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I stand on my toes and kiss Paul on the cheek. “Cover for me. Tell him I’ve been here for a while. I’d lie for you, boo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, grinning. “Been in there for at least a half hour. That’s how long your regular’s been sitting waiting on you.”
Cringing, I nod. “I owe you.”
“You know the key to my heart is food.”
I force out a laugh, then slip into the small room behind the box. It’s tiny. Just big enough for me to suck in a few calming breaths before sliding the door open. A black, full face mask hangs on a hook, and I quickly pull it on to hide my identity. Tonight, I hit the button for a little bit of fog and change the light colors to red. This place is hell. May as well look the part.
A Berlin Scandal song I recognize comes on the speaker. The angry rasp of Xavi Jacobs’s tortured voice speaks straight to my soul, filling me with the fire to do what I need to. It’s easy to push away the pain of my thoughts from seeing Lucca. I climb into the box and slide the door closed behind me. My nerves are on fire, but I ignore them to begin a sultry dance. Hopefully, Mr. Benjamins will forget I’ve wasted his time. The last thing I need for him to do is tattle on me.
Last time, he sure wasn’t tattling.
No, what I saw was the way he fisted his pierced cock. I’d Googled it the first time I saw it because I’d never seen such a piercing before. A jacob’s ladder. Five bars going through the underside of his shaft. Looked super painful, but I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel inside. The veins in his tattooed hand jumped and throbbed with every stroke. I’d been mesmerized at the way he greedily jerked at himself while watching me touch myself.
Needing to give him a show to make up for my tardiness—and hopefully earn me more money—I squat, biting on my bottom lip. With an erotic move, I grip my knees and slide them apart. I grab one of the handles at the top of the box and slowly rock my hips toward the glass. His booted feet move into view, then the familiar scrape of the drawer opening echoes over the music. He drops a bill into the drawer before disappearing beyond my view once again.
I slide two fingers over my panties, a finger on either side of my pussy over the material, and rub. The fabric is already wet as my mind travels back to Lucca. It feels like a lifetime ago that we were together. And when I saw him, my body had flared back to life, burning with lust and need.
A knuckle raps on the glass, startling me. He’s not fisting himself like usual, just standing there, which worries me I’m not doing a good enough job. Needing to up my game, I decide to do what we’re not supposed to do.
I take my panties off.
A thrill shoots through me knowing this would infuriate John. It’s my body. My tips. With that burst of confidence, I show Mr. Benjamins just how sorry I am for being late. My bra comes off next, until I’m in nothing but my heels. Turning away from him, I bend over and move my hips in a seductive way, taunting him with my wet pussy that he has full access to. I finger my clit, moaning at the delicious zings of pleasure as I look over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of his impressive dick. When the drawer opens, I bite back a smile. Glancing over, I’m pleased to see a wad of money. He tips well. I need this regular. Coming in late was stupid. I can’t let Lucca fuck up my life anymore.
As soon as I stick my finger inside myself, he knocks hard on the glass. I jolt, yanking my wet finger out and turn around. He slams something up against the window. It’s a hundred dollar bill that’s scribbled on.
We need to talk.
Oh, shit.
I should holler for Paul, but what do I say? I taunted my customer to the point that I broke the club rules, stripped out of my panties, and practically begged the stranger to fuck me?
I tremble as I scoop the money out of the drawer. His feet disappear, then light floods into the room. He left? Will he report me?
Panic assaults me, and I scramble out of the back of the box. I grab my panties and turn them inside out, ready to put them on, when the door to the small back room opens. It takes me all of two seconds to realize it’s not Paul or John. My eyes skim over the boots, and I freeze. It’s him. Mr. Benjamins. A large, warm hand grips my hip from behind. I should be running. Not slowly rising, eager to see what he’ll do next.
