Strip Clubs. They weren’t something that really excited me. Why sit in one dim room and watch some pretty ass dance on stage when you can take one home and fuck her senseless? I didn’t believe in stripteases unless I got the real deal. Doing a birthday after party was Spike’s idea; that bastard was always horny. He was into watching girls take off their clothes and dance erotically on poles. I’d told my so-called friends that I was leaving after the birthday party, but they wouldn’t listen to a word I said and forced me inside the limo. It was a Cadillac Escalade; good choice for a limo. I’d give him that much.
The limo had leather seats that I melted into as soon as I settled down. The floors were carpeted, and the windows tinted. It was every bit classy. The right side corner had a bar that served some drinks and snacks; self-service entirely, but there were great choices for liquor. There was nothing to complain about, although I couldn’t have much for drinks tonight because I had to wake up early the next morning. I had a plane to catch for a business conference in London. The boys knew that and agreed I could leave after spending some time with them at the strip club.
We entered a gentlemen’s club called Devil’s Girl, a club that had a reputation for being the best posh strip club in town. Entry was only allowed to wealthy men; someone like me. Spike and Lucas were regulars here with membership cards. Since I wasn’t into this kind of shit, I’d never signed up for it and only visited when the boys made plans.
The moment I stepped into the VIP lounge of the club, we were served some drinks which I declined. I was seated on the other side of the stage. I watched as Tom received a phone call which he didn’t answer, making the phone ring over and over again. He grimaced, excused himself, and exited the lounge. I knew who that call was from. It was Tom’s wife, Penny, who suspected him of cheating. If she only knew that he wasn’t just cheating on her with another woman but also screwing around every chance he got, she would flip
And then there was Dylan, auburn-haired, sharp-tongued, a Wall Street genius, and a banker. He couldn’t keep one girlfriend for an entire month without severely bruising her, and that’s one reason why he had to visit these clubs: to make himself feel better, to give himself the illusion that these women wanted him for the money, which could be true to a fault. But once any woman got to actually know him, they’d know what a sly bastard he was.
Lucas, the one who we call the blond cat of our group, was the only sane person in my circle of friends. He was smart, intelligent, a millionaire, and also a skilled magician. He was so good that he sometimes did shows in Vegas. The only out-of-the-ordinary thing that Lucas had was how he kept his partners collared. He was into the BDSM lifestyle, and his partner, Amy, surely didn’t mind that sort of life.
And then there was me. Not any different from these bastards and yet I thought of myself as someone who was better than my friends. Superior in every order.
Dylan slid into the seat beside me, and the silver Rado on his wrist glimmered. He probably saw that I’d noticed because he said, “Bought it yesterday for eight grand, gold plated.”
I smiled, trying so hard to keep my anger at bay. “Looks dapper on you.”
He’d been waving his hand the entire day just so someone would notice and comment on it, but I’ was seriously tired of having his left hand in my face all the fucking time, so I had to give in.
“Right?” He scratched the little stubble over his chin. “Cecilia said it looked elegant and that I should buy this kind of watches often.”
Right. Cecilia would also agree to jump off a cliff after a few beatings. I didn’t understand why she would even put up with such a pompous asshole. Sometimes when I looked at Dylan and his smug expressions, I have these mental images of me bludgeoning his brains until he didn’t have any gray matter left, but I continued to smile, acting civil as always.
A blonde with huge breasts walked in and began showing her ass in Tom’s face, which I’m sure he was enjoying. The other men seemed to be enjoying the show as well, except me. I had different tastes. I wasn’t turned on by fake meat; I liked slim and curvy women, someone who could fit right in my lap like a delicate doll.
As if fate had read my mind, a brunette walked into the lounge. She seemed wobbly on her feet, and I imagined her to be a new recruit. Tom elbowed me, bringing my attention to him. “I saw her when we walked into the club. She was dancing outside. I asked Ronnie if he could send her in, and he agreed. Good for us because, boy, that ass looks fine.”
Tom was already panting like a rabid dog.
I turned my attention back to the girl. She wasn’t that tall if the heels were removed. Her skin looked pale under the illuminating lights, and her hair, which was grazing her waist, was long and dark brown. She had average-sized tits and a sweet round ass that could fit my palm.
She was definitely my type. She was wearing a camisole, the neckline a V that shows off her natural tits. I realized she wasn’t looking at any men unless she had to, and then she turned, and I felt like the air was knocked out of my body.
I sat closer to see if I was wrong, but I wasn’t. Dancing on the Weeknd’s slow song was Kiara. There was no mistaking her. She grabbed the pole and moved her body up and down in a slow dance. I felt a spurt of rage burn through me.
What the hell was she doing in a fucking strip club?
They were all eye-fucking her like dogs in heat. I was pretty sure Tom would try to persuade her to give him her personal information after the show was over. I had to stop this. They shouldn’t sit here and eye my girl like that. My legs had a mind of its own as I left my seat and climbed the narrow stage. Before I knew it, I was dragging Kiara towards the lounge exit.
She better have a bloody good reason to be dancing in front of all these men and for riling up these strange feelings inside me.