Bad Girl Cheerleader and Her Baller

Lisa

If my brother could see me now, sitting in front of a man’s carefully gyrating crotch, he would not be amused.

The stripper has a dark blue uniform and matching hat, but he’s definitely not going to be arresting anyone tonight with the plastic handcuffs slapping against his thigh.

“Hey, Lisa!”

A cloud of cigar smoke settles over me and I turn to see Lenny, my boss, grinning down at me over his bulging beer belly. He’s got the trademark cigar resting in his left hand.

“Hey, Lenny,” I say, smiling and getting to my feet.

“Pretty busy, huh?” Lenny says, glancing around the pulsing crowd of older women, all jostling for the best views of the near-naked men.

“You’re right,” I say, laughing, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so full on lady’s night.”

The male strippers descend from the stage and work their way through the crowd, accumulating dollar bills in their waistbands.

“Because you’re leaving, doll,” says Sandy, another waitress, effectively pulling my eyes from the toned dancers bodies as she slides up to the bar beside us. Her nose wrinkles at Lenny’s plume of smoke, but he doesn’t notice.

“That’s right,” Lenny says, looking like he wants to give me a hug. “We’re gonna miss you, kid.”

“I think my breaks up,” I say, grabbing my apron from the bar and wrapping it around my waist. When I look up, Lenny’s not listening.

“Something going on at the front,” he mumbles, moving like he’s going to head over there. I glance at the far wall of the club, where a large group of people is congregated just outside the front door. The bouncer looks annoyed, even from this distance and through Lenny’s smoke.

I put a hand on Lenny’s shoulder.

“I got it,” I say, giving him a salute as I slide around him. “You take it easy, boss.”

Lenny continues grumbling as I work my way to the front of the club. This is by far the busiest ladies’ night we’ve ever had, and I wonder what Lenny had to do to work up such a fuss about it.

“Hey, what’s going on here, Neil?” I say, shouting over the music as I make my way to the bouncer.

“Bunch of dumbass kids!” he shouts, not looking back at me. “Think they wanna come in here for ladies’ night.”

“Yeah,” a kid at the front who’s leaning heavily on the frame says, “I want to see ladies.”

He’s slurring heavily, and he grins when his eyes meet mine.

“Fucking idiots,” Neil says, “I keep trying to tell them-”

“Let them in,” I say, shrugging, “let them pay the cover fee as a punishment for their idiocy, huh?”

Neil fixes me with a sharp look, before sighing and relaxing his shoulders.

“You’re evil. You know that, right?” he whispers to me, before putting his hands up in the air and addressing the crowd of people outside the door. “Alright, boys, ten dollars each!”

I stand to the side and watch each guy yank bills from their pockets to make the cover fee, chuckling under my breath. They’re all tall and cute, and slightly sweaty, looking around like they’ve never been in a place like this before.

Sliding around the bar, I grab a bottle of water and down half of it, scanning the room. It’s nearly at capacity, and dollar bills carpet the dancer’s platform. The dancers are still sliding and dancing through the room, earning squeals and excited shouts.

“Hey there, handsome,” I hear a woman say, her words slurring and slipping. I turn my attention to a middle-aged woman draping her body over a tall guy in the center of the room, who’s clearly not a dancer. He’s fuming and trying to peel her off, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “I’ve always wanted a lap dance from a professional sports man.”

He glares down at her and says something I can’t hear, but all it does is make her giggle. I’m about to turn away and find Sandy when I notice the logo on his sweats. Blue Lake University.

The music isn’t helping his case as Guns N Roses blasts over the stereo, only giving the ladies more reason to believe he’s a stripper.

Welcome to the jungle, we’ve got fun and games!

I cap my water bottle and duck out from behind the bar, making my way to them.

“Hey!” I say, putting on my best managerial voice and directing it toward him. “What the hell are you doing?”

A crowd of women has now gathered around the guy, waiting for him to start his show. They’ve peeled his zippered hoodie down off his shoulder, revealing the corded muscles of his chest and bicep, barely covered by a Blue Lake University jersey. He looks even more confused as his wild eyes swing to mine, wide and panicked.

“You’ve got a one-on-one!” I say, shaking my head and hoping my uniform conveys authority. It must, because the women back up and take their hands off him.

“What?” he says, eyes still wide as I take his arm and begin dragging him away. Though he doesn’t seem to want to come with me, he apparently wants to get away from those women more. I’m laughing as I lead him through the crowd and to one of the private rooms along the side. I pull the door shut behind us.

He watches me closely as I untie my apron and hang it on the door hook.

“Are you in town for the tournament?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I glance over at him. His face immediately darkens, and I remember seeing in the news earlier that the Blue Lake hadn’t gotten into the final four.

“You could say that,” he says, rolling his eyes and slumping into the plush maroon couch that forms a U-shape in the back of the room. I let my eyes wander over his outstretched legs and down to his feet, before coming back up to meet his eyes. He’s noticed me looking, and the smirk on his face makes me blush.

“My friends dragged me here for my birthday,” he says, plucking at the jersey under his jacket. “I didn’t even get a chance to change.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” I say, “it’s not always an insult, being mistaken for a stripper.”

He glowers, then looks away. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.” He raises an eyebrow, taking his turn to look me up and down. I try not to let it affect me, but I feel heat pool in my stomach. I’m more aware than before that we’re in a locked room together, secluded from the rest of the club.

“No,” I say, hating how it makes me blush more, “but it’s my last night here. I’m supposed to get my own one-on-one with my pick of the guys out there. But instead, I’ve chosen to rescue you.”

“You’re missing out on a private show because of me?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave. When he meets my eyes, I see that the brown of his eyes has darkened a few shades. My heart picks up. This might be my luckiest last day of work ever.

“Yeah,” I say, my breath hitching as he gets to his feet, “how are you going to make it up to me?”

He crosses the room to me and places his hands on either side of my shoulders, boxing me in against the wall and leaning in close. His eyes dart back and forth between mine.

“Are you asking to see me naked?”

My face is fire, and so are my limbs. Before I can stop myself, I nod.

In one fluid moment, he strips both the jacket and the jersey from his torso. They fall to the ground somewhere to the side, but I can’t look away from his chest. It’s sculpted and strong, but soft under my fingertips.

I realize I’m touching him, running my hands over his chest as far as I can. He’s tall enough that I have to get on my tiptoes to reach his shoulders, but it’s worth it.

He bites his lip, and his hands settle on my hips, gripping tightly and pulling so his cock presses into me. He’s already hard, and I respond immediately when he cups his hands under my ass and lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist.

Sandy and I made a rule not to hook up with guys at work, but it’s my last day, and the man in front of me is tipping my head back, kissing from my chin to my neck, sucking just behind my earlobe. The lighting in the private room washes over him, painting the hard planes of his chest and abs red.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his fingers sliding beneath my skirt and past my panties with ease. I arch into him as his fingers whisper over my clit, then down to my entrance. Slowly, he presses one finger in up to the knuckle, burying his head in my shoulder.

I dig my nails into his back and let out a breath of air when he pulls his finger out and swiftly undoes the strings on his sweats. They fall to the floor, and I reach down, sliding my hand beneath the band of his boxers. I gasp when my hand wraps around his cock, already pulsing, and he rocks his hips against me, grinding into my core.

“Fuck,” he says, again, and I reach down with my other hand to push his boxers out of the way. I can feel how wet I am, my pussy throbbing, driving me to move my hips until he’s near my entrance. His breath is hot on my face as he sinks into me.

I let out an involuntary sound, something between a groan and a growl, and he responds, thrusting. My back presses against the wall as he grips my hips and drives into me, making pleasure burst behind my eyes.

“Harder,” I whisper, twisting one fist into the back of his hair. “Please.”

I don’t have to say it twice, because he picks up speed, breathing heavily into my shoulder, groaning when I tug on his hair. Every inch of my skin feels exposed, despite the clothes on my body. He pinches my nipple through the sheer white top I’m wearing, then pulls the top down and drops his lips to my breast.

I’m thankful for the soundproof rooms as I let out a shriek when he hits my g-spot, his mouth still on my breast, his tongue circling my nipple.

“Fuck,” I say, “I’m cumming.”

He thrusts harder, faster, and I begin to unravel, twisting my hand so hard in his hair I think I might pull it out. I arch against him and dig my heels into his back as he pushes deep into me and shudders, dropping his head to my shoulder.

My legs are shaking when he lets me down. He reaches down to grab his jacket from the floor.

I could ask him for his name, or phone number. Instead, I step to the door, unlock it, and turn to look at him.

“Happy birthday,” I say, “you can consider that your present.”

“Wait,” he says, looking up with one leg in his sweats, the other glowing and bare under the red lights. “We could grab a drink, or-”

I cut him off by propping the door open and letting in the whoops and hollers of the single mothers dancing in the main room. He hops a little to get his pants on.

“Nah,” I say, grinning at him and the Thunder logo on his pants before making my exit, “but maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”