Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
There’s a relaxed pulse of music humming from the speakers and a few women dancing on poles while the rest work the crowd.
Flesh is on display everywhere you look, and I can’t help my eyes from going to every ass on show, checking for her tattoo. It’s fucking ridiculous. Even if she did work tonight, she’s never out here in the main bar with the lap dancers.
I shouldn’t be propped up at the bar like a fucking loser looking for one glimpse of the little bunny who’s caught the hunter’s eye, but I can’t help myself. The impulse is too strong. So here I am. Out front in the main bar pretending to be entertained by the overly nice girls showing all their skin in the hopes a wealthy pervert will deposit his week’s wage into their G-string. And this place is full of those types: middle aged men in suits wearing their wedding rings without any fucking shame. The truth is, I envy those bastards. I wish all I needed was a lap dance every now and then from whoever was willing. Instead of having this ache and compulsion to watch—to see her. These other girls don’t do anything for me. Just her. Internally, I curse myself for even coming in here tonight. I don’t like being in the main bar on show.
Inconspicuous, lurking in the shadows, just watching, is where my buzz comes from—and where I prefer to be. I don’t want gyrating, impersonal lap dances from girls with fake tits who like bouncing them under my chin.
My little dancer has a hold on me these other girls can’t touch. It’s consuming. A darkness calling out to me. I can’t ignore it or walk away. It’s an addiction. A thirst never quenched. My pulse spikes just thinking about her hidden behind the glass from me. No one since my ex has elicited this sort of response from me.
She’d run from me if she knew just how under my skin she’s become.
I want to smell her, watch her in her own environment. See what she looks like when she doesn’t think anyone is watching. Would she be as intoxicating? Yes.
I order another beer despite knowing I have to be up early for work in the morning. Going back to an empty apartment and looking at the same four damn walls doesn’t appeal to me.
A blonde with big tits and ass implants sidles up next to me, stroking her finger down my arm. “You want a dance, handsome? I’m the best there is,” she coos.
Smirking, I lick my lips, giving her a once over, pretending to like what I see.
“I’m sure you are, darling. But maybe another time.” I pull out some bills and slip them under her bra strap.
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug, sauntering over to another man who acts almost giddy at the prospect she chose him. Like it’s not just a job to her.
“Your favorite girl just showed to cover for another girl,” the bartender says, winking at me before placing a beer on the bar and nodding behind me.
My dick sparks to life. Was he talking to me? I check beside me to make sure. I’m alone, and the beer is in front of me, so he means my dancer is here.
She’s here.
I’m reluctant to turn around. Do I want to break the veil we have? Ruin something really fucking good? She’s my strange addiction, and I like it. Would it fade away if I saw her without the glass barrier?
Sucking in a breath, my head turns without permission, my eyes seeking her out. My chest tightens when I see the back of a woman wearing jean shorts and a white tee at the rear of the club just inside an open door. Her dark brown hair is loose down her back, and her body is in the arms of the grimy club owner. It’s her.
Now it makes sense why that prick doesn’t like me. “They an item?” I query the bartender with a wicked smirk, knowing the owner no doubt has bitched about me to him.
Shaking his head, he slings a towel over his shoulder and places his hands on the bar, leaning into me. “He wants to be. Summer? Not so much.”
Summer.
Heat burns through me like the rays of the sun.
Knowing her name makes me feel like even more of a stalker.
Her posture is rigid. She doesn’t like being touched by him. He’s a cunt who thinks because the girls work in a place like this, it’s an open invitation for him to be able to grope and fuck them whenever he wants. The more upscale places detest club owners like him.
I crane my neck to get a better view, and it’s as if the room falls silent and my vision tunnels.
I grip the beer bottle in my hand, clenching my fist to stop myself from doing something crazy like waltzing back there, stealing her out of his grasp, drop kicking the slimy fuck, and whisking her away for my own pleasure.