Whipped) (5 page)

I'm a male stripper.

I'm not ashamed of it. I turn girls on five nights a week. With a stare. With a sway of the hips. Then I take them home and fuck their brains out. If I ever see them again, it's only for sex.

At least it used to be. Tonight was different.

Tonight I wanted more.

After Vi left, I collapsed in my makeup chair. Now, as my buddies change and prepare for a night of partying, I plan my next move. Nothing comes to mind. I come to a conclusion.

I'm fucked.

I broke the roommate agreement.

Vi isn't interested in a fuckbuddy. I've never been anything else. High school was a series of one-night stands. And stripping, well… Women love hooking up with a stripper. Dating said stripper as he seduces different women each night, not so much. My buddy Ricky made the monogamous stripper thing work. It's possible with the right girl. But that's not Vi. And honestly, that's not me.

My contract's over in a few months.

Because as much as I love dancing and making women drool—and trust me, it's a lot—I love helping people more. I know what it's like to need a hand. My parents didn't help. Dad spent his nights meeting his high school buddies at bars and hooking up with college girls. Mom spent her nights cuddled up with a bottle of gin and watching reruns of her favorite 'stories.' She said Dad was stuck in the glory days. He said Mom was an ugly old bitch. They both called me a dumbass. Which I was. I almost ended up in juvie. But I didn't.

Because of Darrel. He caught me selling weed. I was trying to make an extra buck. He showed me a better way. He taught me how to dance. He kept an eye on me. He didn't set me on the best path. But it was a better one. Did he become a dick later? Yes. Was he using me from the start? Maybe.

But I'll always be grateful for his help. With it, I made a lot of money. And now, I'm ready to give back.

So I'm opening a youth center. Name pending. I'm making it the best I can. If I have to tour again for the money, I might. But I don't want to.

I want to spend my days teaching kids, and my nights cuddling with Vi.

Much to my own amazement, I'm ready to be boyfriend material.

Now how the fuck do I go about it?

"Hey, Ricky. How'd you and Martha meet?"

He flips on a sleeveless jacket and strokes his blond goatee. He's the oldest member of the Aussie Posse. Another couple of years, and he'll be too old. He plans to sell custom furniture. I'm glad the guy has a wife. Some days, I think he's got it better than any of us.

"We met at a woodworking class." He polishes his glasses. He doesn't wear them during the show. "It took me a week to ask her out. I gave her a necklace I made. She said 'why not?'"

Duke leaves his chair, slaps Ricky on the shoulder. "Still don't know why you did that, buddy." His black beard runs up the side of his face, wolverine style. He's a huge guy. Bigger than me. He has the second largest number of solos. When my contract is over, he'll take my place.

Ricky chuckles. "All I know is, every night I fall asleep with the woman of my dreams."

Duke grins. "I fall asleep with two."

Ricky nods, smiling. He's used to this kind of taunting. The guys don't get why he'd settle down when there's a fresh pussy to fuck each night. I’m starting to side more with Ricky now, though.

"Don't worry, Ricky," I say. "Duke gets two girls a night, but they all leave him the next day. Wonder why?"

"I don't do emotional crap," says Duke. "And next day, things get soft real fast."

I rub my chin thoughtfully. "Huh. That's what she said."

The guys laugh. Duke frowns. Sorry, Dukey. But I don't stand for taunting couples. Not since I decided to be part of one. Even if it’s only been a few hours.

"You have a problem with me?" asks Duke. He walks up to me. I'm still sitting. Fuck, the guy is huge.

I give him my most charming smile. "No problem."

Duke snickers. "Then don't be a fucking hypocrite. I saw you tapping that redhead tonight. What a fucking slut. You get her number? I could use a good ass—"

I jump up and my fist slams into his jaw. He stumbles back. "Don't fucking talk about her," I growl.

He rubs blood off his lip. He smiles. "You little cocksucker." He slams into me. It's like being slammed by a wall. My back smashes against a mirror. It shatters.

There's a code of conduct when two men fight. I don't give a fuck. I knee him in the balls.

Duke collapses on the floor. I expect him to clasp his precious jewels in pain. Instead, he grabs my leg and yanks me down. I fall on broken glass. It crunches. He climbs on top of me. He raises a fist.

"What’s happening here?" The voice is deep and loud. It's Darrel. He stands at the doorway to the dressing room. He wears a white suit.

Duke crawls off me. "Lach lost his fucking mind."

I want to say some witty comeback, but the adrenaline is wearing off, and my back is on fire.

Darrel walks through the room and towers over me. "Since when do we attack our fellow brothers?"

I speak through a clenched jaw. "He's not my fucking brother."

Darrel shakes his head. "What's happening to you, Lach?" He crouches down and wipes something off my forehead. I smack his hand away. He frowns. "You think you're better than us?"

I don't answer.

He yells. "You think you don't need us anymore?"

I don't acknowledge him. I stand up and grab my jacket. Glass still digs into my skin. I'll deal with it later. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take tomorrow off."

I turn back to him. "What?"

"You're off tomorrow. Use the day to get your shit together. Until you do, Duke has your solos."

"Fine with me." I'm done soon anyway.

Darrel smiles. "Fine. As long as you're not soloing, your pay is cut in half."

I curl my fist. It's covered in blood. "You can't fucking do that. We have a contract."

"And you're not living up to your end."

Fuck this. I don't need the extra money that bad. My investor will come through. As I leave, Darrel pats Duke on the shoulder and congratulates the guys on a great show. They smile and nod. They act like children around him. I remember when I did the same.

***

I drop by a clinic on my way home. They remove the glass from my back. The pieces are small. I don't even need stitches. The whole time, I think of Vi. I need to talk to her, tell her what I want. Ricky kicked things off with a gift, so I head to a store and pick out something appropriate.

When I enter the apartment, Vi jumps off the couch. She's wearing a blue sweater. Her face is red. An open bottle of white wine is on her desk.

I want to throw her back on the couch and tear her clothes off. But I resist. I close the door behind me. "I need to tell you something."

"Me first." She waves her hands as she talks. Her words slur. "I know you don't do relationships. I knew it when we had sex. So, I'm not expecting anything. But I'm not interested in a fuckbuddy. I know that's what you want, and that's okay. No judgment. One of my best friends is the same. But right now, I need someone steady. Someone I can rely on."

I grin. "That's nice. Now, will you go out with me?"

Her mouth drops open. "…What?"

I pull the gift out of my bag and hand it to her. "Will you go out with me?"

I'm spent. I spoke literally all the words and expected him to be relieved, to agree, to at most argue for more stringless sex. Not to ask me out on a real date. And give me a gift?

I open my mouth to say no, to explain what a bad idea this is.

"Yes," I say, then cover my betraying bastard of a mouth with my hand. "Wait, no—"

Lachlan's smile is reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary. "No, too late."

I drop my hand and cross my arms over my chest. "I can change my mind if I want…"

He raises an eyebrow. "And show yourself to be inconsistent with your word?"

"I'm not inconsistent. But what's the point of going out together?" It's getting hot in this condo, and I start pacing the small living room, wrapped gift still in hand. Bigger than a breadbox. Sort of. Longer than a breadbox?

Lachlan seems too laid back and relaxed, and it pisses me off just a little. "I believe the point is to see if two people are compatible in a long-term relationship," he explains, as if talking to a child.

That stops me in my pacing. I look up at him. "And you're interested in that? A long-term relationship?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. With the right person."

My heart flutters, and I mentally smack it down. Not now, silly heart. I've gotta use my head for this one. "And you think I'm the right person?"

He reaches for my hand, brushing a thumb over my skin and making me shiver. His blue eyes are so bright as he stares into mine. "I think you could be. If we got to know each other better, we'd find out. That's the point of dating." He winks at me and pulls me closer to him, our bodies now just a sliver apart. So close I can feel his heart beat. "You should open your gift."

I almost forgot I have a gift. He pulls away enough for me to peel open the red wrapping paper. Inside is a new puzzle, one I've had my eye on for a while. "How did you know I wanted this?"

He shrugs and smiles. "Lucky guess? I thought we could work on it together."

I'm stunned. This is quite possibly one of the sweetest things a guy has ever done for me. I set the puzzle down on the chair next to me. "Thank you."

He comes close again, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I know it’s sudden. But I think we could make this work, Vi. You and me. And," he says, a mischievous glint coming into his eye, "we have the advantage of knowing we're sexually compatible."

I pull back, walking backwards, my heart slamming into my gut. Because this is the problem. He just doesn't know it yet. I feel my mouth blurt out my thoughts. "That's where you're wrong. That's what you don't understand—but, of course how could you? We are the opposite of compatible. Unless you're secretly a submissive—in which case you do a really great impersonation of a Dom."

He frowns. "What the fuck are you talking about, Vi?"

I rush ahead. "Subs? Doms? The lifestyle? Which you are clearly not a part of. I was a professional Dom for the last five years before opening my store. It wasn't just work for me, it's also my preferred kink sexually. My
strong
preference. This—" I wave my hands between us, "this… this
thing
—it won't work."

He strides over to me again, his long legs spanning the living room in just a few steps until he has me backed against the wall, his arms encircling my waist. "I don't know about that stuff." His cock presses into my belly as his hand presses into my lower back, and his head bends so that his lips brush against my cheek. "All I know, Vi, is that it
did
work. You came twice in my dressing room. And that wasn't even my best work."

I want to resist him, to pull away, but I'm lost in his gaze, trapped by the magnetic pull of his arms around me. My heart beats hard and fast in my chest. And I'm shocked to realize I want to surrender to this man, to have him make me his, to feel him take me, hard and fast and deep.

His hands drop to my ass as he pulls our hips closer. His lips trace a line of fire over my neck and to my lips. "Isn't it possible that what you think you know about yourself is just a small of piece of a much bigger puzzle? Maybe this is an opportunity to discover more of who you really are."

Before I can answer him, his lips are on mine, his tongue teasing as our kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the passion of our embrace. Every part of my body is on fire for him. He could take me here, now, against the wall, through our clothes, and I wouldn't care. I would open for him because I need him inside me. Now.

But he pulls away and takes all that heat with him, and I feel my body wilt just a little. His grin is maddening as he straightens the pants that are so very clearly bulging. "I'm sorry, but I don't have sex until at least the third date." He leaves for his own bedroom.

And I resist the urge to throw a pillow at his head.

I can't breathe I'm so turned on. And before he closes his bedroom door, he says, "I believe the toy you're looking for is in the top drawer."

I open the drawer and grab my new dildo as I stomp to my own bedroom.

Vi bounces on my cock, clenching it with her tight pussy. Actually, she's in the other room, masturbating. I'm on my bed, fantasizing. The walls are thin, and I hear her moan as she builds up to climax. I unzip my jeans and start rubbing my cock. This three dates thing is harder than I thought, and it's only been ten minutes. All I want is Vi. Her tits. Her ass. Her pussy. I imagine sucking on her nipples as she rides me. Pressing her lips against mine as we move together. I want her to come. I hear her gasp in the other room. She climaxes. I come.

Fuck. Why did I propose this date thing again?

The next morning, I wake to the sound of my phone ringing and a serious case of wood from a night of dreams filled with Vi.

I answer the phone begrudgingly, wishing I were still in that dream.

It's Mrs. Wallace. "I looked over your proposal, Mr. Pierce. I love your plans for the center, but I think we'll have to raise prices."

And just like that, the wood is gone. "Raise prices?"

"We'll barely break even with the current plan. But don't worry. I see potential for real profit."

I grab the glass of water by my bed and take a sip. My hands tremble. "Profit isn't the point. The center needs to help people. Not put them in debt."

Mrs. Wallace laughs. Like one laughs at a little child who thinks they're clever. "I'm sorry. But we're not catering to the homeless here."

"I intend to help those who need help."

"Not with my money, you're not."

Fuck. I can't have this deal fall through. I can't tour again. "Wait. Let me look over the budget. Maybe I can cut some things. Raise… some of the prices."

"Very well. Send me your new proposal within the week."

"I will."

She hangs up. I lay in bed another few minutes wishing the day had started differently. Vi's already gone when I pull my tired ass out of bed, shit, shave and shower and grab coffee.

The kitchen table is covered with the new puzzle I bought Vi, and I smile and try to put two pieces together. Ten minutes later I realize this is not something I'll be doing without Vi by my side, so I shuffle a few pieces around to make it look like I accomplished something, and I take my laptop and coffee to the coffee table to work. But it's not happening. The living room is messy. Dirty clothes scattered around. Empty dishes sitting out.

I take twenty minutes to clean up, do dishes and run a vacuum through the place. I look around and nod. That's better.

I sit back down and realize I'm hungry, so I rummage through the kitchen until I find an apple and some peanut butter. I take my time eating, knowing I'm procrastinating. Knowing I don't want to do this shit, but I must if the youth center has any chance of success. Once I'm fed, hydrated, the house is clean and I have no other distractions to justify stalling, I sit back down and look over my plans.

There are things I can do to increase the profit margin… if I let go of my morals and the reason I'm starting this center to begin with. I compromise. I raise prices, but also raise extra funding for those who qualify. I look for other ways to cut corners in the budget. It's mind-numbing work. Midway through the day I stop for a quick lunch of chicken salad and a green drink and then dive back into it. By evening, I've trimmed a couple grand off the business costs. I don't know if it's enough. It'll have to be.

I email Mrs. Wallace the new proposal, head out to pick up some groceries, and drive to Kevin's.

When I arrive, Mary says he's out with friends. I help her cook a stew for dinner.

"How are things with the center?" she asks.

"Fine. How are things with work?"

"Fine."

We've both learned to keep our sorrows close. We don't talk of troubles.

Kevin returns just as dinner is ready, bounding through the house with all the enthusiasm of youth. "Lach, dude, glad you're here."

I high five him. "You too, buddy. How's it going?"

He shrugs. "Same old. Starving though. Let's eat!"

Mary laughs, Kevin sets the table with some prompting and the three of us settle into our seats and count off the things we're grateful for. New on my list is Vi.

"You've got a girlfriend?" Kevin asks, his face a comical cross between grossed out and impressed.

"Looks like it," I say. "Tomorrow morning is our first date."

"Where are you two going?" Mary asks between bites.

"It's a surprise."

I tell them my plans and even Kevin is impressed.

They wish me luck as I leave, and I'm no longer worrying about money and investors. Our super secret date will be soon. Now all I need is a blindfold.