Justice Falling (Falling #3)(61)
“Take it off, baby!” one man yelled.
“Let’s see that rack!” another cheered.
Turning to face the men, I grinned and slid my hand down the front of the corset and over my sex, mimicking touching myself. The men went wild! Money seemed to come from nowhere, littering the glossy stage with the color green. It was the surge of bills I planned on cashing in tonight. Sucking my dry finger into my mouth, I heard a collective groan. Men were so damn easy it was ridiculous. I hadn’t even touched myself, just pretended to and they went brain dead.
I bent my body over the back of the chair, my head hanging upside down, blood rushing to the crown. That’s when my worst nightmare occurred. I didn’t fall, didn’t lose my wig. A man didn’t try to touch me. The chair didn’t break. No, it was so much worse. A man with long even steps entered the room. I would recognize that gait anywhere. My gaze went from his large feet, covered by well-defined quads in black tailored slacks up to a pinched in waist, broad chest and shoulders and finally up to the most stunning face I’d ever known.
Nate.
With a swing of my body I covered my face and turned around.
“Boooooo, baby, get to the good stuff! Show us your titties!” one man hollered. His tone bordered on angry.
I swung my hips from side to side and went back to the pole. If I was dancing, maybe I could figure out a quick exit. The music changed once more. It was the last song of my time on the stage and these men expected a show. If I didn’t take my clothes off there would be mutiny. If I did, I ran the risk of Nate noticing me. So far he hadn’t glanced at the stage. I loved him even more for that. He was talking quietly to Tyler. It was obvious the moment things got heated between them because Nate stood abruptly and his chair fell to the floor. Tyler stood next to him, hands on Nate’s forearms trying to calm him down. Rage plastered Nate’s features.
The song came closer to the end and I removed hook after hook of my corset. At the highest beat, I undid the last hook and splayed open the corset showing off my bare breasts.
“Damn, girl, I could suck on those tits all damned day!” A deep voice rose above the crowd of applause and howls.
“Yeah, baby, come over here and sit on my lap. I’ll make it worth your while,” another man yelled, holding up what looked to be a fifty dollar bill. As much as I’d like the money, there would be no lap dances. Typically in the private room anything but touching the dancer and removing your thong was allowed. Not tonight. It would hinder my big payout. Right then, all I could think about was getting the hell out of there before Nate recognized me.
I closed my eyes, letting the men look their fill. Whoops and hollers of joy and excitement filled the room as I massaged and cupped the heavy weight of my breasts. All seemed fine and I was about to flip over and make my final exit when I opened my eyes and held the gaze of the man I loved and adored.
His mouth locked in a grimace, teeth clenched. Even from a distance, I saw his jaw so tight he could cut leather between his teeth. His gaze swept across my mostly naked body from my head to each bared breast to my miniscule panties, down each leg and back up again. I felt the heat of his anger palpitating in waves in my direction.
I closed my eyes, swirled around on my butt and made to leave the stage. The lights dimmed and the music went back to normal club style tunes.
“What. The. Fuck!” I heard the very distinct English accent as Nate roared his disapproval. I heard his loud footsteps over the beat of the music as he stomped to the stage. I’d almost made it to the steps when his hand encircled my wrist and spun me around.
***
Naked. My precious Camille was stark naked and every man here was drooling and looking their fill. I reached a shaky hand out to the black wig and pushed the offensive thing off her head. It fell to the floor and her glorious brown locks fell in spirals over her breasts and bare shoulders.
“Camille, no.” My voice was hard to hear over the loud techno music. Her eyes widened and her gaze lifted over my shoulder. A quick glance and I saw Tyler, only he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were devouring every inch of my girlfriend. He licked his lips and I threw off my suit coat, spun Camille toward the back wall and covered as much of her naked body as I could. In seconds, I had my jacket covering her lady bits.
“Well, well, well. What did I tell you, buddy? She’s nothing but a skanky whore.” He tsked. His hand clasped my shoulder. In the past I would have been comforted by the action. If this had been a whore, and not the love of my life, I could have let it slide. I was no longer that man, and he was no longer my best mate. Instead of shrugging him off, I turned on a heel and slugged the bugger right in the kisser.
“Shut the f*ck up, Tyler. I’ve had it with you and your shite!” The bouncer caught up with us and prevented me from getting additional shots in. The giant black man held me and gestured for Camille to leave the stage through the back exit.
“Camille, meet me outside!” I yelled. The bouncer said something into an ear piece and before too long, both Tyler and I were out on our collective assess in front of the club.
“Don’t come back or you’ll get more than a sore ass for your trouble!” The bouncer shoved me to the ground. My knees bit into sharp gravel, but I didn’t feel the pain. My anger had taken over all rational thought.
Tyler stood and shook dirt and rocks off his own knees and suit jacket. He looked at me and shook his head. “You punched me over her?” His voice shook with rage. “For a f*cking stripper!”