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She needs a fiancé for Christmas, so I’ll pretend.
Blair is everything I’m not.
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The inside of my strip club didn’t smell cheap. Light perfume, walnut, a hint of musk no matter the time of night or day.
I strode through the carpeted lobby and yawned, my gaze on my cell as I worked on scheduling meetings. My head was still pounding from the after effects of last night’s party: a private Victoria’s Secret affair at the Four Seasons, blonde models in lingerie, and champagne on tap.
Boring. All so fucking boring.
And I had an entire day of business meetings to chase it with. Like following Stroh rum with, well, more Stroh rum. Gag.
I stowed my phone, looked up for Phillipe, my assistant, and lost my breath.
The woman, nah, fuggit, the woman – she deserved the inflection – hovered outside the thick doors that led to the stage and the scantily clad girls beyond.
Hazel cat-shaped eyes, a petite button nose, and lips that begged for a kiss – dimpled at the bottom. She opened that mouth, then closed it again with a light click of her teeth. Young. This one was young. Twenty-one, tops.
“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? You here for an audition?” I sauntered across the space that separated us, head tilted to one side, absorbing the sight of her.
Tight skinny jeans, perky tits, tall, slender body. She’d make a fabulous stripper but that chain around her throat said old money, and the dropped jaw told me no before she got it out.
“No!” Right on cue, she folded her arms across that ample chest. “No, I’m here looking for someone.”
“For someone,” I said, and halted in front of her, inches from her forearms.
She trembled ever so slightly – the usual reaction I got around here. Around anywhere.
My height, coupled with my broad shoulders and jaw line, made women melt. I had my pick of them all, strippers, too, but it bored me. There wasn’t a chase to be had. Nothing about an easy lay excited me.
The woman swallowed and came back to herself, and brushed silky, raven hair behind her ear. “Yes, I’m in need of assistance. I – look, I – are you one of them?”
I arched an eyebrow. “One of who?”
“You know… them.”
“No, but I like where this is going. I love games,” I said. “I’ll guess. You’re looking for…” I cast an eye over her clothes, the loose blouse, a smudge of yellow on the hem. “A hot dog vender? A samurai warrior? I’m not Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, though I’ve been told I look like him.”
She snorted a laugh.
“I can’t help it.” I ran fingers through my neatly cut hair, swept to one side, the other shaved. “I was born this way. You know, unlike those Maybelline models.”
“Do you always tell lame jokes?” The corners of her lips twitched. “They call them dad jokes, right?”
“I’m not a daddy,” I replied. “Unless you want me to be.”
Her cherubic cheeks went pink as a cotton candy. As her pussy lips undoubtedly would be.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” I asked and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Like I said, this is hardly the place for a woman like you.”
Past those wooden doors behind the reception desk, smoke curled through the air – blue, pink, whatever color the flashing lights made it – and the low throb of music pulsed while women swayed and turned, removing their clothes. Hungry wolves watching, paying whatever they had to make it last a little longer, make the girls grind a little harder.
She took a couple steps back, put distance between us, then shook her head as if to clear it. “My name’s Blair, not sweetheart,” she said, and lifted her chin. The hazel eyes which had been clouded over cleared. That desire cleared right out.
Yeah, desire. Always desire when I was around. “Blair,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.” I extended a hand.
She took it and shook once, her dainty fingers gripping hard. I pictured them around my cock, smoothing over my skin, and those cushion lips wrapped around the tip. Delicious, but she won’t answer to sweetheart – finally, a woman who intrigued me.
“Blair,” I said, and let go. “You’ve got me hooked. What’s the mystery? You regretting the decision to come here?”
“No,” she snapped – not angrily, just with determination. A muscle twitched in her cheek. “I’m just taking it all in.” She gestured to the walls, the images of women in various stages of undress in gilt frames. “It’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“More men,” she said.
“They’re through there,” I replied, pointing to the paneled walnut doors. No windows. They liked their privacy. “All of it’s happening in there. Do you want to go in?”
“No, thank you,” Blair replied, curtly.
“You sure? You might like it.” I laughed and waved away the comment. “I’m kidding, of course. Blair, you need something from me, don’t you? Cut the crap and tell me who you’re looking for.”