers, and she moans as if she's eating a hearty meal instead of kissing. The moans are extra. It has nothing to do with how I'm making her feel. I hate a woman that has to fake it. If I wasn't already hard as a rock getting ready to slide into her, I'd have gone limp.
"Shush, darling. There's no need for all that." I pull her face back and shake my head slightly.
She gasps as if she's confused by my request. The look doesn't last very long before she nods her head once and goes back to kissing me. This time the moans are much less over the top.
I grab hold of the strings that keep her little outfit up on her body and pull. The great thing about strippers is they rarely wear anything that's too hard to get off. With that one pull of the string, the outfit unravels and falls down to her feet.
I kiss down her neck and palm both of her perky tits in my hands. They feel wrong. A little overweighted. I've held more than enough tits in my hands over the years. I won't say I'm an expert when it comes to women's fun bags, but I'm as close to an expert as I can get.
It takes me a second to figure out why they feel wrong to me. I look down again, a little surprised by how natural they look.
They're definitely fake, but whoever the doctor was that hooked her up did a wonderful job. He really took care to make them look as natural as possible.
"You like?" Lacy whispers, and I nod my head.
"It's good work. I was just admiring them."
Once again, she looks up at me as if I’m a complete mystery to her. I’m assuming she’s not used to people telling her the truth when it comes to the work she’s got done.
I’ve never really been the type of person to hold my tongue. That’s gotten me into more trouble than I want to think about right now, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Uhh… thanks…” she mutters, but her eyes instantly roll back when I let my fingers trail down her body and softly begin to rub the pads of my fingertips against her slippery core.
She’s already ready for me. I appreciate that.
I hold her close to me with one arm and my eyes scan the room while she’s deep into the feelings of pleasure that I’m giving her. I don’t really want to lay her down on the floor, but the only other space in the room that would be big enough to hold me and her is a small cot-like bed. It’s the only large surface in the room, and that means everyone else would have been using it for the same activities Lacy and I are about to indulge in. I don’t really want to be rolling around in other men’s spend.
Instead, I let my eyes settle on the small chair I’ve already draped my cut over—it’s the next best thing. I grab hold of her legs, and with very little effort, I lift her off the ground so she has to wrap her legs around my waist.
“Oh God… yes,” she moans, and even though we haven’t really gotten started yet, I can tell this one wasn’t a fake moan. She’s really excited for what’s about to happen.
I love a bit of enthusiasm. That’s definitely going to add a few ticks to her score.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. I’m really a fucking ass. The deed isn’t even done yet, and already I’m trying to think about her score instead of just enjoying the time we have together.
Before I sit on the chair, I undo my pants and slide them down just a bit. I leave my boxers on, thankful that I’ll be able to pull myself out without having to pull them all the way down from my ass. I don’t want my skin on any surface in here if I can help it.
I settle Lacy on my lap, pushing her back a bit so I can free my cock from the thin cloth prison. She gasps when she looks down at it.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply to any unanswered questions she may have rolling around in her mind. I’m a big boy. Blessed, as some might say.
She smiles wide and tries to lift herself up so she can take me inside her.
I grab hold of her hips and keep her seated for a second. She must be out of her mind if she really thinks I’m going to let her ride me raw. I’m not that much of a dumbass.
I reach down into the pocket of my jeans and pull out a sleeve of condoms. I always have at least half a dozen on my person at all times. You never know when I might need them.
“Right, sorry,” she mumbles and tries to keep a smile on her face, but I can see that she’s a little disappointed. I’m not. I’ve never been inside a woman raw, and I don’t ever plan on it. I’m pretty sure fucking a woman without a condom is just like taking a taste of heroin. Once I know what it feels like, nothing will ever be the same.
I hand her the condom and watch as she expertly rips the wrapping open and pulls out the latex. Lacy licks her lips and slowly rolls the condom down my thick cock. I groan at the feel of her small hands working the protection over me.
Her fingers are quick, sliding the condom over me with practiced ease. Her eyes stay locked on mine like she’s waiting for a reaction, a spark, something to tell her she’s got me exactly where she wants me.
And sure, my body’s on board. I’m hard, I’m ready, I’m in the mood. But there’s a thin layer between us I can’t quite ignore. Maybe it’s the musty smell of the room. Maybe it’s the way she keeps glancing at her own reflection in the mirror behind me like she’s putting on a show more than sharing a moment.
She grips my shoulders and grinds down with a practiced rhythm, her head thrown back, a moan already building deep in her throat.
"Shit," I grunt as she sinks down on me, tight and wet like she’s been warming herself up since I walked in. The sensation is good. Good enough.
But barely a few strokes in, and she starts going loud. Loud like she’s on stage again. Loud like there’s an audience in the walls.
“Oh God, yes. Yes, fuck me!”
I clamp a hand over her mouth, gripping the back of her head with the other so she doesn’t lose balance.
“Quiet,” I hiss against her ear. “You’re the one who said we can’t get caught. You wanna risk someone opening that door?”
Her eyes widen, but I feel her smile against my palm. She nods and starts moving again, slower now, muffled gasps slipping between my fingers.
Her nails dig into my chest. She rolls her hips in tight, fast circles, chasing her own release with zero concern for anything else. I know her type. Girls who know how to fuck but never learned how to feel.
I help her along, gripping her ass, letting her ride the friction while I keep her body close and my head somewhere far away. I should be more into this. She's hot. Tight. Responsive. The kind of girl most guys would beg for.
But all I can think about is how off it feels.
Too wet. Too quick. Too fake.
She clenches around me with a sharp cry, her whole body shaking as she comes. I keep my hand over her mouth, holding her in place while she rides it out. It’s a solid performance. Almost convincing.
I let go of her mouth just as the last tremor runs through her.
“You okay?” she whispers, breathless and smiling.
“Yeah,” I grunt, still moving beneath her. I’m close, too close to stop now. I grip her hips tighter and thrust up hard a few times, chasing my own release without flair. A few seconds later, I finish with a low groan, head falling back against the wall behind me.
Silence settles over us, sticky and sharp.
She climbs off and fixes her hair in the mirror like nothing happened.
I toss the used condom in the trash and pull my pants back up, my body relaxed, but my mind still wired. Still hollow.
She turns and flashes me a wink. “Told you it was gonna be good.”
I smirk, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah. Real good. I'd give you a solid three and a half stars.” My eyes slide close and I let the last bit of my euphoria wash over me.
"What?"
"Huh?" I blink my eyes open.
"Did you just say that I was a 3 star lay?"
Fuck, did I say that out loud again? I really never learn. "Don't forget the third star. It really does count." I quickly fix my pants and grab hold of my cut that's hanging on the back of the chair.
"You unimaginable asshole... how the hell-"
I cut her off before she can get all the way worked up. She's not my woman and she knew that this was all for a good time. If she thought she was going to get more out of me tonight it's best I let her down now.
"I'm heading out of here sweetness. You have a good night." I reach in my pocket and pull out four bills. She never gave me a price and I don't usually pay for a lay but I can at least compensate her for her time she missed out on the floor. I drop the money in her hand and she looks from the greenbacks back up to my face. Once again that look of utter confusion plastered on her expression.
If I were any other man I'd stay and try to comfort her. If I were any less of an asshole I'd do my best to ease her confusion. But I'm not. I tried to do the good guy thing before and it only got me burned in the process. I'm not going through that again.
I fix my clothes, nod once in Lacy's direction before I walk out of the back room and through the dim club. A few other women try to get my attention but I'm not in the mood to entertain anyone else tonight. Usually after I get a piece of trim I'm in a much better mood but tonight it's almost as if getting my rocks off has done nothing but make me all the more tense.
I'm not looking forward to going back to the clubhouse tonight. I think I'll just stay at the shop. My room in the back is bigger than the one in the clubhouse anyway.
Almost on autopilot I hop on my bike and make my way back toward the clubhouse.
Why am I slowing down?
Before I can make it to the block, I pass by Melissa's house. I'm happy to see the short term fix I used to get the lights back on is still working. Even if I know I'm going to have to come back and do a better job.
So why the hell am I still sitting here, staring at her porch like it’s got answers I’m not ready to hear?
She’s not mine. She’s not even my type.
But for some damn reason… I can’t make myself drive away.