Braver (19 page)

“Are you having a good time?” I asked, sipping on the juice.

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding wildly. “Absolutely. You were great. That girl was great. You were great with that girl.”

“Oh, that was Casey,” I said, having to decipher his words. “That’s my roommate. She’s teaching me how to work the pole.”

“That’s just something you know how to do, not something you learn,” he said, his eyes bloodshot and his breath stinking of tequila. “Some girls have it, some don’t.”

He was looking less and less recognizable the more he drank, but I still couldn’t ignore the feeling that I’d seen him before. He’d been nothing but friendly to me, so I tried not to think much of it.

“You said you weren’t really partying earlier, but you could’ve fooled me,” I said, just to make conversation.

He leaned forward and pushed his finger up against my lips, silencing me. “Let’s just have a good time,” he said. “Can I get a lap dance?”

“If that’s what you want, I can give it to you,” I said, helping him stand.

His gait was unsteady, and I had to grip his hand as he staggered a little. He pushed aside the curtain before I took pity on him and held it away, leading him to an unoccupied booth.

“You just sit yourself down and let Cocoa take care of you,” I said, slipping into my nightclub persona. That Cocoa always referred to herself in the third person. It was easier to disassociate myself from my actions, then.

The man sat and I began my routine, rubbing his face with my hands before shimmying with my breasts. I straddled his lap, one leg curling around either side of him, and wriggled on top of him. I made sure to grind my ass into his crotch, pleased when I got a burgeoning response.

“You’re so sexy,” he breathed, his voice smothered by my boobs.

“Thank you,” I said, bouncing rhythmically in his lap to the music. Lap dances — unless specified otherwise — lasted exactly one song. I wanted to make this one count for him. He’d been nice to me. It helped, of course, that he was sexy.

The song ended, and I made a move to get up, but he seized my wrist gently.

“One more,” he said, pulling a twenty from his wallet. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, frowning at my own giddiness. This was pure business. I couldn’t understand why I was getting so excited. My thong was getting damp in the front to match his raging erection.

“You know, I don’t even know your name,” I said, batting my eyelashes at him as I moved.

“It’s Liam,” he said, his eyes at half-mast while he held me by the waist.

I narrowed my eyes, searching my brain for clues. With that face and name paired, I was certain I’d seen him before. But where?

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, leaning back and shaking his hand. His grip was as firm as it was at the beginning of the night, and I was feeling a lot more confident.

“Likewise,” he said, almost as if it was an involuntary reaction. “I really am,” he added. “Sorry for being so drunk.”

“Happens to the best of us,” I said, wiggling atop his boner.

“And sorry about that,” he said, pointing to his lap. “I don’t know where my self-control has gone tonight. Well, that’s a lie. Of course I do. But it looks like you’re having to deal with the consequences.”

“Believe me, this is one happy consequence,” I said, reaching between us and feeling him. I was surprised at the length of the steely shaft and rubbed it up and down through his pants.

“Good for you,” I breathed into his ear. “I’d deal with this consequence any day of the week.”

The song ended, and I got up, smiling as he groaned. “You’re going to leave me like this, Cocoa?” he asked.

“Does that mean you want another song?” I inquired.

He held out another twenty, nodding.

I went back to him, tucking the note in my bra, and continued my incessant rocking. He held me as I danced in his lap, thriving at this aspect of stripping. Liam gripped me hard as I swayed and shimmied, his tortured gasp telling me everything I needed to know. I’d just made him come.

The song ended, and I helped him up. He was still shuddering, his pupils dilated.

“Well, I’ve made a fool out of myself,” he announced. “This is a first. You must think I’m an idiot.”

“I don’t think that,” I said. “I wanted you to come.” I realized that I was being partially truthful and was troubled. Was I attracted to this patron, a man I’d just met? It probably wasn’t very professional of me to admit that I was.

Liam took off to the bathroom and I found it was time to take another shower and change my thong. Casey had told me to do so anytime I felt that I wasn’t fresh anymore. Something about those lap dances with Liam, and the fact that I’d gotten him to come on himself, made me horny. The feeling was foreign to me. I’d been so oversexed at Mama’s nightclub that very little turned me on.

I was alone in the showers and touched myself, trying to relieve some of the pressure between my legs, but stopped as two other strippers entered, trying to wash the night’s work off of themselves, too.

The rest of the night went very well. Liam invited more strippers to his table, but always made sure I was swimming in pineapple juice. I continued to make the rounds, pulling in more and more patrons to the curtained area.

By closing time, I realized that I was poised to take home nearly five-hundred dollars. I could understand why Casey thought about making stripping her full-time career. You had to work for the money, but it sometimes flowed very quickly.

Casey was just as giddy as I was when we met back in the dressing room, showering one more time before getting back into our street clothes.

“I think you did very, very well for your debut,” she said. “Five-hundred bucks is a lot more than most of these girls make.”

“How much did you rake in?” I asked. “I know you did better than me.”

Casey leaned forward. “Almost a thousand,” she whispered.

I jerked back, my eyes wide. “You know what, screw nursing,” I said. “You’re going to become a career stripper. Replace those titties with some rocks, girl, and spray tan until you’re orange. You’re going all the way.”

“No!” Casey shrieked, giggling. “I’m too pretty to be a career stripper!”

We weren’t earning any friends in the dressing room with the way we were acting, but I didn’t care. Casey and I were happy with our earnings and didn’t give a damn about what anyone else thought.

When we were leaving from the dressing room, I saw Liam staggering out the front door, all by himself and rattling his car keys. He looked in bad shape.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, dropping my bag and running out the door after him.

I didn’t catch up to him until he fumbled with his keys in the parking lot and dropped them.

“Whoa, there,” I said, scooping up the keys before his clumsy fingers could find them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Gimme those,” he said, making a couple grabs at the keys I had dangling in front of his face.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “You’re way too drunk to be driving yourself home.”

“Gotta,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “No other way.”

“This is New York,” I said, laughing at him. “You can take the subway. You can take a cab. You can take a bus.”

“Can’t leave my car,” he said, leaning against it. I suspected it was the only thing holding him up.

For the first time, I noticed that it was a Porsche. I gave a low whistle, rubbing my hand over the silver paint job.

“This is a really nice car,” I said. “Why’d you bring it to this part of town? You’re lucky it didn’t get jacked while you were inside the club.”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Liam slurred. “Just happened.”

“How about I drive you and your car home, if you’re that concerned?” I asked, rattling the keys. “You’ll get home safe and you won’t have to worry about the Porsche.”

“Do you know how to drive manual?” he asked, his eyes closing and his head nodding.

The funny thing was, I did. The boys in Granny’s neighborhood were obsessed with cars, and it wasn’t manly to succumb to the ease of an automatic. They liked control behind the wheel, revving their engines at each other along the street. A good friend in high school had taught me on his very own car.

“I think I can manage,” I said, eyeing the sleek vehicle. In fact, it was going to be a pleasure to drive this.

I helped Liam around to the passenger’s side and eased him in. The interior of the car was all leather. I expected as much as I leaned over him, buckling him in.

“Cocoa?”

I whipped my head around to see Casey, holding our bags and looking concerned by my compromising position.

“Hey, Casey,” I said, jogging over and relieving her of my stuff. “Sorry about leaving you in there.”