Chapter 17 #2
But then Merrick wouldn’t have been forced to watch me dance.
We learn a new move, a cross knee release, which will work with the Hello, Boys and the sit moves I already know. I am starting to see a short routine form in my head with the new transitions.
By the time class is over, my arms and belly ache, but I know I’m not stopping here. I have a date with a tiny red outfit and a new pole. I can’t wait to see it.
Merrick passes me my sweatshirt as we walk to his bike. “I may be guilty of some untoward fondling of your sparkly bits in the pocket.”
Every word of his spikes through me like a bolt of electricity. Guilty. Untoward. Fondling.
I pick up my helmet from his handlebars. “As long as you do some untoward fondling of my bits while we can be alone.”
He sucks in a breath. “That can be arranged.”
We’re playing with fire. I know it. So does he. But I can’t help it. It’s too fun. Too exciting.
As we ride to the Leaky Skull, which won’t open for hours, the wild feeling that comes over me in the bar is already here.
I hang on with one arm and use the other hand to explore what I can reach.
His stomach, the bumps of his abs. In a brazen moment, I run my hand up his shirt to slide across his nipple.
I’m on fire by the time we pull around the back of the deserted bar. I’m ready to do anything.
We don’t talk as we head to the back door. It takes a moment to unlock all the braces and deadbolts.
Then we’re inside, enveloped in the smell of beer and lingering fried food. It’s becoming familiar, like a second home.
“I set the pole up on the stage,” Merrick says. “It’s easy to disassemble and roll into the side closet up there. I made room.”
I follow him through the kitchen and into the bar itself.
It’s dark inside, but a single spotlight is on the stage.
The pole has a heavy black base and gleams in the clean, bright cone of light.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, heading for it. I hop onto the short stage and approach.
The metal is cool and smooth. I grasp it with both hands and take a quick spin around it.
“It can be static or rotating,” Merrick says. “I set it to static since that’s what your class has.”
“I love it.” I climb partway up and look down at the bar. Merrick stands in the murky room, barely lit with the dregs of my cone of light, his hands on his hips.
Behind him, all the chairs are up on tables, the only witnesses to what might happen here.
“I’ll put on my outfit,” I say, pulling it from my pocket. It sparkles in the light.
“You don’t have to …” He trails off.
“I want to.” I hurry off the stage to the women’s bathroom, the new one near this side of the bar.
The lights are out, and I feel blinded by the flood of it when I turn them on. I face the mirror, noticing my ponytail has gone slightly off center from the helmet. I pull the elastic band out and let my hair fall free.
This could be it. Will dancing for him put him over the edge? Will we get past the rules of the club, this situation we’ve been dancing around for months?
I kick off my shoes and swiftly strip off the dance clothes. I’m a little sweaty, so I dampen some paper towels and wipe myself down.
Am I ready for this? I think so. I’ve wanted it forever.
I pick up the tiny top and tie it behind my neck and back. The red circles are nowhere near the right place, so I adjust them.
I look in the mirror. I’m so tiny. Nothing like a typical pole dancer.
Fear washes over me. I want the push-up bra. The cleavage. This outfit shows off my bones.
Too late.
I shimmy the bottoms up and adjust the red slice of bejeweled fabric so it covers me. I waxed myself within an inch of my life the moment I told him about the red outfit. I’m glad I did it ahead because I was bumpy for days, but I’ve smoothed out.
Here goes nothing.
I give my hair one more toss and step out of the bathroom.
The cone of light is still over the pole. I’m too blinded to see into the dark. “Are you out there?” I ask.
“I’m front and center,” he says.
He shifts, and I see his black boot by the leg of a chair. Slowly, I make him out, sitting in the dark.
Waiting for me.
I’m in the shadows, so he won’t get the full effect of the outfit until I’m in the light. “Do you have music?” I ask.
“I’ve got the sound system remote. What are you thinking?”
I should have prepared for this. But I think through the best songs from class. “Unholy,” I tell him.
“Let me find it.”
There’s a pause as he searches. My eyes adjust more, and I can make him out in his chair, the shadows throughout the bar adjusting as he shifts, casting darkness behind him.
Then the song begins. The only other time I’ve had a moment like this was on the stage at the strip club for my audition. What a crazy thing to have tried. I wasn’t ready.
And now that I’m doing this for him, I realize I don’t have to put on a show, not for an entire room.
Just Merrick.
It was always about Merrick.
I wish I had some heels, but I glide out in bare feet. I circle the pole with some basic moves to get me started.
Then, I pirouette into a climb, and I’m up. I’ve never danced this close to naked. My skin is hot against the cool metal. I don’t have time to look at him, trying to think ahead and move from one pose to the next. I use the transitions I learned and then run through everything I know.
The music flows around me. I become one with the pole, the floor, the air. I sense the difference in temperature low near the stage and up high.
I wish I could watch him watch me. I would kill to see his face, to notice if his fingers twitch.
There is no fatigue in this moment, only the adrenaline of being almost naked in his bar, his eyes on me, my body turning around the pole. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sounds, the feel of the metal in my grip, the air rushing by when I spin.
Then the music winds down. I do a Diamond to the floor like Terra taught me and lie there on my side, my arm extended.
I can’t see past the brightness of the stage. I don’t know where he is.
I breathe in and out, feeling the effort now that it’s over.
Then, a hand slides along my calf.
My heart slams in my chest. He’s on stage with me.
His fingers trail up my leg to my knee.
Fire follows his touch. I stare out into the dark bar, afraid this is a dream, that he’s still out there, and I’m alone.
He reaches my thigh and pushes on it to get me to shift to my back. Now I know I’m not dreaming. He’s here.
I can’t look directly up at him. The light is too bright. He’s like the sun, shining down on me.
“That was gorgeous,” he says. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” His head tilts, and I can make out his nose and mouth in the halo of light. “I’m going to touch you. I’m going to make you come on this stage. Is that all right?”
I nod, not able to find my voice.
He kneels over me, his hands caressing my body. My waist, my belly, the skin over my ribs.
“I could touch you all day,” he says. “I will never get enough of your skin.”
He bends down to kiss me and blocks the fierceness of the light. I tilt my chin up to meet him.
He takes his time, his mouth lingering over mine, then slides my lips apart with his tongue.
His hands keep moving, taking in my hips and trailing down my thighs.
Then he inches them apart.
I suck in a breath, which gives him deeper access to my mouth. I’m drowning in the kiss, melting beneath him. He shifts so his hands move up, running along the thin bottoms, then sliding them down.
I can’t imagine what all we’ll do. I’ll do any of it. Anything at all.
His thumb slides down my belly and slips into the wetness between my legs. His knee shifts them more widely apart.
I can’t breathe. My body is engulfed in the flames of this need. It’s brighter than the light above us. I am consumed with every stroke of his finger.
He slides up and down in that space, feeling me, circling, delving only slightly inside. When I suck in a breath, he smiles against my mouth, like he’s found what he wanted.
He works it with several fingers, rubbing it in ways that make me see stars. His mouth leaves mine and inches down past my jaw to my collarbone.
Then, he nudges the red circle aside and takes my nipple in his mouth.
I arch toward him, gasping for breath. I squeeze my eyes closed to the light overhead and let all the sensations take over.
The music is gone, the bar silent and still, so when I let out my first cry, it echoes on the walls.
“Yes,” he says. “I want to hear every sound you make.”
His fingers work faster, his mouth crossing to find the other breast.
My body shudders from his attention. I want this morning to last, the song, the dance, this act. But I can’t slow down my response. My body contracts beneath his hand.
“Merrick!” I shout and realize I haven’t said his name before, not like this, a cry in the throes of heat.
“Yell my name,” he says, his fingers working faster. “Fill the room with it.”
I clamp down so hard I couldn’t control my voice if I wanted to. “Merrick! Merrick! Oh my God!” My hands squeeze his powerful biceps as the orgasm rockets through me. I want to hang on, to stay in this space forever.
And he keeps working me, drawing it out, until every shudder subsides, and I collapse back down on the floor.
The hardwood floor. I’m going to feel that tomorrow.
So might he, given how long he’s been on his knees.
This thought makes me want to laugh. I throw my arm over my eyes.
His face moves close to my cheek. “I like that an orgasm makes you laugh.”
This makes me laugh harder. “If an orgasm is the payment for dancing for you, I’ll do it every day. Twice.”
His nose nudges against my ear. “Yes. A dance for an orgasm. Any time you want.”
I want to draw my arms around him, pull him close. But he withdraws from me to kneel next to my feet.
“I take it the pole worked well?” he asks.
I sit up, shading my eyes with a hand. “It’s perfect.”
Before I can feel too strange, lying in a blinding light with my outfit askew, my sparkly bottoms around one ankle, he extends a hand to help me up.
I stand, adjusting my outfit. “Now you’ve seen the tiniest thing I own,” I say. “There’s nowhere to go from here.”
He draws me against him, my back to his chest, and runs his hands down my body from neck to breast to waist. Then he slides his fingers inside the tiny red bottoms, making me gasp.
“My sweet Marietta, we have so many places to go.”
I shudder against him.
I can’t wait.