Looking up when I hear the restroom door squeak I see her, Skye walking out the door. Gone was the bun at the back of her head, her hair hung halfway down her back in raven curls that were wavy from being wrapped in a tight bun for hours. Sweet mother of….I was drawn to her mouth before but now? Fuck now, all I can think of is those full red lips wrapped around my cock as I push so deep she gags. I love when they do that.
Where the hell is she going dressed like that? That uniform was a crying shame compared to Skye in snug jeans that hugged her gracious hips and round ass. And if I’m not mistaken….someone slipped into a pushup bra—not that she needed one. Nope, those tits were a lot more than a handful and I was looking forward to the challenge of holding them. Obviously she wasn’t going home to a cat dressed like that. I’m not about to ask her—she wouldn’t tell me shit and I wouldn’t blame her.
Watching her pop the trunk to her Ford Focus she simply tossed her backpack inside of it and slammed it shut. I already knew she drove the black Focus. I’ve seen her coming and going in the little thing on numerous occasions.
After she drove off I watched her make a left on Forrester, hmm….downtown. Guess, I didn’t figure her for a clubbing kinda girl. Surprise, surprise, huh?
Curiosity killed the cat or in this case? Curiosity got answers the sneaky ass way.
I snagged the waitress as she walked by swapping ketchup bottles. “Miss….” I read her name tag, “Mandy, I was suppose to meet up with Skye later but she was going to get me directions and I take it she forgot.” She looked down at my phone laying on the table. I grab it and answer what I know she’s thinking. “My cells dead or I’d call her.” I push the button on my phone shutting it off beneath the table. The last thing I need is the damn thing ringing right now.
After she looks her fill of me she finally answers. “Left on Forrester here and take a left onto fifth street, then, it’s about five or six blocks until you hit Oakly.”
“It’s on Oakly?” I ask.
“Take a right on Oakly, it’s right there, you can’t miss the pink neon lights even if ya tried.”
“Pink lights, got it.” Walking across the street to my gym, yeah, it’s my gym. I don’t only work there but I own the place. Only good thing I’ve ever done in my life, hell, the only thing I’ve ever completed. I absolutely love it too. My own boss, my own rules, it’s all on me. Then again? It’s all on me.
I know that I should steer clear of Skye, I really should. Definitely not a relationship type of guy and she looks like the relationship kinda chick. Most likely I’ll fuck her up, I’ll taint her with my own shit. I’ve got issues by the gallon, okay, okay, by the fifty gallon drum. But, I’m so selfish I’m not willing to walk away until I get what I want and for some reason I want her.
One evening I watched her walk across the street when she had parked in front of my gym. The diners parking lot was full, some classic car night thing they did once a month. Basically a bunch of old guys and their cruisers. I could care less about classic cars but I did enjoy the view of her shuffling across the street. Even after I told her she couldn’t park there. God, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Not even bothering to turn around and look at me she flipped me the bird and told me to it was public property. Then, the sassy shit told me to call the cops and have her towed if I didn’t believe her. She was right. I don’t own the street in front of my business but it still pissed me off.
I’ve thought of her everyday since. Like some fucking pervert I watch for her to arrive just before four o’clock and I see her leave around midnight. The gym closes at eleven but I’m always there for an extra hour or two every night. Like I said the gym is the one thing in my life that I’ve actually accomplished and I’m gonna make sure it stays going strong. At first I tried to blow off this crazy attraction I’ve got going on for her. After all, I own a goddamn gym and she’s definitely not the physically fit type of woman you would see on a personal trainers arm. Harsh? I don’t think so. I’d prefer to think it’s just honesty. Acting like she didn’t affect me was impossible. I don’t even have to look at the clock to know what time it is—no, my dick is like a fucking sundial and I’m hard before she even gets out of her car.
Solution? Well, I’ve come up with one that will work for both of us….we fuck. Simple solution for a simple problem, right? A few good bangs and I’ll be good. Nothing more, nothing less. All I’ve gotta do is get Skye on board and I don’t mean to brag….fuck it, take it as bragging if you want but I always get what I want and that includes women. Never had a problem getting who I want and that ain’t about to change. I’d probably be doing her a favor, hell, I know I would be. That ain’t ego….that’s fact.
Chapter Two
**Skye**
I watch as Eden hits the stage, she’s good—damn good. Her real name is Elizabeth and you know how they always say I’m only stripping to pay my way through college? Well, she really was. On her second year at the community college for something to do with finance, I can’t recall what exactly. Single mom of a set of four year old twin girls, Jessa and Jameson, she makes more money at the club in one night than she’d make a week at some minimum wage job. Fourteen years of ballet training and here she was working the pole for money. Even though she was stripping it was still beautiful. Her body was perfect but it was more of the way she moved, the way she flowed with the music.
Seeing so much beauty, so many perfect bodies? It didn’t escape me that I didn’t belong but that’s why I serve drinks. Nobody wants to see all this up on that stage in the bright lights. No, I stay in the shadows where I’m comfortable, I’m content and it’s where I belong. Don’t get me wrong I’m okay with where I am, I really am. Lets just say I’ve come to terms that I’ll never be a size four, I won’t even be a size fourteen. I was once, ya know? Twelve years old, sixth grade, I Skye Briar Blake was a size fourteen. Now, I reside in a hefty twenty jeans and an even bigger shirt. It is what it is and I am what I am.
I make good money here, decent tips—unlike the diner. Here, I use what I have just like every other woman in the club. Maybe I don’t shimmy on the brass pole but I use my feminine assets to get what I want….that paper. Money, rules the world right? I like to think females rule the world and money is merely a necessity to keep us there. Working three nights a week here I’m making enough in tips to keep me coming back. Not that it’s a bad place to work. Sounds funny, I know, but I like my job here a hundred times better than the diner. Cal runs a decent club and with plenty of security and clean girls. These women are my best friends and have been for the past three years that I’ve worked here.
Ahh….there’s Joe, one of the regulars. There’s no need to go take his drink order I already know what it’ll be, whiskey sour on the rocks, double and keep them coming until closing time. Then, Cal will pour him into a cab and send him home. Poor guy is just lonely. Every Friday night it’s the same routine. Sometimes he shows up on Saturday nights too but he sticks to club soda on those days. Everyone has their poison’s right?
Glancing down I check on my girls. Tugging my snug t-shirt down a couple inches more I pickup my tray with Joe’s drink and a dish of pretzels to drop off at his table. If it’s one thing Joe likes? It’s cleavage. That I have in spades.
**Jaden**
Pink lights, fucking pink lights alright! As in Pinkies the goddamn strip club. One of my clients at the gym, Nate Carson bartend’s here. I can’t even count how many times he’s invited me down here.
This is not what I expected at all. A strip club, I just can’t get over it. Skye was in there and what exactly was she doing in there? Different strokes for different folks but could she really be up on the pole? Her ass better not be near a fucking pole. I can feel myself getting more and more pissed as I sit in my car looking at the place. My knuckles are bright white as I grip the steering wheel for dear life. Rather like they were around some fuckers neck. Like the fucker that hired her to work in this come-bucket. Jesus, I gotta slow my breathing down, I don’t pant this hard after an hour of cardio. I see her Focus and I feel like exploding. She’s in there and I feel like I wanna puke. I can hear my pulse in my own head—that can’t be good. I know I have no say in where she works, god, we don’t even know each other but we’re about to get very well aquatinted.