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Chapter 5

Kota wasn’t kidding when he said it was going to be busy. I’ve been racing around all night, and my body aches everywhere. After dropping drinks off at my last table, I tuck my tray behind the bar and wave my hand overhead to gain Kota’s attention.

“I’m taking my break!” I shout, and when he nods and turns back to filling drinks, I head for the bathroom. The first thing I do is rip off my heels and stretch my toes. It feels so damn good, I moan. This job is definitely for the young, because I can’t fathom still being here in ten years. After this year is done, I’ll be moving on to bigger and better things.

I take my time freshening up, patting myself down with damp paper towels to cool my heated skin, and running my fingers through my hair. As I’m finishing up, the door to the women’s restroom screams open, and I look up to see Bernice poke her head in.

“There you are,” she says, sounding relieved. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Kota says you’re needed in the VIP lounge.” Her brown eyes flicker with amusement as her gaze drops to the foot I have planted in the sink basin.

It’s the best relief I can get from those damn shoes, and I don’t feel the least bit bashful about it. I lift my chin toward the paper towel dispenser, and Bernice rips a couple off, stretching her arm out to hand them to me.

“Did he say who it was?” Sometimes we get regulars. They’re easy, because they’re predictable.

But Bernice’s scrunched nose tells me I won’t like her answer. “Nope.”

I sigh. After the day I’ve had, I’m not in the mood to entertain. “Well, do you know who it is?”

“Nope.”

Great. This guy had better leave a big tip. “Let him know I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Will do, but a word to the wise, I wouldn’t keep him waiting too long. The guy looks important.” With a small smile, she ducks back out.

I sigh as I dry my feet and slip them back into the six-inch platforms. They pinch as I leave the bathroom, and I barely manage to paste on my happy face. I try to look on the bright side. I guess I’ll get to put on a show after all.


The VIP room is located at the end of the single dark hall located off the main floor and to the right of the bar. It’s lit by diffused neon pink lights and each of the six doors leading up to the last is closed, indicating that they’re all in use. As I reach the end of the hall, I feel a flutter of nervous anticipation. I never know what I’m going to find once I open that door. One man, or two? Hot or not? There’s no telling, but Bernice’s words about him looking important give me a small ray of hope. Whatever the situation that I am about to walk into is, it’s going to be more intimate than walking out onto that stage. And it’s going to pay even better.

My hand shakes as I turn the handle and walk inside.

The room is larger than the rest, big enough for a party of twenty to fit into the bank of red leather booths forming a semi-circle along the far wall. Kota claims the leather gives customers the impression that the establishment is classy. In reality, anything looks classy when the only source of light comes from a fluorescent tube. It’s just easier to clean up the mess when they’re through. A circular stage with four gleaming silver metal poles sits in front of the booth and takes up the majority of the center of the room. The wet bar to my right ensures that bachelors can get shitfaced while they have their dicks teased, but tonight, it stands empty.

This evening’s venue is small, and as I set my eyes on the two figures seated directly across from me, I find myself wishing for a party.

A woman a few years older than me dressed in a black pencil skirt and plunging red blouse that matches her lipstick gives me an eager, heated look as I enter the room. She looks like a firecracker, and I decide to call her Red. Ten to one, this was her idea. Probably looking to spice things up in the bedroom. This often happens with couples coming for a dance together. It makes no difference to me. Money is money, and it’s not my place to judge someone else’s relationship. But I am judging, because I recognize the person beside her, the face staring back at me. I’d recognize that easy, laid back pose and those dark eyes anywhere.

Maybe it wasn’t her idea, after all.

My worlds have collided again—merging like pools of mismatched paint spilled across the linoleum floor. I hadn’t expected to see my mystery man again, but here he is, sitting in front of me, waiting for me to touch him. It’s enough to steal my breath.

I don’t know what he’s doing here, and I hate that he brought someone with him, but I can’t stop my eyes from eating up every inch of his delectable frame. He is a vision in a black suit, the first few buttons on his crisp white shirt undone to reveal a smattering of chest hair. As if that wasn’t enough to convince me that he was up to no good, the crimson glow bathing him from above, makes him look like the devil—utterly sinful and impossible to deny.

Professor Scott’s reluctance to reveal who he was meeting is no longer such a mystery. I wonder if he brought her here just to see how I’d react, maybe even as a punishment for attempting to dig for information. It’s something I can see him doing. Whoever this woman is, she must be from out-of-town, because I certainly don’t recognize her. I doubt very much that Professor Scott expected to run into his lover inside his classroom, just like I never expected for him to be one of my instructors. But my mystery man? Every move he makes is deliberate. Calculated. I have no doubt that tonight is a test of some kind.

I am out of my element. I feel betrayed, but at the same time, I remind myself there was never any commitment between us. Still, I can’t shake the vision of him doing to her what he does to me in that hotel room.

Has she taken my place?

The thoughts racing through my head make me sick to my stomach. I’m a wobbling mess, and I need a fucking drink to calm my nerves, but to his credit, Professor Scott appears completely at ease. And why shouldn’t he? He’s the one pulling the strings here. It makes me wonder how often he does this. Although the knot that formed in my stomach the second I entered the door is becoming tighter and tighter with each step I take, he shows no signs of emotion. I can’t tell if he’s bothered by my presence, or if he’s anticipating what’s to come.

I’d like to think that’s anticipation I’m reading in his eyes. Even though I never expected to give one of my professors a lap dance, I can’t deny that a part of me is elated that I finally get the opportunity to get even closer to the man who has dominated my every thought and emotion for months. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I shouldn’t even care that he has a girlfriend. He’s entered my domain, and if anyone should be feeling uncomfortable right now, it’s him. Tonight, I intend to show him what it feels like to be dominated.

Bolstered by this realization, I focus on the fact that I get to do to him what he has always done to me—sweet torture is my specialty. If he behaves, I might even let him touch me. The very idea of it makes me wet.

With slow, practiced movements, I set my knee on the stage and proceed to crawl across it. My eyes hold Professor Scott’s as I twist around, seat myself on the edge, and plant my heels on either side of his and the woman’s legs, spreading mine open wide. Professor’s gaze drops to my crotch, and I smirk at the hunger I see in them.

It’s the shot of courage I need.

“First rule: No talking.” My voice cracks like a whip, bringing both their attention to my face. This isn’t a house rule, but one of my own. I like my performances uninterrupted, and talking tends to ruin the mood. “If I ask you a question, a simple nod or shake of the head is all you need.

“Second rule: No touching. I will touch you, but you will not touch me…unless I let you,” I add with a sultry smile as I meet Professor Scott’s scorching gaze. He’s no stranger to this rodeo. He knows the rules. But I have no doubt he’ll break them in an instant if given an opening.

“Do we understand each other?” They both nod and my smile grows wider. “Excellent. Now, are we looking for a simple lap dance?”

The woman nods quickly, but her expression turns doubtful when she notices Professor sitting still as stone. My smile turns inward as I sense trouble on the horizon for this budding couple. I have no idea how long they’ve been together, but not knowing what each other wants is a sure sign of bad things to come. I know what he wants. I know exactly the kinds of dirty, nasty things get him off. Can she say the same?

“Since we’re not on the same page, let’s see if we can’t get us there.” I look at the woman, meeting her plain brown eyes. “For a basic dance, I’ll start on the stage and work my way down to you two, clothes on at all times. If you’re looking for more, clothes come off. Another step higher? I’ll touch and fondle, get your man off, above or below the pants, and if I’m in the mood, I might let you touch me in return.

“Either or both of you can be involved. Some women like to watch me with their man.” I look to Professor Scott. “Some men like to watch me with their woman. It’s up to you two how you want to work it.”

The heat I'd seen in Red's eyes when I first stepped into the room has been banked, and she now looks completely unsure of everything. I can almost read her mind. She’s rethinking this whole night, wondering if she shouldn’t have played it different. The idea of another woman grinding naked on her man isn’t very appealing anymore.

I scoot back and pull myself up to stand on the stage. “I’ll give you two a moment to think it over. Just don’t take too long,” I say as I grasp the pole and make a slow turn around it. “The clock is ticking.”

I watch out of the corner of my eye as their heads meet and Red begins what appears to be a valiant effort to persuade Professor Scott to abandon this whole thing, but the way his gaze continuously slides up to look at me tells me he plans to stick around for the show.

Moments later, seeing Red throw herself back into the seat and cross her arms over her heaving chest, I have my answer. With a self-satisfied smile, I crouch down in front of them. “Are we decided?”

Professor Scott doesn’t spare Red another glance. “I want the full experience.”

Not we, but I. A small sense of victory grabs me, and I feel like purring. There is nothing sexier than a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. It’s why I’ve grown so fond of him. “You won’t be disappointed.”

I do as I outlined for them moments ago and work the pole, spinning, climbing, caressing until I’m certain that I have their full attention. The professor’s dark eyes are dilated so much that they appear pure black, the pupil completely absorbed by the iris. As I ease off the stage and kneel in front of him, I see the large bulge running alongside his inner left thigh jump.

I’m trying to focus all of my attention on him and not on the irritated redhead watching us. It must be difficult to give up control to another woman, knowing that your boyfriend is getting off on her. But that’s not my problem. Right now, he belongs to me.

Has always belonged to me.

The thought disturbs me, and I bury it before I can give it too much consideration. Blocking out any lingering nerves I have of finally being able to explore my fantasies of this man, I place my hands on his knees and skim them up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath twitch. Purposefully, I allow my fingertips to graze over that steel rod, and his sharp intake of breath fuels me.

When my breasts crush against his legs, I rub against him before crawling up the rest of his body, inhaling the rich combination of expensive cologne and brandy that clings to his tanned skin. Red grudgingly shifts over to make more space and avoid getting pierced by my heels, as I climb onto Professor Scott’s lap to straddle him. Unable to resist, I run my fingers through his slicked back hair, then link them behind his neck. Throwing my head back, I rotate my hips to the beat of the music, my core brushing over his steel rod with each pass.

His low rumble of approval makes me wish we were somewhere else. Someplace where we could be alone and he was free to touch me, be inside of me. I’ve never found lap dances particularly appealing, but tonight, it’s different. Tonight, it’s the worst kind of tease. I’ve barely gotten started and my panties are soaked.

Lifting my head, I lock eyes with Professor Scott and lean forward, pressing my breasts against his face. I feel the wet drag of his tongue through my cleavage, igniting a maelstrom of desire inside me. Even though it’s against the rules, I won’t reprimand him. Instead, I reward him.

Sitting back, I continue to move seductively against him, maintaining eye contact as I run my hands over my breasts, squeezing them together, and then traveling higher to lift my hair off my neck. With deft fingers, I pull the bow to my top and let it fall, bearing my breasts to his hungry eyes. He’s never allowed me to have this much control when we’re together, and I intend to make the most of it.

Licking his lips, I see Professor’s hands twitch at his sides, but like a good little boy, he doesn’t touch me. Cupping my breasts again, I squeeze them together and pinch the nipples just as he would do, teasing them into hard points. The soft moans that fall past my lips don’t have to be faked. I feel every tingle down to my core. If I didn’t think Red would mind, I wouldn’t stop at a lap dance.

The professor’s cock is straining beneath me, and I can see from the dark look in his eyes that he’s more than ready to explode. So am I.

Sitting up on my knees, I bring my breasts to his face, cupping them in offering, and drag the nipples across his lips. Seeing the question in his eyes, I bite my lip and nod my approval. We both want this, and without hesitation, Professor opens his mouth and latches onto my right breast. The feel of his hot, wet tongue on my breast nearly shatters me, and I pull free of his mouth with a loud smack. His glare is one of warning and disappointment. It excites me to no end.

Standing, I turn my back to him. Hooking my fingers in the thin fabric of my G-string, I slowly guide material down to my ankles. In this position, Professor doesn’t have to guess how badly I want him. Even in the poor lighting, he’ll be able to see my slick core weeping for him. And so will Red, who is growing more furious by the moment.

Kicking my wet panties aside, I sit down on his lap backward, and begin grinding my naked ass into his crotch. His cock is like a tree trunk between my cheeks, and holy shit, I can’t help reliving what it felt like wedged inside of me this morning. No one save him has ever inspired this kind of reaction in me—this heightened awareness is threatening to kill me.

The slow rotation of my hips and pressure of my ass against his cock draws all kinds of deep, throaty sounds from the professor. I know, from this angle, he can see every inch of my naked form. The thought of allowing him to touch me in return is a temptation unlike anything I have ever experienced, but I refuse to give in to it. I want the professor to crave me like I crave him. I want him to leave tonight and think of me when he fucks his woman. I want to taint him for all others.

So, as I reach between my legs and tweak the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention, I work hard to bring us both to the edge of the proverbial cliff. And then, I jump.

Behind me, Professor Scott’s breath hisses through his teeth and his chest pumps heavily against my back. Heat pours off him, and when he releases a painful groan and his body shudders, a smile grows on my face.

Standing, I bend and gather the pieces to my outfit. As I begin putting them back on, I turn around. My eyes are immediately drawn to the wet splotch visible through the dark material of the professor’s perfectly pressed slacks.

“You’ll find towels behind the bar if you’d like to clean yourself up before you leave, and Kota is out front if you’d like to schedule any future appointments. Just ask for Pussycat.”

I leave before either of them can form a reply. Bernice is walking out of Room Three holding cleaning products in both hands, and I have to swerve to avoid running into her.

“Oh, hey, J,” she calls out, trying to gain my attention, but I don’t look back. Anything she has to say to me can wait. I continue walking toward the opposite end of the club and shut myself in the Employee’s Only dressing room. My heart pounds inside my chest as the reality of what I have just done starts to sink in.

I just dry fucked my professor.

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